Oof, def didn't mean for this to take two years. I know I say it every time, but I seriously am hoping to get the last two chapters out of this soon...I need to start finishing some of my WIPs!

In other good news, however, I have a plan for another Fremione after this :)

It had been exactly 5 days, six hours, and twenty-three minutes since Hermione came clean to Harry, Ginny, and Ron about her relationship with Fred. She brought the whole box out; all their letters to each other, the ring, the article still saved, a rose from their second date...she spilled it on the floor in front of them as they watched with wide eyes as she rambled on, unable to stop herself from speaking. She wasn't even explaining, not truly. She was merely talking about Fred.

Their reactions were not at all how she had expected.

Harry seemed much too calm. Once again, she wondered if he'd figured it out long ago. He likely had, but it was never his place to say anything. He did seem curious about it all, and perhaps for it was nice to have his suspicions affirmed.

Ginny, despite it being her brother and once she got over the initial shock, squealed and demanded every detail, even the dirty ones (Hermione refused to answer such things in front of the boys) and almost hoarded Hermione's keepsakes, touching each of them reverently, like they were lost idols or relics.

Ron, at first, expected exactly how Hermione feared he would. He got up, face red, and stormed out to her porch where he sat on a chair with his head between his legs for a long time. So much for mature, Hermione thought, but then again she just dropped a huge life-changing bomb on him. Everything he thought he knew about Hermione hadn't been true. Well, not everything, but one of the biggest parts of her life...especially around a time he supposedly fancied himself in love with her. Hermione almost got up to go out to him, but Ginny grabbed her sleeve.

"Let him be. It's not as bad as you think. This response is actually quite calm." She scoffed, returning to the loving notes from her brother to her best friend. Ginny's fingers traced Fred's uneven handwriting, smiling as it mapped out the places in which his quill had sunk a little farther into the parchment. Hermione knew the canyons in the page too, for she'd done this a thousand times.

Outside, Ron did not move and Hermione downed a whole other Butterbeer in her anxiety.

And he did return, after nearly half an hour. This is what surprised Hermione.

"I'm not mad, Hermione." He said quietly, shuffling his feet, "I am hurt though. I mean, I not only thought me and Fred were close, you know, but I thought we were too. Two people that never thought to tell me. It was my brother, didn't I have a right to know?"

"We thought about it, Merlin, we did," Hermione whispered, "It wasn't...we didn't..." She fumbled, because now all of their reasons for waiting to tell peopled seemed useless and stupid.

"He's my brother too, Ron. I don't mind." Ginny called from the couch.

"Did you date Hermione though?" He asked, and Ginny quieted. Hermione collected her thoughts, smiling at Ginny with a quiet 'thanks' for her support on the issue.

"We wanted to wait. Only George knew, and well, you can understand why. We were going to tell everyone the day the war was won...except." She couldn't finish her sentence, and she felt hot tears run down her cheeks.

"Merlin, Ron!" Ginny leapt up, embracing Hermione, "What the hell? Look what you've done!"

"I'm sorry, Hermione!" Ron looked instantly mortified, "I mean, I should have-I'm hurt, but I didn't finish. I'm also glad."

"Huh?" Harry frowned, and Hermione wiped the tears of the back of her sleeve, staring up at him with curious eyes.

"Fred always seemed lonely, even with George. I mean, George dated people, and Fred never did. I always felt bad for him, wishing he had someone..." he gave a lopsided smile, "He did, though, didn't he?"

Hermione managed a pained nod.

"You realize what this means, right?" Ginny said, eyes lighting suddenly, "You really are my sister! Part of the family."

"I'm not though," Hermione took the ring box, toying with it, "We never got the chance to get married."

"But I know if you had the chance, you would have." Ginny said, taking Hermione's hands and slipping the ring onto her finger, "That's good enough for me." Hermione looked at the ring on her finger, and the diamond caught the light. It was the first time since his death she'd put it on. For a second, it almost still felt real.

After that, the word got out rather quickly. The rest of Fred's brothers were told, all with varying reactions.

"Merlin, Fred shacking up with a goody-two shoes like you? No offence, Hermione, but that's a pair I never thought I'd see, but also one of the best things Fred could have had." Charlie said.

"I always thought you two would be very compatible." Percy said, although at the whole article fiasco he had expressed almost the exact opposite of thoughts.

"I can't believe I didn't see it. It makes sense. It also explains why you and George are so close. I wish it would have worked out. I would have loved seeing you as a Weasley." Bill said.

George, of course, didn't have to be told, but Hermione did inform him that he could now talk about it as he wished. When she went to the shop to inform him of her revealing, and after she'd finished, his grin was as wide as his face.

"I suppose I owe Luna ten galleons. I thought it would be at least another year before you started telling people." He said, hugging her, "I'm glad you did though. I was starting to worry about your health."

Two things hit Hermione all at once.

"Wait, you told Luna? And you gambled about it?" She asked, frowning deeply, sending George her most very disapproving look.

"Luna guessed. You know how she is. I wasn't going to very well deny a huge secret like that when my wife is a bloody genius. And well, gambling would have been what Fred had wanted." He added meekly, patting Hermione's shoulder. She grumbled, still angry, but knew that deep down, George was right.

At about a week after going around, and it had gotten around because old classmates from Hogwarts and sometimes people she hadn't even known were coming up to her to talk about Fred, offer condolences, or ask her very invading questions. She sometimes wondered if she'd done the right thing, but that night when Ron was telling stories about Fred with Harry, Ginny, George, and Luna...Hermione knew she had, as she was able to tell her on her own without fear.

But, well, she hadn't told everyone.

"You need to go to the Burrow, tell mum." Ginny said as they cleaned dishes at Ginny's sink.

"She's the hardest to face." Hermione mumbled, looking down.

"C'mon, you're the Hermione Granger. She's not all that scary." Ginny nudged her with a laugh.

"It's not that she's scary, it's that she's sad." Hermione said, and Ginny was quiet for a moment.

"She is." Ginny didn't try to deny it, "She's heartbroken, and well, I think she always will be. There's no word for a mother that's lost her child, you know? It's not the natural order of things." Hermione raised an eyebrow, wondering if Ginny was just trying to make her feel worse, "But...she'd also be so happy. She loves you, Hermione, she's always thought of you as her second daughter. She'd be so thrilled."

"I know." Hermione turned, leaning against the wooden counter top, staring out into the living room where George was gesticulating something with elaborate hand motions, "I'll go tomorrow."

"For Sunday brunch?" Ginny's whole face lit up.

"Yeah...yeah. There shouldn't be any more empty seats. I want to be happy again, Ginny. I'm done hiding away here, being sad alone. I might as well be sad with others." She said.

When Sunday brunch actually arrived, Hermione was feeling far less confident. Had George not noticed her outside and dragged her inside while she shot him dirty glares, she might have apparated away and blamed a stomach flu or something.

"George, let go of me." She hissed as he pulled her toward the dining area.

"You know you want to be here. We need you here." He added softer, quietly. Hermione snatched her arm away.

"You play dirty." She glowered, but felt a little better now that she couldn't run away. Now that she was forced to be here, she was going to go through with it.

The entire room fell into silence when she arrived. All the Weasleys, the spouses, and grandchildren all looked at her, and no one said anything. It was like they were all seeing Fred, she could tell, because of the way more than one of his brothers looked almost guiltily at his empty chair.

"Hermione!" Mrs. Weasely said brightly, greeting her like she had came for every other brunch, "You have to try Fleur's strudel, it is simply delicious!"

She forgot sometimes how much she appreciated Mrs. Weasley.

As she sat between Harry and George, she was grateful that at least for awhile things were normal again. And Fleur's strudel was delicious, that much was true. People included her in conversation, Mr. Weasley asked odd questions about her life as a muggle, and Harry always was there to fill her in on some inside joke she missed at some other brunch. In fact, everyone was making a noticeable effort to make her feel welcome.

As the brunch progressed, she saw the realization across everyone's faces that their mother didn't yet know about her relationship with Fred. She was pretty sure Mr. Weasley had figured it out somehow, from the looks he gave her. And everyone was really trying not to say anything about Fred on her first day back, except for Mrs. Weasley and when she did, more than one person would flinch unconsciously.

After about the fourth time of Fred coming up in casual conversation, Percy coughed. "You know that Fred and Her-aargh." He couldn't quite finish what he was saying because Bill had stuffed some of Fleur's strudel into his open mouth.

"You haven't tried the dish my wife slaved over for hours. Very rude, Perce." Bill said when Mrs. Weasley gave him the strangest of looks.

"We did raise him better than that, dear." Mr. Weasley added. Hermione tried not blush; he defiantly knew.

"Yes, 'onestly, rude." Fleur agreed, batting her eyes at her mother-in-law. Hermione didn't know if she should be embarrassed or honored the whole of the Weasley Clan children were on her side about this, letting her do it on her own time. The rest of the Weasley children were sending him nasty looks, because everyone understood without saying anything (apparently, except Percy, and he claimed to be the 'intelligent one') that this was something Hermione had to do herself.

Hermione gave a long inward sigh. She hadn't been planning on telling Mrs. Weasley this time. She had wanted to dip her toes back into this event again, and maybe next time found the right way to bring it up. But Mrs. Weasley knew something was going on now, and she wouldn't appreciate being kept out of it. Once again, the universe (read; the Weasleys) were forcing her to be braver than she thought she could ever be. She'd faced a giant snake, horcruxes, being petrified but admitting her feelings for her deceased fiancee to his mother? Merlin, she couldn't think of a singular thing more terrifying.

It wasn't even that she thought Mrs. Weasley wouldn't approve. It was that she did feel guilty that they hadn't told anyone. Also, telling her...a mother, it made it real. It was ridiculous, because he'd been dead for quite some time, but before that...especially when it was just her, it was so blissfully easy to be ignorant for a day or two and pretend like he was just off on a business venture for his store with George or she was far too busy studying to see him. She could make up these lies within her own bubble of existence and no one could tell her she was wrong but herself. Yet as the bubble became bigger and bigger, and more people knew, that ability was vanishing. It sometimes felt like the last power she had left, and she'd lost so much.

After brunch, after everything had been cleaned and everyone was melting off into little groups to play a pick-up game of Quidditch or read or something else, Hermione cautiously knocked on the door of the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley was wrapping up the leftovers for someone to take home.

"Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley's smile encouraged her to come into the room. She didn't say anything about how long she'd been gone, or really make any acknowledgement. She was really grateful. She didn't want to be reminded how broken she'd felt after the battle.

"Mrs. Weasley..." She said as she carefully closed the door behind them, "Can we...talk?"

"Of course." Mrs. Weasley finished wrapping the items and pushed them into fridge. She didn't join Hermione at the little circular table in the kitchen where you could sit and have a drink alone or with one other person, but instead opened a cabinet, "You drink tea, don't you?"

"Yes, of course." Hermione said, frowning, "But I-,"

"Conversation is always better over a warm drink." Mrs. Weasley said, anticipating her answer as she put the kettle on, "And this one is my favorite." She rattled a tin of tea leaves.

Hermione nodded, but blushed when she realized Mrs. Weasley couldn't see her reaction. She clasp her hands on the table, trying to imagine how she'd start it. Did she lead into it? Did she just blurt it out?

"Mrs. Weasley, I-," she began, but stopped when she sniffed the aroma of the tea wafting in the air. Her eyes widened and she silently shook her head, as she was thrown back to a memory.

Hermione paced around her bedroom, stuffing things into her canvas bag. Her radio, her condensed advanced spell books, her bag of medical supplies, a necklace Fred gave to her last Christmas all found a space nestled in a canvas bag to sling over her back. She worked methodically, picking up items from her desk and taking a moment to decide it's use, before either setting it back down, or putting it into her bag. For more special items, she stuffed them into her beaded bag that she magically enhanced to be basically bottomless. The canvas bag was just until she met up with Harry and Ron and she had time to properly organize things.

She let out a snort. Time to do do anything properly, what was she thinking?

She picked up a picture frame on her desk of Fred, and after a pause, went to put it in her beaded bag.

"Merlin, if you're going to take a picture of me, don't take that one."

She turned to face Fred, who was sitting on her bed. He hadn't said much of anything since she'd told him her plans, but now he just sat on her bedspread, fingers tempted in front of his lips in thought. He already knew trying to talk her out if it was futile. Hermione hadn't forgotten he was there, but still jolted at his voice.

"Oh come on, it's a great picture." Hermione said, turning it around so he could see it better. Fred leaned in, shaking his head.

"I look ridiculous in it. Defiantly less handsome than I actually am, you know. I could model if you want a really memorable picture." By memorable, he meant something that if anyone else saw would likely traumatize them. Relief washed over her that he was joking with her. A very terrible part thought he'd hate her forever when she told him, which was stupid since they were both fully in this war and they both knew how it had to be. Still, though, that fear had lingered.

Fred struck a pose on her bed, "I can do it with less clothes, if that suites your fancy." She felt her cheeks go pink a bit, because on one hand, Hermione might like to have something like that for the nights she felt more lonely. On the other...

"And have Harry or Ron find it by accident?" She raised an eyebrow, "I'm taking this one because there's other people in it. At least I can look at you without too much suspicious." Her smiled died from her face a little. She kept having moments where she'd be totally into her horcrux hunting plan, but then she'd drop back down past reality when she realized what she was signing up for; a dangerous mission on the run, living in a tent, who knows how long without Fred...

"Hey," Fred murmured, reaching out and grabbing her arm. He brought her to him with a soft tug, "Don't get like that. I hate seeing you upset." He reached up and wiped a tear she didn't realize she had from her face.

"I'm scared Fred." She whispered, "I know I should go and help Harry find these horcruxes. I'm so sure of everything, or I always had been. I'm sure I should do this. But it feels less real today. Or more real. I can't decide which." She admitted, watching as he ran his fingers over the lines of her palm.

"You know what I'm going to say." He grunted, and she gave him a warm smile.

"To stay here with you." She predicted and his expression said she'd been right.

"At least I'd know I could do everything in my power to protect you. I feel powerless with you so far away."

"We both know I'd be the one protecting both of us."

"Okay, still." Fred said, never relenting, "But I also know that I'm not going to convince you out of this. But I've made my case."

"And I appreciate it." She leaned down to kiss him. She meant it to be a chaste kiss, but he pulled her in deeper, pulling her back onto the bed with him.

She was about to scold him, reminding him that her parents (that were very unaware that she had a boyfriend) could walk in on them any moment and find a strange red-head they didn't know ravishing their daughter. But a deep hollowness reminded her that they wouldn't be doing that, for moments before she had oblivated them and they were off to the airport to take the first flight to Australia. Her bottom lip trembled. She was only 17. She was far too young for any of this. To be, for all purposes, an orphan fighting in a war that was much too big for her and Harry and Ron, but somehow, had fallen upon their shoulders. She wished she could take Fred with her, she wished she could take a whole army of others too.

"I didn't think I was that bad of a kisser." Fred teased softly, and she sniffled, and despite her sadness, she felt a real smile bubble up inside her. This is why she loved him. In the darkest of moments, he made her laugh. And laughter was contagious and the most powerful magic of all, if she was being really cheesy about it.

She laid on top of his chest for a couple seconds, listening to the stead beat of his heart. She wanted to memorize it, so that in the dark times with Harry and Ron she could recall it. It would be as familiar as her mother's voice.

After a few seconds, she untangled herself to continue her packing. Fred got up too, though, traversing the room. He picked up a few of the knickknacks she opted to leave, and came across an unopened box of tea from her grandmother.

"You're not taking this?" He asked, holding up the box.

"Mhh, wasn't planning on it." She said, "I mean, not exactly the most necessary of items."

"Well, you deserve something to make you smile once and awhile."

"I don't even know how much down time we'll have, or if I'll have the opportunity to make tea. Ron's in charge of food, something I thought he'd be good at. Doesn't mean I'm not concerned."

"All the more reason. Ron likes eating food, but he's shit at making it." She saw him casually opening the seal, seeing how many tea bags there were. His fingers counted the little white capsules.

"I'm not sure. It's one more thing to have."

"You have a bag that could hold a literal kitchen sink." Fred said, "I'm going to make you some, remind you that it's delicious and you should take it."

Before she could protest, he was already out the door and going down to her kitchen. He returned a couple minutes later, holding out the steaming glass to Hermione. She raised an eyebrow, and he made a 'go on' motion with his hand.

"You didn't put anything in here?" She asked suspiciously. She didn't even know what he would have put in there, but with Fred, it could have been anything. Nothing dangerous, she figured, but she wouldn't past him to put anxiety medicine or a sleep capsule in there, since he'd been so worried for her mental health of late. It was nice to have someone worry, but his efforts were useless. To worry about one's mental state in the middle of a war was like telling someone not to stress in the middle of their N.E. ; a little inevitable and more frustrating than anything else.

"Just the tea bag, Mione, Merlin." He rolled his eyes. She sipped it. It was quite good, she had to admit.

"Now, inhale it," Fred said, bringing the cup of tea closer to her nose, "Close your eyes and just...think of this scent." Hermione was willing to play along for the moment. She breathed the aroma up, letting it bathe over her. It was a deep, rooty smell with just a hint of sweetness. Her grandmother had given it to her because some fortune teller had told her gran that Hermione's Zodiac apparently gave this sort of a taste. Bollocks, really, and Hermione had been a little off put by her Gran's gullibuleness, so she hadn't tried the tea until now. Ignoring the event that led to this gift, it was enjoyable.

"Fine. I guess you're right. I'll take it." She said, and his whole face lit up, "You are really quite insistent about this whole tea thing." She commented as she put the box in her bag. He watched her.

"I admit it's not totally without cause." He said.

"Oh?" How could anything possibly relate to tea bags?

"Remember how on our first date I made you dinner?"

"How could I forget? It was delicious." Hermione smiled, recalling the delicate flavors she didn't think Fred Weasley was possible of making.

"I could have taken you to see a live performer, or to a bookstore- you'd have loved that. But I chose food because, well, food can be sensual. It reminds you of places, of things. I bet you haven't been able to have a lava cake without thinking of me?"

"Well, no, I suppose not." She said, and hadn't truly thought about it until now, but he was right.

He began to pace, looking far more nervous than she'd ever seen him.

"We talked about a lot of things, that first date. I made it pretty clear to you this wasn't just something casual, I really meant it." He turned to her, biting his lip.

"Yes, I know." Hermione stirred her tea, "That's why I gave you a second date. I wanted something more permanent too." More accurately, Hermione had wanted to know there was a life after this war. Something that would be good and come after; something she could come home to. It's why she wanted to encourage Harry to go for Ginny or Ron to date Lavender this year because she worried sometimes that they were going to turn into veterans that would never truly leave the war, unable to live in a time without chaos or Voldemort. Fred was a life after this ended. He was her future, she just knew it.

"And I know I jokingly said that on the day of the final battle, I'd propose. I didn't know anything then. I didn't know how long it would take. I didn't know that we'd be separated like this. I didn't know how sure about everything I'd feel by this point in, how absolutely positive that this-us-felt right."

"Fred?" Hermione frowned, "What are you trying to say?"

"Hermione," He said, and her eyes grew wide as he knelt before her, taking out a little velvet box from his pocket, "When this is all over, marry me?"

The tea cup fell from her fingers spilling all over her carpet. She threw herself into his arms.

"Of course! I thought that was sort of the plan all along?" She asked, a glimmer in her eyes. With Fred, it was always so clear. There wasn't even truly a talk about their futures because it all felt so set out already, and that was utterly comforting to her. She knew in her heart she'd marry that boy, and it wasn't terrifying but instead so calming. Everything else in her life was thrown into the air, except Fred Weasley. It was because he was the most solid thing in her life she didn't think she would me making a mistake at all to marry him.

"Well, it's official now, you know." He said, and instead of placing the ring on her finger, he instead clasp her fist around it, "I realize you can't wear this around camp, Ron might not notice, but Harry would. And you know, I wanted you to have something that would make you think of me from time to time. There's about 20 tea bags left. I hope that whenever you drink it and breathe in that smell, you'll be back in this moment."

"You clever boy." She said, her body shaking so hard and almost crying, "You're right, of course."

"Why are you always surprised I'm smart?" He teased lightly, "Here." He said, handing her the box for the ring, "You'll keep it safe, until we win the battle. I know you will."

She didn't put it away, not right away. She put it back into the ring box and admired it.

"It the ring my Uncle Fabian was going to give to his girlfriend before he died. Since he was my namesake, mum thought I should have it." He said, picking up her mug from the floor and cleaning the spill with a quick flick of his wand.

"It's beautiful. He had good taste." Hermione dabbed at the corner of her eyes, clasping the top as gently as she could and setting it into her beaded bag.

They couldn't stay in this perfect moment in her bedroom forever though, no matter how badly she wanted to. They had Fleur's wedding to go to, and they'd be leaving soon after that. But of course with a wedding going on, Fred and Hermione knew they wouldn't be able to get any alone time, so this small handful of minutes would have to do.

However, Hermione made sure to give herself one final, good moment before she left her childhood home. She wasn't sure if she'd ever return, though she hoped. She knew the risk that she might never be able to reserve the memory spells on her parents. She absorbed that risk within her gut, not allowing it to cloud her judgement on the issue.

"I would hear about my summer friends do dirty things to boys on their childhood beds," Hermione admitted, dragging her fingernails up Fred's freckled arm, "And, I've never had that experience."

"I'm open to anything, my beautiful fiancee."

A shiver of happiness ran up her spine and frankly, after that, it was all she could do to not rip his clothes straight off. She was pretty sure he didn't mind, though. It was quick and fast, but not without love, on her frilly pink sheets with all of her childhood stuffed animals on her shelves staring blankly over them.

"Hermione?" Fred said when they had finished, "Those plush monkeys are really giving me the creeps."

All she could do was laugh.

Time moved too slowly without Fred. In their tent in the Forest of Dean, Hermione thought of him everyday, multiple times a day. She worried about him all the time. She dreamed about him. She imagined what they'd be doing if Voldemort never came back; if she were in her last year at Hogwarts.

She thought about how she'd study for her end of the year exams and Fred would be no help at all, distracting her at every turn (but, she wouldn't mind). Fred would come up to Hogsmead every weekend he could, he'd open their second joke shop right there solely to use it as an excuse to be closer to her. He might even get a small house or cottage near the school, unable to be apart from her any second. Maybe he would have proposed, in a time without war, maybe he wouldn't have. They would have talked about it, though. Hermione would get Head Girl and try to balance setting a good example for the younger students while resisting the urge to drag Fred back to the castle and let him take her in broom closets or the chair they'd first talked on in the Gryffindor common room at 4am. As it was, she'd probably find any excuse to see him alone. They might have told people, let the world wonder how the Gryffindor Jokester Twin (that no one could tell apart anyway) had someone started dating a girl like Hermione Granger. Hermione would have just told them that Fred made her happy and that was simply that.

She thought about what their life would be like after school, which wasn't different from what she hoped the future would hold for them. A small cottage near a small town, something in walking distance. Small, quaint, covered in ivy and settled in the shade. The garden would be overflowing; half with flowers from Shakespeare plays and the other half of weird items that Fred would cook to use in his inventions. They would move not long after getting married, of course, since the flat above the joke shop was (a) a bachelor pad and (b) George lived there. Hermione loved George, but not like that. Maybe George would remain there with Luna, maybe not.

But, anyway, they'd have the family over constantly, rotating siblings and sibling-in-laws through their happy house. Hermione would work in the Ministry; something worthwhile. Fred would continue inventing, and sometimes, he'd make something that would be a slam dunk and more than just some laughs. In the evenings Hermione would read by a window while Fred cooked dinner. They'd have kids; maybe two, or three. They'd be curious and witty and clever. They'd be able to do anything they set their mind to, and when they went to Hogwarts, they'd be a hassle there. Filtch would hate them, Peeves would love them, McGonagall would retire if she hadn't already at this point. When the children were home, they'd travel the world and at night, Fred would fall asleep with Hermione, his thumb stroking over her battle scars and they'd sigh with relief that everything was good.

Hermione found herself falling into this daydream more times than she could count. Once or twice, Harry asked what she was thinking about and she would be very aware of the engagement ring nestled under her shirts on a chain as it bounced against her collarbone. She would tell Harry a half truth; she was thinking of a better future for everyone.

Ron never really asked. He was sort of oblivious in that way and for once, Hermione was glad.

It was after Ron was a complete ass and left the camp that Hermione started feeling the dead weight of the life she was living and sometimes cried at night. Once, Harry asked Hermione if it was because of Ron. Hermione was so furious at his asking that she didn't speak to him for four days. She realized later, this might have given Harry the completely wrong idea, but Hermione just couldn't understand how Harry could imagine that her or Ron would work well together, or that she'd cry over him? Over a boy she wasn't even dating, if she theoretically were to shed tears over him. And, frankly, she did not speak or else she feared she'd let the words slip out- 'no you idiot, I'm crying because I miss my fiance'.

Ron came back and Hermione tried not to hound him for details about Fred. Ron asked why she was so interested in his family, Hermione didn't have a good answer and so she had to back off with her questions. Didn't make it any easier, knowing Ron had been around Fred and she just wished she could be selfish enough to leave Harry to go find him, even just for a day.

It was after Ron came back that Hermione returned to the tent one day to see the pair of boys fiddling with a radio. She dropped the bag of berries she'd been collecting, catching their attention.

"What's that? We're going to listen to Muggle Top Ten pop songs?" Hermione asked dryly.

"No, it's something better." Ron was grinning ear to ear, "George told me about this. If I just..." He tapped the top of the radio, "McKinnon." Ron said, which was strange to Hermione, until the radio changed channels, static buzzing for a couple seconds.

"Welcome back to Potterwatch, folks! As always, I'm River, bringing you the best news weekly on the war and our heroes. Joining me, per usual, is Rode- I mean, Rapier-,"

"Yeah, and don't you forget it!"

The second voice brought Hermione to her knees. She collapsed in front of the radio, mouth going dry and found herself unable to breathe.

"Pretty sweet, huh?" Ron asked, grinning ear to ear, "They've been doing it for weeks, now, keeping the good folks updated about Death Eater movements, You-Know-Who and even updates on us! I don't know how they're getting the info, but..."

Ron's voice faded away as Hermione zeroed in on the broadcast. The actual news itself didn't matter as much as hearing Fred's throaty laugh or his biting comments or just the careful way he spoke, as compared to Lee's fast paced lightning speed delivery.

"No George?" Harry asked in surprise half-way through, realizing that Fred had talked, Lee was talking, they'd brought in Katie Bell (she was fairly sure) as a guest, but no other person had appeared on air.

"Only as a guest," Ron shrugged, "They're twins but they're not the same person. It was actually Fred's idea, ya know? Lee thought it was bloody brilliant and the pair really spearheaded it."

"Fred's idea, huh?" Hermione asked, trying to sound very blaise about it, but she was sure the thumping of her heart could be herad by everyone.

"Yep. Wonder what caused it?" Ron shrugged.

Me, Hermione wanted to say, I think I did. Fred had seen her put the radio into her bag. Was this a way of reaching out to her this entire time? How many broadcasts had she missed? And his name...well, she was sure that most would assume he preferred rapier due to his 'rapier wit' (and, she wasn't denying it was a charming nickname) but a rapier was also a sword, which had some more adult connotations to it.

Hermione found herself biting her lip, her fingers absently running the thin chain of the necklace with her fingers as she thought about how much she so desperately missed him.

The radio show lasted about half-an-hour. Hermione could have listened all day.

"And, before we sign off, as always, remember folks to never give up hope or small moments!" Fred encouraged, causing Hermione to smile, "Go take a nice bath, read a book, drink some tea..."

"You always mention tea," 'River' laughed, "There are other enjoyable things out there besides tea, y'know."

"Bollocks. Nothing is better than a cuppa tea." Fred argued. Fred liked tea as much as the next person, so in that moment, Hermione knew that this was his way of reaching out to her. Elation riveted through her body mixed with a deep sadness she could not reach back, "So, listeners, ignore River's attitude and go have whatever flavor suits your fancy. We'll see you next week. Padfoot."

As soon as the radio died down again, returning to normal muggle tunes, Hermione got up and began to rifle through her bag.

"Uhh, what are you doing?" Ron asked.

"You heard Fred," Hermione said, shaking the tin of tea bags, "I'm taking his advice."

"Hermione listening to Fred?" Ron teased, "Guess that's a first. Guess it's just about tea. Lee's right, though, he ends with that every time. Nice sentiments, I 'pose."

"Everyone needs a little hope," Harry agreed, "Us more than anyone." He grimaced.

Hermione waited until her water was boiled to pop in one of the bags. She brought it to her nose before she sipped, trying to let herself fall back into her childhood bedroom. Where the love of her life asked her to marry her. Where they promised each other something good when it was all over. Where one of her last happy memories lay.

"Hermione?" Mrs. Weasley was sitting in front of her. The tea had been put on the table in front of Hermione, complete with sugar and milk, if she so wanted. Hermione lifted her fingers to her face, feeling wetness on her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Hermione mumbled, wiping the running mucus from her nose onto a napkin, unable to stop herself from crying over Mrs. Weasley's worn kitchen table.

"Dear," Mrs. Weasley reached across the table, "Here, have this." She pushed the tea into Hermione's fingers.

Hermione basked in the warmth that warmed the ceramic mug with one hand, using the other to touch the chain where she had put the engagement ring on today. Unable to find the proper words, Hermione silently lifted it from her neck. She very deliberately moved slowly as she slid it onto her finger, where it should have been all along. She then put her hand on the table in view of Molly Weasley, nee Prewett, who would recognize an heirloom ring immediately.

When Mrs. Weasley didn't speak, Hermione did, "I loved him so much."

Mrs. Weasley raised her palm, looking at the ring with a soft fondness, "I know dear," She said quietly. Confused, Hermione jerked her head up to look at Fred's mother. She was still gently caressing the ring, "Arthur was so worried when we couldn't find this, he wanted George to give it to Luna. It wasn't George's namesakes, but he figured a twin was still good enough. I told him not to worry. I knew it would turn up eventually. I had a feeling it would be on you."

"You...you knew?" Hermione asked, feeling the breath leave her all of a sudden, "Since when?"

"A little after Rita published that article," Mrs. Weasley clasp Hermione's fingers in her own, "Dear, I'm not quite as oblivious as you all seem to think I am."

"I'm sorry!" Hermione felt a rush of blood to her face, "When you didn't say anything, or make any notice, well I assumed you didn't know. No one else did."

"You would tell me in your own time, I hoped. And, you did. You to know that you made Fred very happy. I'm sure you're aware of this, but Hermione, I must say it anyway. He loved you too." She paused, "I guess I didn't know how to let you know either. That brunch was so awkward today, wasn't it? I thought maybe the tea would let you know that I did." She said, motioning to the tea cup.

"Nothing gets by you, huh?" Hermione asked.

"Well, when your son suddenly gets an obsession with a muggle tea brand, drinks it daily and then becomes sad...a mother has to wonder," Mrs. Weasley said, "I'm sure Ginny has already said as such, but Hermione, whether or not you got a chance to marry my son, you're still a Weasley to me. Now, this is yours to keep." She tapped the diamond on the ring.

"I was just going to keep it until..." Hermione trailed off, "Until someone else in the family needed it. Maybe Ron, maybe Charlie."

"Nonsense. Fred gave it to you." Mrs. Weasley said firmly, "I won't hear anything else about it. I do hope you'll continue to come to the brunches. I think it's about time I stopped putting out a chair for Fred. It's time to start healing, wouldn't you say?"

Hermione forced a smile, but her heart died a little inside. Somehow, she feared she'd never stop mourning Fred. She wasn't sure she wanted to heal, because that would be admitting he was well and truly gone.

No, Hermione decided, she wasn't quite ready for that yet. Well, healing...sort of. It's all she felt like she had been doing lately. And, it's not like she saw herself hanging on forever, that was just silly. However, Hermione didn't yet see a day in which she could totally move on with her life. It wasn't there yet. She wasn't there yet.

She saw the tin of tea sitting on the windowsill and realized she had no idea where her own box was.

"Do you think I could bring that box of tea home?"