Chapter 32

October 23rd 1999

Hogwarts

"Ready?" Fred asked quietly, feeling a shiver run down his spine, uncertain as to whether it came from the fear that coiled in his gut or the crisp Autumn wind of the Scottish Highlands.

"No." Hermione muttered, both arms clutching one of his as they stood looking up at the school that had once brought them so much comfort but now only seemed to fill them with such awful memories.

They had both been uncharacteristically quiet that morning since he had flooed into her flat an hour before, both knowing that they were about to face the place that paid host to their nightmares and trauma. They had sat side by side on her sofa, eyes fixed on the TV and making no attempts at conversation as they individually talked themselves into going through with the visit. He had allowed himself a few brief glances at her while they sat and saw his own apprehension reflected within her own eyes as she frowned. Her face had always been so expressive, but now he found he could read her better than ever before and the smallest things indicated her mindset: the dip of her eyebrows that expressed concern, the slight crinkle that appeared in the middle of her nose when she was afraid and the tensing of her jaw as she bit the inside of her lips in her anxiety. He had wanted so badly to reassure her, but he was in no place to do so considering that he felt everything just as she did. He hadn't been able to return to help with the rebuilding, he hadn't been to visit his old professors and he hadn't even been able to look at the school the last time he had been in Hogsmeade. There was no way he would be here without her, but he wasn't resentful of that fact. Quite the opposite. He was thankful to have her at his side and grateful that she had found the strength to force this difficult moment. He looked down at her, tensing his arm and squeezing her hands against his side in a display of reassurance before he looked back at the school.

He didn't know what he had been expecting, but he hadn't expected it to be exactly the same as it had been when he had first laid eyes on it from the boats during his first year. The building held none of the scarring that marred everyone who had been there during the battle, none of the damage that had been caused was evident and it angered him a little that it looked as though nothing had happened. The castle stood like a bastion of strength while the people who had been inside it on that day fought not to crumble under the weight of the things they had witnessed, finding even the smallest reasons to carry on. He could hear the faint shouts of students on the grounds, see what he assumed to be a Quidditch team practising over the pitch and there were birds flying around the tallest spires. Everything seemed to have returned to normality here, no sign of the horrible events just 18 months before and he found himself glad that the monument would be here. There needed to be some sign of the events that led to him losing his little brother, some indication that even this castle could crumble at times.

"It looks so…" Hermione muttered quietly from beside him, seeming to struggle to find the words that she needed and he nodded, understanding exactly what she was trying to say.

"Normal," he finished for her and she looked up to him, eyes slightly wider than usual, "like nothing happened."

"I knew it wouldn't still be destroyed," she sighed, shivering as she leaned against him and he pulled his arm from her grip to wrap it around her shoulders in an attempt to stave off the chill, "but I wasn't expecting it to look exactly like it did before."

"Neither did I," he affirmed, taking a deep breath and stepping forwards, pulling her with him, "if it wasn't already being put here, I'd demand some kind of monument."

They fell into step with each other, his arm not leaving her shoulders as they crossed the bridge that spanned the valley and led to the courtyard. Fred was astounded by just how different it felt to be back here now, with her, after everything they had both been through. It wasn't as though he had been expecting a flood of happy memories, he knew that would have been a futile hope, but he hadn't expected to feel so… Heavy. His legs felt like lead, his heart was in his stomach and the memories that came back to him as they moved closer to the castle caused every step to feel harder than the one before. Glancing down at Hermione, he could see in her eyes that she was experiencing it too and he squeezed her shoulders, offering what small reassurance he could. She smiled up at him, though her conflicted gaze spoke volumes. He could see her battling with the urge to turn and run, one that he shared, but knew that they had come this far and it was now or never. As though to affirm the point, McGonagall appeared in the archway that led into the courtyard, her hands clasped at her front and her long green robes blowing behind her in the breeze. She smiled slightly when she saw them approaching and rushed forwards to greet them, pulling Hermione from his grasp.

"Hermione, dear," the elderly witch said softly, holding the younger one by the shoulders at arms length as though she was appraising her, "I'm so glad you came, I was beginning to think I'd never see you again!"

"Headmistress, I-" Hermione started but was interrupted when the older witch pulled her into a hug and Fred chuckled under his breath when she yelped in surprise.

"And Weasley," the Headmistress said over Hermione's shoulder, releasing her before she turned to him and pulled him in for perhaps an even more surprising hug. He glared at Hermione over McGonagall's shoulder when he saw her cover her mouth to hide her own amused grin, "I never thought I'd utter these words, but I'm so happy to see you too, Fred."

"McGonagall," Fred muttered uncomfortably, his arms flailing behind her because he was utterly perplexed as to what he should do with them until he decided to awkwardly pat her on the back, "thank you for inviting us, well, Hermione."

"Kingsley said you might be coming as well," the Headmistress said as she released him, clearing her throat while dusting some non-existent dust from her dress, "that invitation was for both of you."

"Oh?" Fred asked, raising his eyebrow at Hermione who merely shrugged, her cheeks filled with a pink hue, "I see. Well, thank you, then."

"I'm very glad you came," McGonagall started in a more formal tone, turning and gesturing for them to follow her, "As you can see we've undertaken extensive repair work…"

Fred tuned out her words as he fell into step behind her, absently offering his arm to Hermione who grabbed it quickly. The Headmistress led them through the huge front doors and into the cavernous entrance hall and Fred felt Hermione stiffen against his arm, obviously assaulted with the same memories he was fending off. He watched her carefully, lifting his hand to lay on top of hers in the crook of his elbow when her gaze snapped to the doors that led to the great hall. His memories of this place were now dominated by the awful ones and he knew that hers were worse. He still remembered in picture perfect detail the moment that she had turned from those doors and run out of the ones they had just passed through, looking entirely broken by her experience, ruined by her loss. Their loss. She stared at the doors while they walked and he could feel her shaking next to him, her eyes filled with fear and trauma. They walked in silence and he was vaguely aware that McGonagall was talking them through the repairs as they did, but he couldn't tell you what she was saying. He was so focused on trying to force them both to follow the elderly professor that he didn't realise where they had ended up, until Hermione failed to move next to him and he was tugged backwards by her weight.

"Hermione?" he asked, seeing her wide eyes that were fixed on the railing to their right, "love?"

"It was here," she whimpered, nodding towards the stone bannister and his own eyes widened, realising what she meant, "he died here."

"Hermione, it's ok if-"

"There's nothing here, no blood, no marks," she muttered to herself as tears pooled in her eyes and he sighed as he turned to face her, placing her hands on her upper arms. She looked up at him and her eyes were wild, filled with panic, "how can there be nothing? He died right here and-"

"You'd never know," he whispered, nodding as he pulled her against his chest and held her head there while his other arm snaked around her shoulders, "it's like it never happened at all."

"But it did!" she cried loudly, her body shaking with sobs as she thumped her fist against his chest. He didn't resist or try to stop her, merely allowed her to get it out, "Ron died here! His blood has just been washed away! Like it didn't matter! Like he didn't matter!"

He felt the moment her legs caved beneath her and supported her weight as he lowered them both down to the floor. McGonagall had been surprised by the sudden outburst from Hermione, stopping in her tracks and turning to watch the two of them, only approaching as they reached the floor. She looked on sadly, but when she tried to speak Fred raised his hand to stop her and simply shook his head as he allowed Hermione to bury her face against his chest. He smoothed her hair, running his fingers through it in the way he had desperately wanted to do for so long, lamenting that this would be the reason for him to do so. McGonagall gave him a small nod, before she pulled her wand from her pocket and flicked it towards the ceiling. Fred looked up at her in confusion and she sighed, replacing the wand in her pocket before clearing her throat.

"I've lifted the wards. Take her home, Fred," she said over the noise of Hermione's pained cries, her voice thick with emotion in a way that Fred had never heard before, "look after her. Please."

"Always." he nodded, before he released one arm from around her and pulled his wand from his belt loop.

They landed in his living room still in the same position on the floor, merely in more familiar and comfortable surroundings. Rather than try to pull her away from him, he silently shifted the position of his arms and slipped one under her knees before standing up and lifting her with him, cradling the distraught witch against his chest. She clung to him, fistfulls of his shirt held in her hands so tightly that her knuckles lost all of their colour as she continued to cry. He sighed, resting his cheek against her head. His heart was breaking inside of his chest at the sight of her, so utterly broken by her attempt to face the scene of the nightmares she had suffered for so long and he desperately wanted to help her but he was at a loss as to how he could. He knew that she could not be alone right now and he doubted that she would let him go even if he tried to put her down, so he took a second to weigh his options. He could sit with her on the sofa, but if she fell asleep against him, as he was certain she would after such a heavy outpouring of emotions, he would be stuck sitting uncomfortably with her on his lap. His other option would usually be completely unthinkable, but under the circumstances it seemed to be his only choice, so he crossed the room and kicked open the bookshelf door that led to his bedroom before carrying her inside.

Hermione had never seen what lay on the other side of that door, despite the amount of time she had spent here. She never asked or tried to peek and he had invited her to be nosey once, but she had gone a truly adorable shade of pink before declining. He smiled sadly at the memory now as he clutched her against him, shaking his head at the thought that she might wake up later confused as to why she was suddenly in his bed. In normal circumstances the idea would excite him, having her in his bed would be a dream come true, but now was not the time for such thoughts and he pushed them away as he crossed to his bed and kneeled on the edge, gently lowering her down in the middle before laying next to her. She had stopped openly crying now, though her body still shook occasionally as she struggled to collect herself and catch her breath. She turned once he had laid down, resting her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arm tightly around his waist. He used one hand to stroke her hair in the same soothing manner his mother had done for him so many times when he had been upset and wrapped his other arm around her waist, which caused his body to twist uncomfortably, but he was past caring about his own comfort and solely focused on trying to bring Hermione hers.

"Ron mattered," he whispered, resting his cheek against her forehead and feeling her nod minutely against his shoulder, "what he did? It mattered, it kept you alive, it gave you life. He has not and will not ever be forgotten. Just because they didn't leave the marks of his death at Hogwarts, it doesn't mean that the marks of his death haven't been left here."

Fred picked up her hand in his and laid it against his heart, it fell heavily against him and he frowned down at her, noticing that her breathing had evened out and her eyes were closed. He continued stroking her hair as she slept, appearing peaceful for the moment despite the havoc that had just been played with her mental state. He sighed, pulling her closer and smiling despite himself when she nuzzled against him and draped her leg over his in her sleep as though she were locking him in position. Going to Hogwarts may have been a mistake, but he couldn't help but feel a tiny spark of happiness at their current position and he closed his eyes, allowing himself to savour the feeling of having her next to him. It felt so right, so natural, so perfect. She fit against him, the curves of her body filling the dips in his own and he couldn't ignore the fact that he had almost kissed her the day before, either. The feeling of her fingers in his hair, the feel of her breath mixing with his and the lack of distance had caused him to act almost without thinking and he had kicked himself for almost making such a mistake. He couldn't ruin the familiarity that had grown between them, he couldn't risk losing her now. If he lost her, if he couldn't have her around, he would sink back into his own depression. Even though he knew that there would be an awkward, difficult conversation to be had once she awoke, he found it impossible not to be lulled into his own sleep by the sound of her quiet breaths and the feel of her body pressed against his, even if just for a short time.