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All Things End... Then We Begin Again

Summary:

Fred and Hermione. Hermione and Fred. The Swot and the Prankster. They didn't make sense to most people, but anyone who knew Fred Weasley and Hermione Granger understood.

You could hardly be dim and create such elaborate pranks. And it would be mighty difficult to break every school rule trying to save your best friend if you were afraid to break a few rules.

Fred and Hermione knew that there was every chance they wouldn't make it out of this alive. It was with earnest hope and acceptance of whatever the future may bring that they exchanged hurried vows before spellfire broke out. Because all things end. But knowing that all things end shouldn't change our plans, because then we might begin again.

Work Text:

"Fred? Fred!" George had to practically dive out of the way before Hermione bowled him over trying to reach his twin.

Their reunion was brief. Exchanging only a few sentences before Harry began to speak. Half an hour later, they stood hand-in-hand beside him in the Great Hall, on the precipice of what would either be the beginning of their future or it's end.

"Georgie, we need a favor." Fred looked between Hermione and his twin.

"Anything Gred," He pocketed his wand for a moment. "What is it?"

"Marry us?" It wasn't a shock for George, per say. They'd been together since their 6th year and Fred mentioned they'd discussed getting married before she had to go on the run.

"Why not wait until it's over?" Hermione gave him a tight smile.

"Just in case, you know?" He recognized something in her eyes and turned to find the same look in his brothers. It was a strange mix of hope and acceptance. No matter what happened, they'd be ok. But they wanted this done, no matter how the battle ended.

"Ok... But this isn't an excuse to go dying on me, alright? Someone's gotta help me keep Percy and Ronniekins in line, yeah?" Fred cracked a smile, clapping him on the back as they ducked into a hidden passage.

"As if we'd leave you to have all the fun brother-mine!"

"We wouldn't dream of leaving you all by your lonesome in the flat either. Peace and quiet? Perish the thought." Hermione laughed as they ducked into a quiet alcove outside the Great Hall.

 

George should've gotten it in writing. He never told anyone he'd married them. Just that they were married, so he could make sure they were buried together and side by side on the memorial wall.

It never occurred to him that he'd have to be the one to sort through their lives when it was all said and done. He didn't even look at their door in the formerly shared flat for three months. It took another two to simply get inside. By the time month 6 rolled around, it was the Holidays. And while the shop kept him busy, it didn't relieve the ache in his chest when he went upstairs at the end of the night alone.

He began going through things slowly. Clothes, shoes, bits and bobs here and there. He found Hermione's Diary in her beaded bag and spent a week debating whether it was still snooping if she was gone.

Grief is a funny thing. It's not a mountain, which implies that eventually it gets better and you're all fixed again. But it wasn't like that most days. The pain came and went, sometimes returning like rain that you slept through. Other days he was just glad to get through, and while the memories hurt, they did him no real harm. The pain reminded him they existed, that they mattered.

 

It was why he still insisted coming to visit them on every birthday, holiday, and anniversary. He didn't want to forget them. Sure, his brother had shared his face. But it wasn't what made him FRED.

It was the fact that he couldn't ever finish a cup of tea and left half-empty mugs all over the flat. It was how he never wore socks that matched, not even to be silly, he was just too lazy to match them up. Or how whenever Hermione sat beside him, he'd bury his face in her neck before resuming whatever it was he was doing.

Remembering Hermione was harder in some ways. People, he found, seemed to prefer to boil down someone's entire life into their death. He didn't want people to simply recall Hermione Granger: Golden Girl.

He wanted to remember that her favorite biscuits were Jammy Dodgers. That she snored in her sleep. Or that she drank coffee instead of tea. He wanted people to remember how passionate she was about learning magic long before it was the key to survival. He wanted them to remember how Fred made her laugh and encouraged her and made her feel at home in the Wizarding world.

So he told people these stories whenever he got the chance, never mentioning how they died or what for. Everyone knew. He just didn't want his dearest friends entire lives boiled down to a single moment with a killing curse and a rogue spell.

 

"Percy! You just told a joke- a REAL joke!" Fred clutched his stomach in laughter.

"Yeah- HERMIONE!" It was the blink of an eye, Percy had said. One moment, she was laughing along with Fred and himself. The next, her eyes went flat and her body dropped to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut.

Within the next sixty seconds, Percy had tried to pull his brother away from her body, away from the wall. He'd never seen Fred so broken. Like the world had simply stopped spinning, perhaps to him, it had. And the wall came tumbling down atop them.

 

It was something she knew might happen, and so left George specific instructions in her journal (which he did eventually read). It said:

Dearest George,

If you're reading this, that's it. I'm gone. How do I know this is you and not Fred? Fred has better sense than to snoop in my things, dead or alive. I just wanted to give you a few instructions, just in case this is it for me. I'm not naive to think we're all making it out unscathed. But I'm not afraid. My father used to have this rhyme: "To every man upon this earth, death come sooner rather than late. And what better way to face such fearful odds than for the ashes of our fathers and the temples of our gods."

Just... take care of him for me, ok? I know he won't want to, but make sure he cleans out my things eventually. He can keep a few things, but I just... I don't want to hold him back. As much as it pains me to imagine him with someone else, it hurts me more to think he won't find happiness because of me. It's all I ask.

I don't fear my death. I fear leaving you all behind. Of leaving all of it behind. But I suppose that's sort of the point isn't it? One way or another, all this will end. As all things end. And when tomorrow comes all we can do is begin again.

Begin Again. For me?

Your sister in all but law,

HJG