Waking up had gotten harder for Fred ever since he left…her. Sleeping was an issue too. For the past two weeks, he had only gotten a cumulative sixteen hours of Z's, and that was just plain unhealthy for a nineteen year old.

Groaning as the sunlight beamed into his eyes, he rolled over so his back was to the window. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperate for sleep, but it happened again; Hermione's face flew to his mind, working her way into his brain. He couldn't help but smile at the familiarity of those soft, rosy cheeks…the way her dimples showed when she smiled…

All too soon, the pink of her cheeks shred away, leaving tear-trails and sobs behind them in the dusty memory. Fred winced as her words cut through his skull; "why do you even care?"

He wasn't supposed to care. The truth was, he and Hermione were going to divorce after some sense was knocked back into the ministry (like that would ever happen) but they were willing to be patient. This entire marriage was a favor, not a privilege, and he had gone too far by allowing himself to actually become involved. He was as stubborn as he was stupid right now, so to take some of the guilt away, he stood.

"Go away 'Mione." He mumbled under his breath, and he forced her face from his eyes. He stretched and yawned so that George would hear him; hopefully making George think Fred had actually fallen asleep.

After apparating from his and Hermione's house, Fred had gone straight to his brother's flat above the joke shop. He had fallen with a rather loud and painful thud in the middle of George's living room. It had been quite awkward, however, since George and Katie Bell were snogging in extreme mode when he arrived; each moaning and breathing heavily until they broke apart. What followed next were some stuttered apologies from parties, an awkward good-bye from Katie, and a brotherly hug from one red-head who had his life sorted out neatly while the other was as all-over as the freckles on his skin. Ever since, Fred had been camping at George's.

He felt bad about leaving Hermione, so he would send George over to the house to check up on her and tell her how everyone was doing. When George would get back, he'd give his brother a 'what-the-hell-are-you-doing?' sort of look before launching into a detailed status-check on Hermione. Today was one of those days. George had left at around eight last night and returned home just before Fred went to sleep. Although Fred was persistent, George refused to update him about Hermione until Fred got some sleep.

As he descended the stairs, he could hear George clanking around in the storage room, probably messing up the order a bit more so that he could understand it better.

'Morning.' Fred mumbled dramatically, hoping to act as tired as possible. George gave him a disbelieving look but sat down at the table anyways, drumming his fingers. Fred leaned against the counter as silence settled over the kitchen. Fred was just eager to hear how Hermione was doing, but he felt foolish to bring it up.

"You can ask." George said, smiling as if he had read his twin's mind. Fred gave a throaty laugh and sighed, looking at the floor. When he looked back, George noticed the sincerity in his eyes.

"How is she?" He asked in a tight voice, a voice that was holding back a wave of emotion. George rubbed his hands together and leaned forward.

"She's better then last time. She's moving around now, instead of just laying on the couch all day. She smiled three times this time, which is two more than when I last visited. Fred, she still isn't eating. It's like she's numb. Like, she accidentally cut her finger on the knife as she cut up some chicken for me, and she just stared at it for a moment before going back to my dinner." George said in a depressing tone. Fred sighed in frustration and ran a hand through his hair. She wasn't supposed to be this upset.

"Damn." He muttered, closing his eyes and rubbing his face. George stood.

"You idiot, just go back to her! She obviously needs you just as much you need her!" George said a bit loudly. Fred glared at him.

"I can't just go back there!" He said, swinging his arms out wide and staring at George, who glared back.

"You git! You're just gonna let her suffer because of your stupid insecurities?! Wow, yeah you're a great husband!" George sneered, sitting back down. Fred shook his head.

"We weren't even supposed to get married!" He snapped. "If we never had gotten bloody married, none of this would've happened. I never would have beaten her with an umbrella; I never would have kissed her like, four times. She never would've gotten drunk, she never would've had to deal with a Love Test Potion, and we'd never have had that bloody fight!" He pounded a fist on the table angrily, adrenaline rushing into his eyes as he coughed and spluttered on his words. George remained silent, allowing his twin to crash and burn right in his face. Slowly, he stood and walked over to Fred, placing a hand on his back.

"You don't regret it though." He stated. He felt Fred sigh, calming down in a matter of seconds before he stood fully and turned to face his brother. He looked so tired and empty…not at all like old Fred.

"No…I don't regret anything."

Hermione stared at the fly that was perched on the lamp next to the sofa. It had decided it liked it atop the lamp-shade and hadn't moved since, which meant Hermione had found her "entertainment" for the day. Her hands were at her sides as she lay on the couch, blinking and breathing being the only things she had committed herself to doing.

The house was still just as screwed up as it had been two weeks ago. The walls were still burnt and dented, and the dishes had never been swept up. She had barely moved except when she had to put on some sort of act to convince George that she was surviving…barely.

What was the last thing she had eaten? Was it that mini candy-bar she had found on the table yesterday? Her stomach didn't growl anymore…she was too delicate and vulnerable to focus on hunger. Right now, she had to focus on never letting herself fall into…well fall in general. She wouldn't allow herself to become like this ever again. Maybe…just maybe…in a few months, she'd go to a buffet.

The phone rang for the first time in days. Hermione closed her eyes, losing sight of the fly as the ringing resounded in her ears. It was probably just George checking up on her again. God, that man had to leave her alone sometime, right?

A few more rings and then the answering machine came on; "Hey you've reached the Magical Tax Rebellion Organization! Just kissing, this is Fred and Hermione Weasley. We obviously can't get to the phone, so leave a message while we do something more fun then this. 'K, cool." Then a beep sounded, and Hermione waited.

"Hey…Hermione. It's…um well it's me. Fred. Weasley, in case you forgot your own hus-…well anyway, I'm just…just uh, checking up on you. I figured I should make some sort of uh…um, communication…to prove to you that I didn't go to far. Yeah, so…uh just call me again at George's number…if you want. But, I think we need to talk…So, yeah. Bye…." Hermione reopened her eyes, thinking the message was over. Slowly, she positioned herself on the side of the sofa to go and delete his voice form her answering machine, but there was breath on the line, and she stopped. So Fred hadn't hung up.

"Well, like I said…give me a call…and I'll um…I'll talk to you later…yeah. Hermione? I…" There was another large intake of air, and Hermione waited, her hands clenching into fists.

"I love you. Call me soon, 'k?" With a final sigh, Fred then hung up.