Disclaimer: I own nothing.

GAH!

I woke up with this plot bunny running circles in my head, and it won't let me work on anything else until I typed it out.

Now, this won't be a one-shot. No, this will be long and drawn out, and I probably won't update it as often as I do the rest, but I promise I'll try not to disappoint.

So, here's the first chapter. Do give me some input and suggestions. YOU, my dear readers, control what happens next in the story.

Sit back and enjoy.

Love always,

Avoline

Fred trudged along the street. He had gotten his own flat in Muggle London, much to his family's dismay, and ventured out on his own. He still ran the shop, but he wanted a place of his own, where he could be totally alone.

Alone. That's all he wanted was to be alone. But that meant facing his thoughts, his memories, their memories. He took a shakey breath. That was the hardest part about not having his twin there. He couldn't escape them. He couldn't avoid them.

"Fred!" He whipped around at the sound of the familiar voice. There was only one person he could think of that would be in Muggle London and recognize him from George. His eyes landed on a head of bushy brown hair, and he felt a mix of dread and relief flood his heart. He knew she would ask where he's been hiding, and he really didn't want to tell her.

He didn't want to tell anyone, to be honest.

"Hermione," he laughed, faking joy, "what are you doing here?" She threw her arms around his neck.

"I was just visiting my parents," she answered. "Hadn't seen them in a while." Their eyes met, and he could feel her staring right through him.

Hermione, please, don't ask questions. I don't have the heart to lie to you right now.

"Fred," she began softly, "is everything alright?" He shifted his gaze to the ground. "I'm only asking cause you're like a big brother to me, and I can tell when something wrong." He closed his eyes and bit his lip. "Would you rather go somewhere more private?" He nodded, and she grasped his hand and pulled him into the ally closest to them.

"Hermione," he began weakly.

"Don't worry," she murmured. "It'll only be the two of us. I promise." He surrendered and let her apparate them to a spot in the woods.

"Where are we," he inquired as she walked to the edge of a near-by creek and sat down.

"Forrest Dean," she answered. "My parents brought me here camping when I was little." She patted the spot next to him, and he complied, taking a seat. "Fred, you can tell me. I won't tell anyone."

But how? How could he tell her what he couldn't accept? She was the only one who would understand, but the one person he was terrified to talk to.

He couldn't deny her. She deserved the truth. She was, after all, his kid brother's girlfriend. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, telling their story for the first time.

Fred and George were just going up to the flat after a long day at the shop. Fred couldn't wait. Angeline had just given birth to his child, little Brianna Nicole Weasley, and Fred was head over heals in love with the little surprise.

Brianna had become his world. Fred had a whole section of the shop dedicated to more kid-friendly stuff just because of Brianna. She occupied all of his thoughts, and he didn't mind one bit. She was the epitome of perfect, and no one could Fred any different. He loved his little girl.

They opened the door to the flat and were met with every family members worst nightmare. The flat had been ransacked, and there was blood everywhere. Fred's heart began to race.

"Ange," he called. Silence. "Angelina, answer me, please!" More silence. His chest tightened as he ran for the bedroom that he, Angelina, and Brianna shared. There was more blood near the door, and Fred could barely surpress the fearful whimpers. He grabbed the doorknob and shoved the door open.

Blood coated the walls and the floor. The king sized bed was in pieces all over the room. His eyes landed on the snow white crib, which was also covered in blood. He saw Angelina, her body covered in numerous cuts, slumped over the side of the crib.

"Ange," he half sobbed. This couldn't be happening. He felt like life was moving in slow motion as he moved towards the crib to look inside.

Brianna lay on her back, her angelic face lifeless. He ghosted his hand over her face, praying to whatever diety that was listening that she was alive. He couldn't loose his baby. He just couldn't. She was his everything.

But she was gone. He tried desperately to swallow the lump in his throat as he lifted her frail body. He sat on the blood-soaked floor and held her to his chest. She couldn't be dead. She had to be alive. She was suppose to outlive both her parents.

He cried as he held his little girl.

Fred stared at the water. The lump was back in his throat, rendering him unable to speak. He was scared to look at Hermione, but he couldn't figure out why. He just wanted to crawl in a hole and hide. He was pretty sure that she was revolted by his story.

"Oh, Fred," she muttered, her voice cracked. He turned to see that she was crying. "You poor thing. Why didn't you tell anyone?" He bit his lip to stop his own tears.

"That would mean accepting that it happened," he replied. "I didn't want to accept that it happened. I didn't want to face the reality that by baby girl's dead..."

He brought his knees up and hid his face with his arms. The tears fell freely, and he didn't even bother to stop them. He couldn't keep running, but that's all he knew how to do. He felt her hand on his back, gently rubbing circles as he wept.

It wasn't fair. He shouldn't be sitting there mourning for his child. He should be at the flat, holding her and cooing over her while Angelina got a much deserved nap. He was suppose to be putting her to bed and watching her sleep.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of Hermione sobbing next to him. He lifted his head and saw her face covered by her hands. Something was wrong. This wasn't the Hermione Granger he knew. The Hermione he knew would hold it together no matter what, especially when helping others.

"'Mione," he choked out. "What's wrong? This isn't like you." She cried harder, and he instinctively put an arm around her shoulders. "You can tell me. I won't tell another soul."

"I can't," she whispered. "I just can't."

"Hermione, please," he pryed gently. "I told you my darkest secret. Now let me help you." Her sobs slowed until she was simply hiccuping into his shoulder.

"You won't tell anyone?" He couldn't help but kiss her cheek.

"Weasley's honor." A strangled sound passed her lips. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," she rushed. "It's just that... Oh, Fred, how did I get in this predicament?"

"You're Hermione Granger," he soothed. "You never get yourself into somthing you can't get out of." A small laugh reached his ears.

"If you say so..." He lifted her chin and met her eyes.

"Spit it out, Hermione," he cooed, now focused on figuring out what was wrong with her. "I'm listening." He wiped away the few stray tears that were still falling.

"Fred, I'm pregnant."