Hey! Sorry this took so long to update. I've had a lot of things going on. But I have finally found time to write a chapter!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in any way shape or form.
When Hermione stepped outside she shivered at the burst of cold air that hit her skin. She wished she would have brought a jacket.
She quickly contemplated going back inside and fetching one but decided against it; figuring that even Ron would get suspicious of her getting a jacket for the library. So, with clenched teeth and arms wrapped around her she began to walk slowly towards the cemetery.
Her mind was reeling with thoughts. What if Fred was really was there.
No! That's preposterous. He's dead, another part of her shouted.
She groaned loudly and looked over at the Quidditch Pitch. She wondered if Harry and Ginny were as cold as she was right now. Considering that Hermione thought that some of the cold filling her was due to the anticipation of reaching the gates of the cemetery, she assumed that they were probably much warmer.
Hermione reached the gate, and before she could talk herself out of what she was doing, she pulled it open.
For some odd reason it surprised Hermione to not see Fred just sitting at the opening of the gate, waiting for her to come back. It did calm her, however, to see that this wasn't the case.
Perhaps it really was all in my head.
She walked farther into the cemetery. Each step without seeing him felt like a giant weight lifted off her shoulders. She easily made it to Fred's grave and sighed in relief.
"He's not here. I imagined it all."
"Are you going to run and scream like a banshee if I show myself again."
Hermione did scream and Fred sighed and crossed his arms and waited for her to stop.
She looked at him again and was muttering under her breath. "No. No. No."
Hermione put her head in her hands and continued like this for another five minutes, pacing back and forth, occasionally looking up at Fred hoping he wasn't there to go into another round of hysteria.
Had Fred been alive, perhaps, he would have found this funny.
Eventually she stopped in her tracks and took a deep breath.
"So, you're alive." She said blatantly.
"No." Fred said, trying not to get frustrated as Hermione furrowed her eyebrow. "Do I look alive?"
No, She thought, Far from it; but not dead either.
Hermione tried to push away the fact that she was talking to a dead person and started using the logical sense of her mind.
"Then what are you? You don't look like a ghost."
Fred sank down on the tree with a miserable look on his face, "I don't know," he said tiredly.
The brunette took a step towards him to comfort him- but then wondered what in the world she could do to help someone who couldn't feel anything. If she were to hug him, she had a feeling he would just go right through her.
The two were silent for a long time.
"I want you to help me." He told her in a strong voice.
"With what?"
"I don't know what I am. i don't know why I'm in this state. All I know is that I want to move on."
Hermione's eyes welled up with tears.
The red head took a step towards her. "Look at me."
She obliged and was surprised to see the spark in his eyes that used to be ever present when he was alive, the one that showed mischievous determination.
"You're the smartest witch I know, Hermione. If there's someone in the world who can figure this out, it's you."
"But why don't you go up to the school and ask McGonagall to help. We could even get a team at the Ministry to try and figure this out." Her words were coming out quickly, desperate for some other alternative. She didn't want this all on her shoulders.
"Absolutely not," he said stubbornly, "I don't want anyone but you to know about this. I don't want a bunch of healers gawping at me like I'm some potions experiment. Plus, I can't leave this graveyard."
"Why?" Hermione asked.
Fred threw his arms in the air with a frustrated groan. "I don't bloody know! I don't know anything!
Her mind was reeling; there had to be a reason he was in this state and confined in only this cemetery.
He took a deep breath and stepped closer to the brunette, he then reached out his hand. Hermione looked at it skeptically.
"Will you Hermione Jean Granger use your abnormally large mind to find a way for me to move on, and not be stuck in this hideous state for all of eternity?"
Then the mischief maker saw a spark light up in her eyes. He arched an eyebrow in question.
"There's a reason you're holding on to life, Fred," she said determinedly, "And I'm going to figure out why."
He laughed and said "Okay, 'Mione, whatever you say." He held out his hand a little farther and a look of complete seriousness took over his face.
"You can't tell anyone- Including Harry and Ron."
Hermione bit her lip. The told each other everything; they were the golden trio. She looked up at Fred and realized why he wanted this to be a secret. He didn't want his family to get their hopes up and see him, only to watch him die again.
"Okay." she said shakily. She once again looked at his hand. Slowly she reached for it and grabbed it. Her hand didn't go through it like she expected, but rather closed around it. Instead of finding warmth, however, she found nothing. It was like she was clasping air. It was one of the oddest sensations Hermione had felt.
Hermione's curiosity got the better of her.
"What does it feel like when you touch my hand?"
"Nothing." He said honestly.
She nodded her head and rubbed her arms in an attempt to warm them up. With a sigh she turned from Fred and began walking away.
"Oi! Where are you going?" he yelled.
Without turning around she tiredly said "The library, of course."
As she opened the gate and left, she gave one final look at the boy.
He was shaking his head and grinning.
Some things never change.
Hopefully it wasn't too bad.
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