This is the Sequel to 'Boy Meets Girl.' New readers: Welcome! Old Readers: Welcome back!

I suppose you could read this without reading the first story but I like things to be done in chronological order- don't you?

I'm not uploading any more chapters until I've written the rest so you'll have one hiatus rather than several... you know what I'm like. This is merely something to tide y'all over.

I hope you all like it, and I'll see you all soon!

~BH

PS: ComixandCo came up with the name for me because I suck at names- check her out because she's a good egg!

Until we meet again

August 1997.

Nobody could be happier. A seventeen year old girl stood on the sidelines and watched as the bride and groom took to the dance floor for the first time. The groom enveloped her into his arms and they slowly swayed to the lilting melodies of the small orchestra. Young girls stood in awe, clutching their parent's legs and questioning if they too could dance like that one day. Older girls stood with envy at the beautiful woman who glided effortlessly across the dance floor with her new husband.

Hermione had been thinking about the future a lot lately. She raised her hand to run it through her hair but she realised she had pinned it up into an elegant bun, so there would be little reason to ruin it. She resorted to rubbing her neck, worrying about how she would have to leave all this behind.

She had promised Harry that he would never be alone. She promised that she would help him destroy the horcruxes and defeat Voldemort. She, Harry and Ron would be leaving everything behind, their past, their families…

Their loved ones.

Hermione thought about Fred. Her boyfriend of over two years now. He was better than she could have ever imagined. He cared for her, he cherished her, and there was no one she would rather be with.

She couldn't stay with him.

She had to make that sacrifice for now.

She thought about her discussion with Harry about the situation.

"I don't know what to do." She confided in him. "He can't come with us. I can't risk that, you wouldn't risk that, and it would just make Ron angry. I don't know how to let him go."

"I know exactly how you feel." Comforted Harry, holding her as she cried. "I love Ginny too. It was for the best."

Harry had broken up with Ginny about a month ago, after Dumbledore's funeral. He, like Hermione, also had to sacrifice the one he loved. If either Ginny or Fred were killed because of them, they would never be able to forgive themselves. If anyone understood how Hermione felt, it would be Harry.

"You need to do it sooner rather than later." Harry told her, not letting her go until she was ready. "Nothing would be worse than having to leave suddenly without a proper goodbye."

She nodded, still buried in his chest, knowing she had to surface soon. She was strong. She was brave.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the very person she needed to see.

"Hey you." Greeted Fred, hugging her from behind, placing a flower behind her ear. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"I've been looking everywhere for you too." Hermione replied, but for entirely different reasons. Fred just wanted to see her, like he assumed he would for months and years to come. Hermione wanted to say goodbye, maybe goodbye forever.

Before Hermione could talk, he offered a hand to her to dance.

One last dance couldn't hurt.

They joined the crowd of guests, paired off, gazing into each others eyes. They only saw each other's beauty. Fred led them to an empty space and placed his hands gently on her waist, while she slipped her arms around his neck.

"You look beautiful tonight." he had told her, smiling at her. He was proud to have her, he adored everything about her.

"As do you." Hermione replied almost shakily, knowing it was probably the last time she would hear those words leave his lips.

They danced in a comfortable silence, the songs getting slightly more melancholy as people drifted away to get drinks, sit down, talk to the newlywed Bill and Fleur.

"I need to talk to you outside." Fred blurted suddenly.

"As do I." Hermione responded, fear almost suffocating her.

She didn't want to do this.

She had to do this.

They walked outside, hand in hand. Onlookers watched the couple, having seen them together over the years. The little girls who wanted to be the bride also wanted to be the girl who was dating the man who had greeted them so cheerfully upon entrance. The girl who was known as The Brightest Witch of Her Age, the girl who was best friends with The Boy Who Lived.

The girl who was on the verge of losing the things that meant the most to her.

Outside, the sky was clear and dark, stars twinkled above them, it was perfect.

Hermione wished it could stay that way. But it couldn't. Only the memories would remain.

"Are you okay?" Fred asked her, letting go of her hand and cupping her face.

"I need to say something." Hermione said, the words barely escaping her lips.

She didn't want to do this.

"Go ahead." Fred whispered. What he wanted to say could wait.

"Harry, Ron and I are leaving." Hermione confessed, trembling more and more with every word she said.

She didn't want to do this.

"We're leaving everything behind." She continued. Fred hadn't moved.

"I have to leave you too." A single tear fell down her cheek.

"We can still be together." Confirmed Fred, missing the point, not understanding why she was crying.

"I have to leave everything." Repeated Hermione. "I have to let everything go. I can't risk staying in contact with anyone."

Everything clicked in Fred's mind. She was leaving him. For a long time. Possibly forever.

"I'll wait for you." He insisted, taking both her hands in his. "You've only got one year of school left, then we can be together, like we've always planned."

"I'm not going back to Hogwarts." Hermione said shakily. "We can't. I can't. You can't."

"I'll wait for you." Fred repeated, still holding onto her hands, as if he was too scared to let them go in fear that he would never be able to hold them again.

"I might not come back." Said Hermione. "I can't be with you anymore. I have to say goodbye."

"You don't have to say goodbye." Fred told her fiercely. "Because I love you. You are my everything." His voice sounded more and more desperate the more he spoke.

She didn't want to do this.

"I can't be your everything." Hermione answered, more tears falling, like her mood, her mentality.

She didn't want to do this.

"I can't."

"But Hermione-"

Fred's words were stopped by the screams of the people inside the marquee. Fred and Hermione rushed back inside.

Nobody noticed that they were no longer holding hands.

A circle had been formed and in the centre was a silvery Lynx. It stood proud and tall.

It was a patronus.

The silence was suffocating. No one moved, no one spoke. Hermione frantically searched the crowd for people she knew. She saw Bill and Fleur, standing together, hands entwined. Mrs Weasley was white, Arthur had a calm arm around her, supporting her. Ron and Harry were glancing around the room, like her.

They all caught each other's gazes.

They were ready.

"The ministry has fallen." The lynx announced. It's voice belonged to Kingsley Shacklebolt. "Scrimgeour is dead." It continued. "They are coming."

People began to panic. The magical protection around the Weasley residence was broken instantaneously. Deafening cracks pierced the air as people frantically disapparated.

Hermione ran.

She grabbed Ron's hand and they ran for Harry, who was submerged in the crowd.

The Deatheaters came.

Bursts of black smoke suddenly appeared from nowhere, the wedding and the celebration was long forgotten.

Ron and Hermione saw Harry, and fought their way through the people.

Flashes of green light erupted everywhere. People collapsed, dead.

Harry dived towards them, she caught his sleeve, she twisted around on the spot, just catching Fred's gaze before disappearing with a crack not unlike her fellow wedding guests.

Fred fell to his knees, as if a piece of his soul had been ripped out of him. Tears were shed.

He saw a glimpse of her elegant hair, her empathetic eyes, her beauty, her everything.

He had to go.

George grabbed his wrist and they disapparated together. They were safe.

So was the engagement ring in his pocket.