Safe ?
One month later
Shell Cottage was quiet.
Too quiet, sometimes.
The kind of quiet where every creak of wood sounded like a spell gone wrong, and every gust of wind felt like it might carry the next round of bad news.
But this morning—just for a moment—Hermione Granger let herself breathe.
She stood barefoot in the cold sand, the hem of her borrowed jumper brushing her thighs. Wind tangled her hair, and sea salt lingered on her lips.
Behind her, the house creaked gently. Safe. Whole.
They’d made it.
Not everyone. Not everything. But somehow… she had.
⸻
Fred arrived later than expected.
She knew it was him by the sound of his footsteps.
He walked differently now—slower, quieter, like he’d learned something terrible about the world and hadn’t decided how to carry it yet.
Hermione turned as he crossed the dunes, a pack slung over his shoulder, hair windswept.
The second their eyes met, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding for days.
He stopped a few feet from her.
Neither of them spoke.
Then Fred said, voice soft, “You’re still here.”
Hermione blinked at him, heart twisting. “Of course I am.”
Fred dropped the bag, took two steps forward, and wrapped his arms around her before she could say anything else.
She melted into him instantly, face pressed to his collarbone, fingers curled in the back of his jacket.
“I thought—” she whispered.
“Don’t,” he said, holding her tighter. “We’re here now.”
⸻
Later, inside, with the fire low and the walls holding the wind at bay, they sat on the couch with her legs over his lap and a blanket around their shoulders.
The house was asleep around them.
Fred stared into the flames.
“You know,” he said, voice rough, “I don’t want to go back to who I was before this.”
Hermione looked over, surprised.
“I used to think jokes were enough,” he continued. “If I could make people laugh, I didn’t have to let them in. Didn’t have to feel everything.”
“And now?” she asked.
Fred looked at her, his expression more open than it had ever been. “Now I feel everything. And it’s terrifying. But it’s also… you.”
Hermione’s eyes burned.
“I’m still scared,” she whispered.
Fred nodded. “Good. Means we’re still alive.”
She laughed through her tears. “I hate how much sense you make sometimes.”
“Comes with being devastatingly charming.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, but she didn’t look away. “We don’t know what’s next.”
“No,” he said. “But whatever it is—I want to face it with you.”
They sat in silence, wrapped in each other and in the quiet.
The fire crackled. The sea roared beyond the window.
And in the space between ashes and embers,
they found something that looked a little like hope.
⸻
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it and if you would like me to I can write a second book ?