Hermione looked up over her plate and asked, "Is everything alright, Harry?"

The dim light in the restaurant glinted off his glasses as he raised his chin to look at her. "I sold Ginny's ring this afternoon." His eyes and voice were soft with sadness.

Fred's jaw momentarily stopped moving. His eyes darted between the two of them a few times before he finished chewing and swallowed. "I didn't know you'd already bought a ring," he replied, spearing a piece of chicken and bringing it to his mouth nonchalantly.

The slight quiver in his voice gave him away.

"Yeah." Harry pushed his green beans around the edge of his dish. "It wasn't anything big or special. But, y'know, it just symbolized how... uh... how much I loved her."

Hermione chewed her bottom lip and shifted uncomfortably in her chair, throwing a glance at Fred as if to ask 'what do we say?" He responded with wide eyes, a confused shake of his head and a quick shrug, all rolled into one.

"Do you think we could head out?" Harry said suddenly. "I don't have much of an appetite anymore."

"Sure," she responded quickly, "no problem."

He stood, took his wallet and pulled out a piece of paper muggle money. "Here's my share. I'm going outside for some air." He grabbed his jacket and headed to the exit.

Hermione sighed and leaned back in her chair, tangling her hand in her hair. "We finally get him out of his place, and it's the day he decides to pawn his bloody engagement ring."

"Aww, you're concerned and bitter. That is so cute."

"Well, come on, Fred. He does this all the time. Every time we talk him into doing anything, he finds something to remind himself of Ginny and gets all depressed. It's like the man is allergic to happiness."

"You have to cut him some slack. One can only take so much loss in one lifetime, and he has far exceeded the limit."

"I know, I know." She grabbed her glass of wine and took a large sip. "But I am just being warn so thin. I want to not have to worry about him all the time."

"Just be grateful he's cut back on his drinking," Fred replied with a sigh. "I was going to buy him a new liver as a Christmas present."

"Let's get out of here. Harry's probably freezing one or two delicate extremities off just standing outside." She rose out of her chair while draining the remnants of her drink. Fred cast her a raised eyebrow. "Don't give me that look. I deserve a glass once in awhile. And I am not letting it go to waste."

He shrugged into his jacket and buttoned it tightly. "What ever you say, 'Mione." He held up her jacket and she slid her arms through.

"Thanks. And don't call me 'Mione. Ever again."

"Alright, sugar bottom."

"Better," she said, tugging a knit cap over her ears. "Much better."

-

The three of them walked down the cold street, identical clouds of silver breath dancing before their faces. Small flurries swirled in the air around them, catching in their hair and clothing. At the corner of Hermione's street, Harry stopped. "I'm going to head on home. I'll talk to you two later."

"Alright. Have a good night," Hermione replied, gathering him in a hug.

"See ya later, mate," Fred said, accompanying it with a small wave.

Harry flashed them a small smile, and disappeared in the night.

Hermione let out a deep sigh. "I don't know why he bother's lying to us. He's going to visit her; we both know it."

"Let him think he's being discreet. It could be a lot worse." He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and looked at her. "So, what do you want to do now?"

"I was looking at a night in alone. Do you want to join me?"

"I don't know... are you sure I won't be intruding on your crazy social life?"

She laughed, cheeks flushed from the cold. "The minute I get any sort of social life you'll be the first to know."

"Well, then, I guess I won't refuse."

-

A few minutes later, they sat on the couch they'd pushed in front of the fireplace, mugs of cocoa warming their fingers. Their wet clothing lay before the hearth, the flames slowly drying them.

Hermione took a sip of her hot drink. "So how is the store doing?"

"It's doing alright. I'm still having some trouble coming up with new treats though." He set his empty cup down and pulled his blanket up around his chest.

After a moment of silence, she said, "How about a Black-Eye-Brownie... or Biscuit... or something?"

Fred looked at her quizzically. "A what brownie?"

"A Black-Eye-Brownie. You know, if you eat it, it makes it look as though you've got a black eye. Tell your professor that someone you don't like did it, land them in detention."

Silence.

Then he burst into laughter. "Where did you ever think that up?"

Her cheeks flushed. "I don't know. It just seems up your alley. 'Get your enemies back for past annoyances' and all that. If it's stupid, just tell me."

"No, I think it's hilarious. I'm just surprised it came from you."

"Well, when we were in Hogwarts, Ron was always saying how he would love to get Malfoy back for everything he said and did, but he never quite managed it. He could've used a little help." She lowered her head and traced the lip of her mug with her finger.

"You know, Hermione, all this time you've been worried about me and Harry, but you've never let on about how you're holding up."

"I don't want to be a bother to the two of you."

"You could never be a bother to me."

She looked up from her cup and gazed at him, his eyes full of concern and understanding. She sighed and leaned against the arm of the sofa.

"It kills me," she said simply. "Every day I wake up without him beside me a tiny part of me dies. I walk down the street and see him in shops and in cars. I hear his voice calling my name softly the way he did when he told me loved me, but when I turn around I'm alone. I wake up in the middle of the night because I can feel his touch and it's nothing but a draft. I walk around in a fog. And... it's killing me."

Fred stared, awed at how empty her eyes were. "I want you to do something for me."

"And what's that?"

He took the mug from her hands and set it beside his own. "I want you to come here," he grabbed her arm and pulled her so she was sitting next to him instead of facing him, "and put your head on my shoulder, and act like a human and cry."

She cast him a horrified look. "No, that's ridiculous. I don't need..." she started, moving away from him. But he kept his grip firm.

"Listen to me. It's been almost half a year since he died. I haven't seen you cry once. I've seen you ache over Harry's grief, and I've been comforted by you myself. But you seem to be keeping everything to yourself. And I would be one bastard of a friend if I shared my pains with you, but didn't return the favor." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"But... I can't..."

He lifted her chin with his hand and looked her straight in the eye. "Hermione, don't - for one moment - consider that I'll think you are a weak person because I'll see you at a low point. It's quite the opposite."

Looking up into his face, something in Hermione finally broke. Tears welled in her eyes, the corners of her lips quivering. She burst into tears and buried her face in Fred's chest, hands wound weakly in his shirt.

He wrapped her in his arms and whispered that it was alright, that it was okay, that the pain she felt was natural. One hand combed her hair absentmindedly, the other around her waist.

She sobs racked her body, built up over the previous months. Crying in showers, silently weeping as she filed the claims at the office, wiping away tears in the markets: none of those times were like this. All those had been contained; she stopped when she needed to. But this time... this time the building could collapse and she'd keep going.

"I miss him so much," she managed to choke out.

She felt him sigh against her and rest a cheek on the top of her head. "I know it does." He pulled blankets around them and tightened his embrace around her tiny, trembling frame.

"I know how much... all too well.