The Final Battle
1998
He can’t find her. He can’t find her. He waited in the Great Hall with his family, desperately switching between holding various family members as they stood by the still and pale form of Percy, and looking wildly around the room in hopes that he’s just somehow looked over where she is. He’s scanning all the faces he can, both alive and dead, and he can’t find her. Ron had said that they got separated on their way back to the Hall. He breaks from his family when he sees McGonagall glide into his field of vision. He can feel George’s eyes burning into the back of his head, desperate to keep his twin in his sight, and ignores the questioning noise from his mom.
McGonagall looks up at his swift approach.
“Have you seen her? I haven’t seen her since the courtyard after Harry…I can’t find her. I don’t-”
She grasps his shoulders in her thin hands that are surprisingly strong. Strong enough to stop the flow of words from his mouth. He’s gasping, lacking air.
“Mr. Weasley, I’m sure she’s just fine. It’s a big castle, many of the corridors have been reduced to nothing but rubble. She will find her way here.” He can feel the tears dripping down his cheeks, stinging the large gash he walked away with while Percy never got to get up from. “She will find her way back to you.”
“I have to find her. I can’t just stay here. I can’t-” He says numbly and wrenches himself out of the older witches grasp.
“Mr. Weasley!”
He’s already speeding down the center walkway, rushing around people and making his way to the doors. He can hear his family calling after him, clearly hurting and confused. He ignores it, doesn’t really have the ability to turn around even if he wanted to. He pries the door open enough to slip out. The entrance is totally destroyed, not even half the walls standing anymore. He walks around and makes his way towards the courtyard. He figures he’ll retrace his steps from the last time he saw her and work backwards from there.
He ducks under a pillar and into the courtyard, spinning in circles to see if he can see anyone moving. There are bodies, many of them laying face down, on the stones. All of their people, the ones they lost and the ones needing medical attention, have already been moved to the Great Hall. He sees no movement, the panic and frustration picking up. He picks his way across and starts to set off towards the dungeons. Ron had said that they were caught around there by Voldemort's giant snake, something that Neville confirmed as well. Ron had lost her after that, getting separated in the rush of people.
He has to double back and pick a less direct route after finding his original path blocked completely by a blown out wall. McGonagall had been right, anyone trying to get to the Great Hall from points further in the castle would have a hard time. He turns down a corridor, wand still at the ready, when he hears voices from further down. He can’t see who they belong to, the shadows from all the stone casting deep shadows. He casts a muffling charm on his shoes and starts down that way.
The Death Eaters had all but sprinted away after Voldemort fell. Corporeal bodies turning to the shadowy beings as they fled, many running to a point they could apparate away. However, he didn’t know if any were still lurking in the halls, having the same issue he’s having in regards to navigation. He gets closer and nearly cries in relief when he recognizes Harry’s voice.
“I think it’s blocked off up there at the right as well, we may have to go deeper in before we can-”
He practically shoves a smaller, yet still large, piece of stone out of the way, abruptly cutting off whatever the raven haired wizard was about to say as the stone makes a loud noise hitting the ground.
“Hermione!” He’s shouting, voice hoarse from yelling all throughout the battle.
He sees her head snap to where he’s shoving himself around the bigger piece of wall he couldn’t move. Her eyes are huge, causing her brows to lift higher. Her hair is a tangled mess, wrangled into something resembling a ponytail at the back of her head. Her face is caked in dirt, splotches of blood haphazardly smeared around her jaw and ear. Her mouth is hanging open from obvious shock. He can hear her gasp and then her feet pounding on the stone as it echoes around them like a mockery of the night they danced together after the Yule Ball.
He meets her halfway and crushes her in a hug that lifts her up so they’re closer in height. He can feel one of her arms wind around his waist and grip the back of his jacket while the other wraps over his shoulder to grab at the fabric just above her other hand. She’s light. Too light from so many months spent on the run with too little food. His legs start to buckle as everything catches up to him. He drops to his knees on the stone, breath coming in quick pants. He can smell the wilderness on her, the scent of pine and earth in her hair and on the tatters of her clothing. They’re both kneeling and holding each other, the events of where he is and how he got there starting to blur with the relief of having her in his arms.
He pulls back with his hands cupping her jaw, thumb rubbing soothing lines on her cheeks. There are tears falling down and splashing onto his hands, cutting clean streaks across the dust and dirt that clings to her pale skin. Her brown eyes are staring into his, perhaps staring so far past his that he can feel them deep within. He bows forward and rests his forehead on hers briefly, allowing them to drink the other person in with more connection.
He presses forward yet again, capturing her lips with his in a kiss that declares everything he’s felt. And he doesn’t just mean everything he felt in the months they’ve been gone, he means everything he’s felt since he got the first inkling of a feeling on that night in her fourth year. Her hands are clenched around his jacket, either for more tangible proof or to help pull him impossible closer.
Their noses are pressed together uncomfortably and their teeth occasionally clack together, but he doesn’t fucking care. He found her, he has her in his arms, and he’s finally allowing himself to feel. His body is alight, burning from the inside out with passion, relief, love. Love, for the fact that he made it to this point, that they made it to this point. Love, for the replacement of terror he’s felt everyday for nearly a year. Love, for the woman in his arms that he fought every minute of the battle to have again. His bones ache, not from the physicality of the war, but for everything he thought he had lost. For the sheer amount of love he thought he might die with and never express.
He pulls back and opens his eyes to capture the ones he spent months dreaming of. For the months he spent trying to perfect the color for the products they made, just so he could never forget. He did a good job at it, he idly thinks, but he never could quite capture the sparkle and fire hers hold.
“Fred-” Her voice is hoarse.
He kisses her again, less frantic this time. He kisses her to show her what he was too afraid to show himself all these years. He kisses her like she is the sun giving him life. She is the calm to his endlessly raging storm within, her light giving him guidance out of the darkness. He follows her light, like explorers following the stars on open sea, trusting, feeling, knowing, that they would be led to the safety of land, just as he knows she will lead them safely to the end. He may have kissed her first all these years, but he feels the love and life she is breathing into the kiss. They are both buoys to each other in treacherous waters, keeping the other afloat but having no idea that they are the other's salvation.
They break apart again after minutes, or hours, have gone by. Neither has loosened their hold on the other, desperate to have a physical connection that cannot be broken. His eyes are roaming hers, entranced by what he sees. The fire, even after all these months, is still strong. It burns him from within, making him realize just how cold he’s been since he last saw her. They sparkle back at him, inviting him in to make a home. They hold wonder, grief, and love. So much love. His head snaps away at the sound of someone clearing their throat. He finds The-Boy-Who-Lived (Again) staring at the center of his forehead and blushing profusely.
“Right, er, I can get to the Great Hall the way you came?”
Fred clears his throat as well. “Yeah mate, that piece of wall was the only thing blocking me.”
“Right.” The younger boy's eyes dart to, what Fred can see clearly now, is a rather large chunk of wall he moved.
Harry awkwardly moves past them, not seeming surprised in the slightest at what he just witnessed, and shimmy’s past the part of the wall that’s still standing.
Fred looks back to the witch before him and he smiles. His first in, Godric, he doesn’t even know how long. He tucks a stray curl behind her ear and goes back to holding her head in his hands.
“You found me.” She whispers.
He ducks back down to press a quick kiss to the wrinkle between her brows.
“Hermione, I will always find you.”
Her hands are shaking as they let go of his jacket and mimic his own as they find careful purchase on his cheeks.
“You found me.” She repeats again, just as quietly.
“You are my guiding light, Hermione. I will never rest until you are in my arms again and letting your light surround us. I will always find you, no matter where you are. It doesn’t matter where you’re lost, even if it’s being lost in your own mind or memories, I will find you. I will bring you back because I’m so madly, desperately, in love with you.” He murmurs, brushing the tears that fall from her eyes as he speaks.
“You promise?”
“With every fiber of my being, I will always bring you home to me.”
He can feel her shudder, pulling him down as he was already moving. They meet in the middle and brush lips for a second, allowing the realness of the situation to absorb, then kiss achingly slow. This kiss is not filled with the feelings that burst forward after years of being ignored. No, this kiss is filled with promise. Promise of the future, promise to love and be loved, and promise to each other. That no matter what, no matter where one of them is, they will always be found with the other’s light.
She pulls back first, just enough to look him in the eye.
“I love you too, Fred Weasley. Irrevocably and fully.”
He nods and is quiet for a few seconds. “I think we may have won McGonagall some money with that.”
She chokes out a surprised laugh and her mouth hangs open. “What?” She sputters out.
He laughs and stands, offering her his hand. She takes it and he twines their fingers together. He doesn’t care if it’s impractical to the terrain around them, he finally found her and he won’t be letting go anytime soon.
“C’mon, I’ll tell you my theories as we walk back to everyone. Mum’s been worried about you two.”
She smiles up at him. Something small and something definitely a little sad and broken. But that’s ok. Because, like he told her, they’ll find their way back to the light together. Guiding and steadying one another. And, unbeknownst to them, they will be the guiding light for many around them. The darkness will always be there, the natural counterpoint to the light, but their lightness? It will always prevail, a beacon of hope for so many that have lost theirs.