Disclaimer: I own nothing.

So, Fred has decided to get out of town for a while! Will it help Hermione to feel better, or will it only make things worse?

Sit back and find out!

Love always,

Avoline

Fred laughed, Hermione beside him, as she stumbled down the street. It had been her idea to taste a few wines, and she had tasted one too many. He had stuck to two or three, knowing that she would wind up like this.

Especially since she had vomited the entire contents of her stomach just a few hours before.

A small twinge gripped his heart. He had hoped that getting her out of the country would help her to keep some food in her stomach, but she had thrown up the instant they entered their hotel room. He had to use every ounce of self-control to keep from shedding a single tear. She needed him. If she saw how all of this was affecting him, she would never trust him with anything.

And he needed her to trust him.

"How is it that I'm soooo drunk, and you aren't," she giggled. He smiled as she gripped his arm for balance.

"I haven't the faintest clue, sweetheart," he lied.

He hated this. He hated lying to her, and knew that she hated being lied to. Yet the only way he knew to stay strong was to lie to her. As long as she never discovered the truth, he would get away with it.

But he knew better. She'd figure it out eventually.

He very slightly shook his head. She would understand. This was his Hermione. There was no way she could hold a grudge forever. She even got over all the crap Draco Malfoy had put her through. She dealt with Ron breaking her heart with the grace of an angel. She's even put up with all the pranks he and George had pulled on her.

Surely she could handle a few little lies.

"I'm soooo tired," she whined, her speech slightly slurred. He scooped her up bridal style and continued walking.

"Rest, love," he instructed. "I'll carry you the rest of the way." She barely nodded and laid her head on his shoulder. He had only taken a few steps when he heard her soft snoring.

She's passed out!

He chuckled at her. Only five glasses of wine and she was passed out drunk. He had lost count of how many times he and Bill had held drinking contests to see who could hold their liquor better, only for Bill to come out the victor.

But this wasn't Bill. This was his wife, who was slowly dying in his arms. And he was too busy reminiscing of fucking drinking games.

He was feeling more and more worthless each day.

He reached the hotel quickly, and magicked the door open. He walked over to the bed and gently laid her down. She deserved to sleep, even if was only for a few hours. She deserved so much, more than even he could give her. Yet she chose him.

He shook his head slightly. Now was not the time to wonder why she married him. Now, he had to focus on making her feel better. Or at least make her laugh.

Focus, Fred.

He covered her with the blankets, then climbed in beside her. His arms pulled her close, and he cherished every breath she took. He didn't want to miss a single moment of whatever was left of her life. He would cherish her, make her feel so loved, and he would not let her down. He was done hurting her, done making her think that all that mattered to him was the shop.

Cause she was his world.

He heard her groan as she woke, and smiled as he timed her waking with the bath tub filling. He stood and cast a charm to keep the water warm, then stepped back into the bedroom of the hotel suit.

She was curled into herself, and he was certain her head was pounding. He sat on the edge of the bed and brushed her hair away from her face.

"Come on, love," he cooed. "I've got a warm bath ready for you. It'll make you feel better, love." She barely lifted her head and opened her eyes, a small smile gracing her tired face.

"I'd say I'm the luckiest woman alive," she whispered. He pressed his lips to hers.

"And I work to make sure you feel that way," he answered. "Come on, my love." He slid his arms under her and carried her to the tub, magicking her clothes away before lowering her into the water. She moaned as the warmth touched her skin.

"Oh, Merlin, that feels amazing," she murmured. He smiled and rested her head against the rolled up towel. "I could doze back off."

"Oh, but then you'd miss out on all the fun I've got planned for today," he countered gently. "There's a trip to the alleged home of Romeo and Juliet, that old crumbling Colosseum, even that painted ceiling." Her eyes flew open, shining like stars.

"You mean the Sistine Chapel," she inquired. "You're taking me to see the Sistine Chapel?" He managed a laugh.

"Yes, dear, of course," he chuckled. "Would I let you down?"

His heart nearly broke when she answered no.