Clinging by Luvscharlie

Summer holidays spent at the Burrow were some of Hermione's favourite times, but this year, all was different. There was little fun to be had with Dumbledore's death still fresh in all of their minds and her planned trip with Harry and Ron imminent. The trip consumed her thoughts, and she was constantly planning for the day when Harry would arrive from the Dursleys' and they would be forced to leave. There were things to be done before their departure, not to mention a wedding drawing ever nigh.

She was once more stowed away in Ron's hot, stuffy attic bedroom sorting through things they would need for their trip, and what might be left behind when Fred came in.

"Take a break?" he asked, offering a hand up from her seat on the hard, wooden floor.

She shouldn't really. There was much to do. But, the warm summer air drifting through the window was temptation enough to lure her out of doors with him. They walked through the tall grass, giggling together as the tip of Crookshanks' bottle-brush tail could be seen pouncing on what was most probably a gnome hiding in the thick greenery.

They were drawn to the pond, where they walked beside it for a while in silence. It was only three summers past that they had spent lazy days here swimming in the heat of the day. Only three summers past, and it seemed like a lifetime ago. The days had grown darker in those three years—darker and more dangerous than any of them had ever imagined possible.

Fred tugged her over to one of the big trees that surrounded the pond, where a swing was tied to a large branch far overhead. "Do you want to have a go?" he asked. "I'll push you."

"Push me or push me in?" She tilted her head at him in mistrust.

"Why, Hermione, you wound me. I would never even consider such a thing." He looked innocently at her. "At least not while you still have your wand."

"Fair enough," she said, pointing at the wand in her back pocket and climbing on. He pushed her high out over the pond, and the wind in her hair felt freeing. It was like flying without a terrifying broom beneath her.

Then the hands behind her pushing were gone and there was a splash in the water below. "Come on, jump in," he shouted up at her. "It feels great."

She closed her eyes and let go. She cut through the icy water of the pond and came up to find warm arms encircling her and foreign lips upon hers… and she felt alive. Perhaps until now, she had only been surviving, but this was unquestionably living and it felt wonderful. Her body responded before she even realised it, kissing him back with a passion that she hadn't known she possessed.

They broke apart gasping, but still clinging to one another. "You come back to me, you hear?" Fred said with a firm grip on her shoulders. "I'm not ready to lose you. Promise me you'll all come back."

But in times of war, those were promises that could not be kept and they both knew it. They made the most of that day, warm bodies in tall grass, touching, caressing, clinging and kissing.

When it was all over and Voldemort was dead, that memory was all she had left to cling to… and she did.

Fin.

A/N: Originally written for Round 2, Challenge 9 of the FWHG_LDWS (Fred Weasley-Hermione Granger Last Drabble Writer Standing) Competition on Live Journal. Our prompt was the Burrow, so that the story must take place there and the drabble had to be under 750 words. This one made it through to the next round and we are now down to the final 3 contestants.