Fred had been in the shadows ever since Hermione disappeared. He didn’t know what to think. Had she been captured? Was she safe or in danger? Could she be… dead? After five long years of hoping she would return, Fred began to wonder if she hadn’t just been a dream. A beautiful, wonderful dream. But if she was a dream, how could he have such vivid memories of stolen kisses, warm hugs, and her fingers moving tenderly across his cheeks? They hadn’t even told anyone of their relationship, so, how could he be sure that it had been real? There was too much going on with the war and neither wanted to put the other in danger, so, they kept everything a secret. In the near three years that Fred had spent dedicated to Hermione, he had never once told her what he felt for her.

He loved her.

Normally, speaking his mind wasn’t an issue, but when it came time to saying that four -letter word, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not because it wasn’t true - on the contrary, he loved Hermione very much - but saying it out loud, saying it to her, meant that she might confess her own feelings and they both knew their feelings were a dangerous thing - something that would have gotten them killed during the war. He was scared of loving her and losing her. In the end, five years after she went missing, Fred regretted never telling her the truth.

When Hermione had disappeared, Harry and the entire Weasley family went into a panic. Though Fred suffered the most. He went on every single search mission and even conducted a few of his own. The rest of the Weasleys didn’t know of the relationship he and Hermione had shared, though he suspected his twin brother had some idea. You couldn’t get much past your twin. But everyone noticed that Fred had lost most of his spark after Hermione went missing. No one dared ask him why. Then again, they all thought Hermione and Ron had been together, so they were more focused on Ron than Fred.

Five years to the day of Hermione’s disappearance, Fred found himself in the Hog’s Head, drinking an entire bottle of Firewhisky by himself. This was the last place he had seen her on the same day that she disappeared. He had been the last one to see her alive and safe and he never knew that would be the last time he would see her, hold her, or even kiss her. If he had known, he wouldn’t have let her out of his sight. He would have kept her safe. But she was gone now, and it was all his fault.

Knowing that he would have to return to the Burrow in less than three hours, Fred moderated his drinking. He didn’t want anyone to know that he got drunk every year on the same exact day. He didn’t want them asking why he got drunk on this day every year. He couldn’t bring himself to explain it to them all, so, he made sure he could still somewhat function when he left the pub. He could get drunk later that night at his and George’s flat. Until then, he raised the bottle of Firewhisky to his lips and took another swig, counting down the minutes until he had to return to the Burrow to attend the dinner his family held in Hermione’s memory every year. He couldn’t wait to get home and get wasted.

***

A young witch emerged from a small book shop in Diagon Alley with the collar of her robes pulled up against the cold bite of the winter wind that whipped around her. She had long, dark brown hair tied into an elegant side braid, piercing grey eyes, and a pretty, kind face. Hoisting a small purse onto her shoulder, she stepped onto the cobbled road of Diagon Alley and made her way toward the local owl post, a hand hidden inside her robes, clutching her concealed wand. Once she was safely inside the Post Office, she looked around and politely asked the attendant behind the counter for her fastest owl to deliver an urgent message.

While the attendant went to fetch their fastest owl, Hermione quickly reached into her purse and pulled out a small vial of a putrid green potion. Without hesitation, Hermione gulped down the potion and winced at its awful taste. She hated Polyjuice Potion, but it was her best form of disguise. Quickly, she placed the empty vial back inside her purse when she heard the attendant returning.

â€�“Here you are, Miss,” said the young female worker whose nametag said Alice. â€�“Can I have your name, Miss? We need it for all emergency transports. In case something happens to our owl during delivery, we need to be able to contact you.”

â€�“Of course,” Hermione said in a voice much higher than her own. â€�“Jane. Jane Addams.”

â€�“Thank you, Miss Addams,” said Alice with a smile as she wrote down the false identity into a tracking chart.

Hermione smiled and nodded before walking to a nearby table to search through her purse for the piece of parchment she needed delivered. After attaching it to the rather grumpy looking owl’s leg and sending him on his way, Hermione paid Alice for her services and left the shop. She would have to find something to do until the owl had time to deliver her letter. It had been five years since she had set foot in England. Five long years. Perhaps she would stop at the Leaky Cauldron for a quick Butterbeer. Merlin, she missed Butterbeer!

For the past five years Hermione had been on the run. Nearly a year after Voldemort’s defeat, Hermione disappeared. No one knew what had become of her, if she had been taken by a remaining supporter of Voldemort’s or if she had just simply left. No one even knew if she was still alive. Hermione hated herself for leaving the way she did. She should have said good-bye. In the end, she had to leave, to keep everyone she loved safe. She had to go on the run. It killed her to leave everyone behind, especially him. But she had no choice. The prophecy made sure of that.

On her journeys, Hermione gained a certain understanding of Divination. Not a respect exactly, but she understood now that it had its place in the magical world. After seeing the prophecy of Voldemort’s downfall come true and reading of several others, Hermione knew that the prophecy she had discovered in her fifth year would also come true. During the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, Hermione had discovered another prophecy among the dusty orbs in the Hall of Prophecy. This one had her name on it. When no one was looking, Hermione snatched it from the shelf and hid it away in her robes with every intention of talking to Dumbledore about it later. Then all hell broke loose and somewhere in all the confusion they had lost Sirius and the prophecy sat forgotten in Hermione’s pocket until the next day. After hearing what the prophecy said, Hermione nearly fainted. Something like that couldn’t possibly be true and it couldn’t possibly mean her!
So, for two years, Hermione kept the little orb secret, never mentioning it to anyone, but it always laid there in the back of her mind. Hermione didn’t even consider that the prophecy could come true until she witnessed Harry defeat Voldemort and fulfill his prophecy.

For the next several months following the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione did as much research as she could, trying to learn everything about prophecies and the likelihood of them coming true. What she found was overwhelming instead of reassuring. She would have to run.

The next day, she met up with her boyfriend at the Hog’s Head and gave him one final kiss, never letting on that anything was wrong. As she left the pub that day, with a false smile plastered on her face as she looked at Fred one last time, she instantly regretted not telling him how much she cared for him.

Five years later and this was still her one biggest regret.

After finishing her Butterbeer, Hermione left The Leaky Cauldron and headed for a safe Apparition point. By now, her letter should have been delivered and the recipients would be forewarned of her arrival, so, with the last of her resolve, she Apparated to the one place she always felt at home; the Burrow.

When Hermione opened her eyes, she was standing in front of the Burrow’s back door, which lead to the kitchen. Quickly she scrambled around in her purse for another vial of Polyjuice potion and took another dose to ensure that her disguise wouldn’t wear off anytime soon. With a deep breath, Hermione knocked on the door and waited for someone to answer. As much as she wanted to see the Weasleys again, she dreaded seeing Fred as she knew it would be ten times as difficult to say good-bye to him a second time, even if he didn’t know it was her.

Less than ten seconds later the door flew open and Molly Weasley stood in the door frame, wearing her apron and covered in flour as usual.

Smiling, Hermione held out a hand to her and said, â€�“Hello, I’m Jane Addams. You must be Mrs. Weasley. I do hope you got my letter?”

â€�“Oh, yes!” she said, grasping Hermione’s hand in hers. It felt odd to shake hands with someone she’d known since she was eleven. â€�“Yes, yes, yes, do come in child. Get out of that nasty cold.”

â€�“Thank you,” said Hermione.

â€�“Would you like a cup of tea, Jane?” she asked as she continued to bustle around the kitchen preparing dinner.

â€�“Oh, no, Mrs. Weasley. I don’t want to trouble you.”

â€�“It’s no trouble, dear,” she said waving her had dismissively and handing Hermione a steaming cup.

Hermione smiled and thanked Mrs. Weasley. Some things never changed, and Molly Weasley’s caring nature was certainly one of them. While Mrs. Weasley continued to prepare dinner, Hermione peered around the old, familiar room. Not much had changed. It was still a cramped and rather cluttered space, and everything still looked the same. The only thing that had changed, Hermione noticed, was the added photographs on the walls. Smiling Weasley grandchildren, looked down at Hermione and she even saw a picture of Ron and Luna’s wedding hanging next to one of George and Angelina Johnson, who appeared to be engaged. She smiled to herself. At least everyone was happy. That’s all she wanted.

Hermione was stirred from her thoughts when Mrs. Weasley began to talk to her while tending to a pot of vegetable soup on the stove. â€�“Now, Jane dear, I was rather surprised to get your owl just a little while ago. In your letter you said you knew our Hermione?”

Swallowing her sip of tea, Hermione said, â€�“Yes, I did. Hermione and I met on holiday in France when we were still in school.” It felt weird to speak of herself in the third person.

â€�“I see,” Mrs. Weasley said. â€�“I’m afraid she never mentioned you before.”

Hermione could sense the question and its slight suspicion. Mrs. Weasley wasn’t quite sure to trust her and she could definitely see why. It took some creative thinking on Hermione’s part to convince Mrs. Weasley that she was telling the truth and could be trusted. In the end, Mrs. Weasley seemed satisfied that Hermione was who she said she was.

After helping to set the table, which Mrs. Weasley was very grateful for, Mrs. Weasley seemed to remember another question she had. â€�“In your letter, you said you needed to talk about something. What was it, dear?”

Hermione hesitated while placing the last few plates on the table. â€�“I’d rather not say until I can address your whole family and Mr. Harry Potter, if you don’t mind, ma’am.”

â€�“Now, Jane, I can’t very well allow you to disturb this evening’s meal. We have a dinner in Hermione’s sweet memory every year and I can’t have you upsetting anyone,” she said while brandishing a spoon at her.

Shocked and touched, Hermione had to remind herself to be firm in her words. â€�“Mrs. Weasley, I have no intention of ruining anything for you and your family. I have something very important to tell you and I’m afraid it can’t wait until tomorrow. Please, Mrs. Weasley, I swear not to disturb your dinner or memories, but I need to be here tonight.”

Contemplating her words, Mrs. Weasley seemed to trust Hermione’s words and nodded. â€�“All right. You can speak to the family. Everyone is coming tonight, anyway. As you were a friend of Hermione’s as well I don’t see why you shouldn’t join us for dinner.”

â€�“Oh, no, Mrs. Weasley, that’s not necessary. I don’t want to disturb your meal. I can just wait outside until you’ve finished.”

â€�“Nonsense,” she said. â€�“It’s about ready to storm a blizzard out there and I won’t have a guest stand out in the cold. You’ll have dinner with us, I insist.”

Hermione nodded. â€�“Yes, ma’am.” She knew it was no use arguing with Mrs. Weasley when she had her mind set on something.

An hour later and another vial of Polyjuice potion gone, Hermione found herself shaking hands with the entire Weasley clan before sitting down to a home cooked meal like the ones she remembered from her school days, which she missed terribly. Introductions were made and small talk exchanged, but among all the guests in the Weasley home, Hermione noticed that one face in particular was missing. Fred was not among the friendly faces she had been longing to see for five years. This worried Hermione. He should have been there. Was he all right?

Everyone looked up when the kitchen door opened and a tall, slightly stumbling figure walked in. Fred. Hermione had to keep from gasping and giving herself away. He had changed so much in the last five years. He still had the same kind face and soft disposition, but something about him had given up. Hermione thought everyone must see this change in him but she seemed to be the only one to notice.

â€�“Fred,” said Mrs. Weasley in her legendary scolding voice. Everyone except for Hermione looked away, knowing that Fred was going to receive a good long lecture later if he didn’t apologize now for being late.

â€�“Sorry, I’m late, Mum,” he said in a quiet voice.

She glared at him but let his loose apology slide and offered him the seat next to Hermione. Hermione froze at this, not having previously realized that the only available seat was between herself and Mrs. Weasley. She would have to keep her composure. She offered Fred a small smile as he sat down next to her. She’d had plenty of practice in concealing the truth and hiding her feelings but for some reason, being in the presence of the Weasleys again made her nervous, like she thought she might slip up.

â€�“Fred, this is Jane Addams,” Mrs. Weasley said, indicating Hermione. â€�“She was a friend of Hermione’s.”

Fred looked at Hermione and she saw the pain in his eyes at the mention of her name, though she didn’t think anyone else could see his despair. Which meant one thing; he still hadn’t told anyone of their relationship and Hermione couldn’t fathom why. She offered him her hand.

â€�“It’s nice to meet you, Fred.” That was the first she had spoken his name out loud in five years.

â€�“You, too,” he said simply while briefly grasping her hand.

The rest of the dinner went smoothly and soon Hermione found herself standing in the sitting room with everyone else and listening to them all share some of their favorite memories of Hermione. Some of them smiled as they told their favorite Hermione story, others cried. Hermione couldn’t help but look down at her hands during the story telling. It was her fault this beautiful, loving family mourned her even though she was not dead. Hermione couldn’t help but notice that Fred never spoke once and always kept to himself, unnoticed in a corner of the room. He was the only one who didn’t share a memory of Hermione. Hermione excused herself to use the restroom and downed another vial of the Polyjuice potion before entering the sitting room again, still thinking of Fred.

Hermione was shaken from her thoughts upon entering the room by the voice of Mr. Weasley. â€�“Now, Jane, Molly tells me you have something to discuss with all of us. What is it?”

Slowly, Hermione said, â€�“Yes, I have something very important to discuss with all of you.” There was no point in putting it off any longer. She had already put them all in danger by coming here, let alone staying this long. â€�“I’m sorry if I’ve disrupted your evening but this couldn’t wait another day. I have an urgent message for all of you.”

â€�“What is it?” inquired Ron.

â€�“Who’s the message from?” Harry asked.

Hermione paused before answering. Merlin, how she missed her friends! She looked down and took a deep breath. Looking up again, Hermione spoke with resolve. â€�“My message is from Hermione Granger.”

Silence hung in the air of the Weasley’s sitting room, making breathing difficult. The echoing silence seemed to drag on for hours before Ginny spoke up. â€�“What did you just say?”

Readying herself for fireworks Hermione folded her hands in front of her and said, â€�“My message if from Hermione Granger.” Everyone looked at each other with open mouths and doubtful eyes. Everyone except Fred. Though he sat in the back of the room, unnoticed, at Hermione’s words he looked up at her with wide eyes and pale cheeks. A little spark of hope had ignited in his once joyous eyes.

â€�“Now, see here, Jane,” said Mr. Weasley as he stood from his chair, obviously feeling insulted and in need of defending his family. â€�“If this is some kind of joke, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I won’t have you mocking my family.”

â€�“I understand, Mr. Weasley, but this isn’t a joke. I swear, Hermione gave me a message to deliver to you all. I wouldn't mock you” Somehow trusting her words, Mr. Weasley sat down in his chair once more, eying her suspiciously. Taking another deep breath, Hermione continued. â€�“Hermione asked me to tell you that she is fine. She wanted you all to know that she is trying to find a way back to you and is so sorry she left the way she did.”

â€�“What do you mean left?” said Percy. â€�“She disappeared. She was captured.”

â€�“Yes, she did disappear, but she wasn’t captured. Hermione left and went into hiding. She was being hunted by Voldemort’s old followers. She had to leave. She didn’t want to risk any of your lives.”

â€�“That’s nonsense!” shouted Harry. â€�“Hermione knew full well that we wouldn’t let anything happen to her. She wouldn’t just leave like that. Not without talking to us first.”

Hermione nodded. â€�“I know, Harry, but she felt she had to. If you had no idea what happened to her, then she could make a clean break and no one would come after you to get information. She couldn’t risk your lives, not after the Battle of Hogwarts, so she left, to steer the Death Eaters away from you and towards her. She didn’t want any of you to die for her.”

â€�“I don’t believe you!” said Ron. â€�“Why would Death Eaters be after her?”

â€�“I don’t know, Ron,” she said. â€�“I don’t know everything. She just told me the basics and what I would need to know to convince you that I’m telling the truth.”

George snorted. â€�“Yeah? And what’s that? What has she told you to convince us?”

Hermione looked at George and said, rather dryly, â€�“Several things, actually. First of all, Harry and Ron, in your fourth year Hermione discovered how Rita Skeeter for getting all her stories when she wasn’t allowed on school grounds. Correct?”

â€�“Yes,” said Harry. â€�“Did she tell you how she did it?”

Hermione nodded. â€�“Rita Skeeter is an unregistered Animagus who can transform into a beetle.”

Harry’s eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the only ones who knew that fact. He knew she must be telling the truth.

Hermione continued, knowing she had managed to convince her best friend but also knowing she still had to convince everyone else. â€�“Second, Hermione cast a memory charm on her parents and sent them to Australia before she, Harry, and Ron went on their travels to defeat Voldemort. Third, you lost several friends along the way and Hermione still sends flowers and socks to Dobby’s grave every year.”

Bill and Fleur looked at each other in shock. There indeed had been flowers sent to Dobby’s grave. Once a year Bill and Fleur would wake to find that Dobby’s grave was covered in several flowers and hand-knit socks. Everyone now seemed to be convinced that Jane was telling the truth.

After a moment of silence, Ginny said, â€�“So, Hermione’s still alive?”

â€�“Yes.”

â€�“And she’s safe?” prompted Mrs. Weasley.

Hermione hesitated. â€�“For now. She is in the safest place she knows.”

â€�“For now?” said Charlie. â€�“What does that mean?”

â€�“It means she’s still in danger. But for now, she’s safe. She’s trying to find a way to shake off her pursuers.”

â€�“When will she be coming home?” croaked a voice from the corner. Everyone turned to look at Fred who hadn’t spoken a word since dinner.

Hermione was silent. Oh, she wanted to tell Fred that she was home! She missed him so much and couldn’t help but hold his gaze in hers. She wanted to walk up to him and wrap her arms around him and tell him that she was here and wasn’t going to leave ever again. But she knew she couldn’t. She had to keep up pretenses. â€�“She will come home when you are no longer in danger. She just wants to keep you safe. Hermione loves you all very much.”

A half hour later and Hermione was still answering the Weasley’s questions as best as she could. When the clock struck ten she told them that she must be going and insisted that they put up protective charms around the Burrow when she left. She didn’t want to risk their lives if someone found out. Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t have it and insisted that she stay the night instead of risking the storm. Reluctantly, Hermione agreed. She would leave in the morning before everyone woke.

*

Hermione spent the night sitting by the window, keeping a look outside. Though she was tired and the bed she had been offered looked extremely comfortable, she knew she couldn’t sleep. She had to stay alert to make sure the Weasleys were safe through the night. As dawn grew closer and closer, Hermione began to get anxious. She needed to leave. A few times she could have sworn she saw some movement down on the lawn beneath her window. Then she realized it was only a garden gnome. Hermione hated how being on the run made her so paranoid. She didn’t like always looking over her shoulder.

At about four in the morning a very small crash sounded from downstairs. Someone was roaming about in the kitchen, by the sound of it. Prepared for the worst, Hermione ran through all sorts of offensive and defensive spells in her head as she gathered her things and took another dose of Polyjuice potion before heading downstairs to investigate. As silently as possible, she made her way down the stairs, wand at the ready. She had almost reached the edge of the kitchen when a sudden movement from near the table caught her attention and caused her to jump out of her skin. Pointing her wand at the figure at the table, she relaxed when she realized it was only Fred.

â€�“Merlin’s beard, Fred!” she exclaimed, managing to keep her voice just above a whisper as she lowered her wand slightly. â€�“You nearly scared me to death!”

What was he doing here anyway? Why hadn’t he gone back to the flat with George?

â€�“Sorry,” he said with a sigh as he heaved himself up off the floor. He must’ve fallen out of his chair. â€�“I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

â€�“What are you doing here? Did you stay the whole night?”

Fred kept silent and after a moment gave Hermione a small nod.

â€�“Why?” she asked.

Fred sighed and ran his fingers through his flaming red hair, something he always used to do when he was conflicted. Hermione grew concerned and took a step toward him just like she used to when she was worried about him. After realizing she nearly gave herself away, in an attempt to cover it up, Hermione said, â€�“Are you all right, Fred?”

Too late. Fred had noticed the all-too-familiar, Hermione-like step forward and a strange look crossed his features. He frowned and furrowed his brows before shaking his head and dismissing it as a cruel trick his tired brain had played on him. â€�“I’m fine,” he said.

Hermione raised her eyebrows in a way that clearly said she knew he was lying. â€�“What’s bothering you?” she asked.

Fred contemplated his next words carefully. â€�“Did… did Hermione say anything about… about me?” he asked, a small blush creeping up his pale cheeks as he ran his hand over the back of his neck.

Hermione kept a small smile to herself. He was still the same old Fred underneath it all, but now, he was much more reserved; a trait Hermione could honestly say she didn’t like in him. â€�“Yes,” she said with a small sigh. â€�“Hermione told me a lot about you.”

Fred’s face lit up and went pale all at once. She hadn’t forgotten about him after all. â€�“Really?” he said with slight surprise. â€�“What did she say?”

Hermione closed her eyes. This was a confrontation she was hoping to avoid. She loved Fred more than anything and knew that too much alone time with him was bound to break her. So, she kept her answers simple. â€�“Everything. She told me everything.”

Fred kept silent but his expression filled with more questions. After a long stretch of silence, Fred voiced a question that Hermione could tell he’d been thinking about for a very long time. â€�“Does she miss me?”

Hermione’s heart skipped a beat. How could he think she didn’t miss him? â€�“More than anything,” she answered.

This answer caused Fred to sit back in his chair and cover his face with his hands. Hermione heard him take a deep breath and, when he removed his hands, his whole body quaked from emotion. It was very unlike Fred to get so emotional, but at Hermione’s words Fred let himself go, tears streaking down his face. Hermione, seeing Fred’s distress, battled with herself. She wanted nothing more than to comfort him, to hold him close and never let him go, but she knew she couldn’t. So, instead, Hermione settled herself into the chair next to Fred’s and placed a hand gently on his arm, consoling him. He looked at her hand for a moment or two then pulled away. He was in too much pain to be comforted, let alone by a complete stranger.

Hermione let her hand fall to the table and rose from her chair, speaking before she knew what she was saying. â€�“Hermione gave me a special message for you, Fred.”

Fred’s eyes shot to hers, suddenly eager to hear what message Hermione had left especially for him. Before Hermione could talk herself out of it, she leaned in quickly, placing a soft kiss on Fred’s cheek. His skin was as soft as she remembered and his scent, though somewhat tainted by alcohol, almost overwhelmed her, attempting to drag her in with its familiarity. Standing up straight again, Hermione looked down at Fred’s shocked face and said, â€�“You must really mean something special to her.”

Hermione grabbed her small purse and turned to leave when Fred spoke from behind her. â€�“Wait! Don’t leave yet.”

Hermione paused and looked over her shoulder. â€�“I really must be going.”

â€�“If you don’t stay for breakfast, mum’ll have a fit,” he said with a ghost of his old laughter behind his words as a small smile graced his lips.

Though his eyes remained somewhat sad, Hermione was glad to see Fred smile again. â€�“I really can’t,” she said. â€�“Give her my apologies, but I have to go.”

Fred nodded. â€�“Will you give Hermione a message for me?”

She hesitated. â€�“It’s very unlikely that I’ll see her again.”

â€�“I know, but, please, if you do see her, tell her she needs to come home. I need her. So do Harry and Ron. They’re completely hopeless without her.”

Hermione let out a small laugh. There was the Fred she knew. â€�“She already knows that, Fred. She’s trying her best. Don’t worry.”

Fred nodded, not knowing what else to say. He felt a little odd. It seemed like forever since he last cracked a joke.

â€�“I have to go now,” Hermione stated. â€�“Put protective charms up around the Burrow when I’ve gone.”

Curious, Fred asked, â€�“Why?”

â€�“Because I might have been followed. Whoever is after Hermione knows that I’ve been in contact with her. They’re trying to get to me to find her. Which is why I wanted to leave last night. I’ve put you all at risk,” she answered. â€�“Now, promise me you’ll put up protective charms when I leave?”

Fred nodded. â€�“Of course.”

Hermione hoisted her purse onto her shoulder once again and
said, â€�“Thank you.”

***

After leaving the Burrow, Hermione Apparated to the nearest village and quickly found a room to stay in at the local pub, placing her own protective charms around the room. She had decided to stay close to the Burrow to keep an eye on the Weasley family, to be sure they were safe and she hadn’t been followed. Hermione also couldn’t quite bring herself to fully abandon Fred again.

Hermione couldn’t help but scold herself for almost deserting her disguise. Fred surely would have seen through her if she had embraced him like she wanted to. Fred was good at reading people, especially Hermione, and she had almost given herself away completely. Her small kiss on the cheek had been a mistake. She shouldn’t have done it, but she couldn’t stop herself. She knew that he had recognized something about her - she could tell by the look in his eyes when she had stepped toward him out of her own worry.

Hermione desperately wanted to see Fred and the other Weasleys again before she left, but she knew that returning would be extremely dangerous, and she wasn’t willing to put them in jeopardy again. She knew she shouldn’t have come back in the first place. Perhaps she shouldn’t even have returned to England at all. She knew she would get sucked in by the love of the Weasley family and that it would be nearly impossible to leave them all again. She kept finding excuses to stay longer, trying to hold on to her latest memory of Fred.

In the end, Hermione stayed in the village nearly five days. She’d stayed much too long but was satisfied that the Weasleys were safe. She had to go on and continue her journey. As she had detected nothing suspicious happening about the Burrow, Hermione knew it was time to leave, though actually departing was going to put an end to her emotionally.

Little did she know, horrible things were about to happen to the Weasley family.

*

â€�“What is it you seek answers to?” croaked an old witch named Sara.

â€�“A prophecy,” said Hermione in a gravelly voice so unlike her own. She clutched a bulky cloak around her, disguised.

The old witch laughed. â€�“There are millions of prophecies. The chances of me having answers to the one you seek are very slim.”

Hermione gave a small wheeze of a laugh in return. â€�“You know exactly which prophecy I’m referring to. You received it.”

Sara squinted her beady eyes at Hermione as if trying to see through her old hag disguise. Hermione held the witches stare and willed her to give her answers. Hermione had been trying to find this witch for five years. Five years of searching and the woman had been in Knockturn Alley all along. Hermione was frustrated, angry, and not at all in the mood for games. She was going to get answers one way or another.

â€�“And how, exactly, do you know that it was I who received this prophecy?” asked the witch, suspiciously.

Hermione reached a wrinkled, frail hand into her bag and pulled out a tiny orb with what appeared to be swirling smoke inside it. â€�“This was found in the Hall of Prophecy at the Ministry nearly seven years ago,” she said. â€�“Your initials were listed as the original recipient.”

In obvious shock, Sara said, â€�“How did you get that? Only those who the prophecy speaks of can retrieve it. That prophecy spoke of a young girl, not an ugly hag.” She reached out a hand to take the orb from Hermione.

Hermione drew her arm back, keeping the prophecy out of the witch’s grasp. â€�“I have my ways,” she said. â€�“How I got it isn’t important. What is important, however, is figuring out what you know about it.”

â€�“What makes you think I know anything about it?” said the witch rather defensively.

â€�“Because you yourself claim to possess the Sight, a rare thing. Even more rare, you did not give this prophecy, you received it - from another Seer,” said Hermione. â€�“I don’t have the Sight. I don’t know everything about it and I don’t really have the desire to, but I do know that a prophecy is much easier to interpret for someone who does have the Sight. I need you to tell me everything you can about this prophecy.”

The witch snorted. â€�“And why should I do that? You probably stole the thing to begin with. Why should I help you?”

â€�“Because, I can pay you,” said a frustrated Hermione as she pulled a rather large sack of Galleons from her cloak. â€�“I didn’t steal it. It was given to me.”

Though not fully believing Hermione’s story, Sara ushered Hermione into her tiny shop at the end of Knockturn Alley. Once safely inside, she secured the door and drew the old, tattered curtains, so no one on the street could see inside the dusty shop. Hermione’s eyes darted around the shop as Sara directed her to a table in the far corner. They sat and Sara held an expectant hand out, clearly wanting her payment up front. Hermione, having dealt with several other similar situations over the years, placed the bag of gold on the table in front of her, out of Sara’s reach.

Knowing that she wouldn’t get the gold until she held up her end of the bargain, the old witch folded her hands together and said, â€�“My services don’t come cheap.”

Hermione snorted. Of course she was going to haggle over her fee. She wasn’t in the mood to negotiate, though. â€�“Name your price.”

â€�“Fifty Galleons.”

Hermione laughed. â€�“For fifty Galleons you’re lucky you haven’t gone out of business. I’ll give you twenty.”

â€�“Forty,” she said. â€�“My prices are fair.”

â€�“Thirty,” Hermione replied. â€�“And I won’t inform the Ministry of all the illegal items you’ve got for sale in this shop.”

Sara sat in silence, contemplating Hermione’s subtle threat. â€�“Deal,” she said. â€�“Give me the prophecy.”

Eyeing her suspiciously, Hermione handed over the tiny orb. Watching her closely, Hermione listened to the words of the prophecy that she had heard a thousand times, this time hoping for answers.

One who aided in the Dark Lord’s destruction will be in danger

His one true follower will seek to destroy her
In youth, she shall forever be
When prey becomes predator
Battle will commence
Approaching the end of night
And into day
They both shall perish
The armor will fail
Unless one becomes two
Neither will survive

Silence followed the sharp, raspy voice that emerged from the prophecy. Sitting across from Hermione, Sara gave her a piercing look before standing from the table and roaming around the shop, gathering supplies. Hermione dared not ask the woman exactly what she was doing. Instead, she held her silence and watched closely. A few minutes passed before the witch returned, placing several objects on the little table.

Hermione kept silent as the little old witch worked with the strange instruments on the table before her, only recognizing the all-too-familiar crystal ball. She didn’t know what the witch was doing but she knew better than to interrupt. After nearly ten minutes, Sara sat back in her seat with a great sigh. As if resigned to a terrible fate, she looked up at Hermione.

â€�“What do you want to know?”

â€�“Everything,” she said. â€�“I need to know everything.”
She gave Hermione an exasperated look. â€�“I can’t tell you everything. I don’t know everything.”

â€�“Fine,” she said. â€�“I was able to figure most of it out myself. Perhaps you can confirm my conclusions?”

Sara nodded. â€�“I’ll do what I can.”

â€�“The Dark Lord’s one true follower.’ Does that refer to Bellatrix Lestrange?”

Sara folded her fingers in front of her and said, â€�“That has not been confirmed, but she was thought to be Voldemort’s most… loyal follower. She would certainly do anything for him, even in death.”

Hermione nodded. â€�“She’s also one of the only known Death Eaters to still be at large. The prophecy speaks of a specific time. ‘Approaching the end of night and into day.’ Does that mean midnight?”

Sara pulled the crystal ball nearer to her and peered into its depths. Hermione made careful not to let Sara see her roll her eyes. She didn’t want to offend her when she needed answers. Crystal gazing was her least favorite aspect of Divination, a shift branch of magic.

â€�“It could be interpreted as ‘midnight,’ I suppose,” said Sara, looking up from the crystal. â€�“But, I don’t think so. I believe it refers to a specific time of year rather than a time of day.”

Hermione nodded, her brain working furiously to solve this small riddle. The answer came to her easily, and she scolded herself mentally for not understanding it sooner. Spring time. The Spring Equinox. The end of winter and darkness to the start of spring and light. She should have seen it before.

Moving on, Hermione said, â€�“It states that both will die unless ‘one becomes two.’ What does that mean?”

Sara shook her head with a sigh. â€�“I’m afraid I don’t have the answer to that one. It’s too obscure.”

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh and thought for a moment. â€�“All right,” she said. â€�“Thank you.” She gathered her bags and prepared to leave the shop. She knew there wasn’t much left to be learned.

â€�“Wait,” said Sara from the table. Hermione paused at the shop door, her hand on the doorknob. â€�“I don’t think she knows of the prophecy.”

â€�“Who?” Hermione asked as she turned to look at the old witch.

â€�“Miss Lestrange.”

â€�“Why would she try to kill a young woman if she didn’t know about the prophecy?”

Sara gazed into her crystal ball again. â€�“That is impossible to know. I do know this, though: Miss Lestrange is hunting someone who is loved very much. If this battle does not end very soon, those who care most will be the ones to suffer. They will be in danger.”

Not knowing what to say, Hermione gave a final nod and stepped out of the shop. She had her answers, and she now had to make sure the Weasley family and her parents never fell into harm’s way. She had to come up
with a plan and fast.

***

Fred did exactly as Jane had requested. He put up as many protective charms around the Burrow as he could think of when she left. He didn’t know who was after Hermione, but he was determined to find out. He finally understood why she left five years ago, and he wasn’t about to let someone hurt her.

Two weeks after Jane’s visit to the Weasleys, Fred decided to drop by. When he passed through the protective charms, he couldn’t help but feel like something wasn’t quite right, but he shook off the strange feeling and entered the house. He’d spent the past fortnight brushing up on several defensive spells and felt confident that his family was safe.

After eating dinner with the family, Fred offered to help his mother in the kitchen. It wasn’t long before they heard a scream come from the sitting room, and a sinking feeling entered Fred’s stomach. They dashed into the room, wands drawn, only to be knocked off their feet moments later by a powerful jinx. Regaining his footing and checking to see that his mother was all right, Fred quickly turned to face the room, wildly looking about for the spell caster. In the center of the room, with a triumphant grin upon her face, stood a woman he hoped he’d never see again: Bellatrix Lestrange.

Without warning, Fred’s wand was sent soaring into the air and out of reach. He didn’t even have time to react. He stood defenseless and wandless. Looking around the room, he saw that several members of his family were stirring, regaining consciousness. Ron lay in a heap in front of the fireplace, immobile and bleeding from several places. Luna, his wife, was tending to him while doing her best to stem the flow of blood from her own minor wounds and trying to protect her swollen, pregnant belly. Ginny slowly pulled herself up from the floor, struggling to keep her balance. Percy sat up from a corner of the room and scrambled around uselessly for his wand and glasses. Mr. Weasley crawled towards his wife, who had been knocked into a bookshelf and lay unconscious at Fred’s feet.

Fred stared down Bellatrix, wondering how she broke through his protective charms. Why was she here in the first place? Was she the one after Hermione?

â€�“Where is she?” hissed Bellatrix.

No one answered her.

â€�“WHERE IS SHE?” she bellowed causing the Weasleys to jump.

â€�“Who?” asked Ginny, her face looking mildly green.

â€�“Don’t try to play games with me, girly,” she said with a small, playful laugh. â€�“I know she’s here. I tracked her.”

â€�“Who?” Percy asked, repeating Ginny’s question. â€�“What do you want?”

Bellatrix looked up and pointed her wand menacingly at him. She smiled and said, in sweet mocking, â€�“Hermione Granger.”

Fred, slightly confused and very angry, spoke to Bellatrix through gritted teeth. â€�“Don’t you dare say her name. We haven’t seen Hermione in over five years, thanks to you.”

â€�“Don’t lie to me!” she shouted. â€�“I’ve been tracking her for months. I know she’s been here.”

â€�“You’re wrong,” said Mr. Weasley. â€�“Hermione has not stepped foot in this house in five years.”

â€�“What do you want with her, anyway?” asked Luna as she dabbed blood away from Ron’s forehead.

â€�“I want to play a little game with her, Blondie,” said Bellatrix in her innocent, mock baby voice as she took a step towards Luna. â€�“Tell me where she is. I only want to play with her.”

â€�“We don’t know,” said Mrs. Weasley as she sat up, having finally regained consciousness.

â€�“DON’T LIE TO ME!” Bellatrix roared.
Without warning, Bellatrix threw a curse at Mrs. Weasley, causing her to scream out in pain.

â€�“NO!” shouted Ginny, taking a clumsy step toward Bellatrix, who then turned her wand on the youngest Weasley.

Ginny screamed as Bellatrix used the torture curse on her. She fell to her knees as Percy tried to protect his younger sister by throwing himself in front of her.
Bellatrix lifted the curse on Ginny and cackled in amusement. â€�“You can’t stop me, little girl. Tell me where she is!”

â€�“We told you,” said Fred angrily. â€�“We don’t know where she is. We wouldn’t tell you if we did.”

â€�“LIES!” shouted Bellatrix, quickly losing the gleam in her eye that suggested she was having fun. â€�“I know that filthy Mudblood was here!”

Without warning, Fred lunged at Bellatrix, with fury in his eyes. He didn’t have his wand but he was going to do the best he could to strangle her with his bare hands. Bellatrix was too quick for him, however, and cast a curse on him. Time and time again she tortured Fred, insisting that Hermione had been at the Burrow, threatening to kill everyone in the house until he told her where she was. Nothing worked. No matter how Bellatrix tortured Fred and his family, no one gave her any information. Soon, she grew tired and angry of their resistance. Having confiscated their wands, the Weasleys lay about the room, helpless and at Bellatrix’s mercy.

After an hour of anguish, Bellatrix tried a new tactic. Fred lay panting and struggling to stand at Bellatrix’s feet. He was her most damaged victim, though several others looked worse. Ron had regained consciousness and was now shielding Luna as best as he could to protect her and their unborn child. Percy sat in front of a sofa, supporting Ginny’s head on his lap as he tried to keep her awake. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat in a corner near the doorway. Having managed to escape much of Bellatrix’s wrath, they appeared unharmed save for several cuts and bruises. They sat, begging Bellatrix to
spare their family.

Ignoring Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s pleading, Bellatrix grabbed a fistful of Fred’s hair and yanked him up onto his feet. She whispered in his ear, so low that no one else could hear.

â€�“No matter if you tell me where she is, Freddie, I will find her,” she said. â€�“And I will kill your beloved Hermione.”

And then she kissed Fred’s cheek and ran her tongue up the side of his face, causing him to shiver. â€�“That will be the only kiss you ever get, because you certainly won’t be getting another one from your dear, sweet Mudblood Granger.”

Fred’s face went pale and his eyes grew large at her words. How did she know about them? No one knew that. No one at all. Bellatrix kept whispering terrible words in Fred’s ear, causing tears to flow down his face. As much as he wanted to, he was much too weak to resist the painful emotions. He couldn’t even move away from her.

They were losing hope and Bellatrix was losing patience. Though her victims lay before her, bloody, bruised, and unconscious, she was not convinced that they had told her the truth. She was about to start torturing them again when a shout came from the doorway, causing her to release Fred’s hair.

Falling to the floor, Fred stayed conscious long enough to see Harry and Bellatrix face off.

Then, all went black.

*

*

Chapter 4: St. Mungo’s

Hermione woke the next morning in the room she had booked in the Leaky Cauldron. After being up all night working on her plans, Hermione had only gotten a few hours of sleep that night. She gathered up her things and headed down to the pub for a quick breakfast before leaving again.

While eating her breakfast, Hermione asked the bartender, Tom, for a copy of the morning’s Daily Prophet. Instantly, upon reading the front page headline, Hermione was filled with rage.

Supporter of You-Know-Who Eludes Capture

Late last night, known dark witch and notorious supporter of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Bellatrix Lestrange, escaped capture. Mr. Harry Potter, Auror for the Ministry, walked into the residence of his in-laws, the Weasley family, to find them in a state of distress.

It is our understanding that Mr. Potter walked in to find his family being tortured by the former Death Eater and immediately jumped into action to protect them and capture Ms. Lestrange. Though Mr. Potter refused to comment on the evening’s events, it has been gathered that Ms. Lestrange gained entrance to the Weasley home shortly after sunset, breaking through protective charms that had been placed around the home. It is believed that Ms. Lestrange tortured the Weasley family in an attempt to gain the whereabouts of one Miss Hermione Granger, who has been missing for over five years and is presumed to be dead.

Several members of the Weasley family have sustained injuries and three of them are currently in St. Mungo’s with potentially life-threatening afflictions.

Ms. Lestrange managed to escape capture and is believed to have gone into hiding once more. Members of the Auror Office have assured us here at the Daily Prophet that they are doing their utmost to bring Ms. Lestrange to justice and they believe her capture is near.

Instantly, Hermione’s anger overtook her. In her fury and pain she lost control of her powers, causing several nearby objects to go soaring across the room and collide with the back wall of the pub. This hadn’t happened since she was eleven years old, right before she received her Hogwarts letter. She stood from her chair and immediately left the Leaky Cauldron with patrons staring after her disguised form in bewilderment.

Knowing she needed to cool off before she did anything rash, Hermione decided to walk through Muggle London, heading in the direction of St. Mungo’s, which she knew to be nearby. After a good twenty minute walk, Hermione slipped into an alley way and out of sight of curious Muggles. She then quickly changed her disguise, this time taking the appearance of a rather young witch with a long, thin scar running down one cheek.

Hermione entered St. Mungo’s and easily blended in with the crowd of visitors as they all bustled about. Without even having to look at the floor plan sign, Hermione headed straight for the fourth floor, spell damage. She knew the Weasleys would be there. After politely asking a passing assistant Healer which room housed the Weasleys, Hermione knocked quietly on the door to room number three. After receiving a quiet invitation to enter the room, she slipped inside and gently closed the door behind her.

The sight that met her eyes nearly sent her into a rage once more. The Daily Prophet hadn’t mentioned which of the Weasleys were admitted to St. Mungo’s and Hermione saw Fred lying on a bed in the corner of the room. Though Hermione cared for all of the Weasleys, when she saw Fred lying there, covered in bandages and unconscious, she almost lost it. Just seeing him like that caused Hermione to fall apart on the inside.

Before Hermione could fully recover from her shock and despair, she was addressed by someone to her left.

â€�“Hello,” said Mr. Weasley as he stood next to the bed which held Ginny.

â€�“Can I help you, ma’am?”

Stepping forward slightly, Hermione held out her hand. â€�“Hello, you must be Arthur Weasley. It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Melody Cross. I’m very sorry for what’s happened to your family.”

He shook her hand and nodded with a somewhat grim expression on his face. â€�“What can I do for you, Miss Cross?”

She paused for a moment, not quite knowing what her cover story would be this time, and said, â€�“I’m studying to be a Healer here at St. Mungo’s. I’m due to finish training next week. I’m here to have a look around. The hospital’s Head Healer asked me to observe some of the patients and take notes.”

Mr. Weasley didn’t bother to question her story and Hermione had to mentally congratulate herself on her ability to come up with a convincing lie on the spot like that, though she later reprimanded herself for having to lie in the first place. Hermione then slowly walked around the ward which the Weasleys seemed to have to themselves, except for one other patient who looked to have suffered the backlash of a rather nasty Stinging Jinx.

One by one, Hermione visited each of the three hospitalized Weasley children, starting with Ginny. Carefully assessing her damage and chatting lightly with her, Hermione decided that Ginny’s injuries were mild. She had only suffered enough of the Cruciatus Curse to keep her in St. Mungo’s for a day or two. In the end, she would be fine. Ron, on the other hand, would need hospitalization for at least a week. He had suffered a variety of curses and Hermione learned while talking to Luna, who sat by his side, that he had taken the curses so she wouldn’t have to. He was protecting their child. Hermione knew that Ron was going to make a great father.

Hermione visited the other patient so as not to arouse suspicion before taking a seat by Fred’s bed and pretending to look him over. At the sight of him Hermione fell to a loss for words. He was, without a doubt, the one to suffer the most, and Hermione knew that he would have to stay in St. Mungo’s for at least two weeks. Probably more.

She lingered at Fred’s side, hoping no one would notice that she was taking more time with him. When the visiting Weasleys left the ward to go get tea and she saw that all the other patients were snoozing or otherwise occupied, Hermione drew close to Fred and allowed herself to release a cry she had been holding in since she read that article back in the Leaky Cauldron that morning. Quickly and carefully, she placed a tender kiss on Fred’s cheek and whispered to him, though he was sleeping and she knew he could not hear, â€�“Don’t worry, Fred. I will find Bellatrix and I will end all of this, I promise.”

Hermione then departed the hospital as quickly as she could, not wanting anyone to witness her hot, angry tears and give herself away. She left London immediately and quickly searched for a place to stay and plan her next move. She had made a promise to Fred, one that she intended to keep no matter what, and in doing so she had completed part of the prophecy without intending to.

When prey becomes predator, battle will commence…

She had set the course for the end of her life in motion and she knew it. But she didn’t know how to stop it. Hermione still couldn’t figure out the last riddle to the prophecy – the riddle that could save her life – and she realized she didn’t care to. In the end, Hermione realized that she didn’t care about staying alive anymore. She just wanted to keep Fred safe and there was only one way of doing that.

She would have to die.

There was no way around the prophecy’s disaster and she didn’t have time to solve that damn riddle, too. She had to come up with a plan to find Bellatrix. She made a promise to Fred. She had to protect her family, friends, and the one she loved most. That’s all there was to it.