Fred/Hermione: "Behind It All"
Title: Behind It All
Rating: T
Word Count: 6,372
Pairing: Fred/Hermione
Fandom: Harry Potter
Status: Complete
Genre(s): Romance/Drama
Spoilers: Deathly Hallows! Do not read if you haven't read the book completely.
Warnings: Character death. And cheesy lines and fluff galore. Well, at least until close to the end. :(
Summary: AU. Hermione Granger was prepared for everything in her life, but when it comes to Fred Weasley, she's completely taken off guard.
A/N: This is pretty long, so you better get comfy before reading it. Basically, this is my version of events in Deathly Hallows, this time replacing all the Ron/Hermione stuff in it to Fred/Hermione.
NOTE: When I read that Fred had died, I was completely distraught. At first I was sad, then as the days went by, I got really angry at JKR. I just don't understand why she killed him off; it makes no sense whatsoever to me. So, I came up with this fic idea. Really, I hadn't intended for it to be so long, but once I started typing I couldn't stop. XD Anyway, I worked on this almost all night last night, so if some facts and things are wrong or a little off, bear in mind that I was sleep deprived while writing this. But I have read it over twice, and think it's decent enough to post. I hope those of you who read it agree. :D
Behind It All
I.
It began suddenly, and this was the only thing for which she was not prepared.
It started after Dumbledore died; after she had returned home to her parents for the summer in a daze due to all of the events that had transpired only days before. She could not tell anything to her parents; she knew that Voldemort and his Death Eaters were rising in power and would regain control very quickly. She couldn't risk her parents knowing any important information; couldn't tell them that Dumbledore, the only true security within the Wizarding world, the one wizard that everybody in the magical community looked to in the most hopeless of situations, had been killed. She couldn't tell them that her life was at risk from the evil that had invaded the Wizarding world, and that their lives were at risk as well. For their safety, they had to be kept in the dark.
But, by coming to that conclusion, she felt very alone. There was so much running through her jumbled mind that she wished she could talk about. She wished desperately that she could relieve herself of the burden of her secrets.
Her parents had sensed something was wrong on the day they picked her up from Platform 9 3/4, and they had questioned her about it. They said they were concerned, and that they were ready to listen to any of her worries.
But she had told them that she was fine, that she just had a long year of studying at school, and that she was just tired.
After relentless persuasion by her, they believed her and left her alone.
She was to only stay with her parents until the beginning of July, in which she would go visit the Weasley family and stay there at the Burrow until after Bill and Fleur's wedding. But during the weeks that she did stay with her parents, she was quite lonely. She always had something to do, though, for she was scouring books for any information that might help on her quest with Ron and Harry to find the Horcruxes. She studied and practiced all the spells that she felt would come in handy on the quest. She thought over and over what Voldemort could have possibly used as Horcruxes, and all the areas in which they might be hidden. These things kept her busy, for sure, but she still desired to talk to somebody. Of course, she didn't plan on talking to the person about the Horcruxes, or anything that Harry had asked her to keep secret, but she did desire nice conversations that would help her forget about the impending danger she was soon to be consumed in. Her parents were out of the question, of course. Harry and Ron were good candidates, but she felt that they couldn't quite comfort her in the way that she desired. She wanted to talk to someone who didn't have the knowledge of Horcruxes, and all that dealt with them. For once, she didn't want to discuss Voldemort and his antics. She just wanted to discuss normal things.
She didn't know for sure what triggered the idea of writing to him, but all she knew is that when she considered it, she thought it was a good idea. She knew he would probably think it was peculiar, for they were never close when they attended Hogwarts. They were quite the opposites, him being a prankster and her being obedient and studious, and the times they had ever really talked was mostly when she had fussed at him for using his products on first years. But she longed to feel comfort, and she was sure that he could provide it.
Out of the twins, she had always found herself more partial to Fred. She liked George, but she had always felt that she and Fred had more in common, in ways that she could only sense but never know. So that was what made her decision to write to him.
She knew that he was still running his business at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, so she sent the letter there. In the first letter she had asked how he and George were doing, and that she hoped they were doing well.
That was all she could think of to write, due to the lack of a strong relationship between them, and she had watched her owl fly out of the window with it, her stomach twisting in nervousness, for a reason she couldn't quite distinguish.
To her surprise, she had gotten a reply by the next day, and she could tell, with a twinge of embarrassment, that the letter's tone revealed surprise at her thoughtful letter from the day before. But he had responded nicely, told her that he was pleased to hear from her, that he and George were doing well, but that their business was no longer attracting many customers, which he had understood, since Dumbledore's death had shaken the Wizarding community and that nobody felt like venturing out of their house in fear of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. He also said that he and George would be fine despite the lack of business, and in the conclusion of his letter, had asked how she was doing.
The letter did summon a smile from her, which she did not show much for the past two to three weeks. She could hardly suppress her eagerness in her reply back to him.
She had never dreamed that it would lead on like this, but their letters had continued all the way up to the last day until she was to go to the Burrow. Their letters grew more lengthy as they progressed, and before she knew it, she had a nice friendship with Fred. Her mood had improved by each letter, to the point where her parents had noticed. When weeks ago she found it hard to smile, and constantly felt sick due to her worries about the Horcruxes, she currently found it hard to stop smiling, and all her thoughts on the Horcruxes had been sent away from her mind.
Their topics of discussion in the letters weren't too serious; she suspected that he, like her, didn't feel like talking about what was going on in the Wizarding community. She was sure it made him afraid just as much as it did her, and she understood his lack of discussion on it, and was even grateful for it.
They had started this little amusing game, sort of like truth or dare, but without the dare part. They asked each other questions, which she supposed was due to all those waste of years at Hogwarts where they had failed to get to know each other well. The questions had started out simple, some of them like: 'What is your middle name?', or 'What is your favorite color?', but later on the questions grew more personal. But, even if she felt embarrassed in answering them, she did not lie to Fred. She just couldn't bring herself to. He, as well, was always honest with her, and she felt honored that he found her so trustworthy. But his last letter, on the day before she was to go to the Burrow, had left her stumped. It had ended as followed:
Now, I find it most fitting (and interesting) that we save the hardest question until now, on the last letter between us. So, here it is: What is your deepest desire?
I will be awaiting your answer tonight, and after I get your reply, I will send you my answer to that question.
But really, if you feel uncomfortable with answering that question, I understand. It's not a question most people feel up to answering. Hell, even George refuses to tell me his. And we tell each other everything.
I, however, don't mind answering the question, and I will send you my answer even if you don't tell me yours.
Other than that, I look forward to seeing you at the Burrow tomorrow!
-Fred
She thought she knew what her deepest desire was, but she realizes that it might have changed. The dreams she has had for the past week filled with his piercing blue eyes, warm grin, and lingering hands has proved that.
Her letter back to him is as follows:
It's all right, I don't mind answering the question. At first, I would have been sure that it was for all of us to survive the upcoming war and to have Voldemort defeated, and even though I do desire that greatly, I realized that, after thinking about it deeper, that it's something I've desired ever since I was a little girl. I had always been a big believer in true love, from reading children muggle stories of princesses finding their prince. So, I would have to say that my deepest desire is being with the man I love.
I'm pretty sure that after I've sent this, the embarrassment will set in, but I trust you, and you deserve an honest answer.
Just so you know, I have never told anyone this before, so you should be honored!
-Hermione
And she had sent the letter, and just as she predicted, when she thought over her answer, she was filled with embarrassment. But she's tired of covering things up, and despite the embarrassment, she strangely feels like this new weight has been lifted off her shoulders.
II.
She finds herself waiting late up into the night for his reply, but it never comes. As she plays with her pen at her desk, she doesn't know what to think.
III.
She stays up all night, doing last minute packing, trying hard to forget the lack of his letter. Around six in the morning, she changes into jeans and a thin purple and pink striped t-shirt, and puts half of her wavy hair into a barrette. Then, she picks up her wand and goes into her parents' room.
They are still asleep, just like she knew they would be. They usually don't wake up until eight. She blinks back the tears as she does what she knows she has to do, to make them the safest they could possibly be.
Within a minute she has modified both of their memories, and under her charm, they now have no memories of her, or their knowledge of their real names. When they wake, they will remember their ambition to move to Australia, and in a very short time, they will be there.
She kisses her mother and father on the cheek and walks quickly out of the room, making sure not to let herself look back.
Wiping away the tears that have slipped down her face, she retrieves her bags from her room, and walks out the front door of her house, wondering if she'll ever see her parents, or her home, again.
IV.
She arrives at the Burrow with her stomach full of butterflies, wondering if Fred has already arrived. But she stows that thought away in anger, remembering her anticipated wait for his letter and how shocked she was when it never came. She had confided in him with one of her deepest secrets, and he hadn't even replied. She can't help but think that maybe he had thought her deepest desire was stupid. But something tells her that he would never be that cruel.
Mrs. Weasley greets her at the door and gives her one of her well-known bear hugs.
She smiles back nicely and steps inside.
"Arthur's already left for work, but everyone else is still asleep." Mrs. Weasley tells her. "Do you want some breakfast, or would you rather sleep a little more?"
"Oh, no thanks Mrs. Weasley, I think I'll just go up to sleep. I didn't sleep much last night."
Mrs. Weasley nods at her, her eyes crinkling from her smile. "Of course, dear. There's a cot set up for you in Ginny's room."
She nods gratefully, and Mrs. Weasley pats her on the shoulder and walks off into the kitchen.
But she couldn't resist asking the question that she thought about before she even arrived at the Burrow.
"Um, Mrs. Weasley?"
"Yes, dear?"
She tries to make her voice sound indifferent. "Have Fred and George arrived yet?"
"Oh, yes, they arrived here a little before you did. They're upstairs sleeping now."
She's glad Mrs. Weasley could not see her face at that moment.
V.
She tries to sleep but her mind is too preoccupied with the buzzing of unanswered questions and worries that she gives up on the attempt, and just lies there. When she hears Ginny get up, she keeps her eyes shut and feigns a deep sleep, and Ginny, polite as she is, leaves her alone, and after a few moments, she hears Ginny's footsteps descending the stairs.
When she hears the creaking of beds and footsteps above her, and minutes later, the bustle of noise in the kitchen, she decides that it's about time for her to get up and go downstairs.
She changes her clothes, brushes her hair, readjusts her barrette, then nervously goes downstairs.
First she sees Ron, who, with his mouth full of food, proclaims, as best as he can, something that sounded close to her name and gets up to give her a hug.
She hugs him back and smiles, and when Ron sits back down in his chair and resumes eating, she senses Fred's presence. Though when Ginny gets up as well and hugs her, she is careful to avoid his eyes, which she knows are unwavering on her.
But after she greets Bill and Fleur, and feels that she can't avoid it any longer, she sits at the table and looks up into the faces of Fred and George.
"Hi."
She says it to both of them, but her eyes are more on George.
George puts on a face of mock hurt, and for a second she is confused.
"Aww, no hug for me?"
She smiles in spite of herself. "Do you want one, George?"
He stares at her for a moment, seeming to be considering her.
"Nah, you had your chance." He says with a shrug, and turns his attention back to his food with an accomplished grin.
She rolls her eyes, and is relieved to feel relaxed all of a sudden.
She forces herself to look at Fred. "Hey."
He smiles at her, but there's something different in it, something more reserved. "Hey, Hermione."
Mrs. Weasley sets a plate full of steaming food in front of her, and they speak no more.
VI.
She hangs out with Ginny most of the day, but even gossip and talk of boys cannot hold her interest very long, and she finds herself asking Mrs. Weasley for something to do.
Mrs. Weasley looks up at her in surprise at her request. " There's no need for you to do chores, dear. Although, Ginny..." Mrs. Weasley glances over at Ginny sitting on the sofa with a furtive look.
Ginny hears her name and looks up from her magazine. "What?" She asks nonchalantly.
Mrs. Weasley just sighs and shakes her head.
She suppresses her smile, and it's harder to do so when Ginny catches her gaze and winks at her.
She turns her attention back to Mrs. Weasley.
"Really, Mrs. Weasley, I don't mind. I really want something to do."
Mrs. Weasley considers her for a moment with a small smile. "You're such a sweet girl, dear, to offer help."
Then Mrs. Weasley turns back to Ginny with a scowl. "Would it be so hard, Ginevra, to offer help like her?"
Ginny keeps her eyes on her magazine, unfazed. "Sorry, mum. It's against my nature."
She can't help it; she laughs, but manages to hastily turn it into a cough as Mrs. Weasley sighs again in frustration.
'Well, dear," Mrs. Weasley begins, her eyes scanning the room. "If you wouldn't mind taking those clean clothes there and give them to the twins, I'd appreciate it."
She almost groans aloud, and Mrs. Weasley must have detected something in her face. "Something wrong, dear?"
She puts on a face of indifference as she feels Ginny's eyes on her. "No, nothing. I'll take those clothes upstairs."
She walks over to where Mrs. Weasley had gestured and picks up the clothes, making her way to the stairs.
She could still feel their eyes on her back as she climbed up them.
VII.
She knocks on the door to the twins' room apprehensively, hoping that it's George who opens the door.
To her much felt relief, it was.
"Oh, hey, Hermione." He says when he sees it's her, a smile spreading across his face, always etched with mischief. " What can I do for you today?"
She smiles. " It's what I can do for you, actually. Mrs. Weasley sent me up to give you and Fred this."
She holds out the folded clothes.
He takes them. "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
She nods at him with a small smile and as she makes her way to the stairs she hears the door shut behind her with a click.
Before she reaches the foot of the stairs she feels a hand grasp her arm.
She starts, spinning around to look into the blue eyes of Fred.
"Sorry." He declares in a whisper at her reaction. "But can I talk to you a minute?"
She makes sure to keep her voice down, like his. " Actually, Ginny's waiting for me downstairs..."
Her excuse was feeble, she knew that, but she just couldn't face him right now.
"Oh, come on, Ginny's had you all to herself all day."
She shakes her head and resumes going down the stairs.
She's barely on the first step down when he whispers to her again, this time more urgently.
"Please. Just for a minute."
She sighs, giving in. "All right, but just for a minute."
He smiles at her, pleased. "Okay, we'll go in my room."
He walks away from her, towards his bedroom door.
She follows, butterflies in her stomach again.
He opens the door, stepping in, looking in a direction to where she supposes George must be.
"Hey. Get out for a second."
"Why?"
"Just go, please. I have to talk to someone."
"Who?"
"George, come on!"
As she hears the creak of weight being lifted off a bed, she can't help but be amused by their conversation.
"Oh, fine. I guess I'll just bother mum then."
Fred rolls his eyes and looks at her, smiling. She can't help but smile back.
George passes her on the way out, first looking peculiarly at her, then at Fred, but then he shakes his head with a knowing smile and goes down the stairs.
Fred beckons to her and she enters his room.
The room wasn't exactly tidy, but it wasn't too messy either. Some papers littered the floor, lots of posters were plastered on the walls, some of which she had seen in Ron's room, and one of the beds were made, while the other across from it was not.
He reaches behind her to shut the door, then she watches him sit on the bed that was neatly made and closest to the door. She knows automatically that the bed is his.
They stare at each other for a few seconds, until he breaks the tense silence.
"Look, about that letter--"
But she is suddenly bold, and cuts him off. "Why didn't you reply to me?"
He looks uncomfortable, which is a surprise to her, for she's only ever seen him confident. It relaxes her a little, to see this expressed emotion from him.
She makes her voice softer. "It was a really rude thing to do. I told you one of my deepest secrets and you didn't even reply back."
"I know. I'm sorry, I really am." He says with resignation.
She wonders again if he thinks her deepest desire was silly, and she feels the desire to ask. She needs to know.
She sighs, and to her embarrassment, she feels her eyes fill up with tears.
"Was it stupid?"
His face is questioning, so she tries to be more specific, blinking back the tears in the process.
"My deepest desire, do you think it was stupid?"
"No! Absolutely not."
His voice is truthful, and she knows he senses her sensitivity, for he looks at her in concern.
She becomes frustrated at his lack of continuing conversation.
"Then why?"
"Hermione, this thing between us... do you only view it as friendship?"
She didn't expect this question.
"I... don't know." She says, the nervousness setting in once more.
"Do you have any feelings for me?"
She simply stares at him, speechless. Should she tell him the truth?
"Why are you asking this?" She asks, tentative.
His eyes are relentless upon her and she realizes that she has never seen him this serious.
" I want to know."
She can't do this. She turns away, reaching for the door handle. "There's no point in this conversation."
He is quick, all of a sudden in front of her, blocking the door.
His eyes are pleading. "Please. It's important to me."
At this moment, she is unable to lie.
All she can manage is a low whisper. "Yes."
The words are barely out of her mouth when his lips are against hers, firm and certain.
VIII.
It was an unspoken agreement between them; they were together after that. They told no one about it though; they were both aware of Ron's more than platonic feelings for her.
Only George knew. Fred had told her once, when she had questioned Fred about the secret knowing smiles George kept giving her. Fred said it was extremely hard to keep it from George, that George could always sense these things about him. But he had also convinced her that George would not give away their secret relationship to anyone, and since Fred was assured by it, she found herself to be also.
Whenever she was with Fred, she was more reckless. She was more comfortable and at ease with herself when she was around him. He brought out the best in her.
He always joked with her that he had made the obedient Hermione Granger become quite the opposite: daring and mischievous. He said that she was learning from the best and should be proud. After he said that, she would always laugh, and the way he looked at her made her feel like the most beautiful girl in the world.
It was hard to steal away somewhere together when there were so many people in the house, so the real time they could only be alone together was at night, when everyone was asleep. His kiss was passionate, yet gentle, to the point that it left her breathless when they separated to go to bed.
But sometimes during the day, when she would make an excuse to go to the bathroom upstairs, she would meet him, a mischievous grin always lighting up his face as he pulled her into the nearest closet.
George would sometimes keep lookout for them. If someone was coming upstairs, he would knock once on the closet door in warning. For that, she is grateful to him.
Then there were the small moments they could get away with in the presence of others. If she'd happen to sit next to him at the kitchen table she would brush her leg against his, and sometimes, to her satisfaction, his ears would redden. And other times, she'd let the arm closest to him dangle off the side of her chair, to which he would take her hand in his and rub circles against it, comforting her.
The month passes by fast, and she doesn't remember ever feeling this happy in her life.
IX.
They go to pick up Harry on the night of his birthday. As Mad-Eye explains the decoy plan to Harry, Fred catches her eye and winks at her. A blush rises to her face, for he was always able to make her do that, and she's glad Ron did not see what had just passed.
X.
In an instant, she knows something's wrong. They've barely lifted off into the air when the sky is suddenly filled with flashes of multicolored lights, mostly green and red, and screams penetrate the air. Her first thoughts rush to Harry and Ron, but, with a twinge of shame, it's the thought of Fred in danger that fills her heart with the most fear.
XI.
She arrives in the backyard of the Burrow, her heart twisting in anguish at the thought of Fred, Ron, Harry, and the others being injured, or god forbid, dead. Then, even in the dark, she sees Fred with his father a few feet away from her, and as Fred hurries past her into the house he grabs her hand and squeezes it. And she can breathe again.
XII.
She slips quietly from the crowd of people, looking back to make sure nobody notices her. She thinks she has about ten to fifteen minutes to spare before they realize she's nowhere to be seen. She smiles to herself as she thinks of the look on Fred's face when he watched her dance with Ron.
All of a sudden, his whisper rings in her ear. " You look beautiful."
She turns around, grinning at the sight of him there, his eyes alight with happiness. "You look quite handsome yourself."
He looks around, then takes her hand and leads her to a place at the back of the tent where nobody would be likely to find them.
She's used to this process of finding hiding places, and they're barely there when she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him to her, their lips finding each other's.
After a moment she pulls away from him and says with a small smile, "I saw you looking at me when I was dancing with Ron."
A scowl forms upon his lips, to which she finds adorable. " I don't like seeing you with him."
"I know."
He looks hard at her, and vulnerability outlines his features. "Do you have any feelings for him like he has for you?"
She just stares at him for a second, shocked. "No, of course not!"
A relieved grin spreads across his face. "Good."
She smiles wide.
His eyes scan the decorations and the massive tent they're leaning against, and she follows his gaze.
"This will be ours one day, if you want it."
His tone of voice is honest.
She smiles softly at him, her heart swelling. "I would love that."
And at the sight of his cheerful grin, she pulls him to her once more.
XIII.
Seven months go by as she, Ron, and Harry stay in hiding. She longs for him greatly, and the sound of his voice on that radio nearly made her burst into tears. As she lies in the bed in the tent she thinks of him: his grin, his blue eyes, the feel of his lips, but then she hears Ron cough and shift in his bed, and she is filled with overwhelming guilt.
XIV.
They stare at each other, alone in the Room of Requirement, and she can't think of what to say.
"It's almost time." He says suddenly, and she nods, her throat tight.
She remembers something, in that moment, and she feels the need to ask him, to know his answer.
"What is your deepest desire, Fred?"
He is silent, and brown gazes upon blue.
"You never did tell me." She adds.
"It was the same as yours." He says, and his voice is soft. "Being with the woman I love."
Her eyes well up with tears and silently, both seeming to have the same thought, they move towards each other and they are enveloped by each other's arms.
"We will get out of this." He declares, and his voice is certain.
She can only nod meekly against his chest.
"I love you, Hermione."
It's the first time she has ever heard him say it to her, and she pulls away from him a little to peer into his eyes. She sees fear in them from the realization of this battle they're going to get involved in, and she hopes he knows that he is not alone.
"I love you, too."
And she kisses him.
XV.
She is glad to see his face, glad that he is all right. He and Percy fight side by side, and she smiles as he laughs at a joke Percy makes.
Then the air seems to explode and she is thrown off her feet, unable to scream in her surprise. She cannot see anything; debris is everywhere, and she shields her head as they collide painfully with her body. Then she lands with a hard thud, covered in stone and wood, and a gust of cold air blows on her. She gets up slowly and shakily out of the debris to see the side of the castle blown completely away, and as her eyes re-adjust to the sudden light, she hears shouting.
Harry grabs her hand and they approach the source of the anguished yelling, her stomach twisting.
Percy was kneeling on the floor with Ron at his side, shaking somebody sprawled there.
"No! Fred! No!"
Those words chill her bones and as Percy shifts a little to the right she sees Fred's face, his laugh still written on it, but his usually warm blue eyes staring up at the direction of the ceiling, blank and empty.
And at that moment, her heart stopped.
XVI.
It could not be true. She wouldn't believe it. She had probably just imagined it. In fact, Fred was probably alive. She was sure he was getting treated in the Great Hall right now, and he would look up at her, grinning at her concern over his injuries and saying with a shrug, "I've had worse."
But as she looks into the Great Hall and sees Mrs. Weasley sobbing over Fred's body as Mr. Weasley cries and George kneels by his twin brother silently, his face downcast, she realizes that what she had seen was the truth.
Shock takes over her, filling her, and she cannot hear anything around her anymore.
She does not know how long she has stood there, but it is only when George's eyes meet hers, his face glazed with tears, that she remembers where she is and what she's truly looking at.
The sound turns on again, startling her, and the numbness she feels suddenly fades to be replaced with such an overwhelming amount of despair in which she has never felt before in her life.
She does not even remember getting to the nearest bathroom, but she is there, and she has barely completed uttering the silencing spell on the bathroom when she slumps to her knees and screams, putting her hands to her face, her sobs of anguish bouncing around the walls only to be heard by her.
XVII.
Three months had passed since the day Harry defeated Voldemort and the Battle of Hogwarts had ended. And here she finds herself standing silently in front of Fred's grave. Her right hand clutches an assortment of flowers, and she lays them down gently against the marble headstone.
She kneels down and lets her fingers lightly trace over the etchings of words on the grave.
Frederick Weasley
Beloved son, brother, and friend
April 1, 1978
June 8, 1997
Her heart breaks as she gazes upon these words, wishing desperately that it wasn't true, but she knows, more than anything, that it is, and that he lies six feet under, directly beneath where she is kneeling now.
His last words to her ring in her mind as if it were yesterday.
I love you, Hermione.
The tears slip down her face as she stares vacantly across the field of graves at the cloudy sky.
"Hermione?"
The familiar voice lifts her out of her reverie and she turns to face George standing a mere two feet away from her.
His face is solemn, with no trace of tears, but she knows that he has already shed many of them behind closed doors.
"Hello, George." She says in welcome, and as she turns her attention back to the grave she feels him sit down beside her.
Even though George and Fred were identical twins, she could never mistaken George for Fred. While they were very similar, they also had very different qualities. The way they talked was different, the sound of their footsteps was different, their noses were different (George's nose being slightly longer than Fred's), and even their smiles were different.
George had shut himself up for a long while after Fred had died. However, Hermione couldn't, no matter how much she wanted to, for if she did, the others would suspect that she and Fred had a closer relationship than they appeared, in their eyes, to have had.
To this day, everyone but George is completely clueless as to what went on between her and Fred.
They just sit there next to each other, quiet for a few moments, and she thinks about him. She thinks about how his hair shone the brightest red when under the sun, how his light blue eyes lit up when he was excited, how when he grinned, it spread all across his face...
The thoughts just make her feel more empty inside.
"He really loved you, you know." George's voice was thick, suppressing tears. "I never saw him so happy when he was with you."
She holds back a sob.
"You were his twin brother, George." She declares. "Nobody loved him as much as you did."
She turns to look at him and she sees that his face appears strained, and she knows he's trying hard to hold back the tears.
"It feels weird without him." He says, a whisper being all he can manage. "We were never apart; we did everything together. I keep expecting him to just show up in front of me."
He looks at her and she sees the despair shining in his blue eyes, the same eyes as Fred's.
She nods at him, showing that she understands.
He looks away from her again, staring down at the ground. "Sometimes I wonder, if it had been me instead of him..."
"No." Her voice is firm but thick with tears, like his was, and he looks back at her. "You can't think like that, George."
He nods at her, resigned, but close to the edge, she can tell. She leans over and pulls him into a hug, and as his body shakes with sobs, she closes her eyes tight as the tears leak out of them in return.
Teardrops of rain begin to drop lightly from the dark gray sky, mirroring their grief.
XVIII.
Nineteen years had passed from that day, and things have changed, while other events have occurred. She's now a wife to Ron, and a mother to two beautiful children by the names of Rose and Hugo.
But now, just like nineteen years ago, she stands silently before his grave, holding flowers. She lays the flowers down by the grave and gazes upon it. The marble headstone had aged with time, and the words etched on it were now hard to read, but it didn't matter, for she knows the feel of the grave by heart, as well as the words engraved on it.
She does not cry this time, for too many years has passed from the times that she could, but her heart still aches as she thinks of him.
Sometimes she finds herself weighing the possibility that her relationship with Fred had all been a dream, and to be honest, that's really what it feels like, but she knows, deep inside, that it was not.
She remembers all the things he had said to her, the looks he had given her, the smiles he had given her, even the kisses he had given her, even though now she kisses another man, her husband.
She also remembers way back before then, during school, when he had played pranks on unsuspecting people, resulting in a laugh, and even when he had teased her during her fourth year when she told him that she was sure that his Aging Potion wouldn't fool the Age Line.
She remembers a lot of things, and when she does, she finds herself dwelling on them often on her own time. But they no longer bring tears with them, but instead, wistful smiles.
George had recovered as the years went by, and he is still running the business that he and Fred had worked so hard to make, and to this day, the shop, with its products, is still very popular. He has a wife and kids of his own. She visits him often, when she can, and they have developed a close friendship since the day she had comforted him at Fred's grave nineteen years ago.
The autumn day is a little cold, and she feels it's about time for her to return home.
She puts her hand to her lips, then proceeds to rest it against the grave, the only real kiss she can bestow upon him now.
She is not sad, for she knows this is not goodbye, that she will come visit the grave more times in the future.
She turns away and retreats from the grave, folding her arms against herself from the chill.
The wind blows against her, and the leaves of vibrant orange, red and yellow scatter across the field and stumble across her feet, but then she feels the dark clouds part and the bright sun peek out from behind it, and while she basks in the warmth of it, she is reminded of Fred's warm smile.
At this remembrance, she grins wide, and she continues to walk further away, each step she takes bringing her closer to home to her family.
fin.