A/N: Again, I just couldn't wait. I must be a masochist for putting them both up so soon. Warning, first part's a bit random.

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Disclaimer: Nope, nope, and nope.

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Uh-Oh

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I, Fred Weasley, am a lucky man.

Why am I so lucky? Well, for starters I have the world's best family. I have an identical twin, five more brothers, and a sister. My parents are wonderful. All my sisters in law and my brother in law are nice. I have terrific friends and three beautiful children.

But the best part of my family is without a doubt my beautiful, brilliant wife Hermione. I don't know what I did to even deserve the thought of her. She's made me the man I am today.

I'm successful. I co-own the very popular Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes (which just opened it's eighth branch in Paris) with my twin George.

I'm well respected in the magical community. My family are purebloods. My brother Percy is head of the Wizengamot. My dad has worked at the ministry for nearly thirty years and is highly supported to be the next Minister of Magic. Bill is one of the heads of Gringott's. Ron's an Auror. Ginny's husband Neville is a famous healer. Charlie is getting a lot of attention for his work with dragons. I think we all turned out pretty good. Not to mention that Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville helped Harry Potter (yes, The Harry Potter) defeat You-Know-Who once and for all.

And very important, I'm funny. The shop wouldn't be so successful if I wasn't. George and I were the biggest trouble makers Hogwarts has ever seen. Our leaving on brooms during Umbrage's reign is still talked about almost twenty years after it happened. Heck, even Peeves still talks about us.

I bet McGonagall nearly had a stroke when she found out she was going to have one of my kids at Hogwarts. So far, there hasn't been anything serious. No matter what Hermione says.

That's how lucky I am. Great family. Good job. Well liked. My life is pretty much perfect.

Or so I thought.

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I arrived home a little past nine on the night of January tenth. It was early compared to some of the hours I'd been pulling lately. George and I were preparing a new line to launch by month's end and we kept running into snags.

Walking into the kitchen, I found my son Noah attempting to sneak into the cookie jar on top of the Muggle refrigerator Hermione had wanted.

"Hold it." I said. He instantly froze and looked at me sheepishly. "What has your mother told you about this?"

"Don't get caught?" he tried.

I raised my eyebrow. "Try again."

"Sorry." he said and slid off the counter onto the floor.

"Where is your Mum?" I asked, ruffling his hair.

"Upstairs. I think she's already in bed."

That was unusual. "Your mother went to bed and left you up?"

He frowned at me. "I'm almost eleven Dad." He looks just like Hermione when he does that.

"Roxie asleep?" I asked, referring to our youngest daughter Roxanne. She's nine. Our oldest, Madeline, was a third year at Hogwarts.

"Yep."

"Why don't you go brush your teeth. It's getting close to your bedtime."

He obliged, but not without another of those looks.

After checking on Roxie, I made my way to mine and Hermione's room at the end of the second floor hallway. The lights were off and it was dead silent. I peeked inside, and sure enough, Hermione was already in bed. The moon was full and cast a light into the room. I noticed Hermione's red dress and robes hanging on the back of the bathroom door. I love that dress. She looks incredible in it. 'We must have plans tomorrow night. She'll remind me.'

My fatigue caught up with me and I got ready for bed quickly. Careful not to wake my sleeping wife, I slid in beside her and I was out before my head hit the pillow.

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If Hermione's going to bed early was strange, the next morning was even stranger. For starters, I woke up alone. On a Sunday. Before seven. Hermione always sleeps in on Sundays. Figuring she was making breakfast, I got up. While I was grabbing my robe I noticed that her dress clothes were no longer on the door.

The kitchen was empty when I entered. The only sign of life was the note stuck on the bulletin board next to the back door.

Dad,

Mum's working and dropped me and Roxie at the Burrow. She said for you to feed us dinner.

Noah

Working? On a Sunday? Hermione's always been a bookworm and an over achiever, but this was a bit much.

'She must be working on a big case.' Regretfully, I had no idea. I'd been a bit preoccupied lately.

"Guess I'll go to work until dinner time.'

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After I hadn't seen my wife for two weeks I began to get suspicious. Night after night I came home to find Hermione either asleep or still at work. Each morning, she was already gone before I woke up.

It was starting to get old.

When neither Harry, Ron, nor Ginny could tell me what was going on, I decided there was nothing left to do but confront my wife.

I got home from work around three one day and plopped down on our bed to wait for her. The kids were with my parents for the night and everyone had strict instructions not to bother us unless there was a death or major blood loss involved.

Hermione showed up at a quarter to eleven. She looked tired and sad. But still as beautiful as ever. My heart lurched at the sight of her.

She hadn't noticed me yet. She was putting her things away and undoing her robes when she finally turned and saw me on the bed. She jumped about a foot.

"Fred, you scared the daylights out of me." she said angrily.

"Sorry." I said dryly.

Hermione blinked, and turned back to the dresser, placing her robes in it. She pulled her hair form it's updo and began to brush it furiously. She was definitely angry.

"Work okay?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Harry and Ron?"

"Yes."

"The kids?"

"Yes."

Grr. Now I was starting to get angry.

I stood and stalked over to stand behind her. Gently, I took the hairbrush from her hands and turned her to look at me. There was an accusing, reproachful glare in her eye I hadn't seen since she was in labor with Roxie and screaming at me to never touch her again.

I was starting to get scared.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

"Wrong? What could possibly be wrong." She stalked past me and began turning the bed down.

"Dammit Hermione, tell me what's the matter." I yelled.

She whirled on me. "What's today's date?"

Huh? "The twenty-fourth."

"And two weeks ago tonight? What was that?"

"Uh, the tenth?" I tried.

She looked at me expectantly. Obviously, I should have known the answer.

"I don't get it. Do you need a calendar?"

Her mouth dropped open. "You honestly don't get it?"

I threw my hands up in a 'duh' gesture.

"Think Fred. January tenth. Fifteen years ago." she said.

Oh.

My.

God.

"Our anniversary." I whispered.

"Finally got it, huh?"

"Hermione, I'm so sorry." I began toward her, but she held out her arms to stop me.

"Just don't. This is the final straw Fred."

"What are you talking about?"

"I've dealt with the late nights, the canceled plans, the dinners alone for nearly a year now. You've been treating me like a roommate instead of your wife and I'm sick of it. I will not be ignored by my own husband!" she screamed in rage, tears streaming down her face.

"Honey, Baby, if I had known…"

"You should have. Did you really think I would take it forever? What happened to the Fred I married? The one who actually paid attention to me." she whirled around, hiding her face from me. I watched her hands raise to her face as she furiously wiped the tears away.

"When you never said anything about plans for our anniversary," she said after a few minutes, "I thought you were planning a surprise. You've always made our anniversary a big deal. I sat and waited for you all day. Did you even realize I stayed home form work?"

I hadn't. God, I felt like dirt.

"Of course not. You were gone to the precious shop before I even woke up."

"What can I do?" I begged. I came up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, burying my face in her hair. "I'll do whatever it takes to make this up to you."

"I don't know if you can." she whispered.

What?

"Hermione…"

She pulled my hands away, and turned to face me again. With a deep breath, she looked into my eyes. "Fred, tell me the truth, do you love me anymore?"

I felt like I had just been punched in the stomach. Here was my wife, the reason I get up in the morning, doubting I still loved her.

"How can you ask me that?"

"All these years," she began, tears streaming down her face, "my worst fear was that you only came after me because of Maddie. That you didn't…that you weren't really in love with me. Now, it's more than a fear. It's a very real thought I have every day."

"Because I forgot our anniversary?"

"Because you don't act like you love me anymore!" she screamed. "I feel like a piece of furniture to you."

"Hermione, I love you more than anything." I said desperately.

She plucked a pillow and thrust it at me. "I wish I could believe that. And tonight, you're sleeping in the guest room." She stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Silently, I walked into the guestroom and sat down on the bed in a daze. 'How can she really think that?'

For the past fifteen years I have loved Hermione more than I thought it was possible to love anybody. Everything I do and think throughout the day is about her. Could I have gotten so caught up in that I made her believe she wasn't important o me anymore? That she never really was?

Our anniversary has always been our day. When we're just us, nothing to distract us. And this year, fifteen , it slipped my mind.

I had to make it up to her. Had to make her see that she was my world.

But how?

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