Here is another part of The Masquerade. I hope you'll enjoy it!

(Do not hesitate to review ;p it's always nice to know your opinion!)

ElieNP

Three days had passed since Fred had supposedly woken up. Three days during which happiness had finally brightened the faces of his family and friends again. All were over-joyed. And the ones who might have doubted he'd ever come back had apologized many times, thanking whatever – or whoever - had decided to save him and swearing to never lose hope ever again. No grudge was held against them. Doubt, when a situation seemed so tragic, was acceptable. Abnormal were the ones who refused to share this great joy. George and Hermione belonged to these people, in all honesty they were the only ones to have such a negative attitude.

They'd been unable to say anything in front of Fred, nor to explain themselves to Mrs Weasley when she'd cornered them out of the hospital room. She was furious. How could they have dared disappear at such a time! How could they have done that to Fred! Not being there when he'd opened his eyes! They were unforgivable!

Back at the Burrow, they'd locked themselves up in George's room. They needed to think, fast and efficiently. This Fred wasn't their Fred. However to which point was he different, they didn't know. Was there a way to counter the curse? They hadn't known when he was in a coma, now that he was awake, they still had no clue.

They kept moving restlessly around the room. Had their short rest been enough? Hadn't they jumped too quickly to the terrible conclusion? Could they have missed something? Could there be another way to save Fred?

Hermione's nerves reached their breaking point after one day of hearing the house being so full of life. She finally took in the horror they'd been about to commit. They'd been about to kill, to kill Fred without telling anybody, without doing more researches. They'd been about to commit a murder, to murder someone who had still had a chance to live, to be saved. That they hadn't found it had never meant the way didn't exist.

George'd been forced to slap her back to her sense. She'd gone hysteric. A hysteria he'd refused to yield to though he was being overwhelmed by the same guilty feeling.

Their idea had been a sick one. Had they really had Fred's well-being in mind? He was doubting now.

After having gotten rid of her hysteria, Hermione buried herself in disgust, considering herself a monster.

"If you say it again I swear I-"

Her glare cut him off. She'd been whispering the word every single damned minute – perhaps not so often, but it was being insufferable. If they kept going on like that, soon they wouldn't be able to bear with each other's presence. Hermione's glare softened and George's features relaxed. No, they couldn't afford to go on separated ways.

"Sorry," she apologized. "But... but do you realize..."

She didn't need to finish her sentence. Of course he realised. Of course he felt guilty and was horrified by the fatalism which had led them.

"Still, you agree he isn't..."

"Himself," she completed.

"We need to do something."

Albeit she agreed with him, she couldn't help the dryness in her tone. "And what?"

George shook his head. That had been the problem and still was. What could they possibly do?

"We have to stay calm." As logical as it sounded, they hadn't been able to keep panic away the first time, and it'd almost led them to commit the unforgivable. "We shouldn't have taken a decision in the state we were in." He went to sit by Hermione's side on his bed. "I shouldn't have... voiced this idea at all."

Hermione sighed. "Don't take all the blame, I didn't do anything to stop us either."

"I fear my mother is going to kick us out of this room," George said, half chuckling, half grimacing. They'd been wallowing in misery for a very long time. "She doesn't understand at all."

"How could she? We're locked up here instead of celebrating with everybody else."

George nodded. "She can't of course." He rested his elbows on his lap and leant his chin on his fists.

"What are you thinking about?" she softly asked.

"A way to settle everything, or part of it."

"Any results?"

He glanced at her sideways. She shrugged. "Doesn't cost anything to ask." George chuckled. The situation had them both acting out-of-character.

"It may be a good start to go out of this room," Hermione proposed. "Here we don't really know what's going on. I don't like that."

He became serious again. "You mean we should play along with the curse?"

The way her muscles tensed answered him. He frowned. "I don't like that very much either."

"Do you think I do? To think we'll have to do as if Fred was back..." her voice trailed off. "But this is the best we can do for now. We have to understand how things work, what has changed, what hasn't changed... yet. We need to find out where our Fred is." She sighed. "Fuck."

His lips stretched up a bit. Still out-of-character, it was a pity Fred couldn't see her thus, he'd be delighted to witness how much their company had changed her.

"If Mum heard you," he laughed.

Her glare would have impressed him if it wasn't contrasted by the smile gracing her lips. "I know, it's terrible, and all because of you guys," she whined, feigning to be desperate.

"We have never forced such words into your vocabulary," he pointed out.

"I've learnt them by your side," she winked, "it's the same."

Surprising was how quickly they could start to joke when, few minutes ago, they'd been wallowing in misery. Wizard or muggle, there was no difference, in such a delicate situation they needed to relax from time to time. The unforgivable had been about to be committed because of a lack of detachment from their part. You learnt with difficulties from the others' mistakes, but from your own, their own, it was another story. They'd take advantage of the smallest lesson they could make out, and cling to it as much as possible.

"So, ready to take part in this masquerade?" George asked.

"I suggest we take it easy first, what about eating with them tonight instead of taking our dinner here?"

He jumped on his feet and held out his hand for her. "Brilliant!"

She frowned at him. "Don't try too hard George. The goofy smile and jumpy enthusiasm are a bit too much for me. Plus, they may find our change of mind too sudden."

"They will be too happy to see us change our mind. They won't think twice about it."

"I'm not sure. Harry for example-"

"The shock, it's all about the shock of having almost lost Fred and now having him back," he explained. "Trust me, they won't question our behaviour."

Her eyes went to a photography of them all. She couldn't remember when it'd been taken exactly. During some holidays obviously, for it was the sole periods of the year they were all reunited at the Burrow, most likely in summer from the look of their clothes, and in middle of the Weasley Quidditch pitch. They all had smiles on their faces. Arms around shoulders, hands in hands, some sitting in others' lap, some jumping on others' backs. They looked wild and happy, Mrs Weasley merely horrified at how her great extended-family picture would look like. A whole bunch of kids. Kids she loved more than anything else, it didn't matter that they didn't all belong to her.

Hermione smiled at the thought, then focused on where she was with the twins. Fred was sprawled on the ground, his stomach to the earth so as she could be seated on his back, George's hands leaning on her shoulders. Goofy smiles were stretching their lips. She remembered Fred whining about her weight and George's chuckles in her ears as he pushed more on her to burden his brother.

The picture was marvellous. Unfortunately coming from another time, when they hadn't endured so great losses yet.

Hermione slowly got up to take the frame closer to her eyes. Studying their faces more carefully, she remarked how worry was strongly marring their features. They'd already been carrying the burden of war, something far too heavy for their shoulders, for anyone's shoulders. Certainly the youngest generation hadn't experienced war yet, but its shadow hadn't gone unnoticed. That time hadn't been safer than their present, only different.

"We should have been born earlier, or much later," George murmured while walking to the door. "No... in fact this is stupid. What's done is done, and another time doesn't mean a better one." Hermione silently acquiesced. "And to be honest I'd rather not go back to where I come from."

He shivered, half-feigning to be horrified, and winked when he saw her frown. Then he moved his head to point out her hands. "Put it down, or in a drawer. To dwell on the past will do nothing. I don't know how, or when, but we'll take another one, I-"

"Don't you dare promise anything George Weasley," she warned him.

He brought a hand to his heart, eyes widening exaggeratedly. "What? You think I'm a liar? Oh dear! It hurts so much," he exclaimed in a vexed tone.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. It'd be good for her friend to be a bit out-of-character too, it'd be less tiring for her. And yet she was perfectly aware they both needed that kind of attitude. To say stupidities, to act like an uncaring fool, they needed to remember their old days to keep their sanity within reach.

The day they stopped catching sight of this tiny bit of brightness, darkness would have become too thick for them to fight it any longer. Defeat would be proclaimed, definitely.

"You coming? I'm sure dinner is almost ready."

The frame went back to its place.

Going through the threshold of this room meant much more than to merely partake in a great – and dangerous - masquerade. Leaving what had, little by little, become their sanctuary announced the beginning of a new period. Hermione could feel changes were about to happen, important ones. She had no choice but to accept the situation. If she wanted another picture of the extended-family to be taken, such as the one she'd just put back in place – its face to the wall, she had to forgive herself for the mistake she'd been about to make. She had to forget her despair, her doubts, in order to go ahead. To do so she was ready to face anything.

Fred wasn't there any more, George and she were. To make a trio the third member had to be brought back from the place where he was prisoner.

"We'll stop being so changing when he's back, won't we?"

George merely laughed at her remark. Hermione couldn't be righter. For as long as Fred had been missing, and undoubtedly until they truly brought him back, they wouldn't be steady. Odd behaviours, flickering moods, worrying thoughts, they couldn't get further away from their usual-self.

They'd have to tread carefully with the rest of the family. If they were to rouse too many questions, they doubted the tie on their hands would remain loose enough to allow them to investigate on their own.

The stairs seemed too short to Hermione. Soon, they were in the kitchen, coming to face a gaping - and armed with a wooden spoon - Mrs Weasley. Ron slapped his thighs exaggeratedly hard – then grimaced because of the strength he'd been too eager to show himself able of. Ginny and Harry were less exuberant, simply letting out a relieved sigh.

"You're finally out of your den!" Ron loudly exclaimed, still doing his best to hide his pain.

They all rolled their eyes at him.

"Sit down, dinner will be ready in a minute."

Hermione gingerly smiled at Mrs Weasley's gentle invitation – order. In spite of their odd behaviours, she was more than pleased to welcome them back in her kingdom. Thinking about it, Hermione realised she couldn't be angry with her for not noticing the changes her son was victim of. To have been brought to believe she'd lost him for ever was a curse strong enough to crush anything else. All she cared about were the open eyes of her son, his ringing voice in her ears, his soft touch on her skin. Fred was back, and alive, back and alive, alive and conscious, if the curse was so strong he wouldn't be thus. So the curse had been somehow defeated. That was as simple as that.

Hermione clenched her fists under the table. If only she could adopt the same pattern of thoughts.

"Where is Dad?" George casually asked while taking a seat by Hermione's left.

"On his way home, Percy is with him."

"Charlie and Bill will arrive later in the evening," Ginny told them.

A silent agreement had obviously been made. No questions would be asked. No remarks would be made about the previous days. They'd be told all they needed for the gaps to be filled. It'd be as if they had never isolated themselves in the first place.

"He is coming home tomorrow morning." Ron's voice painfully pierced their heart, though it wasn't visible on their face.

"That's great," Hermione beamed.

"Brilliant," George acquiesced.

They glanced at each other, uneasy smiles mirroring on their lips. Nobody around them seemed to notice.

"We want to give him some privacy," Mrs Weasley started. "Which means everyone has to promise they won't be on his back twenty-four hours a day. I'm certain being back among his family will be enough to help him recover quickly." She turned to her son. "You know, he greatly misses sleeping in the same room as you."

George did his best to offer her a smile which could match hers. Hermione pinched his thigh, making his lips move in an expression the others would take as a mix of happiness, tension and worry for his brother.

"Don't worry, everything will be all right." His mother gently told him, her hand desperately trying to arrange his hair.

It was around midnight when Hermione and George finally succeeded in escaping the familial cocoon. They were all so excited about Fred's return, it was impossible to get them to speak about something else. Surprisingly, they'd enjoyed spending their evening with the family again, but Fred as the main subject wouldn't allow them to entirely feel at ease.

Hermione's fingers were tired of her playing with them. They'd been bent in unbelievable positions. All of that because of that damned guilty feeling their owner couldn't get rid of, much less when she was surrounded by so many people not sharing her thoughts.

George and she, being certain there was a problem with Fred, were betraying their family. Instead of letting themselves being carried by a wave of relief and joy, they were waiting for the moment to prove they were right. But were they truly right?

Hermione was, once again, doubting their theory. Fred might have really come back to them. The atmosphere around him might be the result of their exhaustion, fears and panic. They might have imagined everything because of too wild imaginations. Fred might as well be their old Fred, meaning they were freaking out over nothing.

"He isn't ours."

Her head jerked to the left. "Sorry?"

"Fred, the one who is coming back. Trust me, he isn't the true one."

She frowned. "How-"

"Doubt is written all over your face you know."

Turning over on her back, she loudly sighed. "They are so happy."

"They'll be as much when the true one is back."

"So you think we can bring him back?"

"Why not?"

Hermione stretched her arms above her head. "Because some days ago we've been about to-"

His hands abruptly came to rest on her lips. Her brows furrowed. "Don't." Understanding he wouldn't move away as long as she didn't assure him she wouldn't continue her sentence, she simply bit his fingers, hard, to get the same result.

"We've been about to kill him, we were convinced he was gone, and now we're still convinced that this Fred isn't ours, but we're supposed to get ours back. How? Why? What the hell is happening? I'm lost George, utterly lost. One day everything is over. The other hope is back and hits us hard. What's happening to us George? I wonder. Perhaps we're the ones who should go to a medic. Perhaps we should sleep for days because our exhaustion is much big than we think. Perhaps we're just mad. Perhaps we should," she let her arms fall back on the bed, "perhaps we should just share their joy."

George slapped her. She slapped back. He growled. She raised an eyebrow at him. Were they some beasts?

"You're giving up on him," he snarled.

"Absolutely not!" she spat.

"Yes you are. You traitor!"

She swiftly got up to straddle his hips. "I'm no traitor George. I'm lost and tired. And I want to be happy, as happy as your mother is. The agony in her eyes has disappeared! Why mine couldn't do so? Why our agony is still there? Why can't we be happy? Fred is back!" She pinned his wrist to the bed. "Fred is back," she repeated, stressing out each word.

"He is not," George replied, also stressing out every one of his words. "And you know it."

"Then where is he?" she whined in a breath.

She freed his wrist then collapsed on top of him. "Where is he?" No tears went to soak his shirt though they could have been expected. She'd cried too often over the past months to be able to still do so.

George slowly shifted them so as they both rested on their side, face to face. "I don't know," he sincerely answered. "But we will find out." He chased a lock away from her forehead. "You know it as well as me Hermione. Your dream, the atmosphere, the curse, they haven't been in vain. We live in magic. Magic can betray us, deceive us, but we'll do our best so as it doesn't defeat us."

"Naïve, lost and stupid," she listed. "How can we win against magic?"

"We can."

She punched his chest. "I'm not a kid any more. Such simple answer as that doesn't do anything."

He trapped her fist with his left hand. "But I gingerly think we're going to win because we want to win. We want to have Fred back. You want to have him back."

Her eyes bored into his. She truly longed for Fred's presence, no matter how safe she could feel in George's arms, they weren't Fred's. No need to hide it, George knew. "We all want to have him back."

He gave her a small smile. She wasn't willing to broach the subject, he'd respect her choice, reluctantly though.

"Tomorrow will be awkward."

"And painful."

"We'll look like fools."

"He'll fool everyone."

"Almost."

"You're back on my side, aren't you?"

To Be Continued