Disclaimer: All characters, places, and spells belong to J. K. Rowling and Warner Bros. The title to the song "Only Time" belongs to Enya and Reprise Records and Warner Bros. Records. Copyright infringement is not intended.

A/N: This just came to the forefront of my mind today and I couldn't stop myself when I began to write it. This is a songfic, one-shot (unless all of you like it enough for me to continue it) of Hermione and George. Sorry but there are no lemons in this shot. If any of you would like for me to continue, then I'll definitely produce lemons within it. The song in this shot is 'Only Time' by Enya. Enjoy and R&R!

Only Time

Dread still hung over the Burrow. Even though the war had only been three months prior. The loss of Fred Weasley was still weighing down everyone who lived within the wonky house in St. Ottery Catchpole.

Hermione was one of many surprises to everyone who knew her and who knew Fred. At the funeral that was held for Fred, everyone thought that George was bad off, Hermione was just as bad if not worse. The way she clung to his body when she walked up to say her last goodbye, nobody was expecting it. The tears that had flowed like a river down her anguish ridden face, nobody except for her two best friends, Harry and Ron, had ever seen her cry. So when Harry had seen the tears, he had immediately jumped up with Ron at his side to help her out of the room and to the loo.

When George had seen Hermione and the way she was gripping onto his dead twin, he'd just about lost it on the weeping girl. His immediate thought was that she was going to harm the body even more and had gotten up to get her away from his brothers body. There was a reason though, for as to why Bill and Charlie were sitting on either side of him. Molly Weasley, the mother of all mothers, had requested for them to sit accordingly to keep things like what was about to go down from happening. The moment George had made an attempt to get up, Bill and Charlie had both grabbed him by his arms and pulled him back to his seat.

Yeah, that had been three months ago. Three months that the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes had remained closed. Three months that Harry and Ginny had put off their wedding. Three months that Charlie had made the decision to stay home with his family. Three months that Arthur and Molly had wasted, trying to get George to come out of his room instead of spending time with a slightly showing Fleur. Three months that Hermione sat in her room that had once belonged to Bill, sitting upon her bed reading the same piece of parchment over and over again.

The day after the three month mark, Hermione had obtained some very shocking news. News that she was not to keen to share with the Weasley clan, in fear that they would spiral down even further into the hell that they have been forcefully caged into.

That same night, the family, plus Harry and Hermione, sat at another uncomfortably quiet dinner. Not a single word had been spoken at the table during any meal since everyone came home from the battle. Tonight would be the first in those three months.

"Is George not coming to dinner again?" Hermione asked as she tucked in for dinner.

There was a clatter of silverware no sooner than the question came from her mouth. Everyone looked up at her in shock, that she would be the one to speak, to be the first to break the silence. Flustered, Molly started to run her hands over her napkin that laid in her lap. "I'm afraid not Hermione." The sadness in her tone and the tears in her eyes caused Hermione to look away.

"Oh, right." She wasn't sure what else she should say. And after that, the silence had become even more awkward.

Hermione understood how George felt about losing Fred. She could tell that together, they were like one person, and she had never seen them apart from each other. Hermione didn't like what the outcome came to; it scared her to death.

After dinner had been eaten, everyone dispersed going their own direction of choice. Hermione stayed in the kitchen and watched as Molly started washing the dishes all by hand. Hermione knew that it helped Molly keep her mind off of everything, even though she knew that she could use magic. Nothing would be the same, Hermione knew that, nobody would be the same.

Hermione took notice as time seemed to slow as she read over the same piece of parchment for what felt like the first time, every time. Someone else had to know, had to see. She couldn't keep this to herself, letting everyone think that Fred's last words were only to Percy.

Clutching the parchment in her hand, she crossed the hall now to what was now just George's room. Hermione had waited until everyone else had turned in for the night before going to George's room. Hesitating for a moment, Hermione took a deep breath before gently knocking on the door. "George?" No response was given. "George, can I come in?" Hermione could hear the man on the other side of the door give a small whimper; neither a yes or a no. Hermione took the initiative to just enter the room, he already knew that she was there.

Hermione pushed the door open and stepped in, closing the door behind her. Squinting into the darkness, willing her eyes to adjust, she saw him curled up in the corner of the room on the floor. He too was clinging to something, Hermione could only guess it being one of Fred's many shirts. "George?" She asked again as she took small steps to get to him.

George's appearance was one that Hermione had never seen before. He looked like hell; dark bags under his bloodshot eyes, full grown beard, deep frown, and of course he hadn't been eating and looked like he was wasting away. This brought tears to her eyes as she looked down at him. He wouldn't meet her gaze as she watched him, waiting for him to say or do something.

Kneeling down in front of George, Hermione brought a hand out to run her fingers through his knotted red locks. "George, say something. Please?" His eyes finally met hers.

"Go away Hermione." His voice came out scratchy and rough. Not at all like the loud joyful boyish voice that she was so use to.

Hermione shook her head. "I have something I want you to see."

"I said go away."

She knew that this would be a struggle to get him to listen and just look at the parchment that she was still holding onto. "I need you to see this George." Hermione watched as his hand started for the wand that was sitting on the floor next to him. "Please, don't." She reached out for his hand to stop him. "It will only take a minute. Then I will leave you alone, if that's what you want."

"I don't want to see it."

"I'll read it to you then. Either way, you need to hear this." He looked at her for a minute, shooting daggers her way. She cleared her throat slightly before beginning to read what she was holding.

"My Dearest Hermione,

If you have received this, then I have gone from this world. I knew that there would be a chance of this, there was a chance of this happening to everyone. I would only hope that you're still living to read this. I know that this must be hard for you to read right now, seeing as how you will be attending my funeral in just a few hours.

I don't want you to cry for me, I don't want my family to cry for me, I don't want George to cry for me. I must ask that you take care of my family and my dear twin. Bring happiness to my family once more, in my place. I would hope that my death would be one of the most celebrated, everyone all smiles and having a jolly good time. Not too much of a good time though, only because I won't be there to experience it; you know I love a good party.

Tell George that I love him. Tell him that I want him to live a long and happy life and not to mourn me. Tell him that I'll be with him through every decision in life that he makes, in spirit of course. I don't want him to keep himself locked up in our old bedroom wasting away. I want him to come out of the bedroom with a smile on his face and a laugh to spread. I want him to be able to move on without me by his side. I want him to know that I love him forever.

Speaking of love, I love you Hermione. I know I only told you that a few days ago, but I know that you still need to hear it. I know that you're probably putting the blame on yourself for my death. Remember, you are not to blame. You kept me fighting in the war. I know it was all about saving Harry and keeping him alive, but I was also fighting for you…for us. I was hoping to live through the war, in hopes to purpose to you. I had plans to marry you, have a family with you, grow old with you as we watch our children grow up and marry and to have children of their own. You were my life, you still are.

I will miss our nights up late together, wrapped up in each other's arms, waiting to see what the future holds for us. I know that it is but a dream for us now, but it would have been wonderful.

I told you that I would take care of you. So with this letter you will find that I have left my Gringotts key to my own personal vault. I had everything set up with the bank. That vault is now yours and everything that is in it now belongs to you.

Take care of George for me Hermione. Don't let him put all of our hard work to waste. Tell him that I said to get his lazy arse up off the damn floor and get something to eat and go back to the damn shop and start making himself some money.

With that said, I must leave you now to embark on the biggest adventure that I'll ever go on. I can't wait. And I can't wait for the day that you will join me my love.

Yours for all of eternity,

Fred"

Hermione looked at George who was crying, as was she, and he was shaking his head. "Fred would never write something like that. I don't know who you think you are, making things up like that about Fred."

"I didn't make it up George. Fred really wrote this." Hermione cried.

"Why the fuck would he even write a letter to you?"

"He loved me. I love him. We were going to be together openly after the war ended." She explained through the tears.

"I don't believe you." Hermione slid the parchment across the floor to him and watched as George's eyes fell upon the letter. His eyes widening a little at the sight of his brother's handwriting. George picked up the letter and read it to himself. "He really wrote this?" Hermione nodded. "Why didn't you show me this before?"

She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "I didn't know how you would react. I was afraid of what you might do or say. I know you're hurting. I am too George. You read that letter. You saw what he said. He wanted to marry me."

"Why now though?"

"I didn't know who else to tell without causing a scene. I don't want to make your mother cry anymore. I don't want to hurt your family anymore than what they are." She paused, closing her eyes as she tilted her head back to face the ceiling. "George, I'm pregnant."

"Wh-what?" He sounded bewildered.

"I'm pregnant…with Fred's child."

"How is that possible? How far along?"

Hermione brought her eyes back to George's. "According to the medi-witch I went to see this morning, through the test results that she owled me, I'm a little over three months. I must have conceived the last night we were together." A small blissful smile spread upon her lips. "Fred still lives, George. He still lives, through this child I'm carrying." George stayed silent, even through the tears that he refused to hide from her. "I know this is a hard time for you, that you're still hurting. So am I. But I want you to be apart of this child's life. I want my child to know what it's father was like. I want to be able to answer questions about Fred that it might ask without breaking down. I need the support to be able to tell the story of Fred Weasley to my child. Please, George, I need you. Just as your family needs you. Just as this child needs you. You read what Fred wrote. He wants you to be happy. He doesn't want you to exile yourself away from the world because of him."

Hermione brought her hands to her face, crying for everything that was Fred Weasley, the man she loved, the man who gave her a child as a reminder of him. She felt a pair of arms come around her, holding her tight. "I'm here Hermione. I'm not going anywhere." They laid that way on the floor, holding onto each other, crying tears of sadness and tears of happiness. Happiness that would come.