Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I'd be richer than the queen and sailing around the world in a yacht. Alas, this is not so.
***
The final storm was over, but within the castle, it was anything but calm. Noises followed her everywhere, ricocheting around the cavernous stone walls. Sorrowful, hiccupy laughter. Loud, broken wails. Soft, brokenhearted weeping. Names being called, one after another in joyfully bittersweet reunion. She screwed her eyes shut against the noises, willing them to leave her alone, but they followed her persistently until she reached the fourth floor staircase and then began to fade with each rising step she took. By the time she reached the fifth floor, she could barely hear the mumbled buzz of the crowd below. Continuing on her path, she walked slowly down the large hallway, her soft steps laced with exhaustion and barely leaving an echo against the seemingly immovable stone.
Seemingly immovable. She scoffed, coming to a stop in front of the heap that blocked her from progressing around the turn in the passage.
She stared at the pile of fallen rubble that now lay strewn across the corridor; the blocks of rock forcibly blasted from their designated positions along the wall, some bigger than her whole body, others small enough to clench in her tiny fist. She didn't move, didn't make a sound…she just stood, staring at the point on the wall where the curse had hit, leaving an ugly black scar. As the rest of the world seemed to fade and her gaze fixed unblinkingly on the mark, her eyes glazed over and her mind moved on, leaving her staring unseeingly at the ruined wall.
***
He bounded up the stairs, quietly, subdued, but with the determined, adrenalized air of someone who is lucky to be alive, and knows it. His bright blue eyes conveyed despair, but beneath the anguish was a burning flame of anticipation, a ghost of a smile…a memory of a laugh and the hope that that laughter would be renewed. He stopped when he caught sight of her.
She was standing, her wand clamped loosely in her hand as her arms hung limply at her sides, staring at the wall where it had almost happened only hours before. He felt the shock of it all again, looking at the destruction from a different point. He wondered vaguely how it had looked from her perspective. Her soft brown hair was slipping out of its messy bun, and she was nearly as bruised and battered as he was. A large cut across her cheek seemed her worst injury, but after his initial assessment of her safety he barely allowed his eyes to linger before they moved up to her own honeyed-chocolate eyes. They were staring at the exact spot where he'd been standing when it had happened. She hadn't noticed him. The faint smile in his eyes appeared on his face as he took her in.
He moved silently to her side. "Looks so much worse from here, doesn't it?" he asked quietly, cocking his head, considering the scene before him. She didn't give any indication that she'd heard him other than to draw a slow, quivering breath. "Hey now, none of that; it's all okay now." She did give him her full attention at that, turning to glare at him fiercely, her eyes watering.
"It wasn't, though," she whispered, her voice choked. "Do you have any idea what it was like? How scared I was?" She turned from him, her arms coming up to wrap around herself tightly. He could barely hear her. "I thought you were going to die."
***
The tears she had promised herself wouldn't come did, and she turned from him, trying to rub them out. She heard him move behind her; sensed him come up and gently tug on her wrist until she turned around. He gathered her to him, holding her as she sobbed into his dirty, singed shirt, her hands clenching the material tightly in her fists. He cooed to her, shushing her, calming her by rubbing soothing circles into her back. "C'mon," he whispered. "I'll take you back to Ron and Harry."
She shook her heard fiercely, hiccupping as the same soft, syrupy laughter she'd heard earlier bubbled out of her own throat. "Don't," she protested, her voice strained from crying. "I don't want to interrupt them." His brow furrowed. She smiled at the sight of the freckles across the bridge of his nose scrunching together. "Harry was completely exhausted; Ginny took him up to the Gryffindor tower. They were cuddled up sleeping on the couch when I checked on them."
He chuckled. "And Ron?"
"With Luna," she explained, smiling. His jaw dropped comically.
***
She stood there comfortably within the circle of his arms, laughing, he was sure, at his dumbfounded expression.
"Luna Lovegood?" he asked, seeking clarification. She nodded, snickering at his face again.
"He suspected, at the wedding. Bill and Fleur's wedding. When he saw her. But then, that night…" She sighed. "We couldn't send any letters, visit anyone…it was awful for him. And for Harry. But Harry at least had the excuse of being noble; of keeping Ginny safe by letting her go. Ron didn't have that reassurance." She was babbling. She never babbled. Was she even making sense? Did it even matter? "And when we went to her house and found she was missing…" She sighed again, shaking her head. "He went absolutely berserk. When we finally found her, in the Malfoy's mansion, it was like he was a blind man seeing the sun for the first time in years." She wrinkled her nose suddenly. "Ew. That sounds really corny." He chuckled lightly, nodding. She smiled, shaking her head. "But true. And at Shell Cottage, he told her. Turns out she loved him, too." She sighed happily. "This is the first time they've had to actually sit down and talk without having to worry about attacks or upcoming dangers."
He stood there, trying to process this new information. "I never would have guessed," he said slowly. "We've all thought…for years…that you were…"
"Ron's girl?" she asked, her voice growing stronger as she raised an eyebrow in challenge. He nodded, and she snorted. "Not since fourth year. We talked about it, once we'd both calmed down after the Yule Ball. Ron realized he was just jealous about never having to share me with any male other than Harry before and was scared about losing one of his best friends, and I was just upset that he only saw me as a walking encyclopedia. So since then, he's been sure to acknowledge the fact that I am, in fact, female, and I've been a little more understanding of his feelings." She shrugged. "We're both confident that we're better as friends."
He laughed, his joy bubbling out of him easily. Still within the circle of his embrace, she crossed her arms, fixing him with a glare. "Merlin, Mione," he paused, bursting into renewed laughter. "That's fantastic. I haven't wanted to laugh so hard since…well, since Percy told us he was resigning at the Ministry." And he chuckled again, though glancing at her suddenly hard face, he saw that this was perhaps the wrong thing to say.
"You mean right before you were attacked?" she said, her voice cold and impassive. He rubbed his neck nervously.
"Well, you see, Mione, it was rather funny – "
"You were about to die, and you were laughing!!!"
"Ouch!"
"Laughing!"
"Hermione!"
"You prat! Do you have any idea how scared I was?"
"Merlin, woman, stop it!"
"Laughing!"
He grabbed her tiny hands, the ones that were punching and hitting any part of his arms and torso that they could reach, and held them in one of his own large, calloused hands. With his other hand, he gently grabbed her chin, forcing her downturned face up. Her soft brown eyes were glistening with tears.
"I thought you were going to die," she reiterated softly. He rolled his eyes.
"Hermione, do you remember what I told you in Grimmauld Place the summer before your fifth year when I was annoying and pranking you nearly every day and you finally told my mum?"
"When she made you stay at least five yards away from me at all times?"
"Mm-hmm."
"You said that I wouldn't get away from you that easily."
"Yep. And if Mum couldn't keep me away from you, you really think something as insignificant as death could do that? Ouch! What was that for?!"
"For not taking your near-death experience seriously, you git! I just told you how badly it scared me, and you're standing there like it was some ridiculous joke that you and George pulled! I've half a mind to hex you right now, you ruddy – mmph!"
***
And suddenly his warm, chapped lips were on hers and his fingers were knotting in her hair and she promptly forgot what she was angry about…forgot everything, in fact, except clinging to his shoulders tightly and kissing him back with everything she had. After a few heated moments, the two pulled back for air. He grinned at her cheekily, knowing that he was no longer in trouble, and rested his forehead on hers, stroking her cheek gently with his rough thumb. Her fingers played absentmindedly in his tousled ginger hair, and she smiled shakily at the sight of his sparkling blue eyes. Would she ever forget the moment she'd thought she'd never see them again? Pushing these thoughts aside, she said, "It's not polite to interrupt someone, Fred." He cocked a brow impertinently and grinned again.
"Really? Is that why you waited until we were finished to remind me of my manners?" She blushed and scowled and opened her mouth to retort, but her lips were soon otherwise occupied. She pulled back, determined to reprimand him, but he grinned at her, wagging his finger.
"Now, now, Mione. What was it you said? It's not polite to interrupt someone? Well, you're interrupting the physical manifestation of about three years of unrequited adoration. We wouldn't want you to be hypocritical, now would we?"
"Who says it was unrequited?" she retorted. He chuckled.
"Shut up, Mione." He pulled her face back to his.
She really couldn't disagree with an argument like that, now could she?
A/N: Yes, it's a little fluffy. Sorry. Just a random one-shot that popped into my head as I was finishing my math final. I'm a big fan of Hermione and Fred.