AN: this final installment is dedicated to all of you, who started this story waaaay back in July of 2015—and to those who've joined since then.

We did it!

Rising Home

She woke up in a bright room, morning light beaming through the glass panes and bouncing off her white dovlet.

As she slowly opened her eyes, she found her vision blurred. She could hear the waves crashing against the shore line and she immediately felt her own waves of relief. Harry had told her when he died Dumbledore had met him in Kings Cross. That wasn't to be her fate. Heaven—or maybe Hell?—had found it prudent to send her somewhere different.

Maybe Dumbledore would come and meet her? Maybe he'd be there to chastise her choice, tell her James and Sirius wouldn't see her as she had denied them the company of the youngest Marauder for at least fifty more years-

Oh well, she thought—Lily would still be her friend, wouldn't she? And Sirius had always been fond of her, he'd come around eventually.

Her sight came back to her and she thought she must have somehow qualified for the better destination.

She knew where she was. She was back in Majorca, what more—their cottage on Majorca. A fresh bouquet of flowers was on her nightstand, lilacs, sunflowers and Queen Alice lace mixed together in a blue and white glazed vos. What more, her time turner—the one that had sent her back and started all of this—it was lying next to the flowers. It was empty though. No sand left. A merry little shell against the blue pedals of the flowers.

That made sense, she thought picking it up and clasping it on her wrist. It felt weird not to wear it. And if heaven had allowed a trinket to come with her—why wouldn't she want a reminder of Fred in her wrist while she waited here?

More of her senses came back to her. The window was open and she could smell the delicious salt of the sea and perhaps—was that pastries?—lingering in the air. She shifted, trying to get up when she realized her body still was feeling the pains of mortality.

Hermione flexed her toes and stretched her fingers, trying to shake the last aches of her life. She stood up and promptly blacked out, falling back on the bed with a sudden humph.

It was obviously her fate to be as uncoordinated an angel as she had been a human.

She sat up slowly and rested on the side of the bed for a moment. Across from her was a large mirror and Hermione gasped aloud.

There was her reflection. She sat there in navy blue pajamas, a loose shirt and shorts, similar to what she had worn last time she was here. Her hair was even, but cut short again like from the wedding, the wild curls spread out in a golden halo, strands kissed by the sun curled in every direction. Her skin was much tanner than it had been when she died. She looked as though she had already spent weeks in the Spanish sun. It made her dark brown eyes almost seem honey colored in comparison.

But that wasn't the thing about her skin that surprised her most. There weren't any cuts, no gashes. No wounds of any kind. With the exception of the word Mudblood scrawled across her forearm. But in truth, even that looked faded, more than it had when she was alive. Perhaps it just took longer for that kind of wound to be wiped clean.

Her eyes scanned the ceiling and she smiled. Genuinely smiled. This wasn't the scenario she had hoped for, but it wouldn't be bad either. She would just sit here, waiting for Fred on her celestial island. Someday he'd get here and when he did, she'd be ready, waiting to go dancing with him in the square. Taking hikes in the canyon. Siestas together in this room while the waves crashed outside.

She raised her fingers to her head and pressed down. She couldn't feel any lasting pain from the final impact. Her joints hurt more. Perhaps she was only stiff as she had laid in bed for so long. Perhaps all she had to do was get out and it would fall away.

Slowly this time, she took a step from the bed. Not only did she keep her balance, she was able to keep walking and she noted the pains were starting to fade. She rose up on her top toes, reaching for the ceiling and then landed flat foot with a smile.

Hermione reached for the white dressing gown with little blue and purple flowers. She'd come back and change after she had seen the end of the battle. Was it still going on? Was there even a place in Heaven for her to watch the last battle?

There had to be. All she had to do was find Lily and James and they'd show her the way. Perhaps they were already back from walking with Harry through the forest.

She was reaching for her slippers from under the bed when she heard the door open from behind her and feet shuffle in.

"Oi, breakfast in bed—you're supposed to be in bed for the full effect—" said a familiar voice and Hermione felt her heart drop.

Her head shot up and everything seemed to stop. Fred Weasley stood before her, in his red and blue checkered boxers and a white shirt that hugged him right, his own hair messy to the high heavens, holding a pastry laden tray, the tea tray floating in behind him.

She stood up, her hand covering her mouth. She lowered it and took the breakfast tray from him. He raised an eyebrow playfully, "Morning love."

"No—no—" she stepped backwards. The play disappeared from Fred's eyes and were instantly replaced with concern. "What is it? Hermione—"

"You didn't die too?" She asked, panic bubbling in her throat like acid. She raised her hand to her temple and tried to replay the last few moments she could remember. She had pushed him out of the way. He had been clear of debris. There was no way he had died in the walls collapse.

That means if he had died it was because he wanted out of the game, she realized, her stomach churning, he died because he didn't want to go it alone—

"You insufferable arse Fred Weasley!" Hermione yelled, charging at him and beating her arms against his chest. He looked confused but scooped her in his arms despite her assault. "How could you do this—to George—" she kept hitting his chest, "did me dying mean nothing to you? That was to keep you alive and you bloody went and snuffed it anyway!"

"What do you mean—"he said, taking her hand holding it in place over his heart. "Oh—" he stopped, looking down as though something finally clicked. His hand cupped the charm on her arm. "Did you have another nightmare last night? At the castle?"

She glared at him, wiping away a tear from her left eye. "It wasn't a bloody nightmare Fred, it was real. The wall was really coming down and I really pushed you out of the way- and I really died, and obviously you were suicidal and did the same."

"No Love," he sighed, kissing the hand in his hold and then the top of her head head. He held her for a few moments, as though it was more for his sake than hers. As though he was remembering his own nightmare.

He guided her towards the edge of the bed and was now looking at her face, not with the usual care but as though he was checking for symptoms he may have missed. He pressed his hand against her head, "The Healers said your head injury could do this—make you forget—we must have gone to far with the hike yesterday—"

"We didn't hike, you threw me from a dragon and I died for you under a stone wall—" she huffed scooting away from him.

"Shhh," he coaxed, reaching out for her hand with his own, "Shh, it's alright, this has happened before. Listen and I'll tell you what you don't remember."

She looked down at his extended hand. There was a small plaster tucked around his pinky. She was still convinced they were dead. Yet Fred was many things but he had never been a lair—

She tucked her hand in his, looking up into his soft eyes, "Tell me, please."

((*))

Nothing made sense, not to Fred anyway.

He had been dueling Thickenese with Percy. He had been laughing with Percy, as he gave his resignation—his brother was funny, he had actually forgotten Percy knew how to be funny.

And then he had heard his name called from up the stairs.

He had turned around and seen Hermione, running full speed at him. Her eyes a light. There was a panic to her, but he thought—he had thought she was just happy to see him. He had grown used to that panic in her eyes, he just associated it with the war. Soon it'd be gone and the look would fade back to the usual warm smile—

He had thought she was running to join the fight. That Hermione wanted to take a swing at the minister who had caused so much pain to Muggleborns. That's one of the reasons he had rushed to the fight—well that and Percy needed him—

But she didn't slow down, she kept running towards him—at him. Fast. She extended her arms out in front of her and pushed hard, the force knocking him backwards.

And then it clicked what she was doing. Right before the stones began to fall it clicked.

Hermione knew he was supposed to die. She knew the circumstances—she hadn't told him. And she must have realized—he must have done something—

Stay in the open, she had said. For god's sake, stay out in the open.

For his sake no—he had said. He had remembered that. And as the stone fell he remembered, he had said "But for Hermione Granger's sake—"

He hadn't. He hadn't stayed out in the open and now Hermione has remedied the situation.

The stone of the wall hovered for a moment before it swallowed her. Like a bubble had put itself around her. There was a faint glow of blue. But at that moment he saw his world end.

No no no—he thought in frantic prayer as his stomach seemed to hit the floor. Not her. Not Hermione. Not for him. God, don't take her from him—he was willing to die for her, not the other way around. Make the switch now. Take me now. Let me go and give her back—

Either from the force of her push or the power of the wall's collapse, Fred had fallen backwards. He was up before the dust had settled, digging for where she had been.

There was this noise. He couldn't place it, it was like a sob but worse. Like a wounded animal, like his mother when Bill has been Injured feared dead. And it was coming from him. He was calling out for her. But she wasn't bouncing out of the stone as though it was foam. She wasn't there with a cheeky smile, she was lost—

He felt the soft of her shoulder and he began digging. As the dust settled, he could see the upper half of her body poking out of the stone, her hand out reaching to him, her time turner still a glow of blue.

That was her good luck charm, he thought—it had only been a beta. He had never refined it, but in addition to moving through small pockets of time it was supposed to forward the wearer to safety. Why hadn't it worked? Why hadn't his last gift worked for her? It had brought her back to him—flinging her back falling through time—only for her to die here? That didn't make sense. None of this made sense.

He pushed as much stone off her legs as he could and tried to flip her around, to get her face up—she'd be able to breathe better? Wouldn't she? She needed air—

She had a head wound. There was blood oozing from under her hairline, a crimson line trickling down her ear. He cradled her in his arms, brushing dust out of her eyes, but they still wouldn't open.

They wouldn't open. Why would her eyes not open!?

He turned for Percy. Percy would know what to do. He was his know-it-all brother. Besides Hermione, Percy was most likely to know what to do at a time like this. Thank God he hadn't made his brother run a gauntlet. He needed him. Hermione needed him—Now.

But he wasn't there.

"Percy!" He called, not recognizing his voice as he called, "Percy! Help!"

Had he lost Percy too?

"Fred! How is she?" Harry asked, from behind him, "Fred we'll be right there!"

He turned around and saw Harry, Percy and Colin Creevey moving stone off of Ron. He was also buried legs down, but he was awake, and swearing up a storm.

"Did I push her out of the way?" Ron was asking, huffing as they tried to get him out, "Did I push Hermione out of the damn way?"

"Let's get you out, Fred's taking care of Hermione—" Percy said, "isn't that right Fred?"

But Fred couldn't focus on an answer, he was watching intently as Colin and Harry pulled the last rock that was over his brothers legs. Ron had come and pushed her, hadn't he? She had pushed him and—Ron realizing what she was doing, had he known too?—Ron had pushed her forward. But he hadn't seen him—had he? He couldn't remember. He had just locked eyes with her before hers went blank.

Percy rushed over to them now. Taking Hermione's wrist he held down on it. "There's a pulse there Fred," he said looking up at him, "There's a pulse, she's not dead. Just badly hurt." Percy turned around to Harry, who with Colin's help was trying to lift Ron from the rubble. "She's just badly hurt. She's not dead yet."

Yet.

He reached under her legs and stood up, evaluating the scene. Thicknese had either fled the scene or was under the rubble. There weren't any other Death Eaters lurking about them—he needed to get her out of here. Where was Madam Pomfrey tonight? Hermione would have known; why hadn't he thought to ask? Knowing how dangerous tonight could be, why hadn't he thought to ask? They hadn't even come up with a plan of where they'd meet—they just assumed—

Yet. She wasn't dead yet. He hadn't killed her yet. She hasn't died for him yet.

That yet relied on how quick he could get her help.

Ron's scream as Harry and Collin set his leg pulled him from his thoughts. With his makeshift cast on, they lifted Ron to his feet and he locked eyes with Fred, sympathy shining from his blue eyes.

"I tried—I tried to cast protego but—" he stopped looking at the friend in Fred's arms, tear tracks breaking through the door and grime of his face, " I must have been too late or didn't say it properly—"

"So long as she's alive you did it right," said Fred evenly. Harry came over and looked her over, "keep her neck in place—we got to move her carefully—" he looked around the landing and saw the corridor, "there's a classroom down there, let's put her there and go get help, the less we move her the better."

Fred nodded and the five of them hobbled down the way. Midway down the corridor, running into the barricade the Beauxbatons students had raised, desks and chairs twisted in a heap of metal, their legs poking out haphazardly at them. "No getting past that, here, we can take this room," said Harry pointing to the nearest classroom besides the Barricade. It was only as he walked in he saw the body of the boy who had shouted the battle cry a half hour before, slumped against the stone wall.

Fred had inadvertently killed this boy. Would he be responsible for Hermione's death too?

Percy cleared the teachers desk with one fluid motion; papers and trinkets falling and crashing at the floor. He conjured a pillow and set it down as Fred gently laid her on the desk.

"Alright, the landings clear, I'll run down and see if I can find Pomfrey. Do we," he huffed, " do we know if any healers came tonight?"

"Rowen Khana might be here," said Fred, his voice right, "Penny Hayworth's here—all their friends are. I'm sure she'd have tipped off Rowen."

"The Cursed Vault lot, right?" Asked Percy, scratching the back of his head looking down at Hermione, "Right, I'll go down and get her or Pomfrey and bring them back. If something happens—can you send one of those Patronuses?"

Fred nodded, and Colin walked towards Percy, "I'll go with you, I know what Penny looks like— I can find her and she can help us."

Percy nodded and the two walked out of the room, leaving Fred with Harry and Ron.

Harry walked over, lifting Hernione's hand and holding it for the slightest moment before resting it on her stomach. He turned back and looked at Ron, "We'll need to—Fred there's something we need to do. That we were on our way to do—Hermione would—"

"Want you to go," Fred finished, "she'd probably yell at you for sticking around, wouldn't she?"

Harry offered an apologetic smile and squeezed her shoulder, "as soon as we can, we'll be back. Or we'll find you. We'll—"

"Do what you need to do," said Fred firmly, "you end this and I'll—I'll keep watch."

Harry turned to Ron, looking at his leg, "Ron, your leg—"

"You know the spell. Don't you?" He said through gritted teeth, "Do it, I'll be alright," Ron said, grasping the corner of the desk.

"It'll hurt—"

"We're already doing this without Hermione, I'm not having you go off chasing him on your own—you'll decide to do something noble or—"

"Episkey!" Harry yelled and Ron swore, doubling over and leaning against Hermione's desk.

"How does it feel?" Harry asked, coming to his side.

"Like I can walk on it," Ron answered, putting his arm around Harry's shoulder. "Come on, let's do it."

Ron stopped before they passed Hermione and stooped low to move a strand of hair off her face. "We'll bring back the head for you," said Ron, "just you wait," he promised and the two made their way out of the room and down the hall.

"They're bringing heads back for you?" Fred said confused, glancing down the hallway. "What stories do you have to tell me? You're going to make my Dragon look like a teenage joyride aren't you?"

He tapped some of the papers that had fallen from the teachers desk and paper hippogriffs lept from them. He waved his wand and they flew over to the doorway, "I know their not the same we brought two Christmases ago, but they can stand guard—they can—"

Why are you talking? She can't hear you—it's not like she'll be leaping into the conversation.

The door clicked shut and the silence seemed to trigger everything Fred was feeling, sending it to the forefront of his emotions. He set his hands on the side of the desk, bowed his head and kneeled on the ground before his knees had the chance to give out.

"We're better together," he said, his teeth gritted, "that's what I said. We're better together, not dying for each other. I thought you knew that. I thought—"

Oh you would have done the same, she scolded him—in his mind he knew quite well how this conversation would have gone. You would have done the same, how could I not? I knew what was coming, I tried to stop you, and I did—just at a cost.

He looked up at her, lying on her altar. She had the smallest, faintest shadow of a smile. As if she had won, as if keeping him alive had been the prize she had been fighting for.

Carefully, he rose up and started looking down at her arms and legs. He had been focused on the head wound, he hadn't looked to see any other potential injuries. Her wrist looked swollen, as if she had sprained it in the fall—but her other wrist, the one with the time turner charm looked better protected. Ron's blast had hit her right side, most of her injuries looked like they were on the left side of her body. There was bleeding on her lower leg, but her jeans weren't soaking in blood, he went and took off her trainers. Right ankle looked alright but he was pretty sure she had broken her left.

He raised his wand and a small tare appeared along the hem of her jeans and he tore it up her calf so he could see the bleeding. He tapped the desk and gauze appeared as he tried to stop the bleeding.

"You have to come out of this Hermione," he said, trying to keep his voice even. "You have to come out of this or—"

He couldn't say I'll never speak to you again. He couldn't even say I'll never see you again. Because she would be in his mind's eye, mischief in her eye and a smart remark on her tongue every time he opened his eyes, every time he woke up and got out of bed—

He took her hand, his thumb rubbing a circle against her skin. "What were you thinking Hermione? What were you thinking?"

He missed the calls of the hippogriff chain. The door flew open and he could hear the intruder swat them back. He gripped his wand and was half way done with an incantation when the intruder yelled, "Wands down! It's me!"

Fred squinted and saw Alicia Spinnet running into the room, George right behind her. He looked from Fred, to Hermione, and back to Fred. He ran over, and hugged him tightly, as though he had to make sure he was the one who had nearly died.

"Percy and Colin found us on the third floor, they told us their had been an accident that Hermione was hurt—"

"And you came to see?" Fred asked confused, motioning to Hermione.

"No you idiot, I've got two years of Healer training, I came to help," said Alicia, striding over and looking at the gauze crumpled up on Hermione's leg, "Got a little more expertise than this."

"Then please," Fred started, "help her."

Alicia went to work, checking her head, waving her wand as though she was doing a scan.

"Percy and the kid kept going, they're going to try and get Rowan and Pomfrey—but Alicia wanted to see if she could. And I wanted to make sure you were ok."

"I'm not," Fred said, his eyes watching Alicia's stone face, looking for any break in her emotions, anything that would betray what she was thinking—good or bad—about Hermione's chances.

"We'll get her help Fred, she'll be ok—" George said, putting an arm around his shoulder. Fred jerked back, worry spreading over his brother's face.

"It should have been me. She rushed down the stairs to push me out of the way—"

"And I'll love her forever for that," George said defensively, squeezing his arm "because Colin told me the only reason she wasn't completely buried was because Ron thought to cast Protego. She hadn't run to you, Ron wouldn't have cast that spell and you'd be dead."

"But now she might be!" Fred yelled, thumping his hands on his knees, silencing George.

"She's not dead Fred, but she's got swelling on the brain," Alicia said, lifting her head up "At least I think it's just swelling-."

"You think? You don't know?" Fred snapped, "Which the hell is it Alicia?"

"Oi-"George started but Alicia narrowed her eyes, waving her wand as a film of blue floated over Hermione's head. "You see this Fred? This is a Magi-Scan of your girlfriend's head. See this," she pointed to a more opaque corner of her head near the front, "That's a swell. Or its a bleed. I'm sorry I can't tell you the difference, we went over this the week I thought you idiots had killed Lee and I couldn't pay attention in class."

She waved her wand and the scan disappeared, "So its swelling or a bleed. And we won't know which until we get her to a properly trained, certified healer."

"What about the rest of her," George said nudging his head to her turoso, "Anything else wrong?"

Alicia crossed her arms, turning to George rather than acknowledging Fred, "Ron's protego, it hit mid section towards the right side, correct?"

"Yes," Fred answered, "Middle of her back."

"May as damn well saved her life, it kept her organs together, there's no internal bleeding, nothing ruptured, it's just the head I'm worried about."

She took her wand and tapped the desk three times "Glacius."

The wooden desk flashed a bright blue light and when it faded Hermione was lying on an ice covered slab. "Hypothermia can help bring the swelling down if it's swelling."

"And if its a bleed?"

"We'll it won't hurt any. Hopefully Pomfrey shows up before the cold starts to kill her, it'll buy her some time," Alicia sighed, moving down from her head and to the crumpled crimson gauze stacked on Hermione's left leg, "Honestly for someone who manufactures dangerous joke items you'd think you could tend to an injury." Alicia made his gauze disappear as her wand zipped out a crisp clean bandage that wrapped itself around Hermione's leg.

Fred collapsed in a chair, processing. He could see George standing by Hermione, his hand on her shoulder. He could hear Alicia still poking at his woeful first aid. He just kept his focus on Hermione, looking at her face and praying that her brain was working right—that it would keep working right. She'd be livid if she became stupid over him.

Serves you right if you did, he thought, people would have told you dating me would make you dumb, who'd have thought they'd be right—

But if you survive, he thought, looking up at her, the small smirk still hiding on her face, you survive this you can stupid as you want, I'll be the brains for both of us. I'll still tell you you're the smart one. I'll take care of us. I'll take care of everything. Just live. Just stay with me—

A voice like a moan crept over their heads. A chill, stronger than Hermione's desk crept over them.

"You have fought valiantly," the crisp voice of You-Know-Who echoed over heads, raddling like leaves dragged over stone. "Lord Voldemort know how to value bravery."

A tare of gauze ripped through the silence as Alicia kept her work on Hermione, "Value bravery my ass-"

" Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die one by one," Fred looked at Hermione, and then again at his brother and his friend. How little time did they truly have? Should they be trying to find a healer or should they be trying to find a way out of Hogwarts? Perhaps there were a few passports left-could they even get Hermione out in that state?

"I do not wish this to happen. Each drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat, immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured."

"Good of him to give us permission," Alicia spat, her hair coming more undone as she focused on Hermione's wounds. There was a near madness to her eyes but Fred couldn't pay attention to that. Not when Voldemort was now speaking to Harry-

"-You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, the battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

You-Know-Who's voice faded and the three of them stood in silence. George snapping out of it first, looking around the room as though for the first time. "Freddie, where's Harry and Ron?"

"Harry fixed Ron's leg and they left—"Fred said, You-Know-Who's words creeping into his head like cold water. "They said—they said they had to go get something, something Hermione had wanted taken care of—to do with a head?"

George turned to Alicia, "He wouldn't—"

"I think the fact you're asking answers that question George," Alicia murmured, taping Hermione's ankle that snapped back into place, "If there was a chance he could save a friend's life, Harry Potter would."

Fred looked at Hermione, trying to imagine what she would say if she was awake. She'd argue with Alicia, say Harry wouldn't put himself at risk—not now when they were so close. Harry's name hadn't been on the list of dead. She would have made note of that. Hadn't she told him she had come back in time from a ski holiday with Harry and Ron? The three of them had survived it—the three of them would survive it again.

Merlin, what if what she had done lead to a future where all three of them were snuffed out?

"If it's really a cease fire we need to get her out of here, I bet you anything they've set up a hospital on the ground floor— It'd be easier than getting everyone up to the Hospital Wing," Alicia said matter-of-factly. She tapped a desk twice and the top separated from the bottom, elongated and sprouted handles on either side of it as the middle became cloth with slack.

"Take her down on a stretcher?" George asked, "do you think—"

"I'll keep it levitated and moving, that way if we need to start fighting you two have your hands free," she answered, "Come on, let's go."

She raised her wand and Hermione floated in her stretcher. George took the front, followed by Fred and Alicia as they returned to the hall.

Oliver Wood and Lee Jordan we're coming up the stairs as they came down the corridor. Lee's face broke with relief when he saw both George and Fred walking, but the smile faded the moment he saw Hermione.

"Lord—she's not—"

"Not dead," answered George before Fred could, "but we need to get her to Pomfrey."

"Great Hall," said Oliver, "that's where everyone's going. The living, the dying and the dead." He poked his head around Alicia's shoulders, "we heard there was heavy fighting on this floor, any of our lot we need to bring down?"

"There's a boy—from Beauxbatons, he's beside the barricade," answered Fred, looking back. The corridor was dark but he could see his face clearly, the tufts of blonde hair his eternal halo.

"You lot take care of Hermione and we'll take care of him," said Oliver, looking at Hermione, "we'll see you down there."

The further they got down the stairs, the louder the castle became. Sometimes it was the cheers of a reunion, but as they got closer and closer to the Great Hall it was the sound of grief, sobs and tears at finding someone who hadn't made it through the first leg of battle.

They made it through the doors and Fred was engulfed in an attack. He nearly threw the attacker to the ground until he realized to his horror it was Ginny.

"Gin—why—" he held his sister close. She was supposed to stay in the Room of Requirement.

Weasleys were supposed to be a lot of places tonight, he thought, imagining Hermione saying that, her arms crossed and disappointed. "Gin, is everyone ok?"

"The family's alright, we hadn't found you two or Ron—I was getting worried," she turned to George, "You best go over there, Mums got Angelina locked down."

George nodded and moved down the Hall. Ginny turned back to Fred, looking over his shoulder. "Who did you come in with? Did you see them? Are they ok?"

He didn't need to ask who them was.

"Harry and Ron were on our landing—they had to run somewhere, but when I saw them half an hour or so ago they were still alive. Ron had broken his leg but Harry fixed it, he's probably just sore."

"Hermione didn't go with them?" Ginny asked, picking up on the missing name that had always accompanied the first two. Her eyebrows knit in confusion. "Fred—what—"

He turned around and saw Alicia had pulled Madam Pomfrey who, listening to her words handed her rolls of bandages to someone else and strode to the levitating stretcher.

Ginny was asking more questions, her hand resting on his. He shook it off and walked towards the matron.

It was a walk, and then it turned into a run. And then it turned into Alicia standing between him and Madam Pomfrey.

"She's working on her Fred," she said, stopping his progress. "You'll get in the way, go on—go see your mother and come back. I'll come get you when you can see her—"

"But—"

He didn't want her to be alone. Did Pomfrey know how much she meant to people? Would she give her enough care? What if she gave up on Hermione— Hermione never gave up on anyone, she shouldn't give up on her?

Ginny has caught up and he could hear her chewing him out until she looked over Alicia's shoulder and put the pieces together. "Alicia, what is she doing there? Fred what happened to Hermione?"

"Go Fred, you're getting in the way and it's not helping her. Go—"

Ginny was pulling him away. He couldn't hear anything, nothing distinct. Nothing to focus on. He turned around and caught one last look of Hermione. Her smirk was gone.

Ginny stopped them and she guided him to a spot on the bench. Fred began scanning the room, looking for those who had been on Hermione's list. Anna Denton was tucked in Oliver Basswood's arms, the two of them talking, looking away from the bodies Neville and Colin were bringing into the hall.

Lavender Brown had a gash on her forehead but she was helping dress others injuries with the Patil twins and Professor Trewlany.

"You saw Hermione get hurt, didn't you? That's why you're shutting down, right? Guilt you couldn't save her?" Ginny asked, handing him a glass of water. "Come on Fred, use your words—"

"She did it for me," said Fred evenly, taking the glass and looking down, "we were dueling and a Death Eater brought down the wall—"

"If you love someone you jump in front of walls for them," said Ginny plainly. "Usually their figurative walls but she would take it to the extreme."

He didn't respond. He didn't have the words to.

"Come on, let's go find Mum, she'll know what to say," Ginny tried, patting his back. She got up first and took his hand, pulling at it till his legs obeyed and he stood up.

The crowd had gotten fuller. More of the fighters coming in, regrouping. He could see Penny and a few of her Azkaban friends triaging the wounded. He and Ginny were almost to their father when a scream stopped his steps.

It silenced the room. It sounded like a wounded animal—like how he had sounded when he found Hermione. Someone had found a fallen love one, of that he was sure. And it wasn't a happy reunion.

He poked his head and looked past where George and Angelina stood and saw his mother, her arms wrapped around the shaking woman's he was trying to console her. The faintest traces of pink in her hair changing to a mousy brown.

Tonks.

It was Tonks. She was kneeling on the floor, clutching a hand in hers, pressing it to her tear stained face as her body shook.

Tonks has survived. Somehow, she had done it. She had survived. But Remus—

Despite his best efforts, Teddy Lupin was still fatherless.

"I—I didn't know he was here," she sobbed, "I—I would've been with him, I would've—"

Tonks turned to face his Mother. Molly Weasley coaxed her, scooping her in her arms and letting Tonks sob into her shoulder. He couldn't hear the words she was whispering, but he knew them. He knew them, and knew she'd have some for him if he turned to her now. I know love, and he knew that too. He knew you'd be by his side if you knew what was happening. He was fighting for you too.

Just like Hermione, he thought at that moment. She knew what was about to happen, she wanted to be there. She wanted to be the one to go tonight, not him. It didn't make it right, but he knew—and hated himself for ever doubting—he knew how much she loved him.

Fred stepped closer and saw his fallen mentor. He didn't look like it had hurt—dying. He looked like he had when he had fallen asleep at the shop, tucking in for a nap before running to or from a mission. He was more at peace than Fred had ever seen him in life, and Fred hated that it had been in death he had been able to find this respite.

A hand gripped his shoulder and again, Fred fought the urge to throw the visitor to the floor. He turned and saw Ron, eyes wide.

"Lupin? They killed Lupin?" He asked, looking dumbstruck as though he too expected Remus to suddenly awake, apologize for the nap and go on to help strengthen defenses.

Fred modded, looking over his shoulder trying to find Harry. "Ron, where's your mate?"

"Said he had to go up to the Headmaster's office," he answered, "said he'd come back when he was done. I wanted to come here, check on Hermione and—"

"He's not going to run off to Him? He's not going to try and save us is he?"Fred asked. He agreed with Alicia, if anyone would turn themselves in to save their friends it was Harry Potter, "she'd kill him if he did."

"He's just in the headmaster's office" Ron repeater," said he had to use the pensive—"

"Odd time to get nostalgic," Fred said unconvinced. He looked over Ron for a moment, and noticed the dried blood along his knuckles. "Ron—what happened—"

He looked down at his bloody hands and turned away, "Snape."

"You took off Snape's head?" Fred said with clenched teeth, "Merlin you three are savage—why—"

"Snape's head? No," Ron said, his voice quiet. He looked around, glancing at the room quickly and turning close to his brother. "We need to kill You-Know-Who's snake. And we were going to—and then it killed Snape."

"Good little python," murmured Fred. Ron hesitantly shook his head, "I don't know Fred—he gave Harry some memories right before he died—I don't know what to believe after tonight."

The brothers walked away from the Lupins. He could see Lee, Neville, Oliver and Colin bringing more bodies back into the hall and he turned away, seeing a blue cape being carried in.

"How's Hermione?" Ron asked, "she alright?"

"She's with the Healers—they asked me to give them some time to put her together again," said Fred, scratching the back of his head with irritation

"But they're going to be able to, right?" Ron asked earnestly, he stopped his walk and turned to Fred panic stricken, "I should have acted quicker—all those times we walked in the woods, I should've had a quicker reaction time."

"Alicia figures you saved her life," Fred answered, clapping a hand on Ron's shoulder, "kept her inner organs from getting racked around. It's just her head their working on—"

Fred could feel the waves of relief rolling off Ron, "Well then, she'll be fine. She's always had a good head, wouldn't kill her to come down a little in the smarts—and Merlin, she has a thick enough scull—"

Fred glared at his brother. He was about to unload that statement a little more on his brother when Lavender Brown found their faces in the crowd and broke out in a cry running to them.

"Go on, talk with Lavender," said Fred, leaving Ron and walking towards the makeshift Hospital set along the Hufflepuff table.

Alicia was standing there waiting, talking to a witch who looked a few years older than them. Her long chestnut hair tucked in some haphazard bun, the way Hermione's had looked on their longest days.

"Fred, this is Lina Lievesley, remember her?"

"You ran with the Cursed Vault lot, didn't you?" Fred asked squinting, "you're mates with Ronan?"

The witch smiled, extending her hand, "That's me, dragged my friends all over this school looking to help my brother Jacob. Though if I've heard right we didn't take nearly as many years off McGonagall's life as you and your friends have."

"Oh Minnie's going to live forever," Fred shrugged. He turned to Alicia, "How's—"

"Stable, we've got her in a magically induced coma. Need her body to have a chance to catch up and rest before they do a procedure," Alicia answered.

"How long does she need to rest—and what kind of procedure—is Hermione—"

"She's going to be alright Fred, I was right—it was a swell. Minor one at that. That's better than a bleed. She's been stabilized enough they're going to move her down to the Hufflepuff Common Room, right Lina?"

Fred looked to the chestnut hair witch.

"It's just downstairs in the basement. We need to clear all the injured from the hall to the Common Room. Hufflepuff has special enchantments on the entry—I for one would love to watch them turn against a Death Eater. Badgers know how to defend their home," Lina smiled and Fred could see the mischief flickering in her eyes.

"She'll be safe?" Fred asked, looking from Lina to Alicia. "Can I see her before you move her?"

"Of course," Alicia answered. "Lina, Penny and Bea are the ones in charge of moving patients down. She'll be in good hands—you know them."

Fred turned to Lina with a raised eyebrow, "You're not going to tuck them all in a cursed vault are you?"

Lina's face cracked in a smile, "so long as Hufflepuff Common Room is defended I promise not to hide any of them away in a vault."

"Come on," Alicia motioned, "I'll walk you over."

They had apparently already started moving people to the Common Room. Madam Pomfrey was convinced the next round of fighting would touch the Great Hall. Diego waved from his cot to Lina, a bandage covering one of his eyes. "Lina, I might end up being the new Mad Eye!"

"You've always been a bit mad to me," Lina smiled patting his foot as they walked down the aisle.

There weren't many cots, which made Fred wonder how many were injured and how many had already died. "Do we know how many we've lost yet—" he asked Alicia in a low voice as they passed a cot with the blanket pulled over the face.

"Not yet, but a good chunk of the people we've got down here just needed minor first aid—a few broken bones, concussions—it's not near as bad as it looks," she murmured. They stopped and Fred realized it was Hermione's bed they had stopped at.

Where she has been smirking she now looked like Lupin, calm and at peace. He didn't like that. He had already associated that face with death, he wished her brows were just a little furrowed. That she looked a little cross. She would be cross if she knew how much he'd been worrying over her. She'd be cross and giving him and everyone who was fussing over her a piece of her mind.

He looked down to her arm and saw the word exposed. It wasn't as red or agitated as it had been the first time he saw it, but it still stood out, a stain against the snow of her blanket. He turned to Alicia, "is there anything you can do about the arm?"

"Poppy tried," she sighed, shaking her head, "there maybe a specialist at St Mungos when all of this is over. There's a few healers who have been learning a muggle form of surgery-maybe the plastics could do it."

He nodded, and knelt down by the bed, his hand running up and down the word, "Its alright, it's just a word."

"She's the next one we'll move, it's just goodbye for a little while—until Harry ends it," Alicia reminded him, squeezing his shoulder before walking away.

"Alicia-I'm sorry," he called back, his friend stopping and turning around. "When you and George came into the room to help us—I'm sorry I yelled at you."

Alicia's face softened and the faintest trace of a smile appeared, "I know Fred. People do crazy things when they're in love."

She turned around, Lina going with her as they went to lift a bed with a wounded patient. Fred turned around, back to Hermione and knelt on the floor.

"You know, five points from Gryffindor for not thinking of the Protego Charm yourself and using that to save me," Fred murmured, taking her hand, "Then you and I could be winning this war, showing Harry how it's done-bested by Ronnikins, how does that feel?"

He flickered his eyes down and-he shouldn't have been surprised but he had thought that would have brought a smirk to her face. "Right, too soon love. Time and place. You're quite right. Tasteless Fred, what am I thinking-"

He took the blanket and pulled it up to her chin, tucking her arm under the blanket, hiding the word from the wandering eye.

"They're going to take you down and hide you for a little while; just for a little while, only a little while—" he said, brushing away a curl. "I'm going to stand outside the hall and let Harry know your ok. And I'll make sure he doesn't go do something foolish like walk into You-Know-Who's camp—"

He paused for a moment, and reached for the hand still atop the bed sheet. "Listen Hermione, I know you can't hear me, but on the off chance this is it—you know, that I've only dodged a bullet and there's still one out there with my name on it—"

You idiot don't you dare—she'd say, I may be bloody well dying for you and here you go—

"We've had our share of miracles. And if this is it for me, and I'm not there when you wake up, know that loving you has been the greatest privilege of my life," he finished, bending down and kissing the top of her head. His hand brushed hers, his fingertips brushing against the time turner charm, "You wake up and live those sunsets. If I get any say in the matter, I'll be right there with you."

He could hear Alicia's steps coming back down the aisles. Penny and Bea walking behind her with Lina. "We'll take good care of her Fred," said Alicia, by his side and squeezing his shoulder. "You'll see her before you know it."

He rose from her bed side and watched as Alicia and Lina levitated her bed down the aisle and out the room. Bea walked towards another stretcher but Penny paused, slipping her hand in his.

"Not how I planned on meeting the famous Hermione Granger," she sighed, "But she's right. I won't let anything happen to Hermione. After all you've done-I promise. Bea and I won't let anything happen to her."

She jumped on her tip toes and kissed his cheek. "Stay safe Fred," she said, squeezing his hand and walking to her sister.

She'd be safe, he knew that.

And he'd create the world where they both would be. It was only a few hours away, wasn't it? She had helped him cheat death, he could hold his own, couldn't he?

He left the corner of the Great Hall with stretchers and saw it had gotten fuller, people teaming within the hall and just outside of it. But he couldn't see Harry. He could make out Ron's figure talking to Lavender and his father, but Harry was nowhere to be found.

He saw Neville and Justin carrying in a body. They had just laid what must have been a seventh year Ravenclaw boy near the makeshift Hospital Wing when he waved them back.

"Oy! You two!" He called, jogging over, "anything going on? In the castle I mean—"

"Just cleared the last of them," said Justin, looking back at the teen." Looks like your line worked, haven't found anyone past the fifth floor."

"Good!" Fred said with his first genuine smile, but looking from Justin to Neville the smile fell. "Lads—what is it—"

"I—"

"Neville thinks Harry's turning himself in," scowled Justin. "He had gone down a corridor looking for bodies and Harry popped out from his invisibility cloak and he told him he had to go do something."

"Lots of something's Harry could be doing," Fred jumped, trying to hide the panic in his voice. Had he just promised Hermione he'd keep his friend safe only to have said friend jump on a suicide mission? "Where's Ginny? Maybe he went to go snog Gin—"

"Don't think it's that mate—he told me to kill You-Know-Who's snake if I got the chance. Wouldn't explain why, just told me to kill the snake," Neville finished, turning around to look at the doors, "said Hermione would kill him when she woke up if the snake was still alive."

None of this made any sense. "Where'd he go after he told you this?" Fred asked.

"Back under the cloak," Neville said, his voice empty. He met Fred's eyes and Fred knew— Neville was right. Harry has gone to You-Know-Who. He was too late.

He and Hermione had moved heaven and earth to save Muggleborns lives. He had gone to Azkaban to get fighters that would battle and tip the scales in their favor—and what had it cost? Hermione was unconscious, Harry had walked into deaths waiting arms—would any of them survive what was to come next? Was Teddy Lupin to lose his Father, Godfather and everyone else?

Ginny ran into the hall, a young girl following her, both of them with wide eyes. "Kingsley!" She yelled, "Kingsley!"

Fred, Neville and Justin ran after her, anxious to know what had caused this reaction. They weren't alone. Others had turned away from the stretchers is the dead and injured to listen closer.

"What is it Ginny?" Asked the weary voice, he had been talking with the heads of houses, going over a blueprint of the school.

"The Forest—there was a flash of green, it illuminated the tree tops—"

Professor Sprout covered her mouth and McGonagall's lips went white as she pressed them into a line. "Who has eyes on Potter?" She asked, turning around to look about the hall, "A hundred people in this castle—someone get eyes on him now—"

Echos of where's Harry traveled through the hall. His mother had broken away from Tonks and was now questioning Ginny over this light—was she sure it was green? When had she slept last? Had the little girl with Ginny seen it too? And why the hell weren't more people looking for Harry—

Fred's eyes met George, and he realized his twin knew the truth too. Harry had disappeared, there had been a flash of light—all that was missing was—

The gloat.

Again, You-Know-Who's voice echoed over his head. A summons to the courtyard. The battle was over. It was time to talk terms.

Fred couldn't focus on what You-Know-Who was saying. How could any of it seem real? How could he still be living in a world without Harry Potter and possibly Hermione Granger? What was going to happen next-

Minerva McGonagall was the first person out of the hall and out the main doors. They followed, and Fred could see her lone shadow spilt over the courtyard. In the early morning hours fires illuminated the courtyard, the remains of the previous battle. But he could also see blue little lights bouncing over their heads. He knew those lights—was Hermione—

She had to have learned that trick somewhere—who's to say it wasn't McGonagall—

"NO!" A voice cried and Fred saw the old woman stumble. He stepped forward, reaching for her arm, hand, anything that would keep this mountain of a woman from crumbling. "No!" She cried, leaning into Fred. It was a good thing, he supposed he had gotten used to the unearthly sounds of grief. Over forty years of grief rolling out, the damn finally broke.

And he could see why.

Hagrid has entered the courtyard, cradling something in his arms. And then he could see the reflection of the castle fires burning in broken glasses. He was holding Harry.

Harry.

More cries rang out. His mother, Ron—Ginny. She would have run out to meet Hagrid if it wasn't for George and Charlie holding her there in place. Because right behind Hagrid, beaming with victory strode You-Know-Who, Bellatrix and their surviving Death Eaters, returning to Hogwarts as victors.

McGonagall wasn't crying anymore. When You-Know-Who came over the crest she stood erect, although crushing Fred's hand in hers.

Hagrid gently laid Harry down on the stones of the courtyard. He must have thought this would be for the best, that If he died—he must have thought Voldemort would honor his terms, that the defenders would be spared. He just hoped Penny and Bea had spies in this group, spies that would run back to the Hufflepuff Common Room and live to tell them of their coming slaughter. There weren't any Hufflepuffs that had become Death Eaters. Surely they'd be safe—the House Elves would get them out—Hermione would wake up somewhere safe—she'd make it—

"Harry Potter is dead!" Cheered Voldemort, laughing in their faces, "He was killed running from death, abandoning his friends—abandoning all of you."

"He didn't!" Yelled a voice.

"He'd never!" Cried another.

"Silence!" Voldemort spat and Fred felt his jaw close.

"Potter is dead, the battle is over," he laughed darkly, turning to Bellatrix, "nearly Seventeen years late—it's finally over. And my Death Eaters are victorious!"

Cheers rang against the stone as the Death Eaters now cheered.

"Bunch of Bullshit," he murmured. McGonagall turned to him sharply, but then she too tried to speak, "Shh—" she hushed.

"His silencing charm—it didn't work—"

"I can see that. Hush—his Magic's not binding, somethings wrong—"

Or somethings right, he thought.

"We will be kind victors, but we will take our spoils," Voldemort said with a smile as he strode in front of Harry's body towards the school, "Starting with Hogwarts—" he smiled. A whizzing sound came from over head and Fred saw the aged Sorting Hat, as ragged and worn as ever, clutched in his hands.

"We need no more division. The only symbol and colors for this school will be that of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin"

There had been another burst of voices and a struggle and Fred saw Neville stumble forward. Bellatrix was introducing him through sneers but Voldemort looked on him with a smile as though he was a long lost ally. "You're a pure-blood aren't you, my brave boy?" he asked.

"So what if I am?" Neville said loudly, "I'll join you when hell freezes over. Dumbledore's Army!" he cheered and an echo rang among the defenders behind him.

"Very well," said Voldemort, and Fred felt the hairs on the back of his head trigger up, "IF that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head, be it."

You-Know-Who had forced the sorting hat on Neville's head and it instantly started to smoke. Again, Fred braced himself for the worse. What could they do for Neville? They couldn't just stand there and watch him burn to death—maybe if he, George—where was Oliver and Lee? They could storm You-Know-Who—someone would die, all of them perhaps—but if they were dead they wouldn't have to watch the horror—

But everything seemed to happen at once.

The Sorting Hat started to burn when Neville broke from his body bind and whipped the hat from atop his head, pulling out the golden rubied handle of the Sword of Gryffindor. In one fluid motion, he raised it above his head and smote off the head of Voldemort's snake in one fluid stroke.

"Protego!" Shouted a voice. Fred knew that voice. His eyes flew to Hagrid's feet and he turned to McGonagall delighted. "Professor—where's Harry?!" He turned to George at once, his eyes wide and alert, "Where's Harry?!"

It all erupted at once. Harry was gone. Somehow he got up. Has the chosen one chosen to become an inferni for them? He didn't care if he had. The fight wasn't over.

A few of the Professors had lept to Neville's side, allowing him to fall back to the castle after You-Know-Who leapt after him. The survivors had formed two lines, one along the front steps of the castle, while a second line was put together just inside the Great Hall.

They were going to hold this time. He thought of the young Beauxbatons boy. Ils ne passeront pas— they'd be able to do it this time, they'd be able to—

A loud Boom echoed through the courtyard knocking Fred to the ground. He saw a good chunk of the front line was down, he and George—others from the order down on the ground. George got up first and, seeing his twin alive, he took his hand and pulled him to his feet, "Come on Fred, let's get them."

He lost George when they got inside. The front entry was packed with fighters dueling. There weren't near as many Death Eaters as there had been earlier in the night. And some—he could see Malfoy's parents—some weren't fighting at all. Some were just trying to find their kids. After that, who knew what they would do.

An excited Amos Diggory knocked him to the ground. Opening his eyes, they locked on the target in front of him.

Bellatrix LeStrange was laughing while shooting at Sprout.

His blood wasn't running cold. Not like he thought it would if he ever met Hermione's torturer. Instead he was hot. He wanted revenge. And he wanted it now.

She twirled around, casting a spell that knocked Sprout to her feet. Then she turned and met his eyes, and the devil itself seemed to smile.

Fred rose from the ground In a scamper; he could see Bellatrix's outline in the layers of dust that now clouded his vision. Her maniac laughter echoing throughout the Great Hall.

He could see Kingsley, McGonagall, and Slughorn fighting Voldemort behind him. He yelped in pain as someone bumped into him in pursuit of Bellatrix and swore in realizing that someone was Ginny.

"Gin no," he said, chasing after her. He took her by the arm and pushed her towards the wall, "I've got her, I've got business with Bellatrix."

Bellatrix had heard this and started laughing. "I know all about you ickle blood traitor," laughed Bellatrix. She looked around the entrance of the hall, extending her arms. "Where's the Mudblood? Someone kill your precious little girlfriend?" She stopped where she stood, laughing all the while, "Who do I owe flowers to?"

Fred shot a jet that just missed Bellatrix' shoulder. He and Ginny dove behind a bench, dodging the jets that she rained down on them.

"I saw all in her little head last month," Bellatrix crooned. Fred turned to Ginny, trying to motion her to stay down. She shook her head and was right behind him aiming a hex when he popped up from the bench.

Bellatrix was laughing. It was sick for someone to enjoy this as much as she did. He yanked Ginny down to the ground right before a green jet could hit her.

"Stay down," he ordered, "fire low, and only when I do."

"I know all about you," Bellatrix continued, Fred sneaking low further up the hall. "Do you know you were all she was thinking about when I carved her arm. So nauseating—" she faked a hurl "You're lot loves too much considering how many of you die."

Fred continued low. He could hear her feet stop on the stone. They were moving away from them. He wanted her to move as far away from Ginny as she could—he also wanted Ginny to move out of the hall,but that wasn't happening.

"And now little Miss Mudblood is dead—or is she just incapacitated?" She paused, tapping her toe against the stone with each syllable. "No matter. We've won—we'll find your little girlfriend and she'll pray for death before we grant it. Especially after she learns I've killed her ickle little lover. How long should I keep her alive Freddie? Before I kill her for good," she laughed again, high and shrill, "Oh Freddie, what are you thinking?"

Fred stopped in his tracks, fighting the urge to pop up and hex her right there. She had been in Hermione's head—what else—

Fred looked over the edge of the table and saw she was standing on the Gryffindor bench, stepping up to the table. She was close to Ginny who had been moving further back down the hall—

You can't take her too.

He jumped to his feet and shot a shielding charm as she turned to him. It made her stumble, but she was still smiling, delighting in finding her target so easily.

"It's always so much more fun when they decide to play," Bellatrix grinned, "say goodbye to your precious little Mudblood Freddie."

Fred took a step a top of the Slytherins table striding to where he was parallel to her.

"You will never—" he whipped his wand, deflecting her curses, "haunt her again."

Bellatrix laughed shrilly. "Won't I?" She asked, leaping from the Gryffindor table to the Hufflepuff, only Ravenclaw between them now, " I'm Bellatrix LeStrange, blood traitor. I'll haunt all your dreams until I close your eyes."

Fred looked over Bellatrix's shoulder and smirked, "Well, she's Ginny Weasley and your boyfriend just killed hers."

Bellatrix's eyebrows knit together and she turned around, Just in enough time to see Ginny bellow out the killing curse. He did the same, just in case Ginny couldn't kill her. He heard the body fall and thought Bellatrix looked like a puppet, her strings cut, lying lifeless on the wooden bench.

A yell of rage erupted from the front entry and the doors to the Great Hall ripped open, nearly tearing the doors from its hinges. He knew. He knew they had just killed his lieutenant. They had killed Bellatrix, Hermione would understand if he didn't survive the next five minutes. "Ginny, hide behind Dumbledore's chair—you can get out thru the window—I'll hold him off, I'll—"

You-Know-Bleedin-Who strode into the room. He looked and saw Bellatrix's body slumped on the table and made eye contact with the two Weasley kids standing not too far off. Fred took Ginny by the shoulder pushing her towards the head table casting a shielding charm as he did.

More fighters poured into the room. The three who had been dueling tried to re engage but he kept swatting them away like flies. His red eyes—he'd have to tell Lee they were red—they could use that in a Potterwatch, assuming they lived—flickering as they stared him down.

His father saw what was happening and he tore forward. But he didn't have a chance. Someone else had broken from the sides of the Great Hall. Some skinny little kid with a mop of black hair and broken glasses.

Voldemort flinched, ever so slightly at the sight of Harry Potter, the phantom found—very much alive.

Fred couldn't hear all they were bantering. They seemed to circle the other around the room. He did get the occasional word-something about the Elder Wand-apparently that was real. And apparently Snape had feelings for Harry's mum-that would probably take a couple years of therapy. George made his way and stood by his side as the sun came over the tops of the horizon, spilling blood red from Gryffindor's rubies along the floor when Harry Potter killed You-Know-Who with a bloody Expelliarmus charm.

His body crumbled where it fell. And Harry stood, holding both wands, looking victorious as his friends circled about him.

But Fred didn't run to Harry. He made his way out the door and down the cellar stairs to the Kitchens where a House Elf might let him into the Hufflepuff Common Room-

((*))

"You've told me this before—I remember now, when I woke up in St Mungos," Hermione muttered, raising her hand to her head. He had told it to her then. And again the morning of the first Funeral they had attended for the fallen of the Battle of Hogwarts. And again that first night they had spent in Australia when they had gone to fetch her parents—

"I spent a week with you in St Mungos, waiting for you to come back to me," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and drawing her close, kissing the top of her head. "I've left you, and you left me hanging for that week—so far as I see it we're even now. No more leaving. It's the two of us now. Together. That's our endgame."

She looked down, again at her time turner. "Why isn't there sand in my time turner? Did you take it out?"

Fred's hand cupped the charm, his thumb tracing over it. "I noticed it was gone not too long after the battle finished. We thought Ron's protego had been what saved you, but I saw a flash of blue before you went under the rock—I don't know how much of you surviving was Ron and how much was my little time turner."

"You said it was a good luck charm," she said matter-of-fact.

"And it has been. Over and over again" said Fred, "it's brought you back to me twice now. Maybe the sand disappearing is Times way of saying it won't fling you forward and away from me?"

"Maybe," She laughed, looking up at his face. It was carefree now. The concern he had earlier had melted away and there sat the man who had loved her thru so much and would love her still. She didn't know much of this brave new world, but she knew she'd face it with his hand tucked in hers. There wasn't a quaffle crushing her stomach, but a snitch, fluttering there.

"I will live in your heart," she started taking his hands in hers, "Die in your lap, be buried in your eyes—" she crooned, standing up.

He squeezed her hand again, trying to pull her back to the bed, "No—no, no more dying. We shan't have any more of that—you and me, were living forever."

She laughed, leaning back towards him and taking a hand to tracing the outline of his face. He had such a look of love scrawled across his face, he was positively beaming from it. She stepped closer, and with her other hand she ruffled his hair and smiled.

"What are you thinking, Hermione Granger?" He asked, smiling all the more as he said her name.

She loved him. From his matted ginger hair to the star scape of freckles that covered his face. She loved him for all the moments he made her laugh, made her furious, and made her believe in the thousand of sunlit days that now sat at her feet for the taking.

"Fred Weasley," she sighed, brushing her thumb across his cheek, leaning in her lips hovering over his own as she whispered, "I'm not."

Give me an ending that's worth writing

Show me a love I never known

Torn are the pages left behind me

Make me whole

You'll be my words

(The Script)

KH:

One, I have to apologize, I've been out sick this last week so all final edits have been done on tamiflu and the knock-out-cough-syrup. You know what my edit game is like a on a good day, I promise I'll go through this again later.

Now, for the real note… This has been five years in the making, so please indulge me as I say goodbye…

When I started writing "FTT," I really didn't know a whole lot about love. And to be honest, it still eludes me. But I am grateful for the last five years of experiences that helped me shape this story. I'm grateful for the moments that set my heart a flutter and even more grateful that when things went south, I had this story and this community to pour the words I couldn't say into. Through all my ups and downs, from work to love to life, you my wonderful readership have been there and from the bottom of my heart—thank you. Thank you for giving me, and this story, a chance. Thank you for letting me tell my story.

I cannot tell you how much I've enjoyed writing this story, the last five or so chapters especially. This was born working nights in a warehouse and I am so incredibly proud of this story, the characters, and the little quirks they have. The fact I sat down and committed to writing a 360K project?! Lord I know there are faults, and they are mine and I'll stand by and own them every day.

This is the end of the road for our kids. I'm not planning an epilogue or a nineteen years later. In my head, our kids are happy on a beach in Majorca and are eventually joined by a few kids who are the apples of their Papa's eye. But that's not my story anymore. I'm headed abroad for a few weeks and will start working on a project here in a few months.

After all, this story was written in honor of Jo's 50th Birthday. Harry turns 40 this July—

So until we meet again (and we will), raise a glass to freedom. Have courage dear heart. Be a good human. And as always, be kind to one another.

And one last time, let me know—what are you thinking?

I remain, forever yours,

Kait Bjorne, the Witty Historian.