Fred and Hermione had been having many run-ins for a few months since she told him her secret. They usually went to the Hog's Head, but sometimes they'd sit out by the Black Lake. Fred would always be near, trying to lure young students to buy his merchandise while Hermione read, leaning into the tree that never seemed to be without shade when she sat beneath its leaves.
"Fred!" she called as he was trying to sell a short, blonde girl a 6-pack variety set. Fred tore his eyes away from the girl, looking over at Hermione. He noticed her brown eyes and began to remember all the time they had been spending together and how every smile she gave him kept him from all his secret sadness and he forgot completely about the girl he was trying to sell to.
With a huff and a set of small, certain stomps, the girl was gone. Hermione laughed to herself, staring at Fred. She remembered all the time she'd been spending with Fred, how he made her feel better about things Ron said when he wasn't thinking. She remembered how he had been keeping her secrets for months, being her closest friend.
She saw Harry and Ron walk by and felt her heart rate increase; Harry said a quick hello and Ron gave her a glance as he kept talking about Quidditch. Harry jumped back into the conversation and they forgot about her once more. Fred saw her face tear into sadness and he padded over the soft grass to her side. "Hey, don't worry about it. He's just excited about the first match; it's all he can think about, really. The only reason he talks to Harry is because he's just as into the game." Fred said, trying to sooth her. If it were a few months back, he wouldn't even know she was upset, but being around her so often made it obvious. She was breathing differently, her eyes slightly squinted, her mouth in a flat line, the telltale signs of her anger and sadness all the same.
Fred just wanted her to feel better. He knew she had wanted to often tell his brother how she felt about him, but she couldn't muster the confidence. When she did, he would always say something before she ever got the chance that would either cause her to storm away in tears or yell at him in anger and wallow by herself.
Hermione sighed, "It's okay. I know he's distracted. He just never talks to me anymore and.. and it's hard. Why aren't you excited like him?" she asked. "Unlike my twat brother, I can focus on more than one thing at a time. I am excited, but I have sales to increase and" Fred said, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead, " a best friend to keep happy." Hermione smiled and leaned back on the tree, getting lost in her book once more.
Fred was left next to her, thinking.
I wonder if she knows how much I love her?
He thought, but he knew she didn't. Sometimes it hurt to know she didn't see him the way he saw her. Sometimes, he would take out the knife and make himself feel a little better after a day of being with her, being happy to keep her hopes up, but overall guilty that he lied to her about how he felt day by day, didn't tell her his deepest secret, and didn't make her happy in all of his efforts.
The blade worked extra hard that night when he retired, hiding beneath his covers. He learned to remain silent as he bled, keeping his dorm-mates from hearing his pain. He did more damage that night because he felt so much more like it was the right time to tell her the truth. As he cast away the blood from the bed makings and wrapped his wounds, he noticed he was not as satisfied as he usually was after a session of this type of relief.
In fact, it was the day before the match and he usually felt jumpy with happiness, but he was just on the verge of tears, afraid he couldn't keep pretending to be strong when Hermione was coaxing his weakness and vulnerability from his inner being.
With tears on his cheeks and throbbing in his arm, Fred fell into a light slumber, attempting to think of a way he could try and make the pain vanish, but nothing new came to mind, only telling her the truth could heal him; that was something he couldn't do. Not in the state she was in.