Hermione stood at the entrance of the sombre black marquee.

There he was, sitting behind the open coffin. The look on his face broke Hermione's heart. He wasn't in his robes for the sad event yet, but he was wearing mourning clothes. He'd always been mourning since that fateful night; not a scrap of clothing had been anything other than black, not a smile had graced his features, not a prank had been pulled.

Hermione walked slowly up to George, the grass gratefully muffling the click of her black heels. She stood across from him, on the other side of the coffin. She looked down at the person in the coffin, his eyes closed, dressed in his best clothes, ready for the funeral.

"I'm so sorry." she whispered. George was silent. "You must be so sad." He didn't reply to that, either. "No, that was stupid. Of course you're sad. I'm sorry."

"It's alright." he finally said.

"I just... I just can't believe he's...he died." Hermione said. "I never...couldn't ever...imagine you guys ever being separated. Not like this."

They were silent for a while, neither knowing what to say. Then George poured his heart out.

"I just...I feel like it's my fault. It is my fault. I should have been there. I should have done something. I should have stopped the explosion, or...or pushed him out of the way, or put up a protego around him, or something! I should have done something, and he wouldn't be here."

Hermione put her hand on his, and squeezed.

"He wouldn't be dead." George finished in a whisper.

This struck Hermione, hard.

"Don't." she said. "Don't say that."

She turned away, her eyes screwing up in pain. It had hurt so much, so many times, but she hadn't been able to cry since it happened.

"You're hiding something." George's voice came softly. Hermione looked at him. He was gazing intently at her.

"I am?"

"Yes, you are." he said. "Tell me. If it has something to do with Fred, I want to know."

Hermione looked into his eyes. Well, why not? She would have to tell somebody. And George is his twin brother. He deserved to know.

"I loved him." she whispered, looking down at Fred. "I love him. For so long. Since fifth year. I've just...never been able to say it."

George was silent.

"He loved you, too." he said, after a while.

"Really?" She didn't look at him.

"Yes. He talked to me about it. About how you were smart and funny and cute. He loved you."

Hermione didn't say anything. She didn't know what to do with that information.

"I'll go change for the funeral now." George said, getting up. Hermione nodded. She didn't watch as he walked out of the marquee and into the Burrow.

She gazed down at Fred's face, so tranquil, so peaceful, he could have been sleeping.

She remembered the Muggle fairytales she used to watch and listen to, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White and the sort. She remembered how easily the problem was solved in them, how a kiss could fix everything. She wished it could be the same here.

But this isn't fairytale world. Hundreds, thousands, of people have died in this war. Fred was one of them. Her kiss wouldn't do anything.

She placed a hand on his cheek. It was as cold as ice.

All her feelings welled up inside her. She wished she had said something of her love to him, she regretted not saying anything. And now that George had told her that Fred loved her back, she regretted it even more. She should have said something before the war started. They could have had something together, even if it would be brief.

She would never love anyone else. And even if she could, even if she got over his death and found a new love, she would never forget him. Her first love.

She leant down, stopping when her lips were centimetres from his.

"I love you." she breathed, her words so soft they were imperceptible.

She closed the gap between their lips. His lips were soft, but cold. She poured everything she had felt, every feeling, every regret, every wish, into her kiss, into his cold lips.

She took her lips away from his, but kept them close.

"I love you." This time, her whisper was barely audible. A single tear dropped from her eyes, and fell.

She turned away. It was almost too much to bear. She started walking away, her eyes filling up with tears.

"I love you, too."

She stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes, which had been screwed up with tears, opened abruptly and widened. Was it just her imagination? Or did she really hear it? But it couldn't be.

She turned around slowly.

There he was, sitting up in his coffin, Fred Weasley, very much alive.

"Fred." she breathed.

"Hermione." he said.

"You're alive!"

"I'm alive." he seemed like he couldn't believe it either.

"You're alive!" she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. He hugged her back. "You're alive!" she whispered into his neck.

She let go, but kept her arms around him.

"But how?" she asked, bewildered. "How can can you be alive?"

"I believe you have you have woken me." he said. "My princess."

Realisation and understanding dawned upon her.

"With true love's kiss." she smiled brightly.

Fred smiled back at her.

"True love's kiss."

A/N: This idea popped into my head and wrote itself into my mind at twelve o'clock last night. I had to get it down. This was inspired by Disney, of course. I got this idea when I was thinking about 'Tangled', the movie about Rapunzel, and how she woke up her prince with her tears. But then Hermione doesn't have magical tears. So then I remembered all the other fairytales, and how the prince always woke up the princess with a kiss. And then this came.

So yeah. This will stay as a one-shot. If i get any good ideas for a Fremione that takes place after the war, I might just use this as an excuse for him to be alive. Probably not, because it wouldn't match the story.

I realise this is kinda creepy, but it seemed like a god idea at the time. Review and tell me what you think, I'm interested to know.

Anyway, the next chapter of 'Dreams' will be up soon.

See ya!