She was working on filling a requisition, a prosthetic hand, her first, letting her mind wander while she considered how she could have the limb mimic natural physical movement at the will of the wielder; her fingers plucked idly at a metal puzzle George had given her, a series of interconnected rings that could be pulled apart and put back together if one discovered the trick. She thought that adaptation of a puppetry charm might be a solution, but the key to making the limb's articulation instantaneous and effortless was evading her. With a frustrated sigh, she let the rings fall to her desk with a soft clink, next to the prototype appendage, which was currently resting on top of a copy of "Grey's Anatomy" that her parents had given to her some years ago. It was little more than a skeleton, which could be manipulated in to any position capable of an actual human hand and wrist. She kept coming back to her room to find it making profane gestures.
She gave up on her project temporarily, casting a weary eye over to the pile of requisitions which was gathering dust on her bedside table. Once she had a prototype for a new requisition the talented casters at St. Mungo's could, usually, recreate her efforts (she took very diligent notes) to provide for all the people who had heard word of the service she was offering. But the Death Eaters had been vicious and creative in their torture and mutilation, in both this war and the last, and innumerable people were left with unique injuries desiring her help. Each prototype took time and significant research, even with the Twins pouring their creative energies into the bond whenever they spared a thought her way.
Still, she was glad to help people and it certainly kept her busy. So busy, in fact, that she had been forced to ask to give up her shop duties. It had felt like a bit of a betrayal, since putting WWW back in business had helped her put herself back together. The Twins had been jovial about the entire thing.
"Cor 'Mione, we never thought – "
"-that you would stay forever." George had finished, the thought bouncing between them in a way she was amused to discover she'd found familiar. "I think Angelina has been looking to leave that dive she's been working nights in, she might be willing to help us keep this old place running." Fred had jabbed his twin sharply in the ribs with a freckled elbow.
"I'm sure that's why you want her around Georgie boy, nothing to do with wanting to look at her bum all day." This had quickly devolved into a tussle, and she had escaped back to her research, considering the matter settled. Angelina had started a few days later, and was helping out around the shop whenever she wasn't coaching little ones in quidditch. Hermione had walked in on Angelina and George snogging in the supply closet twice before she threatened to jinx them into oblivion if they didn't use a damn locking charm.
Now they were all coexisting rather amicably in a flat made for two, especially considering that three of them were living in each other's heads. Fred spent most nights in her bedroom (he would sometimes come in late in the evening, finding her still engrossed in her work; he'd listen to her talk or watch her work until he fell asleep fully dressed on the bed, and the sight of it made Hermione's chest feel too small for her lungs) and George often left to go to Angelina's for more privacy. It was untenable, to be sure, but Hermione was strangely content to let things be as they were for as long as she was able.
With a shake of her head, she broke from her reverie, and turned her attention back to the skeleton hand on her desk, the fingers crooked in a 'come hither' gesture that Fred had left her this morning. She cast the puppetry charm again, this time adding an anti-clockwise twist of her wand at the end to increase the power of the spell; perhaps that might allow her to control the movements in tandem with her thoughts.
It was some hours later before Fred pushed open her door, only a brief burst of emotion, longing burning through their bond, as warning that he was coming. He swept in with bravado, and she felt a gentle probe in her thoughts to catch a glimpse of her mood, before he pulled her to her feet and kissed her senseless. When he released her, she felt weightless, breathless, two brands burning on her arms where his hands had held her. He practically threw himself on the bed, giving her a salacious wink.
"How is my favorite witch doing this evening? The research going well?" He was smiling, the picture of innocent attention, except for his eyes falling to her lips and gliding over her throat. She couldn't stop her grin, as she quirked her eyebrow at the hand, and watched it reconfigure itself into a thumbs-up.
"It's a bit slow," she began but he shook his head.
"It's brilliant, Hermione," his earnest blue eyes burning across her face. "I can feel you're nearly finished. I'll just lay down for a quick kip, rest my feet. It has been a long day," he said with a stretch, his back popping, one hand rubbing absentmindedly across his sternum. He moved about behind her for only a few moments before settling down, making quick work of his jumper and trainers before flopping down onto his back and covering his eyes with a freckled arm.
The warm silence stretched between them for an unhurried hour while she set about writing down her notes for the day, to refresh her recollection later, and so that someone else might replicate her research. Her peace was shattered by the sound of thrashing behind her.
Her eyes flashed to him when a muted scream tore through the calm silence of her bedroom. His face was shiny with sweat and terribly pale, his eyes moving rapidly under closed lids. She moved to him, slowly, whispering to him, reaching out with calming thoughts and trembling fingers. Not his first nightmare, but they never got easier.
When she finally made contact his whole body seized like he was touched by a live wire, his chest heaving and his hands finding purchase on her arms like two vices, the knuckles bone white. His blue eyes shot open, dancing manically across her face before settling on her own. Immediately his fingers released her, his hands leaping away like she had burned him.
Not a moment later they were tangling in her hair, pulling her in, and his face found its way to the crook of her neck.
"Merlin, I'm sorry Hermione," he breathed across her skin, his lips trembling against her. He was silent for a long time, his breathing evening out, warm puffs of air that ghosted across the juncture of her neck and shoulder, sending a shiver down her spine. "It was about the war, about some battle. Just some random Death Eater, didn't even have a face," he pulled away, flopped back against the bed, throwing his arm across his face in a parody of his earlier rest. "He got George," he hesitated then drew his arm away from his face again, to look at her. "He got you." She moved her way further onto the bed, put her hand over his heart, still beating hard in his chest.
"I'm still here," she managed to choke out, her throat suddenly thick with emotion. They looked at each other for a long time, until the intensity with which he was tracing the lines of her face made her too uneasy. She collapsed down onto him, her head falling onto his chest, the gentle thud of his heart under her ear a repeating promise, his fingers cool against the small of her back. Suddenly she was weary down to her bones.
"It was always you, Hermione. Fuck," he swore under his breath, his arms wrapping protectively around her. "Even before the war, you were something special. Beautiful and brilliant, and you didn't take any shit from George and me. But you were with Ron and you seemed young then, a lifetime ago."
He sighed, and he sounded ancient, as old as she felt. "But that day, it was like when you're a kid and you spin and spin and spin until you don't know which way is up and which way is down, and the whole world is tilting and churning around you and you think you're going to fall if you try to stand. So you just have to focus on a single spot in all the swirling chaos, and that's what you were. When I touched you it was like everything suddenly snapped back into focus."
He carded his fingers through her hair, letting his hands trace the curve of her ear and the line of her jaw. "Letting you be alone was the hardest thing I have ever done, classes with Umbridge included. There was this pull, this magnetism that was drawing me to you, but mum talked about how quiet you were, how you needed time, how she hoped Ron could help draw you back into the world again. I nearly went mad, thought maybe I was already mad, and that dying had just knocked something loose in my head. When I heard that Ron had left the Burrow and you were still there, I didn't dare hope. Poor George didn't know what to do with me," he chuckled, the puff of air disturbing a curl lying on her forehead, "he decided to revive the shop, and nearly shoved me out the door to invite you to join."
She pulled her head from the comfort of his chest to look at him, his brilliant blue eyes burning out from his pale face, still beaded with sweat. He pulled her toward him, pressed a kiss to her forehead, to her nose, and finally to her lips, tender and painfully grateful. It made something twist deep in her chest, a wonderful ache. She laid back against his chest, curling her head back to press a kiss to the soft underside of his jaw.
"I thought my heart was going to stop that day," she whispered up to him, "it was like touching a live wire, like a burst of color after months of grey. You woke me up, and helped me find myself again." He said nothing, but pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, and from that point warmth bloomed through their bond, washing over her until she was wrapped in adoration, in comfort, and finally in deep serenity. Slowly, wrapped up in one another, they drifted off to dreamless sleep.
A/N: Hello friends! So it took me 6 months, but I finally did it. Turns out grad school takes up a lot of your time. I'm not super happy with the ending, but I hope you enjoy it regardless. What started out as an attempt to write the Hermione/Fred story I always wanted to read ended up being a bit more than I planned for, and rather cathartic to boot. Enjoy, and feel free to reach out, I love hearing from people who like my writing.