That's the only thought that managed to penetrate Fred's mind as he stared down at Hermione, sprawled on the sidewalk where he'd run into her, his thoughts elsewhere. She returned his stare as she stood, her eyes wide with horror and fear and hope, such bright, burning hope. "Fred?"

"George," he croaked the word, knowing even as it passed his lips that it was hopeless. On the off chance that she believed him, all it would take was one stop to find out it was a lie. Not that she'd need it. She could always tell them apart. "I'm George."

She bit her lower lip and her eyes swam with tears. She shook her head slowly, letting the tears overflow and run down her cheeks in rivulets he ached to chase with his tongue. "You're not George."

"Hermione…"

She caught her breath on a sob, shivering as he whispered her name. Her hand touched his face with such exquisite gentleness, fingers feathering over his pale skin, tracing the pattern of freckles. He closed his eyes, reveling in the faint touch, opening them as it disappeared, widening them as her hand collided with his face, the slap ringing through the nearly empty street.

"You bastard."

She turned and ran and Fred stood there, frozen, unable to stop her.

Firewhiskey tasted different in Ibiza, very different in Casablanca and even more different in Tokyo. Here it tasted the same, burned the same as it had when he'd drunk his fill after Hermione and Ron has been made official, after his mother's sad look had turned into some sort of diatribe on how he should have known better. He'd flooed back to the store, knowing he wasn't together enough to try and Apparate, cracked open the bottle someone had given them in honor of the new business and drunk the whole thing in a little less than an hour.

He was halfway through the current bottle and it had only been twenty minutes since she'd disappeared. He was on his way to beating his personal record. He would have been proud if his stomach wasn't threatening a violent revolt.

The door opened and he looked up out of habit. Even though he'd been hundreds and thousands of miles away from his family and his friends, he'd always been afraid they'd walk in at any moment; sure that someone would catch him in his lie.

She stood in front of him like a vision, shaking with hurt and rage and pain. "George was devastated. He hasn't been the same since."

"Did he get together with Lupin again?"

"What?"

"Nothing." Fred shrugged and took another shot. "I said nothing."

"And your mother! How do you think she felt?"

"I don't know," he drawled as he poured another glass. "Perhaps she felt like I was a disgrace to the family, letting my personal feelings get in the way of what Ron was destined for? Or maybe she thought I was selfish and egotistical and I got exactly what I deserved, given that I had blackened your name and I was lucky Ron was still interested in you after everything I did and took from you?"

"She was just upset when it all happened, Fred…"

"Or maybe she was just glad I was gone."

"Fred…" She shook her head. "I won't feel sorry for you."

He held out his drink and toasted her. "I didn't ask you to."

"Ron was so hurt. And Ginny! She was beside herself."

"How did you feel?"

She stopped, her mouth half-open. She closed it and tried again. "What?"

"How did you feel?" He poured another. "When you heard I was dead? How did you feel?"

"I really don't see how what I felt…"

"Don't you?" Swallowing the shot, he glanced at the bottle then at the clock on the wall. So far, so good. Even talking he was still on pace to beat his record. "Did it bother you at all that I was gone, Hermione? Or was it just a blessing? Let you and Ron continue on guilt free?"

"I've never been guilty about Ron. Not ever."

"Well," he gave up on the shot glass and lifted the bottle, pouring a healthy measure down his throat. He slammed the bottle back on the table and got to his feet, "Good to know I made you feel one thing my little brother didn't."

He started to walk off and she grabbed his arm, swinging him back around. "How dare you!"

"I dare," he bit out through clenched teeth, "because I loved you more than anything in the world and all Ron had to do was fuck you up against a wall and you were his for the taking."

"It wasn't like that!"

"What was it like then, Hermione? Did he say nice things to you? Did he treat you with respect? Did he ever once tell you he loved you?"

"Hermione?"

"Oh…fuck." Fred wheeled away from her, ripping his arm free of her grasp. "You didn't."

"I did." She crossed her arms defiantly. "Or did you expect me to go along with your little charade? Keep pretending that you're dead because it suits your purposes and never mind who it hurts? Well, I can't do that and I can't believe you can either."

"You had no right." He glared at her as the shuffle of steps moved closer to their table. Panic laced his blue eyes and he looked around, desperate for an escape. The pulse in Hermione's jaw twitched but she didn't look away. "It's my death. You could have at least let me live it the way I wanted."

"Why'd you come back then?"

Fred was about to answer, about to stand when a hand clamped down on his shoulder, holding him still. He closed his eyes and willed his body to remain still as heat poured through him, familiarity coursed in his veins. "Fred?"

It was as quiet as a whisper, as loud as a scream. Why hadn't he run? Why had he waited around to see if they found him? To see if they cared? He turned his face up, met the familiar blue eyes, shocked at how different they seemed. "Hello, George."

George didn't say anything for a long time, finally nodding and sinking into the seat next to the one Fred had vacated. He looked at Hermione and then back at his twin. "We've not told anyone else."

"Yet?"

"You're rich, you know that?" George ignored him, turned his eyes away. "I've kept splitting the profits right down the middle, putting them away for…" He shook his head. "Did I know, Fred? Is that why?"

"You just hoped, George. And got lucky, I guess." Fred glanced at the bottle then down at the clock. Damn. He'd missed his record. He drained the last of the liquor then stood up. "Go away, Hermione."

"What?"

"George and I have things to discuss. And none of them have anything to do with you. Go home to Ron." He watched her face, smirking with satisfaction as she pursed her lips, holding back her response. "George'll get in touch with you."

"And I'm just supposed to pretend, is that it?"

"Should be easy, Hermione. You've had a lot of practice pretending when it comes to me."

George looked around the hotel room, his nose wrinkling in distaste. "Why here?"

"I didn't think anyone would find me. Certainly didn't expect to run into Hermione on the street. I stayed away from places I thought any of you would be, but I missed home. It's been ten years. I thought I was safe."

George nodded and walked to the grimy window. "You need money?"

"I've done all right. You'd be amazed how many people are willing to pay someone to do the dirty work. I've got a bit saved, both Wizard and Muggle." He sat on the edge of the bed and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply despite the musty air. "Go ahead, George."

"What?"

"Rant? Rave? Beat me up? Whatever it is you think you have to do."

George turned and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. He stared at Fred for a long time, not speaking. Fred held his gaze defiantly, the slight smile at the corner of his mouth threatening as the silence stretched longer. "Why are you smiling?"

"It's good to see you."

"Yes, it is." George nodded then launched himself at Fred, tackling him around the waist and sending them both sprawling to the floor. Fred's head hit the ground hard and he grunted, the sound echoing with the wild, hard punches George threw, rocking Fred's head back and forth with every blow. "You son of a bitch! You selfish, stupid, fucking bastard!" He swung his left fist back across Fred's jaw then shoved off of him, scooting back across the floor until his back hit the wall. He drew his knees up to his chest, wiping his lips and nose with the back of his hand, a swath of blood from his knuckles staining his own face. "I thought you were dead."

"That," Fred groaned as he struggled into a sitting position, "was the plan."

"Why? Why was it the fucking plan? You selfish prick."

"You told me the reason you didn't try again with Lupin was because it was too hard on you being happy when I was miserable."

"I told you I didn't mind being miserable with you. It's not the same thing."

"I saw you two together. One night after he'd supposedly dumped you. He came to the shop when you thought I was out. You told him no, George." He licked the corner of his lip, tasting blood. "Because of me."

"It had nothing to do with you, git."

"And then Mum…"

"Do you know how badly she felt? How much she's cried and begged your forgiveness for starting that fight with you? She thinks you're dead, Fred. She thinks you're gone."

"If you and Hermione don't say anything, there's nothing to make her think otherwise."

"You expect us not to tell? To keep this a secret?"

"Tell her you had a dream and I told you it was all right, all is forgiven. She's absolved." He touched the swelling flesh around his eye. "Who does it benefit to tell the truth? Not me. Just a lot of explaining and hurt, fresh new hurt that no one needs. Mum? She'll just hate me more, feel justified. She'll have been right all along then, won't she? I'm not deserving of her guilt or pity. She was right to be angry with me, right to hate me; right to think I was selfish and cruel. Isn't it better that she believes her son was worth redemption?"

"You're talking out your arse."

"Ginny's done all right, hasn't she? I see the papers. She's all shacked up with Harry, helping him recover from his battle wounds. Making everything better. And Ron and Hermione are happy, aren't they?"

George narrowed his eyes then shook his head. "You still love her."

"Do you know that there are a million girls in the world more lovely than her? Did you know that there are a million bars that will serve you enough to drink so that every girl is more lovely than her?" Fred smirked. "She and Ron are happy, right? I see them in the papers as well."

"She blamed herself."

"Well, then she's not as clever as I gave her credit for." Fred managed to get onto the bed. "I was on the battlefield and the curse hit me. Hard and fast. Knocked me out and knocked me somewhere I didn't recognize. I stumbled around a bit and came upon this bloke. Muggle, I think. Almost as handsome as me, though it was hard to tell beyond the red hair. The rest of him was badly burnt. You saw, no doubt. I traded places with him, put him in the armor Neville and Sprout came up with and stole something from off their line. I figured if I couldn't just die then being dead was the next best thing."

"You selfish…" George snapped his mouth closed, his teeth hitting together loudly.

"Why is it selfish, George?" Fred looked at him seriously. "You've all gotten to move on. Made lives for yourselves, loves. Met people, made money, made love. You got to put it all behind you. If anything, I was selfless. I let you all leave it and I've carried it around on my shoulders."

"With the million lovely girls?"

"And not a single one of them was her." Fred got to his feet and moved to the small washbasin. "She and Ron are happy, aren't they?"

"Mostly."

"Living in a quaint little house just down the road from Harry and Ginny, probably have a pet and some kids, right?"

"After we found your…the body, she wouldn't talk to anyone. She blamed herself. And I let her. She and Ron had a rough time of it."

"I'm sorry about that."

"But it all worked out in the end. Ron was there for her, loved her. He's good to her."

"I'm glad."

"They live in a flat. No pets, unless you count Crookshanks and Pig. No kids." George got up and moved back to the window, watching Fred from the corner of his eye. "What will you do now? If we don't tell?"

"Leave. Go somewhere warm again. I've not been to Greece yet, though I wanted to go. Maybe I'll check out some ruins. Perhaps I'll feel at home there."

"This is home, Fred."

"Your home, George. Never mine." He turned and looked at his twin, trying to smile. They looked different now, his skin darker, George's more aged. His eyes paler, George's wrinkled around the edges from laughter. "You and Lupin?"

"No," George shook his head.

"Pity."

"I can't not tell, Fred."

"I could Obliviate you both. I don't want to," tears ached in his voice. "I want you to have peace, George. But I will take it from you for the sake of my own."

"Are you going to see her again?"

Fred chuckled ruefully. "Not if you can convince her otherwise. You just beat the hell out of me, she'd eviscerate me."

"I can't promise."

"I understand." Fred nodded and sighed, closing his eyes as George turned on his heel toward the door. His wand shook in his hand, trembling fingers, trembling voice. He hit him just as the door began to close, his words echoing down the hallway.

George looked around, wondering what he was doing before he heard the sound of glasses and general amusement. He wound his way down the stairs and moved up to the bar; looking around, as always, for a face he was certain he'd never see.

The door opened and Fred looked up, failing to look surprised. "You obliviated him."

"Yes."

"And you intend to do it to me as well, then?"

"He couldn't promise."

"I thought you wanted to give him peace."

He watched her face, noted the changes in her. She seemed older, wiser, sadder. Perhaps they all did. "If you were listening then you know that I refuse to give it to him at the expense of my own. Knowing I'm alive will only hurt people."

"He's your twin. How can you see how much he's suffered and not do anything to relieve it?"

"Because it doesn't relieve it to know. All it does is give him more guilt and more pain and make him wonder if he's going to slip up, who else it can hurt. You know that."

She nodded and closed the door behind her. "He misses you."

"And I him."

She bit the inside of her lower lip, the gesture pushing the soft flesh out slightly. "I missed you."

"It wasn't your fault. Wasn't about you." He walked to the dresser and poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher. "Believe me."

She watched him drink the water down in one long gulp, watched him pour another glass and finish it the same way. "Why didn't you just date Tonks? She told me she offered to be me for you…when you wanted her to."

He grinned slowly, the slow stretch of muscles hurting his bruised, tight skin. "Are you fishing for compliments, love?" He stepped closer, almost feral, predatory. "Wanting me to tell you that I didn't just want you for your looks? That I wanted the real thing? That anything else wasn't good enough?"

Hermione looked up at him, raising her chin defiantly. "If all you needed was to have sex with me, why didn't you just have sex with her as me?"

"I never in my entire life wanted to have sex with you, Hermione." He reached her, his eyes flashing dangerously. "That was never my intention. Although, if you think it was, perhaps it's for the best that nothing ever happened."

"Nothing?"

"Bit of petting." He shrugged. "Nothing much." He watched her face flush. "Is that better?"

"Is that all it was to you?"

"What it was to me was never in question."

"Right. It was just a way to make Ron jealous."

He laughed then winced. "You never believed that except for that day in Hogsmeade and that was only because it gave you a way out of how you felt about me and kicked you right back into Ron's atmosphere. God, how he must have crowed that day. I wonder how sweet it was in retrospect, given that he was fucking you after I'd gotten you primed for action."

"You're disgusting."

"It fucking killed me that day. Long before I played dead on the battlefield, you stupid bint. But you were too fucking in love with Ron to see it, right? Just like everyone else, you saw what you wanted to see and you lived with it. You couldn't be arsed to care that I was dead, because it just freed the way for you and Ron. How is life with Ickle Ronniekins, Hermione? What would he say if he knew you were in Big, Bad Freddie's bedroom right now?"

"He wouldn't care. He trusts me. He loves me. And he knows…"

"Knows what, Hermione?" Fred's voice lowered dangerously, his eyes narrowed and locked on her parted lips. "Knows that you never loved me?"

Her tongue darted out and wet her dry lips and she swallowed hard. "I have to go."

"Walk out that door and I'll spell you so fast and so hard you'll forget who you are." He caught her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. "Tell me, Hermione. Tell me you never loved me. Tell me what it is that Ron knows. Tell me. Make me believe it. Because I'm going on ten years of holding on to one last shred of hope inspired by a kiss you couldn't seem to help. And maybe, perhaps, if you tell me the truth, I'll give George the peace he so desperately seeks."

"You'll be alive?"

"I'll go to him in a dream and tell him all is forgiven and forgotten."

"You'll still be dead."

"But not living this time."

"You can't die." Tears stung her eyes, clung to her lashes. "You can't die."

Fred laughed and released her chin, shaking his head. "I'm already dead."

"You're not. Not so long as I can see you. And touch you." Her fingers splayed over his cheeks, rubbing the stubbled skin. Her lips parted, her breath warm and moist against his lips as she stood on tiptoe. "I can touch you."

"Don't." He pushed her hand away and shoved her back. She fell onto the bed, shock wide in her eyes. He paced the room angrily, glaring at her. "What would Ron say, Hermione? His precious little wife walking willingly into the arms of another man. Why I'm sure that would simply kill my little brother."

"This isn't about Ron," She snapped angrily. "This was never about Ron."

"Every second of your life since you've met him has been about Ron."

"Is that what you told yourself those nights, Fred? Is that what made it easier to fuck nameless women who weren't me? Is that how you lived with what you did?"

"What else was I supposed to think?" He leaned against the dresser, holding her gaze. "I told you the truth that day because I knew we were about to go too far. I expected that you'd be hurt. I expected that you'd hate me a bit. I never expected…" He shook his head. "I never expected it to be the end of it."

"What happened between me and Ron wasn't because of you."

"Did you know that Harry and George and I got drunk one night? You were off celebrating your engagement with Ron, so the three of us had something of a stag party in his honor. Harry was at least three sheets to the wind when he started laughing about the whole thing. Told me the whole story of what happened after you ran off. Told me about you and Ron and what he did and what you let him do, what you wanted him to do…"

"That day in Hogsmeade, I ran off because I believed the first person I ever let myself really and truly love lied to me. Because you hurt me, Fred, and I'd finally admitted to myself that I was in love with you. I admitted to myself that it wasn't about Ron at all. I liked who you were and I liked how you made me feel and I wanted to keep feeling all those things. And then you told me the truth and it devastated me."

"So you fucked Ron."

"I was hurt and he offered me…"

"Sex?"

"Peace."

"Peace? That's not the way Harry told it." He smirked. "From Harry's description, slurred as it was, Ron offered you a quick fuck in broad daylight. If I'd known that would bring you peace, Hermione, we could have been shunt of this long ago."

"I never thought Ron really loved me. And if he didn't love me, he couldn't really hurt me, could he? We could just pretend, go through the stages and he'd help me get over you."

"Why didn't you just bloody talk to me, eh? Why didn't you write or stop by or anything? Give me a chance to explain? You were just perfectly content to write me off. Ron must be one hell of a fuck if all it took was one to make you realize he really did love you and you didn't love me enough at all."

"You have no right to tell me how I did and didn't feel."

"And you've no right to act like you're any better than I am in this whole scenario." He nearly snarled the words, his blue eyes narrowed. "Ron was easier than dealing with what you and I had. Ron was simple. Ron…"

"You think it was simple?" She snarled as she got off the bed, moving closer to him. "You think it was so bloody easy to walk away? You think it didn't kill me to see you after that day?"

"I don't care." He laughed softly. "You managed to find your peace," he laced the word with sarcasm, "with Ron. So sorry if it was difficult managing to say his name instead of mine when he fucked you." She slapped him hard, both of them breathing heavily. He held her eyes for a long moment, catching her hand as she swung the second time, holding it still against his cheek. "Go home to Ron, Hermione."

She nodded, whimpering slightly as he slid his free hand behind her neck and pulled her close to him, his mouth finding hers easily, eagerly. His tongue swept over her pale pink lips, parting them. He closed his eyes for a brief moment then opened them, holding her gaze. He moved his hand to her face, his fingers shaking as he traced the flushed curve of her cheekbone. Hermione's shaky breath trembled over him.

"Fred?" She asked softly, her voice high and quiet.

"Don't," he begged her softly, shaking his head as he moved closer, no space between them as his chest brushed hers. "Just…" his lips met hers again briefly, barely making contact. "Please."

Her sob broke on his kiss, her hands sliding over his broad shoulders. Her nails scratched at the nape of his neck as he opened his mouth on hers, his tongue sliding thick and warm inside her.

Hermione's body shook as he grasped her hips, fingers flexing and clenching at her clothes. He broke the kiss, pulling back and inhaling sharply, the taste of her tears on his tongue. His voice was rough and husky as he stared at her. "I need…."

Hermione nodded once, blowing out a shaky breath. "Yes," she whispered, her hands tangling in his thick red hair, pulling him down to her. "Yes."

Fred groaned, his hands spanning her hips as he lifted her, turning and carrying her to the bed. He settled her feet on the floor, pulling back slightly before kissing her again. Hermione set her hands on his shoulders then ran them over his chest, her palms warm through his shirt. She looked away from his gaze, bending her head forward to lick the expanse of his throat exposed by his open collar. Fred groaned again, the sound dissolving into a whimper as she repeated the gesture, her hands moving to unfasten the pale buttons of his shirt.

His fingers tangled in her dress, gathering the fabric and teasing it up her body. Hermione gasped as he guided it up over her head, letting it drop to the floor behind her as her hair cascaded free of the material to frame her face.

"Oh, Merlin," Fred breathed as she ran her fingers down his chest, brushing through the rough and silky ginger hair. He trailed his fingertips along her collarbone before dropping them down in the valley between her breasts. He edged the lace of her bra over the swell of her breast.

Hermione pushed his shirt off his shoulders, her eyes moving over his skin, chasing lines of faint freckles over his flat stomach to the darker tangle of hair that disappeared into his jeans.

Fred hooked his fingers under the straps of her bra, easing them off her shoulders as he bent his head, tasting the powered scent of her skin.

Her breath caught as he unhooked her bra, his hands warm on her skin as he stripped it away from her, his tongue teasing her skin as the fabric fell away. They both gasped as he found her nipple, taking the hard pink tip into his mouth.

Hermione trembled, crying out as his teeth nipped gently at her skin. She stroked his hair back, the strands falling away from her fingers as he moved to her other breast, bathing the nipple in the wet heat of his mouth. She trembled as her hands kneaded the back of his neck, urging him closer.

His hands stroked her back down to her sides, fingers sliding beneath the silky sheerness of her stockings. He eased them over her hips, catching the edge of her knickers as well as he slipped them down her body. He left her breast slowly, his tongue snaking down her stomach as he slipped one foot free then the other. He ran his hands up the length of her legs to her hips, guiding her back onto the bed.

Hermione sat somewhat stiffly, melting backwards as he slipped one knee between both of hers and eased her onto the bed, his lips finding hers again. Her tongue warred with his despite the eager rise of her hips. They tangled as she touched him, shivers slipping from his body to hers as she ground against him.

Without speaking, Fred pulled away from her, looking into her glazed eyes. He held them for a moment then moved down her body, his hands at her knees as he edged her legs apart. She gasped above him, the soft glow of candles lighting her glistening skin as he stroked her inner thighs, tracing patterns on the pale flesh, inhaling the sharp, musky scent of her arousal.

He brushed the wet flesh with one finger; reveling in the broken gasp and full body shudder she gave him in response. He repeated the gesture slowly, again and again, teasing her swollen clit with one finger as he gently eased two other fingers inside her.

Hermione mewled softly, her body pressing down towards him. He pushed his fingers deeper, thrusting rhythmically, filling her in slow inches as his other finger increased the speed it its gentle circling, the brush of pressure harder with every pass.

Her hips rose off the bed, urging him deeper. Fred moaned, body hard against the mattress as his fingers began moving fasting, deeper. His breath feathered over her sensitive flesh and her body tightened, the sudden shock of her orgasm surprising them both as he pressed his tongue to her clit.

Fred flicked his tongue over the hard nub then pulled away, standing at the edge of the bed. Hermione sat up, her hands still trembling as they moved to his jeans and unfastened them, her kiss hot on his lower abdomen as she stripped him with sure hands. She let his jeans fall, moving her hands to grasp the hard length of his cock.

He gasped and shook, reaching down to free himself from her grip as he bent down to kiss her, his tongue thrusting into her mouth with slow deliberation as he lay her back on the bed, fitting easily - perfectly - between her spread legs.

Fred's hand shook as he grasped his cock, trailing the slick tip against her wet flesh, pressing it to her opening. They stared at each other, panting harshly, the room filled with the strong scent of need, of desire. Hermione rose off the bed to kiss him, sucking his lower lip into her mouth as he rolled his hips and slid inside her.

He was silent, barely breathing as his fingers traced her cheekbones, sliding into the thick mass of her hair. His breath rasped against her skin as he stilled, staring down into her eyes. The muscles of his arms corded as he held himself above her, his body tense as her body clung to him, muscles grasping at his cock as he exhaled, thrusting deep in one long, smooth stroke.

Hermione bit her lower lip, her breath echoing over his skin as it escaped her, her fingers trailing through the hair on his chest, teasing over his nipples. He inhaled, still holding her gaze as her body moved with his, against him.

Fred leaned into her, kissing her as they moved together, tasting the swollen flesh of her lip before sliding his tongue into her mouth. She sucked at it, drawing him deeper. His hands fisted in the sheets beneath her as he increased his pace, breaking their kiss as he fought for breath.

Her name fell from his lips, tangled with the surprising taste of his own salty tears as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, pulling him into her, pulling him closer until there was nothing between them; her entire body enveloping him as he came.

Fred gasped against her skin as she touched him, easing the sharp spasms of his orgasm with grazing fingers as her hips continued moving against his. Her body rocked hard against his as she strove for release her breath hard, hot and shaky against his damp skin.

Hermione moved her hands up to his hair and he lifted his head from her shoulder, meeting and holding her eyes. His pace increased, their eyes locked as he brushed the damp hair away from her forehead, moaning quietly as her body contracted around him and she came, her breath spent in the sharp whisper of his name.

They lay panting in the darkness, limbs tangled together, cemented by sex and sweat as they breathed one another in. Fred sighed, the warm breath feathering over Hermione's skin. "I love you. I've always loved you."

She nodded, inhaling sharply, stuttering on a sob. "I love you, too."

He laughed softly, the sound fading as he rolled away from her, gasping at the shock of air on his over-heated skin, at the almost physical pain of leaving her. "And now, just as then, it does us no good at all." He sat on the edge of the bed, his arms on his legs, his head bent. "You still love Ron."

"Did you think this would change that?" Her fingers were light on his back until he pulled away from her touch. "Honestly?"

"Hoped, maybe." He got to his feet, looking back over his shoulder at her, spread sated on his sheets. "But then, hope's pretty much the only thing that's kept me going all this time. Hope and memory."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He tugged on his jeans and leaned against the dresser. "You can't change how you feel, love. It's all -" he waved his hand in the air, "destiny."

Hermione got off the bed, sighing deeply as she gathered her dress. "So what happens now, according to destiny?"

"You go your way. I go mine."

"And I just forget this ever happened? Pretend I don't know that you're out there somewhere? Look at George and not tell him the truth?"

"Who does the truth serve, Hermione? You're smart. You're practical. Who benefits from knowing the truth?" He shrugged on his shirt, leaving it unbuttoned and open, the moonlight glinting off the ginger hairs sprinkled across his chest. "Just go on, love. Pretend you don't know."

"Pretend I don't know that you're out there? Pretend I don't know that you're searching for someone who will make you forget me?"

He moved closer to her, his thumb catching the tear that threatened to fall. He lifted it to his mouth, licking the salty drop. "You don't get to be jealous, Hermione. It's not allowed."

She swallowed hard and nodded, setting another tear free. "I haven't forgotten you."

"It's not possible, you know." He bent his head to meet her eyes and smiled. "I'm quite unforgettable."

She nodded as she drew her wand, surprised as it came in contact with his. The room was silent and dark and suddenly alive with magic. Fred smiled, his eyebrow raised at the silence faded in the wake of one single word.

Obliviate

He blinked rapidly against the too bright light shining in his eyes. Sitting up forced a harsh groan from his lips, startling a young woman beside his bed. "Oh!" She got to her feet quickly, her white robes swirling around her ankles. "You're awake."

"I…" He shook his head slowly, attempting to clear it. "Where'm I?"

"St. Mungo's."

"How long?"

"You've been here about three months. Someone found you in an alley, brought you in. Do you know who you are? What happened to you?"

"Weasley," he breathed softly, the sound strange in his throat. "I'm Fred. Fred Weasley."

She gasped again, covering her mouth with her hand. "But…but…you're…" She shook her head and turned, watching him over her shoulder as she hurried to the door. "I'll be right back. Don't move. Don't…just don't move!"

Her voice echoed indistinctly into the room as she rushed down the hall, her white hat hanging in the air for a moment before fluttering to the ground.

Fred closed his eyes, the sharp throbbing behind them soothed by the darkness. He left them closed as he heard the door open, no desire to break the silence.

"We thought you were dead."

His eyebrow arched before the ginger lashes left his cheek, his piercing blue eyes meeting her familiar brown. "Ginny?"

"Hullo, Fred."

"What happened? You're all grown up."

"It's been ten years, Fred." She spoke softly as she approached him, her hands trembling as she took hold of his. "You were lost."

"And you've just found me?"

"We thought you were dead."

He froze, his heart pounding, his eyes wide. "George?"

"George is fine." She squeezed his hands. "Everyone's fine."

"Everyone?"

She looked away. "I've got to let everyone know you're here. Alive." Her face split in a wide smile. "You're alive!"

Fred chuckled quietly as she left the room, looking around at the empty beds around him. He was about to close his eyes again when a soft voice filled the room. "How many questions are there in your head right now?"

He swallowed hard and refused to look at the door. "Too many."

"We won the war."

"I figured." He finally turned toward her, his eyes drinking her in. "How much did it cost us?"

"Quite a bit. Charlie…he went down in a massive dragon attack on the Death Eater base of operations. Took out most of them in a veritable blaze of glory. The building is still on fire. Lee…"

He shook his head and finally looked away from her, from the shadowed gold highlighting her hair to the soft gray robes that fell loosely over her curves. "How's Harry?"

"Okay. Not…great. But good. He and Ginny are together."

"I think I remember that."

"They were just beginning to date when the war finally broke open. Harry pushed her away, not wanting to be too attached to anyone, even though we all knew the damage had been done." She smiled affectionately at the thought. "They're engaged. Living together, though your mother continually assures everyone that they're in separate bedrooms."

"Ginny said George is all right?"

"George is good. As good as he can be. He's missed you." She stepped closer, her hand hovering over his. "The store's doing well. Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes is the busiest store in Diagon Alley."

"He seeing anyone?"

"No. Not that I know of. After you…afterwards, he sort of lost himself in the shop. Didn't let anyone close. Didn't…" She shook her head. "I'm not the person to ask about George."

Fred looked away from her, refusing to let himself meet her eyes. "And Ron's doing well?"

"He's working for the Ministry. Head of the department of Games and Sports. He and Harry give Quidditch demonstrations occasionally." She rested her fingertips on the cool white of his sheets. "Your mum's quite proud with three Weasleys in the Ministry."

"Percy's still…"

"Yes. He had a rough time, especially after Penelope was captured by Lucius Malfoy." She looked away, her eyes dark. "But he came through. And your father's the current Muggle Liasion."

"He must love that."

"He gets a portion of his pay in Muggle artifacts."

Fred laughed softly, painfully. Without thinking, he grasped her hand in his, holding it for an eternal second before releasing her. He started to say something when Ginny came back into the room, stopping when she saw Hermione.

"Oh. Er. I see you heard."

"Yeah." Hermione stepped away from the bed and glanced toward the door. "The halls were buzzing with the news. I had to see if it was true."

"Everyone wants to come. I…do you suppose…"

"I'm sure it'll be fine."

"They should be here soon." Ginny looked from Hermione to Fred then back again. "I…I'll give you a few moments."

Hermione didn't say anything as the redhead backed out of the door, didn't move until the door swung closed behind her. "I'm…Ron and I…"

"I assumed as much, love." He grimaced as he shifted position. "Never doubted it for an instant."

"I just…"

Fred shook his head and sighed, holding his hands palm out, surrendering. "I still love you. That's not going to change. But you and Ron, well, who'm I to fight destiny?" His mouth twisted in a dark smile. "Even if I hadn't known I lost ten years ago, Hermione, I'm pretty sure the intervening decade might have given me a clue."

She started to speak, stopping when he grabbed her hand and held it, his thumb caressing her palm. She closed her mouth, eyes swimming with unshed tears. "Fred…"

"After all," he lifted her hand and kissed it gently before releasing it, "it's not as though I don't have my memories. Old," he glanced down at the subtle curve of her stomach, his fingers tracing over the swollen flesh. He looked up at her, his eyes dark, knowing and dangerous, "and new."