*Authors Note: Please note that this story starts at the Order of the Phoenix when Harry, Ron and Hermione are in their fifth year at Hogwarts. Enjoy!
Hermione rolled over and stared at the ceiling above her. Yet again she was finding it hard to switch her brain off late at night. She had been staying at Grimmauld Place with the Weasleys for just over a week now and she couldn't help but feel it would've been better to stay at home. Ron had written to her, asking her to come a week early, as he just had to have some company other than his family. He had said that he wasn't allowed to ask Harry just yet, that he was required to stay in Little Whinging until the following week but was reassured that he could come then.
It was the thought of Harry that had been keeping her awake. He was at home, with his awful Aunt and Uncle, with no news of what was happening under the roof she was currently lying under. Harry; who was kept in the dark about everything, but when the time came, was able to defeat You-Who-Know year after year with little or no help from others. It was only a few short weeks ago that Harry had returned from the maze, the third task in the TwiWizard Tournament with the body of Cedric Diggory. Hermione shivered at the memory, and pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders.
She sighed, and rolled over onto her side. Dumbledore had visited Grimmauld Place the same day she had arrived. He had taken her and Ron aside and explained to them that under no circumstances where they to mention to Harry about the meetings of the Order of the Phoenix or that he was being watched. But despite their protests Dumbledore was adamant that Harry remain clueless about the current hustle and bustle of the house and the reasons behind it. Mrs Weasley had done an excellent job of keeping herself, Ron, Ginny and the twins out of the way when there were meetings taking place, and the house was almost habitable thanks to their combined efforts of cleaning it.
Nevertheless, she knew Harry would be mad when he found out she had known the Order where meeting and discussing him, and that she never mentioned it in her letters. She held her fingers up to her face and examined the healing cuts that Hedwig had inflicted on her during the last two weeks. She could tell just by this that Harry was frustrated already that both she and Ron had kept their letters short and distant.
Giving up on sleep, Hermione glanced over at her roommate Ginny, noting the steady rise and fall of her shoulder. As quietly as she could, she slipped out of bed and over to the door, deliberately stepping to the right of the door so as to miss the creaking floorboard just outside on the landing. She made her way downstairs to the kitchen and with her wand, lit the fire and snuggled into the couch. She couldn't explain why, but watching the flames dancing in front of her calmed her and made her think rationally.
She had been sitting there for an hour or so when the soft squeak of the kitchen door opening made her jump slightly. A tall red-head wearing flannel pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt walked inside and over to the larder. Fred rubbed his eyes sleepily while surveying the contents. He turned his head slightly, and frowned at the roaring fire. Hermione watched as he approached it, pointed his wand at it to extinguish it, when she whispered "Don't. I'm enjoying the heat."
Fred jumped his eyes wide with shock. "Merlin, Hermione! You scared me! What are you doing sitting in the dark?"
"I'm not sitting in the dark; the fire's giving out some light." She stuck her tongue out at him and grinned. Intrigued, Fred sat down on the other side of the sofa.
"How come you're up?" she asked.
"I couldn't sleep. What about you?"
"Same," she said simply. "I'm worried about Harry coming next week. He's going to be furious with me for not telling him what going on, for not telling him about the Order, that he's being followed….."
"That's not your fault Hermione, Dumbledore made you promise not to tell him anything."
"I know but I don't think Harry will understand. We always tell each other everything, we've been through so much together since first year, and it's hard to keep secrets from him. Especially when everything is about him. I just feel so guilty." She paused, cocking her head to one side and studied him.
"He and Ron are my George," she said simply. Fred nodded his understanding. "Have you ever tried keeping secrets from George?" Fred shook his head violently, a wisp of his hair falling over his eyes.
"I know Dumbledore and your parents have Harry's best intentions at heart," she continued, "but I can't help thinking that it's Harry and Harry alone that has to defeat You-Know-Who. How is he going to do that if he doesn't know all the facts?"
Fred sighed, and leaned back against the arm of the sofa. "I don't know Hermione, but there are plenty of adults here that have dealt with You-Know-Who before, they must know best as they have experience and knowledge."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "When Harry, Ron and I mentioned the fact the Philosopher's Stone was in danger of being stolen, none of the adults would listen to us. It was the three of us who worked out where the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets was and Harry, who was twelve years old at the time that saved your sisters life. It was three thirteen years olds who rescued Sirius from the Dementors' Kiss; It was a fourteen years old Harry who avoided a fire breathing dragon to capture the golden egg and defeated You-Know-Who at the end of last year! So do not throw the fact that the "adults" will handle everything at me Fred Weasley, because up until now they've done a pretty shit job!"
Fred's eyes widen in shock and his mouth fell open. Before he could say a word however, Hermione interrupted him.
"I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't mean to bite your head off. I'm just so irritated at the fact that Ron and I can't join the Order even though we've done all that stuff in the past. Just because we're underage!" She threw her hands up in frustration.
"It's ok," Fred said, patting her hand in reassurance. "I sort of know how you feel. I want to help as well, but I keep thinking with my parents and two older brothers in the Order….well. What if something was to happen to them? I know they're in a dangerous position as it is, but what if things get worse?"
Hermione shook her head and looked away, into the fire. Fred got the feeling she couldn't meet his eyes for some reason, but she interrupted his thoughts.
"I'm sure they'll be ok Fred. Your family are strong and very talented." She turned her head and her gaze fell upon his. "I'm sure they'll be ok," she repeated.
There was a short silence were both of them fell into their own thoughts until Hermione cleared her throat.
You're of age," she stated, "why don't you join the Order?"
"I would if I could, George too. But Mum and Dad won't let us; they think we should have left school as well as be of age. And until then, the rest of the Order won't talk to us about the meetings and what happens in them."
"Are you not afraid you could be killed?" Hermione whispered.
Fred swallowed. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I've never thought about it." She nodded briefly before he asked, "What about you? Are you scared of dying?"
She frowned, as in thought. "I've thought about it a lot over the past few weeks. I'm not scared of dying; I'm scared of losing someone and having to adjust to life without them. I don't know how I could cope with that. Or the fact that someone dies and I could have saved them. That in itself could kill me; no need for You-Know-Who then."
They lapsed into another silence, sitting facing each other on the sofa, the fire light dancing across their faces. After a while Hermione got up, said goodnight to Fred and made her way towards the narrow steps that lead to the bedrooms upstairs.
"Hermione?" Fred called. She turned to face him, cocking her eyebrow in question.
"You won't tell anyone about my being scared of losing….my family," he asked quietly.
"Of course not," she confirmed. "This conversation is between you and me, no one else's business," she smiled. Fred nodded, said goodnight and she was gone.
Fred stretched out on the sofa and rearranged the cushions so that he was more comfortable. He thought over his conversation with Hermione. She had said a lot during their conversation that surprised him. Firstly, she had cursed. He wasn't angry or upset that she had raised her voice at him; he was more shocked that she had used language like that for he had never heard her speak like that before. Secondly, she had admitted she was scared. Hermione had always struck him as the kind of person that wouldn't be scared of anything, with brains like hers he had always believed she could even give You-Know-Who a run for his money. But she had admitted she had her doubts and had her flaw in the fact that she wouldn't be able to cope if she lost someone close to her. Fred could see where she was coming from; he didn't know how he would react if either of his parents, Charlie or Bill got seriously hurt.
He quickly got up and climbed the stairs, wanting to get that thought or any other thoughts linked to it out of his head. Silently slipping into his bedroom, he stole around George's bed with minimum noise so not to wake him. The gentle snores coming from under the duvet told him that he had been successful. He was just about to lift his own duvet when a flash of white caught his eye from the window. But by the time Fred had turned his gaze fully towards the glass it was gone. He merely shrugged and climbed into bed, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.