Chapter Text
The battle had been won.
Lavender Brown was recovering despite her newfound lycanthropy. Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks were both hurt badly but had survived as well.
The losses, however small in number, were great in pain.
Especially one redheaded twin in particular.
Hermione had walked into the Great Hall with Harry, taken one look at the Weasley family crowded around a body of one of their own, and ran. She ran faster than she had that day in the woods of Dean. She ran faster than she had when Greyback was chasing her through the Forbidden Forest just hours before.
She ran until she reached the family and let out a guttural scream as Fred’s frozen smile came into view. Dropping to her knees, she ignored the cries of his family as she pressed her fingers against his neck and waited, choking on the air around her.
Thump. Thump.
It was there! Faint and slowly ebbing away, but it was there!
Hermione hesitated and peered up into the shocked faces of the Weasley family but continued searching until she found the redhead she’d been looking for. She locked eyes with a shell-shocked George, cupped Fred’s face with her hands, slated her lips onto his, and concentrated.
With each exhale, she poured every bit of magic she could feel into his lifeless body. She felt her core draining but pushed on.
Fred Weasley, you cannot die, you complete and utter arse. You have a family, you need to return to your brother. George cannot live without you, do you understand? I have nobody. Nobody will mourn me like your family is mourning you. The world can go on without Hermione, but it will die without Fred.
Merlin, Morgana, Circe; I, Hermione Jean Granger, am offering my magic and my life in exchange for Frederick Gideon Weasley’s return to the world of the living. Please, please, heed my sacrifice and give him one more chance.
Hermione felt the last of her magic drain away and let herself slip out of consciousness with a smile as she heard one of the wizards she loved take a rattling breath from underneath her. She fell to the floor with a thump, eyes glassy and unseeing, and exhaled for the last time as her body went limp.
And with that last puff of breath, Hermione Jean Granger, Brightest Witch of her Age, the Princess of Gryffindor, was no more.
When George saw the wall collapse on top of Fred, he knew in his heart that he’d never hear his brother’s laugh ever again. He stood with his family around Fred’s body after the battle, numb with shock. His mother and sister were screaming, and his father and other brothers were openly sobbing. He just stood there, frozen. He was only broken from his grief-stricken stupor as Hermione Granger’s agonized scream tore through the Great Hall. George watched as she threw herself onto his brother’s lifeless body and began feeling for something on his twin’s neck. She apparently found it and sobbed in relief. George began to worry for her sanity. How could she be relieved? His brother was dead.
The curly-haired witch’s head snapped up, and George felt something in his heart tug when those beautiful pools of gold met his eyes. Seemingly approving of whatever she saw in his face, she nodded to herself in grim determination, and George opened his mouth in a silent shout as she smashed her lips onto Fred’s.
She was kissing his brother’s dead body?
He heard his mother shriek but saw Bill grab onto her and hold her back as Hermione began breathing into Fred’s lungs.
CPR, George suddenly realized. She was putting her own breath into Fred’s body.
But why was she swaying like that? Her hair, always so vibrantly framing her gorgeous face and full of life, fell flat and drooped as she finally drew back from Fred’s lips.
George watched in shock as his recently deceased brother’s eyes flew open and he took a great shuddering breath. He heard a thump and George’s eyes flashed over to the little witch that had just seemingly brought his twin back to life and watched in horror as the spark left her eyes and they became unfocused and glassed over.
George heard himself scream as Hermione Granger fell dead to the floor with a serene smile permanently etched onto her face.
Fred had seen the wall come down. He’d watched Percy’s mouth open in a silent scream and saw black.
“FRED!.... Fred….”
Who was that? Oh.
Ron.
Darkness.
And then…
‘Not this man. Not this boy that studied your secrets and kept your children safe. Not this boy who is too good, too pure, too whole to die.
I refuse to allow it.
Take me, I’m too broken for this new world. I have nobody. I don’t mind anymore, just don’t take this boy from his family.
Wake up, Freddie. You complete and utter arse.
You have a family, I have nobody. The world needs Fred Weasley. Hermione Granger isn’t needed any longer. I’ve done my duty, but you have so much to live for, you magnificent oaf.
So, wake up.
Merlin, Morgana, Circe; I, Hermione Jean Granger, am offering my magic and my life in exchange for Frederick Gideon Weasley’s return to the world of the living. Please, please, heed my sacrifice. Give him one more chance.
Wake up, Freddie.’
I love you.
It had been an hour.
It had been one hour since Fred Weasley returned to the land of the living, whole and healthy and alive.
And it had been one hour since Hermione Granger had entered the Great Hall and given herself to Death in exchange for Fred’s return.
One hour since Hermione Granger fell to the floor, dead, and Fred Weasley woke from his lifeless state to see his family crowded around him with still-wet tears on their faces.
Hermione Granger had given her magic and lifeforce to Fred in return for his life.
But Fred didn’t know that.
He’d made some stupid joke, something about everyone looking sad, and his mother had been the first to throw her arms around him. His sister followed suit, and then his brothers and father were embracing him. When they’d all drawn back, he saw Harry pick something up from beside Fred’s feet and cradle it to his chest. Fred could see Harry become wracked with sobs as he hefted the small body closer in his arms and walked away.
He turned to his family, confusion evident on his face.
“Whose body did Harry just take away?”
Nobody would meet his eyes. Fred frowned and locked eyes with George. His twin ran a hand down his face and let out a small sob but said nothing.
It was Bill who spoke up, tears running down his face.
“H- It’s- fuck, Fred. Just come with me.”
Fred stood, dread settling in the pit of his stomach as he followed his oldest brother out of the hall.
“Bill, where are we- “
“Shhh, I’m trying to find where he went- Ah.”
Harry’s gut-wrenching sobs grew louder as they walked closer to a portrait of an empty field. Bill swallowed heavily and gently pushed the painting aside to reveal a hidden classroom. In the middle of the room sat Harry, clutching- and Fred’s heart sank at this- a dark head of messy curls to his chest as he rocked back and forth and cried.
“H-Harry?”
The black-haired boy sniffled into his sister’s neck and turned to Fred.
“What, Fred?” He rasped, “Mate, I’m glad you’re okay but-“
Harry broke down once more as he looked down at Hermione’s face.
“Just go, Fred. Just go.”
Fred felt a tear slip down his own face and nodded with an audible swallow.
He turned to leave and jumped when Harry gave a shout. Whirling around, wand in hand, Fred gaped.
Where the little witch was moments before lay nothing but empty air.
Bill gasped, Harry cried out, and Fred fell to the floor with a thump.
Five weeks later
The twins lay on their bed, a leggy blonde in between them.
Gred, she’s too tall. Too blond, too feminine. She’s nothing like our little spitfire. She’s boring and giggly and maybe someone someday might appreciate and love her for that, but she’s not ours.
I know, Forge. She isn’t our ‘Mione.
Fred, whats that noise?
Fred paused before shooting his brother a confounded glance.
Then he heard it.
A low, sad whine echoed through the alleyway beside the twins’ shop and subsequent flat. George rolled away from the witch between him and his brother and rushed to the window.
There, huddled against the alley wall, was a skinny little fox. It caught sight of George and cried out. He held a finger to his lips and heard the floo go off. He jumped and frantically turned around to tell his brother about the creature outside when he realized the witch was no longer in their bed.
“She’s just left. Said thank you for the night, and then just sodding up and left. What d’you see out there that’s got your knickers in a twist?”
George blinked owlishly and shook his head as if to clear it.
“There’s a tiny little fox outside and I think it’s injured.”
Fred quirked an identical brow.
“A fox? In the middle of Great Britain? Oh fine, let me get dressed. Give me five.”
Five minutes later, the two exited the shop and turned the corner to see the little fox still shaking by the alley wall. George approached it tenderly and extended a hand, eyes widening in surprise as it nuzzled its way into his palm and purred. Holding his breath, he wrapped his hands around her middle and gently lifted her onto his chest. She snuggled deeper into his neck and he swallowed thickly as he realized how thin the tiny thing really was. Her ribs could be felt through the thin fabric of his shirt.
Fred reached a hand out and grinned as she rubbed against his fingers. Stroking her ears, he made eye contact with George.
“Please tell me we’re keeping her.”
George rolled his eyes.
“Of course we are, you daft wizard.”
George entered the flat and set the fox down on the bed they’d vacated just minutes before.
She stretched and sat on his pillow, tilting her head, and staring at him with-
George felt the wind leave his lungs. Her eyes.
He heard Fred let out a breath beside him and his brother chuckled.
“No getting away from her, even when she’s- y’know. You see her eyes?”
George huffed. “Of course I see her eyes, dimwit. Pools of gold, just like ‘Miones.”
At this, the fox’s head perked up. George stared at her, confused.
“What? You know who ‘Mione was?”
She sat up straighter and Fred could’ve sworn she’d nodded. George simply chuckled and slipped out the door to find a bowl of food and some water for their new furry friend.
Fred sat beside the fox with a grin and ran his hand over the matted fur on her head.
“We’re going to get you fed, hydrated, and cleaned up, but first I think you need a name. Unless you already have one? Blink once if you already have a name.”
“Going a bit batty there, Freddie? I don’t think she understands you, mate.”
George nudged the door to the bathroom open with his foot and set the two small bowls down onto the sink.
“I’ve no ruddy clue what foxes eat so I got some fruit and a bit of beef we had left over. Why don’t you grab our fluffy friend here and rinse her down?”
Fred rocked his head and picked the fox up with a gentle grin. “Alright, love, lets get you squeaky clean.”
She purred and nuzzled into his neck as he carried her to the small tub. Filling it with lukewarm water, he hesitated.
Forge, do I just plop her in or- oh. Never mind, she made the decision for me.
George’s barking laugh sounded from the bedroom as the fox leapt from Fred's arms into the water, resurfacing above the bubbles with a splash before diving back under gracefully. Fred snickered and conjured his patronus. His silver fox joined the live one in the tub and Fred swore he heard her giggle. George entered the bathroom and gasped.
Fred whirled around.
“Georgie? What’s wrong?”
His brother grinned at him.
“Fred, we haven’t cast a patronus since she died.”
Fred stared as a third fox joined the two in the tub.
After her warm bath, Fred swaddled the slightly shivering fox in a blanket and set her on his lap as George placed the food and water in front of her. She dug in and visibly cringed when she was only able to eat a quarter of the fruit. She looked almost sheepishly at them as she lowered her head and drank the water.
George stared, bemused, as she finished the bowl of water and curled up against Fred. Her purring carried through the room and George felt his heart warm a bit as she let out an adorable yawn.
“So, names. Any suggestions?”
Fred scratched her ears and shrugged.
“I dunno. Something fun, eh?”
George nodded. “Nyx?”
Fred shook his head. “More for a dark furred animal. Phoenix?”
His twin pondered it but ultimately shook his head as well.
They spent the next hour debating names.
A name popped into Fred’s head and he hesitated before opening his mouth. He was about to tell his brother his idea before thinking better and closing it. George quirked a brow and nudged his ribs lightly.
“Anything you’d like to throw out there, mate?”
Fred shook his head and distractedly began petting the sleepy fox in his lap.
“Hermione.” Fred’s head snapped up as George blurted the name that he’d been thinking since he’d picked the fox up for the first time.
George felt his face burn and turned away with muttered apologies.
Fred grabbed his shoulder and gave him a watery smile.
“It’s perfect.”
And from the body of the fox she was currently trapped in, Hermione Granger had to agree.