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Chapter Two: Just hold me

Hermione stayed locked in her room for two days. She only emerged to go to the bathroom, but then she went through the house quickly, not to be talked to. She just couldn’t bare to be around anyone right now. Not after how miserably she failed her parents.

On the fourth day that this happened her door opened. She looked up to see Fred standing in the doorway. She sat up, leaning on the headboard.

“George went down to the shop and I got bored.” He explained as he went over and sat down on the bed. “Hermione, you haven’t come out of this room in four days.”

“I know…” Hermione finally said, folding her arms, not looking at him.

“I can’t say I know what you are going through, because I have never lost a parent, let alone both.” Fred tried to comfort. “But I know it must hurt. I have been told it helps to talk.”

“Hmm…”

“What I am saying, is, well… I’m here for you if you want to talk to someone.” He said as he laid his hand on her leg. He didn’t mean this in a sexual way, just as a friend. Hermione tried to force a smile.

“Thank you, Fred,” she sighed. “But I don’t think I am ready to talk right now.”

“You sure? School starts back pretty soon. Better to talk about it now then go to school and not be able to.”

“Stop pushing me!” Hermione yelled at him. “I said I don’t want to talk! Get away from me!”

Fred was taken aback. Hermione had never yelled at him like that. He just stood up, looking a little hurt, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Hermione let out a sigh, feeling kind of bad about saying all that to him.

Guilt finally got the best of Hermione. She got up and walked out of her room. She found Fred sitting in the dinning room at the table, surrounded with papers.

“What’s all that?” Hermione asked as she sat down at the table beside of him.

“Stuff for the shop…” Fred said tonelessly, without looking up. Hermione bit her lip, thinking that this wasn’t going to be as easy as she thought.

“Fred… I am sorry.” She then sighed. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“Hm…” Fred hadn’t looked up one time since Hermione had sat down. This just made her feel worse about what she had done.

“Fred…”

“Stop saying my name like that!” He demanded, just now looking up. “Do you think you are the only one making sacrifices for this war? Do you think you are the only one losing people? I lost Charlie, Lavnder lost both her parents and her brother! You aren’t the only one that is hurting! You are just the only one stopping time to pout about it!” He stood up. “Which is probably doing what the dark lord wants!” Fred jerked his jacket off the back of the chair. “There is meat loaf in the fridge. Heat it up if you get hungry. I am going out. Tell George I’ll be back tomorrow.” With that Fred stormed out of the room and then the flat.

Hermione sat there, still trying to figure out if that really happened. She felt the tears falling down her face. She ran back to her room and locked the door. It seemed this was the only place she was completely safe. Or so she thought.

Twenty minutes later a old, chestnut colored owl tapped on the window. Hermione got up, lazily, and opened the window. The owl flew over to the bed post and rested, holding out it’s foot for Hermione to take the paper that was attached to it. Soon after she did so it flew off.

Hermione unfolded The Daily Prophet and gasped when she found what was inside. Her eyes flew over the words in disbelief. The article was labeled Like Father, Like Son? Then it had a picture of Draco Malfoy staring up from it.

As Hermione read the article she learned that he was set free and would soon return to Hogwarts. The article started off saying that Malfoy had tried to kill Dumbledore, but backed out and went into hiding. They found him in the forest shortly after the alleged attempted. The article went on to say that Malfoy was trialed and explained how The Dark Lord was threatening to kill his parents if he didn’t go along with the evil plan. The article finished with saying he had been found not guilty and would be returning to Hogwarts for his final year.

“This is un-fucking-believable,” Hermione whispered to herself as she threw the paper aside, ignoring the rest. She tried to run a hand through her thick, frizzy hair. It didn’t work to well. It was too knotty. She feel back on her bed, looking up. Was the story true? Had he been threatened? Hermione lay there until she slowly began to lose consciousness.


“Mommy! Daddy! Come here! Hurry! Santa came!” A five year old Hermione shrieked, as she jumped onto the bed. “Hurry!”

“Hermione,” her father laughed as he slide on pants. “We heard you and we are moving as fast as we can.”

Hermione ran back downstairs, being too impatient to wait on her parents. Santa had came and she wanted to see what he had brought right then. She got on her knees under the tree and began to rip the paper off the gifts, revealing baby dolls and make-up kits.

“Hold it up, Sweetheart,” her father had said, holding a camcorder. “So I can get it on tape.”

Hermione held up her brand new baby and gave a toothless smile for the camera.

“Hey, Jane,” her father turned toward her mother who was watching from the couch. “Didn’t Santa leave another gift? Remember, he came in our room and told us to give it to her…”

“I think you are right, Tom,” her mother smiled as she got up. She graciously made her way up the stairs and back down with a brown cardboard box. Hermione looked confused, wondering what else there could be. She had everything she wanted. That is when a brown head popped out of the top of the box.

“A PUPPY!” Hermione yelled, running to meet her mother at the bottom of the stairs. “Let me hold it! Let me hold it!” Hermione shouted, jumping up and down. Her mother lifted the little dog out of the box and handed it to Hermione.

“What are you going to name it, Pumpkin?” Her father asked, video tapping it the whole time.

“Hmm…” Hermione took a long hard look at the dog. “Christmas, after the day I got him.”

The vision of the dog, tree, and the people began to slowly drift away as Hermione regained consciousness. She felt the hot tears swell in her eyes before she ever opened them.

Hermione sat up in bed, holding a pillow tightly to her chest. That Christmas had been one of the best ones of her life. She couldn’t bare to think that she wouldn’t have any more with her parents. They always loved Christmas.

Hermione’s thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. She half expected her father to walk in and ask if she was okay and if she wanted to go get ice cream to make it better. Instead a familiar red head walked into the room. She automatically knew it was Fred. He was the only one that would come into her room without knocking.

“What are you doing in here?” She asked, sniffing. She hated crying in front of people. It made her feel weak and vulnerable.

Hermione heard Fred let out a deep sigh and saw his dark shadow move closer to her. For a minute she wasn’t for sure it was him. She thought it might be a deatheater, because it took him a minute to answer.

“I heard someone crying,” he replied. “I wanted to make sure you are all right…”

“I am fine… just pouting!” Hermione snapped rather harshly. Fred looked down to his feet.

“I deserved that, I guess.” He nodded. “Listen, Hermione… I am sorry for what I said. I guess I was upset myself and I took it out on you.”

“Yeah, you did…”

“You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?” Fred laughed, trying to lighten the mood. Hermione didn’t laugh. She didn’t even crack a smile. After a minute Fred spoke again. “Why are you crying?”

“Bad dream…” Hermione shrugged. It was a lie. It had been a very nice dream, she just hated to wake up from it.

“Oh…”

“It’s my fault my parents are dead.” Hermione blurted out. She didn’t know why. She was angry with Fred, so why would she tell him something like that.

“What?” Fred moved over to her. He placed a hand on her cheek. “Hermione, you had nothing to do with what happened. Your parents died because Voldemort is a very sick bastard.”

“N…no…” Hermione shook her head. “He told me so. He told me he killed them because I was… the brains behind Harry Potter. It was all my fault, Fred.” Hermione was in hysterics again.

“Hermione! Stop this nonsense!” Fred demanded, taking her in his arms. “He said that to make you feel guilty. He was trying to throw you off guard. He killed your parents for the joy of killing. It had nothing to do with you.”

Hermione knew he was just saying that and deep inside he knew it was her fault too. She didn’t argue with him, she didn’t have the strength to. She looked over at a clock and it said it was three thirty AM. She looked back up at Fred.

“It is late.” She pointed out. Fred nodded, but didn’t say anything. He was looking straight into her eyes, hand still caressing her cheek. She saw his face inch closer to hers. She closed her eyes, preparing for their lips to meet. But when they did, it felt like Hermione had been risen up and was floating on a cloud. She felt the electricity shoot through her. Fred slowly pulled back and Hermione looked at him a little confused.

“I should go,” Fred said without an explanation. Hermione caught him by the arm. Fred looked back at her and even though she couldn’t see his face she knew it looked confused.

“Please don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone.” Pain and despair filled her voice. Fred stood there for a moment and then sighed.

“Do you want me to sit with you?” He asked and she shook her head. “Then what?”

“Just hold me,” Hermione replied simply. She saw the outline of Fred’s mouth smile as he walked over to her bed. She moved over as he laid down next to her. He wrapped his arms around her, protectively.

~*~*~ Fred’s POV

The next morning Fred woke up, alone. He sat up slowly and looked around the room. Where had Hermione gone? He got up slowly and walked into the kitchen. She wasn’t there either. He let out a deep sigh and headed toward the door. He assumed George had went to the shop, but Fred had other things to do that day.

He made his way down the streets of London, heading for a cemetery on the high hill.

~*~*~ Hermione’s POV

Hermione had just went into to town to pick up some feminine items that the guys didn’t have when she saw Fred. She watched as he made his way through the people, looking a bit zoned out. She paid and thanked the cashier and hurried out onto the busy street. She pushed and shoved her way through until she was almost directly behind him. She didn’t want him to know she was there, but she wanted to know where he was going.

She trialed him for about five minutes until they reached their destination. It was a creepy looking cemetery that sat up on a tall hill excluded from the rest of the town. Fred was still oblivious to the fact that anyone was following him. He just kept walking up the hill.

By the time Fred came to a halt, Hermione felt as if her legs were going to fall off. It was a foggy morning, so he still hadn’t seen her; not that he had bothered to even look back.

Hermione stood behind him for a moment, just observing. She watched as Fred looked down on the grave and how his expression stayed the same. The all of a sudden, it broke. Tears began to stream down his face and his mouth twisted into a way Hermione had never seen. She rushed forward, not even thinking about how she should stayed hidden.

“Fred… are you all right?” She questioned, stupidly. He jumped around and looked at her.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione ignored the question. She looked past him to see the name on the stone. Charles Lee Weasley. Hermione suddenly got it. She got why he had come up here. Why his emotions had changed.

“Is there anything I can do?” Hermione asked, biting her lip and taking a step forward.

“Just hold me.”

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