Seventh Year

~o0o~

"Hermione?" Fred asked, blinking in disbelief.

Hermione tried to ignore the little skip her heart had made when she for a brief second had imagined that he had addressed her. She released a shaky breath and swallowed as she turned and looked to where her past self sat. The one he was actually talking to.

Memory Hermione raised her hand in a brief wave from her seat at the kitchen table. "Hello." A cup of tea was set in front of her and held between her hands. "Where's George?"

Fred dusted some soot off his cloak and took a step closer, entering the kitchen. "Still at home. I'm only here to ask Mum about the meeting. No good time to send owls about that sort of thing," he explained.

Hermione nodded, but it was obvious her thoughts weren't all there. Something was gnawing on her mind.

I had just obliviated my parents, real Hermione remembered.

Fred opened his mouth to say something, but then Ron appeared. "Sorry about that," Ron said, "Pig was making a fuss and . . .Oy, what're you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too, little bro'," Fred answered. "Have you seen Mum?"

"She's upstairs preparing a bed for Hermione in Ginny's room. Why?"

"So many questions today. Alas, I don't have more time waste on you lot. I wish dearly to return to the shop as soon as possible." Fred walked out of the kitchen, waving a hand without looking at them. No doubt ignoring the way Ron already was rubbing a reassuring hand on Hermione's back as she sniffed.

As the scenery changed, real Hermione contemplated the way Ron had comforted her, even without knowing what had happened. She remembered that she hadn't been able to speak about it and then, when she had finally mustered up the courage to tell him, he had given her a hug and he had promised it was all going to work out in the end. That they would help Harry defeat Voldemort and then they'd go find her parents and all would be well.

Of course, that's what happened. But never in a million years had she expected to look back at this moment with new eyes.

What have you done to me, Fred?

Hermione clenched her hands, her nails digging their way into her palms. The pain was a welcome distraction.

The second memory of the seventh vial transported her to the Burrow again. More precisely, the sitting room. Huddled together in the small space was Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Alastor Moody, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Mundungus Fletcher, Bill Weasley, Fleur Delacour, Fred, George, Ron and Hermione herself. They were discussing the plan to get Harry unnoticed out of Privet Drive.

"We need to assume that they know he's being moved," argued Moody. "It will do us no good to do otherwise."

"Yes, but how would they find out? We sent a false trail of news—" Tonks started, but was interrupted.

"And everything those news depend on is that the Dark Lord chooses to hear it! If he were to hear something else and have his Death Eaters show up on Potter's doorstep then all would be for nothing! The boy would be dead in ten seconds!"

"Alastor!" snapped Mrs. Weasley. "I refuse to let you speak of Harry that way! He's just a boy!"

"He has a point, Molly," said Remus, holding his hands up placatingly when she whipped her head to where he was sitting. "Not about Harry, but about the fact that we should be prepared for everything. In the event that they should know about the date set for the transfer we need a distraction. Something to occupy them while trying to move Harry."

"What if they didn't know who Harry Potter was?" Mundungus asked, sending the room quiet and all eyes on him. "Well, I mean, just suppose them Death Eaters arrive, yeah? Nothing would confuse them more than if they saw several Potter's."

"Are you suggesting Polyjuice?" asked Bill.

Ron and Hermione exchanged small smiles at that.

"We never escape that horrible brew, do we?" joked Ron.

Hermione shook her head. "Harry's going to hate it. He'll protest at the idea of any of us assuming his identity."

"We'll have to try our best to convince him then," the twins said, overhearing them and sporting devious smirks. But while George resumed his attention to the meeting, Fred watched happily as Memory Hermione's lips pulled upward as she rolled her eyes at them.

It all turned to fog and the location moved to Privet Drive this time and the first thing Hermione heard was her best friend in panic.

"No! No way!"

Harry stood in his Aunt and Uncle's kitchen, gaping at them all. But most of all, at Moody holding a flask. A flask containing a very distinguishable drink.

"I told them you'd take it like this," said Memory Hermione, her voice carrying a hint of complacency.

Harry shook his head. "If you think I'm going to let people risk their lives—!"

"—because it's the first time for all of us," said Ron, grinning slightly.

"This is different, pretending to be me—"

"Well, none of us really fancy it, Harry," said Fred earnestly. "Imagine if something went wrong and we were stuck as specky, scrawny gits forever."

Both Hermione's snorted. Harry did not.

As quick as the memory had come, it went. It appeared this last vial wasn't going to take it's time like the others. Which wasn't a big surprise, considering the lack of interaction Hermione and Fred had had before he . . .before Hermione went with Ron and Harry to hunt the Horcruxes.

The thought made Hermione swallow and she wasn't sure what the tight knot in her stomach was due to. Whether or not it was because she could see the end of the tunnel or because she dreaded reaching the it? Was she wishing she was wrong and this vial would drag on forever?

"I came to say goodbye", she reminded herself aloud. "I came to get closure."

But do you actually want it?

Laughter interrupted her thoughts and Hermione turned her attention to the new memory. Fred and George were in the living room of the Burrow again. The difference this time was that they looked battle worn and George was lying in the sofa, missing an ear. But they were laughing despite that.

It was after having their mission to transport Harry to the Burrow. When Severus Snape had accidentally hit George with a spell that made him lose his ear. But George was smiling anyway. He had his brother by his side, after all.

"I can't wait to watch him try more of the book's advice," said George. "Getting him that was genius."

Book? What book?

"I'm still trying to recover from the other day when he held the door open to Hermione instead of letting it smack into her face," said Fred.

"'Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches'," said George, rolling his eyes. "They really should have called it 'common sense and curtesy for morons' instead."

Fred laughed. "Oh well, whatever helps them get a move on, I suppose."

Then, footsteps were heard and everyone that had partaken in the mission arrived. Well, nearly everyone.

"What's wrong?" asked Fred, his smile dying as he scanned their faces. "What's happened? Who's—?"

"Mad-Eye," said Mr. Weasley. "Dead."

There was a new memory.

"I can't hear a thing," whispered George. He looked to his brother who shook head.

"Shame," grumbled Fred. He lowered the 'Extendable Ears' and pocketed it, as did George with his. The two them were in the hallway, a floor beneath Ron's room which had its door closed. "Though perhaps it hardly matters if we overheard them. They're leaving."

George sighed. "We knew that when we helped Ron with the ghoul, but . . .if they only told us more we could help them."

Fred nodded thoughtfully and started for the stairs leading down. There was a loud creak as his foot hit one of the floorboards and the twins immediately looked to each other. Not surprised when Hermione was seen descending a moment later.

She stopped at the sight of them. "Oh, hello."

"Hermione," said George pleasantly, as if they hadn't just been attempting to eavesdrop on the trio only seconds prior. "Out and about at this hour, are you?"

"I was only speaking to Ron and Harry. They thought it was Charlie lurking about but it appears they were wrong," she said. "Well, good night."

The twins both wished her good night, but there was an unmistakable weight on their expressions when she turned away. They knew what was coming and they no doubt sensed it would be soon.

How soon, they didn't know, but Hermione now did. As much as she always did when looking at the memories she wished her past self would have turned around . . .

The fog returned and Hermione saw they were at Bill and Fleur's wedding now.

Fred and George emerged from the marquee and as they approached the trio, Hermione noticed the former of the twins giving her memory self a once over, admiring the way she wore her lilac robes. Despite it all, it made Hermione blush and she once more couldn't fathom how no one but George noticed Fred's glances. Speaking of George, he had just finished telling Hermione and Harry about their Uncle Bilius.

"Wasn't he the one who saw a Grim and died twenty-four hours later?" Memory Hermione asked.

"Well, yeah, he went a bit odd towards the end," conceded George.

"But before he went loopy he was the life and soul of the party," said Fred. "He used to down an entire bottle of Firewhiskey, then run on to the dance floor, hoist up his robes and start pulling bunches of flowers out of his—"

"Yes, he sounds like a real charmer," said Hermione, while Harry roared with laughter.

"Never married, for some reason," said Ron.

"You amaze me," said Hermione.

They were all laughing so much that none of them noticed a latecomer to the wedding. Not until he held out his invitation to Ron and said, with his dark eyes on Hermione, "You look wonderful."

"Viktor!" Hermione shrieked, dropping her small beaded bag in the process. She scrambled to pick it up, all while blushing as she spoke. "I didn't know you were—goodness—it's lovely to see—how are you?"

Ron's ears turned red and he said, much too loudly, "How come you're here?"

Fred rolled his eyes and Hermione guessed he and George were collectively sighing at the bad luck of having Viktor show up right as the two of them had started to see progress between Ron and Hermione.

Harry, under disguise, offered to show Viktor his seat after having explained he'd been invited by Fleur to attend the wedding. As they walked towards the aisle, people went wide-eyed and whispered among themselves.

"Look at all the people staring," Ron remarked. "He's going to steal attention away from Bill and Fleur."

"Oh, I don't think he means to do that," Hermione said weakly, her cheeks still pink.

Before Ron had a chance to respond, Fred cleared his throat and declared that they should get going. "Time to sit down," he told Harry as he, George, Ron and Hermione passed, "or we're going to get run over by the bride."

The scene changed and though it was still the site of the wedding, it couldn't have been more of a contrast. It was dark, no longer the sunny summer day it had previously been, and there was the sounds of panicked yelling. Further away, people were seen scouring in panic out of from under the marquee and Disapparating, while members of the Order were urgently casting Protegos.

Hermione saw Fred running towards the marquee, one of Fleur's cousins running next to him, both of them struggling to find their loved ones in the chaos. Hermione pushed any feelings of jealousy down, as it was not hers to have. Or, that's what the rational part of her argued. The other parts of her wanted to scoff at Fred for being so cliché in his choice. A blonde, tall, beautiful woman?

But then Hermione shook her head and scolded herself for her behavior. She regretted the way she'd treated Fleur in the past and wasn't keen on picking up old habits.

"Can you see what's happening?" Fred asked Fleur's cousin.

"Non!" she replied. Then she gasped. "Over there! My sister! Your twin!"

While the girls cried and hurried off to join the rest of their family, Fred hugged George to him in relief and proceeded to ask if he knew what was going on.

"Death Eaters," George said and the colour drained from Fred's face.

"Have they—" he started, but George shook his head.

"Don't think so, we would have heard or seen them do more if they found him."

"That's good then."

"Fred," George said, "You realise what this means, don't you?"

Fred nodded, swallowing. "They're gone."

The scene switched and Hermione had to squint at the sudden light. She blinked a couple of times and her eyes settled on Fred walking around the garden surrounding the Burrow. His clothes were the same as on the day of the wedding, except it looked like he had had no sleep and therefore the clothes were all tousled. He had also lost the robes and only wore the vest and shirt underneath. The sleeves were now being rolled up as he spotted what he was looking for in the high grass.

"Oy, you." Fred scooped up a resisting orange fur ball and patted its head. "Where you running off to?"

Crookshanks tried to struggle out of his arms, but it was pointless. Fred had him in a grip. He stood there, Crookshanks in his arms, the sun rising behind them, and with the garden gnomes crawling their way back to the Burrow. Fred paid them no mind.

A gentle wind blew through, stirring the grass into a slow dance, and Fred sighed. "You won't find her by simply walking around, you know. She's too clever for that."

Crookshanks had ceased his struggling and was now focusing on stubbornly staring at Fred instead. Fred just chuckled.

"Let's both just try to be here when they all return, yeah?"

As the scene began to shift, yet again, Hermione felt it but couldn't respond. All she knew was that she had just watched Fred prevent her cat from straying and seeking her out. Which in turn had led to Crookshanks now being safely with her at Hogwarts again. There to provide her with comfort she desperately needed during difficult nights.

She heard the Weasley's greet someone arriving but she just wasn't able to take anything else in. The fact was, she had never even thought about how Crookshanks had stayed so safely with the Weasley's while they'd been away. Had she been asked who she thought had taken it upon themselves to look after him, she would have said Ginny. But now . . .

"Do you really need those, Mum?" asked Fred, watching his mother summon all the photographs in the house into a trunk.

"Once you're a parent and have a family, Fred, you'll realise you would do the same," said Mrs. Weasley, watching the images of her smiling children with a heavy sigh. A much too heavy one.

Mr. Weasley appeared and wrapped a comforting arm around his wife. "It'll be all right, Molly. They'll all be all right."

Mrs. Weasley blinked away her tears and nodded.

Fred frowned. There was a loud pop and he turned to look outside. "Bill's here."

Ginny ran down with a trunk of her own, followed by George who was helping move some other things for their parents. On her right shoulder sat Arnold, her pygmy puff, and on the other was Ron's owl Pigwidgeon.

"Ah, lest we forget, where's the orange menace gone off to?" asked Fred. "Or, you know, the orange menace that isn't a member of this family. Or Percy," he added under his breath.

"Fred," warned Mr. Weasley and walked his wife over to the door before she could figure what he'd said.

At the door stood Bill, and after receiving a hug from his mother, he asked them if they were ready to go.

"Yeah, just a sec," answered Ginny. She began handing over her things to her oldest brother and turned to Fred. "I think Crookshanks is in the kitchen. Want me to fetch him?"

"Nah," said Fred, "I'll do it."

"He hates you."

"He does not! How dare you."

Ginny rolled her eyes and shrugged as if to say suit yourself and then helped George with the rest of his things. Meanwhile, Fred walked into the kitchen and after a few seconds found Crookshanks sitting by the window.

"Up we go, friend," he said. "It's time to leave."

Crookshanks turned and only stared.

Fred gave him a pat on the head. "She'll find us even if we leave. It'll be fine. C'mon now."

He then proceeded to lift Crookshanks and Crookshanks bit into his hand.

"Oy!" Fred exclaimed, but Crookshanks maintained his bite and so Fred shook his head and carried the cat to the door.

"Blimey," chuckled Bill when seeing them. He reached over to pet Crookshanks. "Mighty beast you got there, Fred."

And that's when it happened. Crookshanks went into a frenzy, clawing and reaching for Bill and meowing his lungs out.

"Hey! Calm down!" said Fred, struggling. "What's gotten into you? He's only part werewolf!"

"He never had a problem with Lupin, though," observed George.

"I must have startled him or something," said Bill, but his face turned contemplative. "Well, let's get going to Aunt Muriel's before she changes her mind."

Hermione gasped. She remembered Bill having moved his family into hiding, Aunt Muriel's specifically, during the time she, Harry and Ron had been hiding out at Shell Cottage. And perhaps what had got Crookshanks in such a state was him smelling her on Bill somehow.

She looked at Fred, who now that Crookshanks had calmed somewhat was trying to piece together what had happened. And when a light in his eyes set off she suspected he had just reached the same conclusion.

The others moved ahead, but Fred lingered with Bill. He leaned in and kept his voice really low. "Have you seen them, Bill? Have you been in contact?"

Bill glanced at his brother. "I don't know who you're talking about."

Fred kept quiet and as he waited outside with the others for their portkey to activate, he gave a relieved sigh.

The next memory transported them to a rather large sitting room. In front of the fireplace, seated on a rather lavish sofa, was Fred. In his hand was a glass of firewhiskey, and for once he had a rather solemn expression. The fire was the only sound in the room, its hissing and dancing flames seemingly comforting Fred in whatever was occupying his thoughts.

"Mind if I join you?"

Fred looked to the entrance and saw George appear. He gave his newly arrived twin a shake of the head and George took seated himself to Fred's left. Fred handed George the rest of his drink, which George eagerly accepted. In one swoop it was gone.

"I can't stand this much longer, Freddie," George admitted.

"At least we had access to Lee and the radio, I know we have to take a break now but—"

"That's not what I meant," interrupted George. "I . . .I've been a complete arse."

Fred waited for his brother to elaborate.

George swallowed and when he spoke next, his voice was smaller than Hermione could ever recall hearing it be. "What if . . .what if we don't make it out? What if I don't?"

"We will," said Fred, his gaze steady. "We will, George."

"But what if we don't? All this time I've spent being stubborn . . .her as well, mind you. I just can't help but wonder what we'd done if we'd known this were to happen. Would we have put all our arguments aside? Would we have been together now? I don't have many regrets, but this one. . .this one is heavy, brother."

George poured himself another glass and sipped. Meanwhile, Fred was silent again. This time it seemed he was taking in what George was saying. The doubt had been contagious back then. Hermione remembered that feeling well.

They were once again in front of the fireplace, but this time Ginny had joined them and the mood wasn't quite so solemn. Instead, they were actually laughing.

"Just promise me, that if I don't make it somehow—" started Ginny.

"Oy!" interrupted her brothers.

"I said if! Don't get your wands in a knot," Ginny rolled her eyes. "Just promise me not to let my things stay at Muriel's because that woman would just not appreciate my collection of Holyhead Harpies items. She'd probably just chuck it all in the bin. Did you hear her talking about my robes yesterday? 'Oh, it's you, Ginevra. And here I thought the carpet had suddenly learned how to move.'"

"What would it even matter if your things were thrown away? It's us who should worry," argued Fred. "What with all our products, Muriel might accidentally—oh, hang on, no, this could be good."

George and Ginny guffawed.

"Yes, yes," said George. "Rule number twenty-three, we make sure our things go where they belong when this is over. What else?"

Ginny shrugged. "We give it our all. Make sure we don't even need to think about rule twenty-three."

Fred slung and an arm around his little sister. "Naturally."

"It'll all be fine, Gin," said George. "We'll all make it out okay. Right, Freddie?"

Fred nodded. "Right."

Ginny blinked away the small tears that had suddenly formed. "I can't wait for this to be over."

"You and me both," said Fred.

"Ear, ear," grinned George and raised his glass to his lips.

"I worry about them constantly," Ginny admitted. "All of them. All the time."

"Hey," said Fred. "You're not alone in that, but they're good at what they do. Preventing bad guys, especially You-Know-Poo, is what they do. And when Harry defeats him, you and him will live happily ever after with your twelve Quidditch babies and all will be well."

Ginny chuckled. "Did you really have to put it that way?"

"Why, you were planning on having more? I dunno, Gin, twelve already seems like enough—"

"Oh, shut it," she laughed. "All right, good night you lot. Thanks for the comfort."

Once she'd exited the room, George turned to his brother. "All will be well. That sounds mighty tempting."

Fred sighed. "I just don't want her to have to be worrying about these things too. And you know Harry, he always saves the day."

George nodded. "And when he does, happy endings for all of us, is that right?"

"Of course," said Fred.

"You're a bad liar, Freddie."

"Shut it," said Fred, but there was no power behind the words. Just tiredness.

Geogre leaned back against the sofa, closing his eyes. "First thing I'll do when this is over is telling her. I need Angelina to know how I feel. And then, then I'm going to snog her face off."

Fred chuckled. "You always were a class act."

Yet another memory in front of the fireplace.

This time Fred was alone. With the exception of Crookshanks in his lap.

He said nothing but stared intently at the flame as if making up his mind about something.

And then . . .

Hermione gasped as her head was thrown out of the Pensieve.

"What . . .?" Hermione started but then trailed off as comprehension slowly fought its way through her. It had been the last. The last. She felt herself stammer, "No. No. No."

There were no tears. Just disbelief. How could he leave her this . . .this?

Working through what she believed to be severe shock, Hermione leaned back, supporting herself on her hands, and as she did her fingers came in contact with something cool. She looked down.

Another vial. It had rolled down form the edge of the bed where the others were.

One more.

She swallowed.

Then, eagerly, she clutched the vial to her, the one marked 'nr. 8' and prayed.

To whom, she didn't know. For what, she knew even less. But she did.

And then, everything turned white.

~o0o~

A/N: WHO MISSED ME?

Hello, darling ducklings! I'm back! And wow, it's been one crazy year and it's so good to be back to writing this story. I've seen all your reviews and I want to ensure you once again that no matter how long it takes, I will finish this story (as evidenced by my one year late update hahaha).

The story is nearing its end and I hope you're prepared because I sure as hell ain't. Damn, it's crazy. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and that you keep sending this story love because it's been the thing fueling me when I thought I'd never even finish this chapter.

Thank you for your continued support. It means the world.

Until next time.
/Primrue

PS it might be very bold to ask, but you're very welcome to buy me a coffee on ko-fi! Not needed to show support of course, but a very welcome thing regardless (especially since I'm struggling a bit financially right now haha). Just follow the link on my tumblr! (primruesabcd dot tumblr dot com)