14 April 1996

"You're leaving."

It was nearing one in the morning and Hermione had just come downstairs to find Fred and George, the only two people in the common room, seated in front of the fire and talking to one another in low voices. When she spoke, standing a couple feet away and watching them over the back of the sofa, Fred's head snapped up.

It wasn't a question because she didn't need to ask. It was a statement. A fact. A sword that she could look up and see dangling over her head, clear as day.

She'd felt it for weeks, like a tide rolling back before a devastating storm. A little when the DA dissolved, then again after the incident with Montague and the vanishing cabinet, and now every time a new educational decree was posted. Furthermore, he and George weren't even feigning revising for their NEWTs any longer.

And it wasn't that Fred was pulling away from her; quite the opposite, in fact. Every kiss lasted a little longer, every touch lingered, every time she said goodnight, he requested just one more minute.

He didn't say anything, and it served as all the confirmation she needed. George looked nervously between them before unfolding himself from the armchair he was in and heading toward the dormitory. He paused as he passed her and reached a hand out, squeezing her arm lightly and offering a sad smile.

Whether it was meant to serve as a comfort to her or a plea not to murder his brother, she couldn't be sure.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw two second-year boys descending the stairs, the one in front giggling and holding a pack of exploding snap cards, but George promptly snatched them by their pyjama collars and hauled them back around toward their bedroom.

"Not tonight, lads," he said quietly, nudging them on their way amidst protests. All three disappeared and then it was silent save for the fire hissing and crackling in the hearth.

"Were you going to tell me, or was I meant to parse it out on my own?"

"Figured you'd notice eventually," Fred joked half-heartedly. Hermione didn't laugh, and he got up to stand in front of her.

"When?"

"After the spring holiday."

Her stomach lurched. Within weeks, then.

"How long have you known?"

"Hermione, I –"

"How long?" she snapped, her voice tight.

"We signed the paperwork for the shop on Wednesday. Snuck down to Hogsmeade, but we… we've been talking about it for a while."

She bit her lip sharply and closed her eyes. She wanted to be mad at him. Wanted to throw things and shout, but anger was only a fraction of what she was feeling. The smallest fraction of her emotions in that moment. Mostly, she was just sad and hurt.

"Good. That's good. I mean, there's nothing keeping you here, right?"

She opened her eyes just in time to see him step back like she'd slapped him.

"That's not fair," he said, tone taking a hard edge. "This is my dream. This was the plan all along, and you knew that. All we're doing is pushing the timeline up a couple of months."

"I didn't know 'the plan' meant you leaving me here while everything is falling apart and the school is operating like a bloody military state!"

Hermione felt the first traitorous tears breach her eyelids to roll down her cheeks and she stepped around him to stand in front of the fire, watching the coals in the bottom glow and then fade in hues of white and pale orange. He stayed where he was and remained silent. When she spoke again, her voice was uneven and heavy with emotion.

"If I asked you to stay, would you?"

"Yes."

Fred said the word instantly, firmly and without a trace of hesitation. She knew that it was true, and she knew what it meant for him to say it. The depth behind those three little letters. So, she nodded, took a deep, shuddering breath, and started to cry. Her shoulders shook and her vision dissolved into a watery blur.

"I'll miss you," Hermione choked, the words barely audible.

He was on her in the blink of an eye, and she buried her head in his chest, his arms locking around her shoulders and holding her to him. They stood like that until she finally managed to get ahold of herself, at which point she sniffled, swiped the tears from her cheeks and did her best to conjure a smile.

"I'm really proud of you, you know. It's going to be amazing."

She truly meant it. As much as it pained her, his leaving, she couldn't wait to watch him positively light the world on fire. Wizarding Britain didn't know what was coming.

It could have been a trick of light, a simple reflection of the fire dancing in the hearth, but she swore his eyes were sparkling a bit too as he leaned down and gently kissed her. It was the first time they'd ever done that in the common room, and now it would almost certainly be the last.

He drew back and gave her a look that she couldn't quite read. "Just a second."

Releasing her, Fred stepped around the table in front of the fire and rooted around in his bag for something. Apparently having found it, he straightened again and crossed back to her.

"Here." In his open palm was a small, silver key with 93 Diagon Alley engraved along the side. She picked it up and felt a little buzz of magic coursing through it. "I want you to have this one, I can make a copy of George's. There will still be security wards and everything, but I can adjust those too."

The gravity of what he was saying started to sink in.

"What are you -?"

"Nothing like that," he clarified quickly with a nervous laugh, rubbing a hand sheepishly over the back of his neck. "I just… I don't want to live somewhere that you can't come and go as you'd please. That opens the shop as well as the flat upstairs."

For once, Hermione Granger couldn't even begin to think of what to say. She turned it over in her hand and looked up at him to find an earnest smile on his face and, hopelessly besotted as she was, she couldn't do anything but smile back, even if it was through tears.

He curled her fingers closed around the key and then leaned down, pressed another kiss to her forehead, and whispered softly, "The shop isn't my only dream."