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Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
The steady rhythm of blood rushing fills her ears. She can hear screaming, but it sounds distant through the haze as she struggles to get her bearings. Harry is dragging her; she stumbles, trying to find her footing. She blinks once, then again, trying to see through the haze obscuring her vision.
“No! Fred! No!” She is turning her head from side to side, trying to clear her eyes as Harry drags her along. Who is screaming? Is Fred there?
The world suddenly spirals into sharp focus as they come to a standstill. It takes her a moment, her eyes traveling the length of his body, and when she reaches his face, she feels as if she will throw up.
“He’s a right idiot, you know.” She startles at the voice next to her, a heavy arm warm around her shoulders.
“Excuse me?” She wipes her eyes quickly and sees Fred sitting beside her.
“Ron. He’s an idiot.” He gestures toward the common room.
“He’s your brother.”
“Lucky that. I’d be far less kind if it were anyone else making you cry.”
She stares at him for a moment before biting her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. “He doesn’t even know I exist as anything but… a friend.”
Fred shrugs, swiping a tear from her cheek. “We’re not all idiots, Hermione.”
Her mouth falls open slightly as she wets her lips. “What do you—”
But he shakes his head and stands, helping Hermione to her feet. “Go tell him how you feel.”
“That I’m angry?”
“Is that… what you feel?” There’s a playful tone to his voice, but the question beneath it is obvious.
At that moment, she realizes she isn’t sure.
They’re in the great hall now. Percy, Ron and Harry are carrying him. She’s supporting his arm. They don’t need her help, but she wants to hold his hand. Just this one last time. Because once everyone knows, once they’re crowding around him… he’ll be gone forever.
She hears it then. Molly is screaming, running toward them. Hermione doesn’t know if she is tossed to the side or steps of her own accord, but Fred’s hand is no longer in hers. He’s gone.
She’s rounding the corner, her prefect badge shining, when she hears them. It’s a low hiss, but there’s no mistaking the ominous tone inherent.
“If you touch one hair on her head, I will fucking destroy you Malfoy.”
“Blood traitors. Every one of you. And all pining after the same mudblood bitc—”
There’s a sickening crunch and she sees Draco on the ground clutching his nose, Fred and George standing over him.
She should stop them...
But she doesn’t.
“You’ll pay for this!” Draco is spitting blood as he rolls to his knees. Fred’s wand is at his throat.
“Mark my words, if I hear you’ve so much as looked in her direction unkindly, I will make it a point to wipe your miserable existence from this world.”
“She’s not worth it. I don’t understand what you all see in her.”
“She’s ten times the witch than the wizard you’ll ever be as a pureblood, Malfoy. You don’t deserve to be her house elf.”
There is silence as Malfoy glares up at the twins. “I suppose you’re in love with her too then?”
Even from the shadows of her vantage point she can see Fred’s eyes darken. “I’d die for her. And you will, if you do not heed my words.”
She creeps silently back out of the hall then, her hands shaking as she walks quickly back to the common room.
Molly’s sobs have died down. Silence echoes in the Great Hall as the survivors mill around aimlessly, waiting for… She doesn’t know what. Ron’s head is laying on her shoulder and her mind is whirling as she tries to process everything that has happened... that will happen.
Arthur attempts to drag Molly away from Fred. “Just for a moment.” She resists, but Hermione wishes she wouldn’t. She’d like to see him again. She wants a moment alone to think. To remember.
“Be careful, Hermione.” His voice is pleading and she whirls around to find him half hidden in the shadows of the garden. Voices mingle with music as the sounds of the wedding drift toward them on the air.
“Fred.” It’s more breathless than she intends, and she stows her handbag quickly out of sight.
“You cannot hide it from me, Hermione Granger.” He chuckles, but it lacks his usual humor. “I know what you’ve been doing.”
She blushes. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”
He takes a step closer and she finds herself standing toe-to-toe with him. “I always notice you, Hermione.”
“I’ve--” she swallows, looking up into his eyes-- blue, but so different than Ron’s. “I’ve noticed.”
“You have?” He sounds bemused now and her stomach flips. He’s leaning down, closer to her.
“Yes. I-- I was hoping to have a chance to...”
“To what?” He murmurs. His voice is soft so that even though he is inches from her, she strains to hear it.
She’s unsure of what to say. “Do you--” she stammers.
“I do.” He smiles and her heart skips a beat.
“Is this--”
“It is.” He nods. “If you want it to be.”
She’s smiling now, she realizes, and it’s a different feeling than before.
“I… I think I’d like to--”
And then his hands are in her hair, his mouth soft at first and then desperate, searching. Hermione is lost in him, hands urgent as she stands on her toes to reach him.
“Fred, I--”
“Hermione!”
Her breath catches as she hears her name. Ron is looking for her. “I--”
“Go.” He breathes, dipping his head once more. “There will be time later. Go.”
But that had been their last moment together. Hermione walks slowly toward Fred’s side as Molly steps away with Arthur. The air between them is empty, hollow, the feeling resonating inside her. They were over before they began.