A/N: Disregarding the Hermione and Ron romance and Fred has not yet died.

The place she had once called home was burnt to the ground. Bodies of the fallen were scattered amongst the rubble and small flames still flickered but weren't a danger.

Hermione Granger didn't care though. She didn't care about how there were hundreds of people in agony, injured from the battle just fought, all she cared about was the man she loved dying in the Great Hall.

Him and Her had never been officially a couple. But she loved him. She had always loved him. She loved how he could make her laugh when she was crying and she loved the evenings they would spend together where he would try to reach her to fly.

And no matter how many times she fell down he'd always catch her and bring her back out the next night. She loved how he smelt of mint toothpaste and fresh parchment when he hugged her, she loved him.

She couldn't bear to walk into the Great Hall and see everyone she had once called a friend either dead or injured.

She was standing on the parapet taking in the damage done when Harry's patrounus appeared, with the message of Fred's severe injuries.

Her breath caught in her throat when she heard it and she leapt down of the wall and tore off running towards the hall. The sound of gravel scraped beneath her feet and strands of her hair stuck in her mouth.

She jumped over chunks of fallen wall and ran around the large hand of a dead giant caked in blood and black dust from the fire.

Her breaths were shallow and coming at an immensely fast pace, she'd gotten good at running these past few months but that didn't mean she liked it.

She rounded the corner to the great hall too fast and slashed her hand against a piece of jagged rock bringing on another layer of fresh blood to cover the grimy mess her hands already were.

She didn't even notice the stinging though, it was as if every sense in her body had been switched off and the only thought on her mind was Fred.

Fred's ridiculous sense of humour, the way his lips pulled together when he smiled, the shocking colour of his ginger hair, how he only liked one spoon of sugar in his tea.

Her running slowed into a jogging and then she was there standing outside the door of the Great Hall. If she had the time she probably would have stopped for a minute to catch her breath, to prepare her for what she was about to walk into but time wasn't on her side, so she placed her shaking hands on the door and pushed them open.

She didn't see him at first only the huddle of family members around the makeshift bed he was on. Mrs. Weasley stood with her head buried into Mr. Weasley's chest sobbing hysterically.

Ron sat beside Ginny with his head in his hands hiding the tears that were dripping onto his trousers and Harry stood grimly beside the other Weasley members.

George was by his side clasping Fred's left hand between his own two.

Fred looked awful. His face was a pale white and partially covered in dry blood and fresh scars. His clothes were frayed and burnt and Hermione saw it then, the slashes on his chest, the cause of his suffering.

She'd never seen anything like it before, someone had done a rushed job of bandaging it up but that wasn't stopping his pain.

Hermione walked past everyone right towards him and without saying a word she took his right hand in hers.

He slowly turned his head towards her and she saw him wince at the pain it caused. "How are you?" She asked not knowing what else to say.

She didn't want her last conversation with him to be - how are you - bit she didn't know what else to say. He weakly smiled at her, "Never been better."

He hadn't meant for it to be funny but Hermione gave him what was half way between a laugh and a sob. "Don't you start crying too Granger." He whispered, his breath getting shallower.

She thoughtlessly ran her hand through his hair and savoured every touch. She didn't want to forget him, ever.

He could feel himself being pulled away and somehow knew he only had minutes left. "Do me a favour." He asked quietly so no one but her would hear.

"Anything" she whispered back her voice breaking. "Don't get to hung up on me, ok? I don't want you to live your life with a faded memory of me, I just want you to live your life. And look after George for me."

She nodded continuously the entire time he talked and couldn't help it when the first tear slipped out and fell silently to the floor which she was kneeling on. "I love you, Hermione Granger and I always will" he whispered to her and she brought her forehead down to rest on his.

"Please don't leave me" she sobbed knowing what she was asking was impossible. "I have to." He took another shallow breath and knowing he only had a few seconds left she gently brushed her lips against his. "I love you too."

She whispered back and pulled away to let him say his final goodbyes to George.

She then watched the only man she'd truly loved pull his last breath from the world and then fade away. Tears streamed down her face silently cascading down the cheeks he had once kissed.

The funeral was low-key but it was beautiful. Hermione stood in a simple black dress that blowed softly around her.

Her hair had been softly curled and wasn't it's usual frizzy mess. The casket was white, and it gleamed in the sunlight. She didn't want to let him go but she had promised him she would live her life.

Everyone had left and the casket had yet to be lowered. Hermione let one stray tear fall and wiped it away with the back of her hand.

"I'll miss you, more than you could even know." Silently she placed a single white rose on the coffin and stood back. George walked over to her and placed an arm around her shoulders.

She could see the stained tear marks on his cheeks but didn't say anything. "He would have laughed at us for being so morbid." Hermione smirked. George smiled at her.

"He would have done so much worse." The two took their final looks at the casket and turned to walk away from all that was left of Fred Weasley.

It was three months after the funeral and Hermione felt like everything she had left of Fred was slipping away.

Memories were fading and she clung to them desperately but it wasn't enough for her, she promised him she'd live her life and she was but she couldn't do that by forgetting him, she didn't want to.

The sun was slowly sinking away, leaving only wisps of light in the sky and a cold breeze was spreading through the sky.

Hermione stood in the Weasley's back garden and carefully hanging onto the handle she kicked off from the ground and was brought towards the sky flying on the broom he'd once taught her on.

She could sense him all around her. And she never wanted it to end. So she carefully flew away from the Burrow until she was only a spec in the sky.

And she could swear that she saw him just for a second flying beside her.