Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns everything you recognize from the Harry Potter books.

PART TWO

Fred's room was messy, covered in jerseys and robes and products and sheets of paper with ideas for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. It was red and gold all over, pure Gryffindor, just like Fred.

Hermione, Ron, and Harry stood in the doorway of the room, staring at what was left of a life. They could hear Angelina soothing George in the next room.

It had been more than a year since Voldemort was killed. In that time, so much had happened as the wizarding world rebuilt what they had lost.

Some things could never be rebuilt or replaced. Monuments were built instead, honouring those who had died in the fight against the Dark Lord. Fred's name was on every single one of those monuments, right up there with Sirius, Tonks, Lupin, Snape, and Dumbledore. And this room was his shrine, nothing moved since he had last been in there.

George was recovering. His solution was to ignore Fred's room, pretend it wasn't there. But it was, and one day when George realised he was brewing a potion wrong, he remembered where the correct instructions were.

Fred's room.

He couldn't go in himself. Neither could any of the Weasleys. Hermione volunteered, and Harry offered to help. Ron tagged along with his girlfriend and best friend, all of them clearing time from their busy schedules as Assistant Secretary to the Minister of Magic, Head Auror, and Quidditch Keeper. They had all continued on with their lives. But this was a task still undone.

"Well," Hermione said after a lengthy pause. "I suppose…I suppose we should get started."

Hermione and Harry entered the room grimly, and began tidying. Tidying first, clearing second, they had decided the day before. The job was begun in a somber mood, but as they got deeper in, there were more and more reasons to laugh. Their laughter brought Ron in to help, and soon drew Angelina and George. Together, they tidied Fred's stuff and laughed at the genius troublemaker he had been.

They made a point of not reading any personal journals or letters. Those they put aside into a box for George to read later. Hermione figured that there wasn't much in those that George didn't already know, and it could be his decision who to allow to read them.

Maybe they could eventually become a book, Hermione said. A book about one of the smartest jokesters to walk Hogwarts' halls.

About halfway through, Ron paused. He had been organizing Fred's desk, sorting the papers and notebooks into piles.

"Hermione," he said shakily. Hermione, Harry, George, and Angelina turned to look at him. He was holding an envelope in his hand.

"Yes?" she asked quietly, face pale.

"Hermione, this is addressed to you…" His whisper echoed in the room, no one moving.

Hermione got up and walked to Ron, pulling the letter out of his grasp with a shaking hand.

On the front of the envelope, in a bold hand, was her name: Hermione Granger.

She sank to the floor, sitting on her knees as she opened it.

Hermione-

At this point I don't know if we'll ever see each other again. You're on the run, who knows where, and I'm about to leave the shop with George so we can broadcast Potterwatch in peace. The lovely visitors we've been having just aren't worth the hassle. Maybe we'll run into each other out there somewhere, and have a chat free of the 'scary dark lord' name version of He-who-must-not-be-named.

We left each other with a lot left unsaid. I'm sorry for that. I did try to find you at the wedding afterwards, Hermione. Promise. But, well, there was an interruption, and you left pretty quickly after that. So I might never get to say this to your face. Who knows who will live and who will die.

I love you, Hermione Granger. You and your wild hair and know-it-all ways. Even if you never read this, I'm relieved knowing that I have it documented somewhere that what we did together wasn't pure lust. I don't regret it. Do you? Don't answer that, I don't want to know.

So, I enter into the world of the war. I'm sorry this letter doesn't have more of the jokes you love. Not really in the mood, don't know when I will be again. See you in the future.

Love,

Mr. Fred Weasley

Hermione gulped back tears as she read the letter, and remembered.

"Hermione."

She turned, wand already out, ready to attack whoever had just spoke her name.

"Relax, it's just me." She followed his instructions and relaxed as Fred stepped out of the shadows. "Ready to go fight evil?" he asked, cracking a smile.

She smiled back, a sad smile. "Not like I have anything else to do."

They stood there, awkwardly, for a few minutes. Finally, she smiled, nodded, and turned to go.

"Hermione, wait." He caught her arm, holding her in place. She looked at his hand, and he slowly let go. He tipped her chin up so she was looking into those blue, blue eyes. "We'll talk afterwards, won't we?"

She nodded. "We'll talk," she repeated. He smiled, and turned to bound down the hallway.

"Fred!" she called after him. He paused for a minute. She dithered, not remembering what she had planned to say. "Fred, just…be careful…"

"You too," he said softly, then turned to go.

That was the last time she saw him living.

It had been one night, the night before the wedding. A night when she had been so unsure of herself, and her abilities, and he had been there. He had been there, reassured her, and, well….the phrase 'one thing led to another' didn't seem to capture them.

"Hermione?" Ron said hesitantly from beside her. "Are you okay?"

She reached up and hugged him, shaking with silent tears. One day she would have to tell him, her sweet, caring Ron. For now, she'd leave it.

Looking at George over Ron's shoulder, she weakly waved the letter she still held in her hand.

"Can I keep it?"

His face was unreadable.

"I think he meant for you to have it."

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a/n: This is a rewrite of a one-shot I had published. It will now be republished in three parts, with some edits. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the first version, and inspired me to rewrite it. Read and Review :)