AN: Whenever I imagined/plotted this chapter, even back in year 1 "Not about Angels" by Birdie was the song that played on loop.

No other author's note. Here we go.

Falling Walls

How unfair, it's just our love

Found something real that's out of touch

But if you'd searched the whole wide world

Would you dare to let it go?

Outside the Room of Requirement, the castle was pulsing with the song of a thousand voices. A thousand heartbeats coursing together for the moments to come. Every window seemed to be flooding light as feet raced up and down the stairs, the defendants of the castle bracing for the oncoming storm.

Fred and George headed up the flights of stairs, navigating the way to their tower. There wasn't anyone for them to run into this high up, everyone had already been evacuated from these floors, or had made their way to the lower floors to fight.

"Remember when we were first years and we'd joke about launching an attack on Filch from the tower?" Asked George skipping up the stairs as they went, "who'd had thought we'd actually get to try."

"In all fairness though we're not aiming for Filch," chimed Fred walking to the edge of the battlements "If he happens to be in the line of fire-." George looked up and shrugged, "I promised McGonagall I'd take down any threat to the school—we didn't specify what made up a threat. Far as I'm concerned he's still in the top ten."

Fred chuckled and looked up. Overhead a translucent bubble seemed to have been placed. It wasn't quite translucent, he thought, looking closer. It had a pearl sheen familiar to so many of his potions over the years. It seemed to glisten every now and then as faint beams of light traveled up from the ground, the little wisps attempting to strengthen its hold over their heads.

George came to his side and looked up at the scene above them. "How long do you think it'll hold?" Fred asked, his eyes following another wisp up.

"Depends what they decide to start with. Could be seconds, could be minutes," George said, looking up, "Nothing more. That'll slow the slap, not stop it."

"Right," Fred nodded looking up, "Brace our fall, nothing more."

He felt his brothers eyes turn to him. "You nervous Freddie?" George asked, his voice soft like a whisper.

Not as much as I should be, Fred thought. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his head, very aware that it's beats could be numbered. Was it? Was this one of his last conversations with George? Was this one of the last moments his brother would remember with him?

"I'm alright Georgie," he said, clasping his hand on his brother's shoulder, "We'll be alright."

I hope we'll be alright, Fred thought as his brother put his own arm around him, God, I hope we'll be alright.

Suddenly the night echoed with a crack and Fred saw a day of light bouncing against the dome. Pelts of red light were raining down on them, but rolling down the dome not yet penetrated.

The light spread a shadow above their heads. The Louder thunks of Dementors trying to fly against the dome. They bounced against it, like rocks skipping against a still pond; a ghostly cry as they flew back into the night.

Fred tightly gripped his wand. It felt heavier than it ever had. Their moment was here—it had come at long last—

A rush of—what was it, panic?—seemed to come over him. He could die. This could be it. The launch into the unknown. He had told himself it wouldn't be, that he and Hermione had made too many changes—

But those changes—what if you live because you've brought others to their deaths? What if you've saved your life by damning someone else?

The heartbeat in his head grew louder, thundering. Maybe it wasn't his heartbeat he could hear, but someone else. Someone who would die because of him, because of his choices. He put his hand on the rock to steady himself-he didn't like that thought. It was his own heart. Had to be.

Beauxbatons and the kids came on their own accord, he told himself. You are only responsible for Azkaban. Not for the kids—

Are you?

Another volley from the horizon, and this one with a lightning crack that broke into the protective shield, splintering like cracks in a mirror.

The splinters were spreading up and down the dome. It shivered and as it did sheets of protection fell from around the castle.

"To every man upon this earth death cometh soon or late,"George said, the crack of light reflecting in his eyes as he too gripped his wand and shot out a wily Racoon against the night sky.

"What?" Fred asked, his voice tight, confused but sending his own patronus off with his brothers. Why was George talking about death? This was the worst possible time for him to manifest the ability to read his mind—

"It's a poem Angie's gran likes to say," he started shooting out another patronus, "To every man upon this earth death cometh soon or late."

"Tell me it has a happier ending Georgie," Fred said, waving his wand in an effort to send a protective shield on those below them, "Seems a little too foreboding with given circumstances—"

George turned and faced his brother square on. He had always been the more level headed. The voice of reason. The one that had kept them alive as long as he could. He'd still make it through the night. That was the clearest thing in Fred's mind. He couldn't see a future where George wasn't right here where he belonged, fighting alongside his family.

Even if he was spouting out death poems...

"And how can man die better than facing fearful odds—" he raised his hand to the horizon,to the other tower of Hogwarts and the lake below, " for the ashes of our fathers and the temples of our Gods."

The third volley ripped what remained of the shield. Fred could see a ripple in the night sky as Dementors approached the castle in a black curtain against the starry night.

He couldn't think of death. Not with a wave of Dementors coming at Him. He had to think of Hermione and the life they were going to live when all of this was finally over. The life where they were free of their monsters. One of laughter, and dancing and little cottages on Spanish island, and—

"Deaths not coming for us, not tonight George," he said, waving his wand as a large, silver fox tore into the night sky, charging at the offending Dementors before him, "the ashes and temple heaps will be satisfied, but not with our lives. Not now. Not tonight."

Everything began to move slowly around him. As George sent a ray of purple light down to protect fighters on the ground, Fred could see the outline of four others on the astronomy tower round about doing the same, two jets of protego firing down while patronuses raced to the sky to meet Fred and George's. And there's wasn't the only tower guarded, three or four more in view of their tower stood defended, firing their own collection of defense against the offenders.

For the faintest moment, Fred could realize just real—how final—everything was. And even though he would never admit it, the still audible sound of his heartbeat caused him to feel how real Hermione's fear for him was. While this—defending the castle—was exhilarating, it wasn't a game or a prank—it was their endgame. It was the final aria before the symphony's close.

A Dementor swooped down on the brothers before being chased off by a fox pulling at the hem of his cloak.

"It's a pity that dragon couldn't join us," yelled George, blasting off a curse, "She'd been really good at dealing with this lot."

"It's a pity we don't know our way around Fiend Frye, we could just roast the bastards ourselves," Fred answered, sending two more foxes into the night, "we could blow torch them out of the sky."

"Think McGonagall would mind if we burnt down the castle?" George asked, shooting a hex at a Death Eater who had come by broom to invade the towers. Fred watched as the Death Eater lost control, crashing first into the stone walls of the castle and then again towards the courtyard, now a light with jinxes and hexes.

"Just tell her your poem and say you were trying for the ashes aspect. She'll still kill you but it'll have a poetic sense to it," Fred laughed as he too began firing hexes into the night.

((*))

There hadn't been many more Death Eaters who tried to fly into the castle.

Fred figured that they could see in the distance that the towers were well defended and they were now pushing for other means to get in the castle. And they had found one in the means of a ground offensive. A squad of giants—three or four big, bulky ones—had pushed their way in front of the invading Death Eaters and were making their way along the bridge that led into the castle grounds, the bridge McGonagall had lined with stone defenders.

Even in the midnight hour Fred could see the defenders get swept up in the Giants clubs and crash against the floor or over the barriers and into the lake below. They were pushing through now and with every hundred feet they cleared You-Know-Who's army pushed forward along the bridge and closer to their friends on the bottom floors.

"They're going to need help down there," said George, pushing his hair back, "we should let the kids stay up here and continue the aerial assault but we should head down and help."

"Right," Fred agreed looking over his shoulder to the four on the astronomy tower, "secure the tower and head down?"

His brother nodded and the two made their way down the stairs, locking the doors as they went.

"Was that the last time you'll be on that tower?" an icy voice in his head asked, "Was that the last time?"

No, he wanted to argue. No, he was going to be coming back to that tower in a few hours and watch the sunrise on peaceful tomorrows with Hermione. And then they were going to snog and George would come and make cat calls and-d

"Where do you think Kingsley is? Think Remus found him and Tonks?" George asked as they raced down the halls.

"I'm sure he found someone, besides he's a Marauder, trouble probably found him first and he's busy giving it a lecture," Fred stumbled, pulling himself out of his tower daydream. They made it towards the moving staircases which seemed to be in their own form of defense. All stair cases had moved from their places along the wall and seemed to float in the middle of the staircase, not allowing passage to anyone, friend or foe.

"Don't know how we're going to do this—" George said, inching forward to look down at the chasm below them. "We'll have to take the back stairs—"

"No we won't!" Fred cried, watching as a set of downward stairs came rushing to their landing. "The school can sense who's on our side—they know who's fighting with us."

George looked on with a smile and the two thundered down one flight to another, "Couldn't do anything when Umbridge was here but when under pain of death—"

"Oy don't you go questioning the magic of it," Fred barked as they made their way to the seventh floor. There was noise down the corridor, the sounds and flashes of a scuffle carrying through the otherwise quiet hallway.

"Let's go see if they need help—" George said, darting down the way. Fred was close on his heels, his eyes occasionally glancing at the walls and remembering Hermione's warning to stay in the open. What had that meant? Open towers? Open corridors?

This was open. This was an open hallway. Just he, his brother, and the sturdy stone walls that surrounded them. No threat of danger here.

A flash of electric blue illuminated the side corridor and Angelina, Katie and Alicia ran out into their way, Alicia letting out a string of profanities as she came. Angelina rushed out, knocking George down and Katie tripping over them as they did so.

"Good to see you love," George wheezed, pinned under her and against the ground, "Glad you decided to go out and see what all the fuss was about."

Fred helped Katie and looked towards Alicia, "Do we have a friend down the hall?" He asked motioning his head to the door behind them.

"Two Death Eaters, not sure how they got this far in—"

"I'm telling you Ang, I don't think they were Death Eaters—I think they were Slytherins who stayed behind," said Katie, looking earnestly at Fred. "Thicker set—they looked like those beaters they added on your seventh year. You know the ones that were Malfoys lackeys."

"Could be possible," Fred nodded looking to George, and then the girls, "and you guys finished them off?"

"Didn't have the chance," Alicia growled, coaxing her wrist, a bandage shooting out of her wand and wrapping tightly around it. "They we're trying to throw the cruciatus curse at us and then a voice from the dark called them back—almost sounded like it was saying 'Follow Potter!'"

George met Fred's eyes. If they were following Potter they were following Granger too. And their brother. Two oafs throwing around the cruciatus curse—

"Where are you three headed? We'll go with you," said George, getting up from the ground and helping Angelina after him.

"Third floor, Professor Sprout was bringing in her pets from Greenhouse 3—pretty sure that's the mandrakes," Katie smiled despite a gashed lip, "Maybe a few devils snares if we're lucky."

"Always wanted to see one of those in attack mode, come on let's go," said George and the five of them snaking back to the stairway, waiting for a set of stairs to come fetch them.

However in the ten minutes they had been in the corridor the scene was different. Dust and smoke we're traveling up the stairwell from the floors below as well as the loud thuds of magic and cries from the warriors. Fred looked to George who now had his eyes focused on some horizon while his hand was tucked safe and sound in Angelina's back pocket holding her close.

A set of stairs came down, slower and more hesitant than before and carried them down to the sixth floor. They waited twice as long before another one came to carry them to the fifth and halfway down, Fred realized why.

Percy and a half dozen Beauxbatons kids and Hogwarts students just stormed the stairs from the fourth floor. Fred ran up to his brother, looking over his shoulder to see what they were running from.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"Thickness," Percy said thru clenched teeth, "they crashed through the front doors twenty or so minutes ago and they keep pressing up. Found this lot coming down from the towers and we've been trying to make a line and hold them back."

"Right," said Fred, looking at the faces before him. "Right—" he said again, turning to George and his friends behind him.

"Georgie, you take the girls down and give them hell from the third," Fred ordered, turning back to Percy and the kids, "I'll stay with Perc and we'll form a line to push them back. If we can get them sandwiched between the fifth and third we'll make quick work of them.."

"Ils ne passeront pas!" A young kid, maybe sixteen or so from Beauxbatons cheered, his classmates lifting their heads at his words. "Ils ne passeront pas!"

Fred looked at Percy who shrugged and looked at the crowd of students again, looking for a familiar face. The Beauxbatons students all seemed cheered by these words and with relief Fred found Colin Creevey who was likewise cheering and chanting the words with the others.

"Colin, French lesson please—"

"They shall not pass," Colin translated quickly tripping over the words, "it's more of a muggle battle cry, but French wizards have served in French wars so it has the same sentiments. They shall not pass—" Colin said again, brushing his hair out of his eyes, "We'll hold the line. Honor of victory, or the glory of death will start with us."

A clamor came from behind them on the floor below, Fred turned around, looking at the girls and locking eyes with his brother. "You four take the back stairs-I'll see you in a minute."

"You going to be alright," George asked, hesitant in leaving his brother, "see you in a bit?"

"Not if I don't see you first," said Fred, another crash coming from the landing below. Fred turned around quickly, "Be careful Georgie," he ordered wrapping his brother in a hug, clapping his shoulder and then turning, the two of them parting ways and heading back to their respective fights.

There were Death Eaters flooding the fourth floor landing. The stairs had tried to float away but someone had cast the immobulus spell and they were locked, three feet from them at an angle, still well within the reach of the Death Eaters to leap and storm at them.

"Alle! Alle!" Fred called, marching towards the front of the stairs, "Go! Ills ne passeront pas!" He cried, throwing his wand above his head and blasting chunks of the stairs in front of them in hopes of widening the gap between them and the Death Eaters.

"Shoot at an angle!" Percy cried pushing students behind him, "and from a distance or you'll blast some rock into your skull."

"Spell regulation at a time like this?" Asked Fred, tutting at his brother, "time and place Percy."

"Always time for general spell safety," Percy gripped, pushing up his own set of sleeves and blasting a chunk of stairs that sent a Death Eater falling to his death below, "He'd have agreed if he had thought twice about standing in someone's line of fire."

A crashing sound came from above them and Fred could hear the students scream. Some Death Eaters further back had realized they too could dispel rock and use it on their attackers. A chunk of the eighth floor landing came crashing down, just barely missing Colin Creevey who had been pulled forward by a Beauxbatons boy.

"Alle!" Fred yelled, "Go! Form a line in the corridor. Take desks out of the class and make a barricade, we can hold the side stairs. Alle!"

The ten students scampered down the hall, some faster than others. Fred focused on the lone Gryffindor who had regained his balance and was coming to Fred's side. "You too Creevey, Alle!"

He looked as though he had something to say but he snapped up to attention and ran down the same way as his classmates.

Another wave of Death Eaters we're now pushing their way up the cratered stairs. The dust had settled and Fred could see one Death Eater striding up, taking his mask and throwing it over the banister.

Pius Thickenese had a cut along his hairline and a bloody nose. His eyes flickered between the two brothers as though they were flies he longed to swat to their deaths.

"Look at that Perc—I think your boss is coming up with your performance review."

"You're right Fred," Percy said, turning to his brother with an impish smile, " Such a pity. I do think he looks rather cross with me."

((*))

Hermione's broom skidded to a stop, flinging her over the handle and with a thump on the stone ground of the corridor, promptly knocking the breath out of her—the sword of Gryffindor clanking against the floor as she fell.

She laid there for a minute, her eyes drawn shut, focusing on even breathing. Processing her last hour. Going through the checklist in her head one more time.

They had gotten Ginny to leave the Base in order for the Room of Requirement to become the room of lost things again.

They had gotten inside and she had spent several panicked minutes searching the area the diadem has been last time.

"Hermione—this is a fools mission—there has to be centuries of lost items in here," Ron had sworn, kicking the head of a suit of armor lying on the ground.

"It's here, I know it—" she said, finding the bust. Harry had put the diadem on it last time when he hid the book. That meant it was near by—Harry wouldn't have dug around too long finding something to mark the spot.

"Hermione! This is it!" Said Harry, lifting up the silver diadem. "You were right, it's here!"

A flood of relief washed over her. She hadn't mucked it up. She and Ron came over to him, her wand illuminated and tracing over the words etched into it— wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure.

She pulled Gryffindors sword from her purse, as well as the golden cup of Hufflepuff. "Alright you two, cut it down. They might make a struggle but—"

There was a sound of items falling near them, Hermione lifted her head quickly, eyes scanning the area around them. That was Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, she was sure of it. They didn't have much time. She thrust the sword at Ron, "Cut it down—now—"

Ron didn't hesitate, he raised the sword and in one fell swoop, cut the cup which fell like butter on a warm day under Gryffindor's blade.

A black, blood-like substance oozed out of the horcrux and surrounded the cup. It bubbled madly, destroying Hufflepuffs goblet that melted into the goo and settled in between the crevices in the stones below them.

Hermione put the diadem in front of Harry and Ron handed him the sword, "Alright Harry, your turn. We just have this and the snake left—let's go—"

"Lower the sword Potter and give it to me," said Malfoy coolly from behind them.

Hermione felt pinpricks along her arm. She picked up the diadem looping it through her bad arm, rushing to her feet.

"Don't do it Harry—" she said, "Don't you have a hell hole you should be hiding in Malfoy?"

"You'd know about hell holes wouldn't you Granger? After disappearing with this lot for the better part of a year?" Malfoy asked callously, "Goyle get the sword."

Harry raised the sword and held a pose as though he was a knight. Goyle glared, staying in place.

"Goyle, the sword—"

"I don't have to listen to you Malfoy," he growled, "your family's time is over, your not the Dark Lords favorites anymore."

"Yeah," said Crabbe, "which means there's room for him to have new favorites. And it's going to be a Crabbe," he raised his wand and a flash of green went above Harry's head.

"Run," Harry yelled and the three of them scampered down a treasure cove, the walls lined with lost items.

They zigzagged, trying to put distance between them and Crabbe. Malfoys voice could still be heard carried through the room. "Alive! The Dark Lord wants them alive!"

"He wants Potter alive, the two others are fair game—" said Goyle.

"Was he bloody well aiming at Weasley? No! That was Potter's head he nearly took off!" Malfoy swore.

Ron came stumbling out of a crap laden corridor, nearly running them over. "Any ideas how we get out?" He asked, looking at the two of them.

"No, but we need to get out of here soon before those idiots do something that'll get us all killed," Hermione answered, frantically looking at the sides of the walls. Stacks of books. Piles of dress robes draping a statue— brooms.

"Here," she took the three of them and broke them off from their chains of jumpers and potion bottles. Handing a broom to Harry and Ron she placed one between her knees.

"We're going to fly our way out?" Ron asked, eyeing her like she was crazy, "You're going to fly your way out?"

"Well I'm damn well not going to stick around and wait for them to kill me," Hermione growled, thrusting a broom at him. "We can dive bomb them out the door," said Hermione giving a shaky kick against the ground and then hovering, not poorly but not skillfully either.

"What's that?" Harry said, looking in the distance where the door was and seeing an orange glow over the canyon stacks of students long forgotten treasures.

"Our cue," Hermione yelled, "fly out in front of me and I'll get the door for us."

The flames were already licking the ceiling when they rose to the ceiling. She could still make out the door, not too obstructed in the smoke.

But the flames were coming fast. Ron dived down first, Hermione catching his descent just in the nick of time to get the doors open. She turned, trying to find Harry, but he wasn't there, not in front or beside her.

"Dammit Potter," she swore, turning her back to see Harry, hand extended trying to lift Malfoy to his broom. She turned her own handle, wondering if she would be savior to Crabbe or Goyle.

But what happened next was horrifying.

Malfoy had just made it on Harry's broom. He had turned back to help one of his friends when the tower he had been standing on gave way under its weight and the fires around them.

Hermione could just hover there and see Malfoy with a hand outstretched, now just teaching air, frantically calling for a friend that was no longer there.

"Harry, the door!" She had cried, pointing at the door that had flames quickly approaching. She didn't know if he had heard her above all the crackles of the flames but he turned around to see her and then dove down towards the door and flames.

Harry went first, and then she took the diadem that was still looped along her arm. "I'm sorry Rowena. You'd understand I'm sure," she muttered and flung the diadem into the flames licking the ceiling.

She saw the satisfying puff of smoke, a pained face creeping out of the flames as the diadem disappeared into the fire.

And then she got out. The broom catapulting her to the carpet when she now laid, spread eagle going over the checklist in her head.

Hufflepuff's Cup, check.

Diadem, check.

Now just kill the snake and find Fred, she thought, rolling on her side, trying to ignore the pain racking ribs from the fall, or is it find Fred and then kill the Snake? Neville's got the snake—no, we need to find the snake to get Snape's memories—

A voice whimpered in the hallway, and Hermione was called back to reality by the sound of a fist meeting flesh. Draco Malfoy slumped to the ground and Hermione rose up, looking at her two friends appalled.

"Oh don't give me that self righteous look—he tried to roast us just now," Ron said, helping her up, "what was that anyways?"

"Fiendfyre," Hermione explained, "cursed fire, it was one of the ways to destroy Horcruxes—I didn't know how to put it out—"

"Neither did Crabbe or Goyle it seems," said Harry darkly, looking back at the door. "The Horcrux—"

"I took care of it, tossed it in the flames," said Hermione, brushing her hair off her forehead, then turning to Harry, gently put her hand on his shoulder, "You saved Draco Malfoy, who knows, that could be enough."

Harry nodded looking away from the door and back to Malfoy, "what should we do with him?"

"There's a classroom around the corner, we can hide him there. I don't think he'll be waking up any time soon thanks to Ron."

"He's just lucky I'm a Keeper—if I was a beater—"

"He'd be a bloody pulp and Harry would have saved his life for nothing," Hermione sighed and followed Harry and Ron carrying Malfoy down the hall and tucking him behind the teacher's desk.

"I thought he'd have left with the rest of the Slytherins," Harry muttered when they left the room, "how—"

"He must have thought if he stayed, and what more if he was the one who handed you over to Voldemort he could restore some honor to the family," Hermione explained remembering Goyle's words."Or maybe he didn't want to go to the station house, who knows."

"I should have done more than just punched him," Ron growled, punching his fist into his free hand, "can we go back? I can carve bloody git on his arm for you Hermione—do it on his good arm-"

"No," Hermione beckoned, tucking away a smirk, "No he's not worth it. Come on, we've got to get back to the fight."

They turned down the backstairs headed to the sixth floor, "where should we go? Fight on the main floor? Evacuate the House Elves?" Ron asked, turning to Hermione.

She smiled warmly, remembering their exchange all those yesterdays ago. "I don't think we need to worry about the House Elves, not if they have Kreature and Dobby leading them into battle."

Ron nodded vigorously, running his hand through his mess of hair. He looked from Hermione to Harry anxiously and then to the stairs. "So regroup in half an hour or so and kill the snake?" He asked, making his way hastily towards the stairs "Great, sounds good, see you in a bit."

"Where are you running off too?" Hermione asked chasing after him, she could hear Harry rushing from behind her, just as puzzled as she by Ron's departure.

"Lavender," Ron said, stopping and turning around. He looked slightly frantic in his pose, arms outstretched, shoulders slightly slumped, "come on—we nearly snuffed it, sounds like some people are," he argued, pointing to the sounds coming from the main staircase, "I'm going to find Lavender, tell her I love her, and then I'll come right back to kill the snake."

Hermione had to bite her lip to stop herself. She didn't know if she would laugh and smile at her friend or let the daggers fly. Maybe she should let him-if Greyback killed Lavender, maybe this would be his last chance-maybe Ron should go and save her?

Can you do whats next without him? She thought. They just had to go find the Snake. They could do that without him right? It wasn't a three person job-

Thankfully, Harry stepped in and took it from there.

"Come on mate," Harry said extending his hand, "Give me a few more minutes, you can still love Lavender after we've killed the snake."

"But what if she's—"

"She's with Paravati and Professor Trewlaney," Hermione offered, reaching for his arm, "They'll keep an eye on her. Besides, " Hermione paused squeezing her friend's arm, "she knows. The way you were talking to her when we first got here? She has to know."

"But—"

"Kill the snake," Hermione interrupted, "we have to kill the snake and then we can make all the declarations of love we want."

The three of them pulled away from the back stairs and headed towards the mouth of the corridor. Each throwing out ideas where they thought the snake could be.

"She'll be with him," Hermione argued after Ron suggested You-Know-Who had made camp in the Chamber of Secrets, "I doubt He's been able to make a trip to the lavatory with all of us running around—they're probably somewhere in the grounds. Besides, you said earlier we weren't going back to the Chamber—"

"I said I didn't want to, didn't mean I wouldn't—" Ron corrected. "If he's not there, where is he?" he asked indignantly, "Big space in the dark—even if there wasn't a battle going on at every turn, it'd take hours to find them in the forest at night."

Hermione turned to Harry and set her arm on his shoulder. The emerald eyes flooded with concern as he looked to her, "what is it?"

"You need to look inside his head Harry," Hermione sighed, "The connections there—if you can sneak a peek, find out where he is—"

"You've never wanted me to use that connection," Harry said wearily, looking at her confused, "most ardently, you've said not to—"

"Harry this time it's for our advantage!" She moaned, gripping his arm, "Harry, he's vulnerable. There's only so many pieces of his soul left—he's not going to have the defenses up."

He nodded, "Right—" he stumbled, leaning against the wall as he raised his hands to either side of his head, "Right."

He closed his eyes and scrunched his face, his hands pressed against his temple as though he was trying to strain a distant view. Hermione took a step back, closer to Ron.

"The Shrieking Shack," Harry sighed, his face relaxing though pale, a flash of determination in his eyes, "we have to get down to the Whomping Willow—"

"Main Stairs take us right to the front door, the back stairs lead to the dungeons—" said Ron.

"We'll take the direct route then,"Harry determined, as they pushed forward do the main stairwell, "keep your heads down and let's all hope this soot disguises our face enough."

"Fat chance mate," Ron said tapping the red hair that had only been burnt in some places, "but who knows, maybe one of my brothers is nearby and they'll be confused—"

They made it to the Main Stairwell and were nearly run down by a rush of Hogwarts and Beauxbatons students who had come down from the floor below, running at the Death Eaters on the next landing laden with pikes and swords carried by the suits of armor on the floors above.

"Bloody hell—" Ron swore watching the scene, "was that Colin Creevey? Is Colin Creevey defending Hogwarts with a long sword?"

But Hermione didn't have eyes for Colin or any of the rest of them. She walked midway down the stairs and could see clear as day Fred on the next landing, dueling Thicknese and his lackeys, Percy at his side—both brothers smiling and laughing as they set jinxes flying through the air.

Fred-

It was one of her dreams, only unraveling before her eyes in real life. His face illuminated by a jet of green that just missed him, setting his eyes a blaze. He was confident, alive and laughing. God, he was always meant to be laughing.

But she could see what was happening next. It was unraveling like she remembered. She knew what was coming. She knew she could stop it. But there wasn't enough time-there had never been enough time. Not in the last two years-even more so now. Harry and Ron had just reached her side when she took off, running down the stairs towards him.

Ron called after her but she didn't stop, she didn't turn back. Nor did she even stop when Harry beckoned her to come back. There wasn't time for goodbyes. Harry would understand that soon enough. There exists a need and I was one who could answer for it—

She could hear the rings and din of the battle around her, more than she could hear her own voice yelling out to him. A minor explosion sending pebbles like bullets across the ground and against her ankles nearly took her down but she kept going, stumbling for a moment but then standing firm and running forward while a clap like thunder rung overhead.

"Fred!" She yelled again more frantically, "Fred!"

He turned around that time, he had heard her! First there was concern and then recognition as he smiled at her. There was still time!—he looked at her with his usual smile, the one that reached his eyes; the one that, even though he knew quite well he could die—this smile didn't know how close he was.

She hoped he'd still have that smile after she saved him. That someday it would come back. It was one of his best. George would help it come back. George and Lee and the rest of them—Fred Weasley would smile again.

She heard the shot of a spell against stone, and the rumble that followed. With all her strength, she raised her arms in front of her and pushed him forward. She could feel his feet move, caught by surprise and she hoped that would be enough—sweet Lord, let that be enough. Let him live. Let her sacrifice be worth it.

She had decided long ago that she'd do anything to keep Fred alive. At first it had been for everyone else's sake, and for a while it had been for her own selfish sake. She knew quite well she still had a lot to offer the world, but so did he. And he deserved that didn't he? Didn't they both? If the world couldn't have both of them, it could at least have him, couldn't it? Others would fill her gap, she knew there would be no one to fill Fred gaps—not in George's life and certainly not in her own.

Everything was happening in slow motion. She wasn't seeing her life flash before her eyes, she was seeing the last few seconds drawn out so she knew in clarity what she had done.

Today is the beginning of all of your tomorrows—he was wrong. Today was the end of them. There wasn't a tomorrow for her.

They were his now.

She had given him all of them.

Fred looked back at her in abject horror as she pushed him, realizing what this meant, what she was doing. He tried to take a step forward to catch her arm and pull her forward but he was too far, too off balance or was too late. His was a look of betrayal that would have stung if it wasn't the fact she knew she had done it, she had saved Fred Weasley.

Time seemed to move even slower, she had wondered if it did that near the end. She wondered if she'd soon feel the glow of their summer days, if that peace would be hers once she closed her eyes. Then, she could feel something pushing her forward towards the impending darkness as the rocks came tumbling down around her.

Then she heard a voice, a guttural cry that pierced death as Fred called out for her, one last time.

And then, all Hermione could see was darkness.

Don't give me up

Don't give

Me up

It's not, about not about angels, angels

AN: Falling Through Time will conclude February 28, 2020.