So this is the only other fiction I'm likely to wire that isn't AU in the sense that Fred dies like he does in the books. There are certain fictional characters, across multiple fandoms, whose deaths I cannot accept and Fred is one of them. But this I had to write...

Inspired by Faith Hill's 'There you'll be'

Hermione's world had just gone black. She could see him, lying on the stone cold floor, unmoving. Why was he unmoving? He was never unmoving...

People were screaming and there was shouting and the world had just ended but why hadn't it stopped? Why hadn't it stopped? Harry shoved her out of the way, trying to get everyone moving before helping Percy pick him up and drag him somewhere out of the way so no more harm could come to him. No more harm. He was dead.

Hermione was stood frozen, pulled and pushed by those around her and unable to peel her eyes away from him. No more harm. He was dead. He was fucking dead. He'd fucking gone. He'd left her, he'd left George. He'd left them all. She screamed; a loud, harsh, bloodcurdling scream. Harry and Ron looked at her with wide and terrified eyes, but she was so angry and frustrated and scared and in so much pain. So much pain. Her heart was breaking and she didn't know what to do. They were in the middle of a fucking war and he'd just died on her!

A small fluttering, like butterflies, in her tummy snapped her back to the present. She locked away her anguish and compartmentalised it for later. There was a reason she'd never thought about the future, because first she had to make sure they had one. She bundled it all up to save for later, pulling the boys to safety and getting them to set their sights back on their mission.

...

Voldemort had called a cease fire. Why couldn't he have done that before? Then Fred might have made it. Hermione followed Ron to the Great Hall. Her eyes trailing over so many familiar faces, both alive and dead. Her breath stuck in her throat as she locked eyes with the man still breathing, the one who looked almost identical to his lifeless counterpart. Hermione couldn't bare the pain, almost seeing him but knowing it wasn't really him. That fate had really been that tragic. She could see every emotion she felt mirrored in George's eyes, his tears still falling freely. Mrs Weasley lay over her son's body weeping while George kneeled at his brother's head.

"He's gone," George whispered, looking up at Hermione. "He's really fucking gone. He left us!"

Hermione couldn't do anything but collapse in his arms, sobbing into his shoulder as he sobbed into hers. She didn't care that so many people were giving her confused looks and bewildered glances at how broken up she appeared to be, as if she had more right than his own mother to be upset. But they didn't know. They didn't know her secret. Hell, he hadn't even known her secret and now he never would. But she had to get through tonight, there was no point thinking of the future until she was sure they had one.

...

The fight was over. They had a future. She couldn't help but feel as though her's was gone. His arms weren't waiting. His smile wasn't there. There was no excited, victorious, triumphant kiss. She found herself gravitating towards George, the man who looked as lost as she did.

"He's still gone," George whispered.

"If I tell you a secret, will you promise not to hate me?" Hermione whispered back.

"Yes..." he answered tentatively.

"Will you keep it secret? At least for now?"

"Yes..."

"You promise?"

"Hermione? What's this about?" George sounded a little cross, his brother was still dead. "You can't bring him back. He's still gone..."

"Not all of him," Hermione whispered, looking desperately into George's eyes before putting her hand protectively over her stomach. His eyes widened and he gasped, pulling her into him and wrapping his arms around her tightly.

"Hermione..." he sobbed openly again. "Did he know?"

"No," she choked out. "I never got chance to tell him." Her feet gave out from under her and she fell into a crumpled mess with George on the floor. People looked at them strangely, trying to work out why Hermione Granger, of all people, seemed so devastated at the loss of a Weasley twin. Of course she should have been upset, she was practically family, but as upset as his mother? His twin brother? Wasn't that going a bit too far?

...

The funeral was a week after the battle. Hermione hadn't told anyone about the tiny life inside of her, the little Fred growing in her stomach. She didn't think it was fair till after the funeral, after he'd been laid to rest. Molly and Arthur were too wrapped up in their own devastation to really notice the way Hermione and George clung to each other, no one in their family did.

Hermione thought of Fred as she gripped tightly to George, not paying a great deal of attention to the service itself. She remembered the stupid smiles he used to flash at her when he could see she was upset, or stressed or struggling, and that was before they were anything more than friends. She remembered the times he'd made her stronger, the times he'd spurned her on and reignited the flames within her.

She cried openly, tears pouring down her face as she recalled their first kiss and how soft and sweet and full of hope it was. She thought back to the first time he'd told her he loved her and then subsequently had to prove it because she didn't believe him. She couldn't see how such a smart, innovative, funny man could see her as anything but plain and boring. She remembered how he'd kissed her in an attempt to show her how he felt, she remembered the way her heart had pounded and her blood had boiled with his passion as she'd actually felt it, it was unlike any other kiss he'd given her.

She remembered the night they'd accidentally conceived what would have been their shared future but now was hers alone. The way he touched her and held her and looked at her as though she were made out of the stars in heaven. She thought about how grateful she was to have had that, and what it created. She knew she'd never get over him, that she was now fated to live her life alone. She cared because he was gone, she didn't care that she'd never have another, because another wasn't him. He was her everything and it didn't matter that they'd had almost no time at all, she knew it like she knew the sky was blue and grass was green.

As they lowered his coffin into the ground she looked to the sky. She promised that she'd never forget him, the real him. She'd never forget the goofy grin he had when he was up to something, she'd never forget the genius he could be and the amazingly kind person he was. She'd remember him flying through the air on his broom, hunched over discussing new ideas with George or doing something insanely stupid or ridiculous to make her smile. She'd never let that go, she'd never let who he was leave her despite letting him rest. In her dreams she'd always see him soar above the sky, she promised.

...

Several days later, holding George's hand, Hermione stepped into the Burrow with the intention of having possibly the hardest conversation she'd ever had to have.

"Hermione dear," Molly Weasley flustered, her face still red and her tears still on the brink of spilling. "How are you?"

Hermione let out a wobbly breath as she looked at the grandmother of her unborn child. Molly was barely holding it together, as could be expected. Hermione felt like she was falling apart from the inside out, like there was a huge gaping hole inside of her. She could see her pain mirrored in Molly, different but still almost as heavy.

"Mrs Weasley..." Hermione faltered, raising her eyes heavenward as they filled with a hundred unshed tears.

"Hermione, sweetheart, whatever is the matter?" Molly asked, her own voice faltering.

"I...I miss him..." Hermione sobbed, her eyes coming to rest on Molly's. She couldn't say anything else. The words just seemed to tumble from her lips. "I miss him so much..."

"Who?" Molly whispered, confused at the level of emotion she could see within the girl. She couldn't understand why Hermione would want to talk to her about a loss that devastating to her after Molly had only just lost her son...unless?

"Fred, I miss Fred," Hermione sniffled. Tears poured out of her eyes and down her cheeks, her legs felt weak and the intense pain that burnt within her heart swept across her body like fire. It always did that whenever she thought about Fred.

"Come on Mione," George mumbled, "we need to get you sat down. This isn't good for you, or...you know..."

Hermione simply nodded, leaning into George as he slipped his arms around her gently, slowly leading her into the kitchen and towards a seat at the table. Molly simply followed in dumbfounded silence.

"I'll make some tea," she said softly, turning towards the kettle.

"I'll do that mum," George said. "Please could you go and get dad? There's something you both need to know."

"Yes, of course," Molly said, stealing a glance at the woman sat at the table. Hermione's eyes had glazed over and she sat silently, barely functioning if Molly had to guess.

Ten minutes later, both Molly and Arthur were seated at the table with Hermione and George. Four steaming mugs of tea were sat in front of each of them, no one really feeling like drinking it but all of them rested their eyes intently on it.

"Hermione?" George murmured, nudging her softly.

"Hm?" Hermione looked up at him and he gave her an encouraging look. "Oh right, yes..." She cleared her throat and glanced up at Molly and Arthur. "Uh...there's something I have to tell you, and I don't quite know how to say it..." Hermione's eyes were glistening again, and her voice cracked. She let out a wobbly breath as she tried to compose herself.

"You and Fred?" Molly asked, looking across the table at the distraught young woman. Hermione simply nodded. "You were in love?" Hermione nodded again.

"He was...he...I..." she stumbled over the right words to say, the right words to convey how much more he was to her. "The love of my life..." she shrugged as tears began making more tracks down her face.

"Hermione, I understand the pain you feel," Arthur said softly, "I'm just a little unsure why you're telling us this? I don't quite get why you'd come to us with this right now?"

"I'm pregnant," she said, practically blurting it out. She closed her eyes and folded her arms on the table, her head falling forwards as she sobbed heavily.

Molly looked aghast at George, Arthur simply staring at Hermione, stunned.

"How long have you known?" Molly whispered to George.

"Since the final battle came to a close and we'd won the war," George said quietly.

"Did...did Fred know?" Molly asked, her heart breaking all over again.

George merely shook his head, sniffing back his own tears.

"How far along are you?" Molly spoke up, looking at Hermione and waiting for the young woman to raise her head.

Hermione wiped her face as she lifted her eyes to look at Molly. "Four and a half months..."

"Four and a...four and a half months!" Molly's eyes were wide as she looked at Hermione. "Why didn't you tell him?!"

"Because...this baby...it was a future. A future I didn't even know if we had until we'd won the war..." Hermione said forlornly. "Because I knew once Fred knew, that he'd never let me out of his sight and he'd never let me fight..."

"He might also still be alive," Molly said. There was no malice in her voice, but no comfort there either. It just was.

"Mum," George sighed, giving her a reprimanding look.

"He had the right to know," Molly said.

"He did," Hermione agreed. "But I never thought...I never thought...I knew we might not make it out of that battle alive but I never thought..." she collapsed again into tears, huge wracking sobs overtaking her body. George pulled her towards him and enveloped her into a hug, soothing her and rubbing a hand up and down her back.

"You never thought just one of you would survive," Arthur finished with a nod. "You thought you'd both live or you'd both die..."

"What are you going to do with the baby?" Molly asked.

Hermione looked up quickly, frowning as she wiped her eyes again. "Raise it, of course."

"You're only eighteen," Molly pointed out.

"I don't care," Hermione said with feeling. "It's my baby. It's Fred's baby. Like hell I'll ever give that up, it's the last real thing I've got left of him."

Molly looked at Hermione, contemplating the fierce devotion the girl still seemed to have towards her son. She sighed. In a few years time, the blow wouldn't be so bad and Hermione could move on. She could love again and her dead son's child could be raised by another man, never knowing or missing their father. Molly felt the loss of her boy so much more intently then.

"Who else knows?" Molly asked.

"Just you two and George," Hermione said.

"Who else will know?" Molly said, staring intently at her.

"What do you mean?" Hermione's frown deepened.

"Who else will know that your child is Fred's?" Molly said.

"Everyone," Hermione said, confused at Molly's tone. She wasn't expecting a great reaction but she wasn't expecting such hostility either. "Mrs Weasley, I love your son. Just because Fred is gone...I can't just switch that off. Regardless of what happened to him, this child was conceived in love. I can't...I'm so..." Hermione let out an angry, frustrated little huff. "I'm hurt. I'm furious. I'm terrified. I'm in so much pain I don't understand how my body is still moving, let alone growing a child. There was no victory for me, the whole fucking war was lost. The whole world was lost the minute I lost Fred. I'm so bloody angry with him. He died on me! He just...he just went! And what? He's never coming back? No goodbye? No apologies? No nothing? Just some strange future without him in it? What even is that?!" Hermione raged as tears continued to fall down her face. "He knows I'm not a woman who can cope without closure. He knows I hate it when I lose control of a situation. He knows! How am I supposed to raise a baby all by myself?! How am I supposed to do anything other than that?! I'm so bloody scared and the only person who can make it all better...is gone..." Hermione cried into her hands. "I love him so much...but all the love in the world isn't enough to bring him back to me..."

"Hermione..." Molly sighed at the girl and stood slowly. She came and wrapped her arms around the woman her son had obviously fallen in love with. If Fred hadn't fallen in love with the bookworm, George wouldn't have been so close and protective of her. "It's going to be alright, you'll see..."

Molly held her as she cried, feeling her own tears start up again. The two women sat together, unable to let go and unable to pull themselves together. Molly was sure this wasn't the end for Hermione, but no one ever wants to hear that after they've lost someone so profound from their lives. The best Molly could do was make the most of it. She was going to be a grandmother, she was going to get a small piece of Fred back and that was good enough for her, for now.