A Little Bit of Love and Laughter

I stayed over at the Burrow that night, reminiscing with the broken Weasley family about their son, laughing at his past pranks, recanting stories and memories and seeing everyone smile once again.

I had been given the twins' old bedroom in which to stay for the night, and I had trouble falling asleep initially. My thoughts immediately went to Fred. I wondered if I could've saved him that night, had I been there, fighting with the brave at the Battle of Hogwarts. I wondered, though selfishly, I admit, if his last words might have instead been about me, had I been with him in his last moment. I wondered if he thought at all about me, if he knew that death was coming for him, if it hurt or if it was painless. I dreamed of all he and I could've been if we were still together, if he were still here. Then I remembered the letters he and I had written, back and forth to each other, before I had left for my first and last year at Beauxbatons. I remembered his final letter, in which he told me about the solemnity of the end of year celebration and that things really weren't the same without me. Trying to remember what I had written in my response, I hoped that I had signed it, "I love you."

Finally, I managed to fall asleep after lying restlessly in bed for what felt like an eternity, and awoke at some indiscernible hour in the morning, no doubt only hours after I had fallen asleep, with an almost insatiable desire to go over to Fred's wardrobe. I took out one of his old, button-down shirts and put it on over my pajamas, snuggling into the fabric and imagining the warmth of the figure who had last worn it. I imagined the smell of an exploded firecracker, the familiar scent that seemed to be constantly around him. As I lay back down in bed, I imagined the feeling of his lips against mine and experienced a twinge of heartache as I realized that I was struggling to remember it. I wished for just one moment that I could have to feel his arms around me again, to relive the warmth of his embrace and his kiss. Turning over onto my side, I felt wetness in the cotton fabric of the pillow and became conscious of the fact that I had been crying. But who could blame me for crying, really? Though I was, undeniably, distraught over the loss of Fred, and of Severus as well, I was almost more upset that I had not known before now, upset that I had gone through my life for years without realizing that something had happened.

Unable to fall back asleep, I got up and walked downstairs, hoping to quietly boil myself a cup of tea. When I reached the first floor, a figure was already waiting for me, seated at the kitchen table, and I thought for sure that I must have been imagining it.

"Couldn't sleep?" Fred asked.

I slowly nodded, trying to wrap my mind around what was happening. "But- but, you're..."

He chuckled. "Dead; yeah, I know."

"Then how're you—?"

"You ask a lot of questions, Em." He smiled at me. "Is it so bad that I wanted to see you?"

"Are you a, um, a ghost?" I asked.

"So, we're still focusing on that, eh? Oi. No, I'm not a ghost. Erm, well, I don't really know what I am, if I'm anything at all."

I studied him: his face, his hair, his smile, everything was just as I had last seen him.

"Is that my shirt?" he asked, and I blushed. He jokingly continued, "You bloody thief!"

"I got cold," I tried to explain. "And I missed you."

"Thief!" he screamed. "Thief!"

I went to teasingly cover his mouth with my hand and was both surprised and relieved that I could touch him, feel him. I whispered, "Sh... You'll wake up your family."

He smirked and said through my hand, which was still covering his lips, "I still love you, Em."

"I l-love you, too, Fred."

Looking up near the ceiling, he sighted and said, "Well, I guess I'd better be going. I could only ask for so much time down here with you."

"Fred, wait!" I cried out, making him sit back down in his chair.

"What?"

"I, um, well, Severus told me to tell you that he's sorry for having been so cruel."

Fred smiled again. "Well, there we go. I knew that greasy-haired slimeball couldn't have been a total git." He saw my face fall at the sound of the insults and continued, "Well, gee, Em. I didn't really mean it. I was just joking with you."

"I know," I replied.

"Love you, Em."

And he kissed me before disappearing into thin air, like Disapparation, though I knew I was not likely to ever see him again. I just wished that I could have made the kiss last longer.