Chapter Text
Hermione's lungs screamed at her to stop running, the stitch in her side threatening to split wide open. She couldn't stop, though. Wouldn't. Something was drawing her, something inside of her telling her that she needed to hurry.
Hurry! Hurry faster, run harder! You have to get there!
Get where, she didn't know.
She'd just rounded one of the corridor corners when it became clear what her gut was telling her. Fred and Percy were fighting off Death Eaters. Fred was laughing, yelling something about Percy joking over the sounds of battle. There was something else, though. Hermione could feel it, there in the magic flowing through her. The wall to Fred's side exploded a split second in her mind before it did in real life. She screamed loudly, the noise barely out of her mouth before the explosion drown her out, knowing that Fred wouldn't survive. It would be the end of him, of his laughter and jokes and teasing and beautiful smile. The world would be a darker place without him; for his brothers and sister, his parents, his friends. For George. For her.
She can't recall saying anything aloud. There was nothing in her mind either except the numbing white noise of utter terror. Her hands had instinctively lifted towards Fred when she sensed the explosion was going to happen, one fist clutched tightly around her wand. All the noise faded away, only the sound of her blood rushing and her magic crackling filled her head. A blinding whiteness surrounded her, blocking out her vision. A burning filled her body, a sensation of something leaving her too quickly.
Then her knees buckled. And everything went black.
5 years later
The pain had been present for almost a week now. It was bearable, though. No need to tell anyone else about it. They'd just worry, and Fred would feel guilty and obligated and there wasn't anything Hermione hated more than that. She was already taking so much from him.
Many people argued that with her. Harry and Ron both thought she was barmy for thinking such things. George wouldn't so much as hear of it. Molly and Arthur both practically worshiped the ground she walked on. Ginny understood her feelings, but was still insistent that it wasn't the truth.
Hermione knew better.
She didn't regret saving him that night during the battle, even if she still was a little washy on how she actually managed it. She'd woken up two days later in the intensive wing at St. Mungo’s. Ron and Harry had been at her bedside, along with both Molly and Arthur. They'd patiently explained to her the end of the battle, how they'd won and Harry had defeated Voldemort. Molly had also tearfully told her that she'd saved Fred.
It had been hard to listen to them. Her body felt...cold. Empty. Like the very marrow of her bones had been sucked out, yet deeper somehow. Such a painfully deep exhaustion. None of the Healers knew what was wrong with her and eventually several specialists had been brought in when Hermione could do nothing more than writhe in pain. One of the specialists was named Tabi Brumhadda. She had been the one to figure out Hermione's diagnosis. Rare, hardly documented. Apparently, Hermione had expelled all of her magic that night when she saved Fred. All of it had rushed out of her, encapsulating Fred in a safety barrier while obliterating the wall that would have fallen on him.
Fred had been perfectly fine. Fit as a fiddle. Tabi had explained that her only treatment would be contact with Fred himself. Like a charging cord of some sort. Her magic that was now engrained with his would filter back into her, recognizing her. Hermione had been highly pessimistic, but the moment Fred walked into her hospital room, she felt better. But that wasn't new. She always felt better with Fred near her. But then he'd climbed into bed with her, careful of all the monitors attached, and she was flooded was relief.
The magic transfer was exhausting for both of them. In those first few months, Hermione needed him every day. After that, she started getting stronger. She started requiring their contact only weekly, and now, five years later, perhaps once a month. More, if she out did herself, but she was always careful not to. She hated the thought of imposing on him.
Their charging sessions, as they called them, usually consisted of them napping for a few hours together. They found the more skin contact, the quicker the process, so Fred would wear his trousers and no shirt and Hermione would wear a vest and shorts.
Those moments were amazing to her. Having Fred alone, wrapped around her. It was something she'd always wanted. They would often talk for an hour before falling asleep and Hermione was falling deeper and deeper into love with him.
Tabi knew. She had known the moment she realized what had happened. What Hermione had done was called quae vitam dat. Only someone who was truly, fully, and irrevocably in love with someone could do what she had done. To her utter dismay, but not surprise, that love didn't have to be returned. She had realised long ago, probably somewhere around her fourth year, that Fred would never see her as anything more than his little brothers’ friend. Now that he saw her as his own friend was enough.
"'Mione." Ron's voice bellowed through the front door of her flat and Hermione cringed. Her head was pounding, but she was too weak to do more than shuffle up into a sitting position on her sofa.
"What is it, Ronald?" she mumbled, letting her head loll onto the back of the cushions as he came round the front to look at her. His eyes widened with a flash of concern, and then narrowed, his hands coming to prop on his hips.
"Alright now." he huffed. "How long have you been like this?"
"Like what?" she turned her head to the side to look out the window. The bright sunshine and clear blue sky felt out of place with how she felt.
Ron rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "Have you contacted Fred? Sent him an owl or Patronus?"
"Why would I send him my Patronus?" she rolled her head back to glare at him. "That seems a bit drastic, doesn't it?"
Ron pointedly looked at her withered appearance. "Right. I'll do it then." he stomped off towards the kitchen where Hermione's owl, Lillibet, was kept. She wanted to argue, but was too tired to. Instead she let her eyes fall closed and tried to block out the pain.
"Come on, Mi." a hushed voice washed over her and she knew it was Fred without opening her eyes. He was the only one that called her Mi and she also felt the immediate relief of the pounding in her head. She was barely able to force her eyes open when he grabbed her wrists and gently hauled her to her feet. Taking on most of her weight, he hobbled them back to her bedroom. Hermione crawled on the bed by herself and a second later Fred slid in behind her. He jerked the comforter over them and then pulled up the back of her shirt enough that his bare stomach lay flush against her back.
"Ron sent you?" she asked after several silent moments. Their charging sessions didn't take long anymore. Perhaps an hour, a bit longer if they’d gone without for a while.
"Yes." he shook his head, knocking his forehead to the back of her head. "Though it should have been you. Why didn't you owl me? I would have been here sooner and it wouldn't have gotten this bad."
"I saw George at the Burrow earlier this week." she explained. "He mentioned you and Katie were house hunting."
"Flat hunting more like." he sighed. "We didn't, actually. Decided it wasn't quite time."
"Is she..." Hermione swallowed. "Is it because of me?"
She hated the thought of getting between Fred and happiness. She knew how hard it would be for any significant other to understand that he would spend at least one day a month cuddling with another woman. It's why she kept it to herself for as long as possible.
"Nah." his shoulders shrugged behind her. "Katie understands. It's not like you and me are shagging anyway. No, she just..."
He trailed off and Hermione tilted her head to the side so she could look at him over her shoulders.
"What?" she pressed. Fred grinned, but it didn't meet his eyes.
"It's no big deal, really."
"You two have been together for how long now?" Hermione shifted to look at him better. "Coming up on two years, right?" She knew it was right. She'd been keeping count.
"Suppose." he shrugged again. "She doesn't want to live above the shop." he said it with a pout and Hermione snorted before laying back comfortably on her side.
"That's quite understandable, Fred. She doesn't want to move into your place or you move into hers. She want's you two to get a place that's both of yours. Probably somewhere not as close to WWW chaos."
"But what's wrong with that?" he whinged a little, shoving his head into the back of hers. "I like living in my flat. I like being close to work and my workshop. I like hearing the bustle of people. It's my home. My first real home. I'm not ready to leave it just yet."
Hermione nodded in understanding. Honestly, she couldn't imagine Fred living anywhere else. For practicality reasons when she was released from St. Mungo’s she'd moved into George's old bedroom when he moved in with Angelina. She was still needing the contact of him daily. It was a surprisingly nice flat. Warm wood floors covered by colorful rugs. A surprisingly coordinated set of second hand furnishings. The living room was a bit on the small side, but the kitchen was large, soft blue cabinets and butcher block counters. There was two bedrooms of equal size, large enough for a queen bed, dresser and nightstand. One room had an attached bath while there was a larger bath in the hall.
Hermione loved it. Since losing her parents it was the first place she actually considered home. She missed it greatly, but as there was no reason for her to be living there anymore, she'd moved out shortly before Fred started dating Katie.
"You two will work it out." she whispered. Fred huffed into her hair.
"You think?" he questioned. "Seems like a bit of a big issue."
"Perhaps." she agreed. "But if you two really want to be together and live together, you'll work something out."
"Do you think we should?" he asked after a moment. Hermione's eyes popped open. They were close enough now that it wasn't an odd question. They had been forced to become each other’s confidants. It was easy to be honest with each other in the quiet stillness of their time together. Fred was softer here, quieter, more vulnerable.
"Do you make her happy?"
"I think so, yeah."
"Does she make you happy?"
There was a pause.
"Yeah, I suppose. But, you know, so does George. So does Angie. So does Lee and Alicia and pizza. Bloody hell, even Ron makes me happy on occasion." his voice dropped a little and the arm that he had curled over the top of her shoulder tightened a bit. "So do you. What's that mean?"
Hermione swallowed a couple of times, trying to blink away the tears burning her eyes. "It means you have a wonderful support group of friends." she whispered. "And a love for food that's bad for you."
He chuckled at that, as she meant for him to and Hermione smiled.
"Do you care for Katie like you care for Lee or pizza, or do you care for her in a different way?"
"I think..." he breathed out a heavy breath. "I'm worried that we're just comfortable with each other, yeah? We were close friends before the war, and after, and just sort of slid into being a couple without much talk. I'm worried that, that maybe we aren't actually for each other, other than being mates."
Hermione was silent for a long time, considering what to say. Every ounce of her wanted to talk him into leaving Katie for her own selfish reasons. But she had made a promise long ago not to do anything more to get in the way of Fred and what he wanted.
"You'll know that answer better than anyone, Fred." she assured him. "Just...follow your heart."