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first year

“Can you believe it? Our boy, friends with Harry Potter?” 

Arthur Weasley sat in bed one late September evening after tucking his only daughter into her own bed, pouring over a letter from his youngest son. Only a few weeks had passed since Ron Weasley had gone off to Hogwarts, and already he had managed to become friends with one of the most notorious names in the wizarding world. Arthur had never seen Ron as particularly social - he’d always been one of the more quiet ones, often kept to himself while the others all got up to trouble. 

“I met the poor boy at the station - was skinny as a pole, I tell you!” Molly Weasley said back, climbing into bed beside her husband and peering over the letter. “Didn’t know where to go - can you believe, raised by muggles? Harry Potter?”

“Didn’t even know he was a wizard till July, according to Ron,” Arthur read, pointing to a place on the letter where his son’s scrawled handwriting described the details of Harry’s upbringing, “They don’t sound like the best muggles around, quite disappointing, was hoping I could meet them…”

“Oh, please, Arthur.” Molly snatched the rest of the letter from his hands and continued to read. “Quite good of Ron,” Molly continued, “Befriending that poor boy. Very sweet of him.”

“Does that surprise you?”

“Not one bit,” Molly smiled. 

It was with great joy that, a few weeks later, Arthur found out that Ron had not only befriended one student raised by muggles, but two. When he got Ron’s letter in early November, he was thrilled. In large part, it was due to the calming of his worries about his youngest son - Ron had always had a bit more trouble making friends than the others. He had never gotten along with any of the neighbors, and often preferred to follow around the twins or help Molly care for Ginny. He was glad the boy had found his friends at Hogwarts - he knew that he would. And, in small part, Arthur was ecstatic that those two friends both happened to be raised by muggles. 

“We’ll have to meet her parents at the end of the year,” Arthur said to Molly, who hummed in response. 

“Of course, dear.”

But, he never got to meet them that year, nor the more dreadful muggle relatives of Harry’s, when the train arrived at the station. Mr. Weasley had been called into work, and instead, his wife met the children at the platform. 

Next year, he told himself, next year, I’ll be able to ask them all about muggle ticketing booths .

second year

“But you’re muggles ! We must have a drink!”

Perhaps, judging by the look Molly was giving him, he had come on a bit too strong. He watched as his son grimaced apologetically at the young Hermione Granger and her parents, before departing to go down into the Weasley family Gringotts vault. 

“I’ll take them to the Leaky Cauldron,” Arthur told Molly, who clutched her stomach as the cart went down underneath Diagon Alley, “Did you see, they were exchanging muggle money!”

Arthur had hoped that he would meet the muggles that Harry lived with, though not nearly for the same reasons he hoped he would meet the Grangers - with the Dursleys, he was downright ready to give them a piece of his mind (and then, perhaps afterwards, ask them to explain how plugs work). With the Grangers, it was pure fascination. That, and of course, because they were the parents of one of his youngest’s best friends. 

Mr. and Mrs. Granger were both rather short, with wide eyes and expressions somewhere between wonder and befuddlement. Mr. Granger had dark, curly hair and wide-rimmed glasses, while Mrs. Granger was thin, with astonishing straight teeth. The minute Arthur Weasley emerged from the vault, with the small amount of money they had to their name, he swiftly made his way over to the Granger family and demanded that they let him take them to the Leaky Cauldron. Their daughter was already off with Ron and Harry, the three of them chattering on about Harry’s morning mishap in Knockturn Alley. 

“Oh, why not,” Mrs. Granger spoke, outstretching her hand to shake Arthur’s for the third time, “Call me Jean.”

The Grangers were quite skittish as they made their way alongside Arthur towards the pub. Though they’d been to Diagon Alley once before during the first time they shopped for Hermione’s school supplies, it still came as a shock - all the magical objects, the goblins, the people with pointed hats and wands. It was a stark reminder of just how odd their daughter truly was - no matter how much they loved her, there was no denying the absurdity of it all. 

“So tell me,” Arthur began, “How exactly do plugs work?”

It went on like that for a long time. The Grangers managed to slip in a few questions themselves, asking how wizards were able to travel by fireplace, and what sorts of things wizards typically go on to do after school. “Hermione’s told us dozens of times,” Mr. Granger said, “But of course, all she knows is what she reads in books, we don’t exactly know many wizard families…” The questions went back and forth, both equally fascinated by each other’s worlds (though, the Grangers still appeared slightly uncomfortable with the questions Mr. Weasley pressed, as he could not seem to drop the topic of electricity) until finally, Mr. Granger glanced at his watch and said, “Weren’t we supposed to meet them at the bookshop a few minutes ago?”

Arthur sprang out of his seat, turning slightly red at how lost he had gotten in the conversation, and then led them quickly through the brick wall and back into the busy, cobbled streets of Diagon Alley. 

“We must talk on the felly-tone sometime,” he said as they walked into the crowded Flourish and Blotts, “That would be such fun!”

The Grangers stared at him, and Jean said, “You mean the telephone?”

“Yes!”

But then, they were bombarded by the large group of Weasley’s as well as Harry and Hermione. And then, not only minutes later, Arthur Weasley found himself in the middle of a brawl with none other than Lucious Malfoy. 

Arthur didn’t get a chance to see the Grangers again that year, nor the Dursley’s. He hoped that soon, he’d be able to see them once more, and perhaps they could teach him how to use the felly-tone. 

third year

“Hermione!”

Shouts from his two youngest children filled the room and both Ron and Ginny rushed to greet the Grangers, whom they had ran into outside of Ollivander’s. He watched as Hermione threw her arms around both of them, and then grinned widely at the Grangers, who appeared much more comfortable as opposed to the last time he saw them. 

“You got a new wand!” Hermione exclaimed, eyeing the one the Weasley’s had just purchased for Ron. 

“‘Bout time, huh?” Ron grinned back, while Ginny took to showing Hermione the necklace she got in Egypt over their summer trip. 

Mr. and Mrs. Granger sidled over to Arthur and Molly, shaking both their hands and beginning to go over the details of their daughter’s stay. 

“She’ll room with our youngest, Ginny,” Molly reassured, “And we’ll have them to the train in the morning, bright and early.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Jean Granger said back, “We really appreciate it, Phil has a meeting early in the morning, and I know Hermione wanted to travel to the station with her friends…”

There was a loud cackle as Fred and George wound the corner, both waving at Hermione in greeting before disappearing after their longtime friend, Lee Jordan. 

“Don’t you two get up to trouble!” Molly called after them. She knew, by that point, that her efforts were futile. Yet, she continued to try. 

“Don’t worry mum, I’ll keep them in check at Hogwarts,” Percy said, puffing up his chest, “I am Head Boy this year.”

Arthur pretended not to see both Ron and Ginny roll their eyes. 

“Fancy a drink?” he asked the Grangers, hoping they could continue their discussion from the year before - he still had quite a few questions about “aero-planes” and had been waiting to ask them what exactly a muggle dentist did. 

Hermione had already strayed away from her parents, now chattering to Ron about the trouble Harry had already managed to get into over the summer. Arthur was just glad they didn’t know the whole of it - they didn’t know the truth about Sirius Black, and who he was after. 

“Sure,” replied Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Molly turned down the invitation to join (“I’ve got to go with Ginny, there’s a few books on this list we don’t have…”), so Arthur took off, immediately diving into his questions about “aeroplanes” before they even got a table at the Leaky Cauldron. 

When they finally got a seat, Mrs. Granger held up a hand to interrupt Arthur, while Mr. Granger looked around nervously. “Arthur,” she spoke, her voice quiet, “I’ve been meaning to ask you...Hermione has been telling us about what happens at school,  and we were wondering….is Hogwarts always quite so...dangerous?”

“Hmm?”

“Hermione told us about what happened there last year,” Mr. Granger added in, sounding as though he was trying very hard to stay calm, “She said your youngest, Ginny, was taken? By some...some You-Know-Who figure?”

Arthur swallowed hard. The events of the previous year had been traumatic, to say the least - it was the whole reason he’d felt so comfortable spending the summer in Egypt. The family had needed a vacation, after what they’d been put through. Poor Ginny had barely gotten to experience the wonder of her first year at Hogwarts, due to a cursed journal. 

“Well,” Arthur began, wanting nothing more than to reassure the Grangers, “Dangerous stuff happens, sure, but Dumbledore, Dumbeldore makes sure they’re safe.”

“Bit of an odd old man,” Mr. Granger replied, “We met him, when Hermione got her letter…”

“Odd, but powerful. He protects them. Nothing he can’t handle, you two really shouldn’t worry.”

“Hermione told us that he was targeting students...students like her,” Mrs. Granger whispered, leaning in towards Arthur, “Students with non-magical parents, like us...muggles, you call us, right?”

Arthur nodded. 

“She said she was nearly attacked, in the hospital wing for some time…” Mrs. Granger began to tremble and Mr. Granger put his hand on her arm. 

Arthur began to wonder what exactly Hermione had told her parents - she wasn’t just nearly attacked. She was attacked. And she wasn’t just in the hospital wing - she was paralyzed for a large portion of the school year. He had the feeling that Hermione had perhaps downplayed the severity of it to her parents. 

“She said it’s all because of blood status,” Mr. Granger said gruffly, “What does that mean? Is Hermione in danger?”

Arthur glanced around, hoping he wouldn’t see anyone like the Malfoy’s in the pub. “It’s an ancient, dated sentiment. Created by powerful wizarding families, call themselves purebloods, it’s utter rubbish. Not many care much for it anymore - some of the best wizards have been muggle-born, just like Hermione. From what Ron says, she’s the best in the class. Has nothing to do with talent or skill...just an outdated idea that some families still cling to.”

“And are you a pure blood family, then?”

“Technically,” Arthur grimaced, “Though according to the families that care about that, we don’t count. Because, like most wizarding families, we know blood has nothing to do with magic...it’s a dying sentiment. Your Hermione’s not in any danger.” 

Mrs. Granger nodded, no longer trembling and appearing much more reassured. “Thank goodness,” she spoke, squeezing her husband’s arm, “We were worried about it, but Hermione, she said we shouldn’t get worked up…”

“Hermione doesn’t like us worrying about her,” Mr. Granger cut in, shaking his head. 

“We’ll make sure she’s okay,” Arthur reassured, “Most wizard families, good ones, teach their kids blood doesn’t mean anything...that’s what Molly and I have tried to do, you see.”

“Well, you must be doing a good job,” Mrs. Granger smiled, “Hermione told us what Ron did, cursing a student for calling her a name…”

“Huh?” It was the first time Arthur was hearing about it, and frankly, he couldn’t imagine Ron cursing anybody. He’d sooner imagine little Ginny cursing somebody before Ron. From what he’d seen, it took quite a lot to get Ron really worked up. 

“He didn’t tell you? Well, Hermione said, one of the other boys at school...oh, what was his name, Phil? The snake boy?”

“Malloy, I think.”

“Malfoy,” Arthur corrected gravely.

“Yes, that’s it! Well, this Malfoy, he called her some terrible name, insulting her blood status...do you know the one?”

Arthur nodded grimly. He’d always hated the word. Mudblood. 

“Well, he called her that, and then Ron immediately sent a curse in his direction. Of course, since his wand was broken, it backfired...Hermione said he was vomiting slugs all night, the poor boy…”

Arthur felt himself swell with pride. Though Molly would be livid to hear about her son attempting to curse someone at school, he himself was quite proud of the reason behind it - Ron, at not only twelve years old, was standing up to bullies. And the worst breed of bullies - Lucius Malfoy was a bully in his own right, and Arthur could only imagine what sort of horror he had bred. 

Arthur grinned at the Grangers. “He’s a good boy.”

They grinned back. “Long as Hermione has him and Harry around, we think she’ll be okay.”

Arthur let out a laugh. “Might be the other way around - I have a feeling she does much more of the looking out than either of those two boys.”

Shortly after, Ron and Hermione clambered into the Leaky Cauldron, Ron still clutching his new wand in his hands and Hermione holding three enormous bags of books. 

“You write to us when you get there, okay?” Jean was saying to Hermione, kissing her on the cheek as Phil gave her a hug. 

“Of course, Mum.”

“Harry’s staying here, isn’t he?” Ron said to his dad, tugging on his arm. “We should find him, once Hermione’s done.”

Watching his children and Hermione chatter excitedly about the new year, Arthur couldn’t help but feel a bit nostalgic. Yet, at Ron’s mention of Harry, he remembered what the year had in store: Sirius Black had escaped, and he was after Harry Potter. Arthur could only hope that the three of them would stay out of the way. 

fourth year

Arthur Weasley watched in astonishment as his youngest son spent nearly all of his Saturday cleaning. For an absurd moment, he wondered if perhaps his wife had jinxed Ron, but then saw the equally astonished look on Molly Weasley’s face. 

Hermione was being dropped off by her parents the next morning (whom Arthur would regrettably miss, due to picking up extra hours at work), and evidently, Ron cared more about what she thought of the house than he had ever cared before. 

The Grangers had agreed to say goodbye to their daughter early for the summer so that she could come to the Quidditch World Cup with the Weasley’s. Hermione, of course, wasn’t a big fan of Quidditch herself, but the family had bought a ticket for both her and Harry, and Hermione had jumped at the chance to see a wizarding tradition first hand.

“So what time is Hermione coming?” Ginny smirked from kitchen, where she sat perched on the table with her legs dangling over the edge, a piece of toast in her hands. 

“Sometime after noon,” Molly replied, “And get down from there, Ginny.”

Ginny grumbled and jumped down, eyes following her brother as he rearranged an untidy pile of books. “Well then, Ron,” she said, her voice teasing, “Why exactly do you feel the need to spend the twenty-four hours preceding her arrival acting like you’ve got a wand up your - ”

“ Ginny! ” 

“Sorry Mum!” GInny laughed and bounced out of the room, not without hitting Ron hard on the arm.

“Geroff!”

Ron continued organizing the books, then turned around, sensing both his parents still watching him with confused expressions on their faces. 

“She’s never seen a wizard house before, all right?” he said finally, muttering and staring at the floor, “I just...I want her to like it. And she’s clean, I think, cleaner than Harry. So she might be, I don’t know, she might not like it if it’s not clean.” He stumbled over his words, avoiding eye contact with both his parents.

“That’s very thoughtful, dear,” Molly reassured, making her son’s ears turn bright red. “How about you let me finish up in here? You go and see if the cot’s ready in your sister’s room, Merlin knows she probably hasn’t set it up, even though I put it up there weeks ago…”

Ron nodded, clearly very ready to get out of his parent’s watchful gazes, and then bounded up the stairs. “Thanks!” he called down hurriedly. 

Molly glanced knowingly at Arthur. The room was fairly clean - much more clean that it usually was, and likely much cleaner than it was going to get, what with the twins traipsing in and our of the house with dirt and mud on their shoes. 

“He didn’t do all this for Harry last year,” Molly commented, smiling at her husband.

“No. He certainly did not…” Arthur smirked back at her and let out a laugh, wondering when exactly his son had begun to care so much about what Hermione Granger thought.

“They grow up fast,” Molly said, shaking her head and suddenly sounding kind of weepy. Arthur put an arm around her, and then they both jumped when they heard Ginny yell from upstairs: “Get out of my room!”

“You’re supposed to set up the cot!”

Arthur glanced at Molly and she sighed. “Not that fast, though.”

“Certainly not.”

That night, Arthur left a note on the counter for the Grangers - he’d been saving up some questions for them on various muggle appliances, and hoped they would take the time to jot down their answers. How does a toaster work? He wrote, And an oven? 

“Why don’t you just ask the Dursley’s, when we go fetch Harry this week?” George asked his father, frowning at the questions on the table.

“I...I have a feeling the Dursley’s won’t like my questions much,” Arthur said darkly. 

“Brilliant,” said Fred, “Then we have to ask them!”

When Arthur returned from work the next night, the Granger’s answers were there, in neat handwriting. He grinned to himself before going to sleep. 

fifth year

The Granger’s arrival was made loud and clear by the portrait of Mrs. Black, who screamed and yelled, “MUGGLES! IN MY HOUSE!”
Sirius swore loudly and ran to the hallway, tossing a curtain over his mother’s portrait and yelling back until she finally shut up. “So sorry!” he said, “Lovely, isn’t she? That’s my mum. All right, Hermione?”

Arthur skidded into the room, happily shaking hands with Jean and Phil, who appeared somewhat shaken by the portrait’s rude introduction. From upstairs, he heard the footsteps of his youngest children bounding down, Ron arriving first, and then Ginny. 

“Hermione!” Ginny cried, throwing her arms around the bushy-haired girl. Ron grinned and hugged her afterwards, both of them breaking apart distinctly red in the face, and Ron busying himself with trying to lift Hermione’s trunk, which had been sitting on the floor between Jean and Phil. 

“Blimey, Hermione!” he cried, “What have you got in here, an entire library?”

He mustn’t have been too far off, because Hermione became very defensive, saying, “Can never have too many books, it’s not that heavy.”

“Heavy enough that you needed the two of us to help you carry it,” her dad said from behind her, shaking his head as Ron lugged the heavy suitcase up the stairs. “Fred! George! Come make yourselves useful!” 

The twins popped up on the stairs out of nowhere, causing the Grangers to jump, and then swiftly levitated Hermione’s trunk. “Afternoon, Grangers,” George smiled at them. 

“We can use magic now! Legally!” Fred grinned, and then the twins popped off again, after successfully floating Hermione’s trunk up the stairs. 

“Care for some tea?” Arthur offered the Grangers. They’d made the trip all the way out there and had agreed to say goodbye to their daughter early, he felt it was the least he could do. “Molly’s already got a pot going in the kitchen, least we can do…”

Hermione nodded at her parents. “I’ll go make sure my things are all okay, Fred dropped it from a bit of a height...oh, and Ron, I wanted to show you Harry’s most recent letter...”

Ron put a hand on Hermione’s back, guiding her up the stairs and towards her room. Ginny, who stood behind them, made a point of glancing at her dad and rolling her eyes about Ron and Hermione, and then bounded up the stairs after them.  

Arthur led the Granger’s into the kitchen, which was empty with the exception of Molly, who greeted them with an excited shriek and warm hugs. “I do hope it wasn’t too hard to find!” she said. 

“That nice man, Kingsley, he helped us.”

“Right, right.”

They settled into seats at the table, exchanging pleasantries and pointedly avoiding the reality of this year - for this year, they were staying at Grimmauld Place. This year, Voldemort was really back. And the Granger’s, of course, had questions that they were almost too afraid to ask. 

From upstairs, all four jumped when they heard Ron yell: “UNLOCK THE DAMN DOOR, FRED!”
Molly tutted and shook her head, getting up to go lecture her children, but Arthur held her arm and shrugged. “They’re just playing around.”

There was a loud crash and a bang, and then a cackle of laughter from Ginny. 

“Or maybe not.”

Molly huffed and bustled out of the room, leaving Arthur alone with Mr. and Mrs. Granger, his two favorite muggles. 

“We’ve been meaning to ask you,” Jean began, glancing tentatively at her husband, “This You-Know-Who business...Hermione tells me it’s gotten very serious, that somebody died at the school…”

“We almost didn’t let her come back, if it wasn’t for that letter from you and your wife,” Phil continued, taking a long sip of his tea, “We’re worried about her.”

“I know,” Arthur nodded. 

“We trust her, we do,” Jean continued, “And she says she’ll be safe, then we want to believe her...she was so adamant about coming back to school...it’s just...well, it’s nice to have another adult, another parent, to talk to.”

“Well, I’m always happy to talk, happy to keep you two in the loop, I think that would be best, though Hogwarts is really the safest place - ”

Just then, they were interrupted by a gaggle of Order members entering the kitchen: Tonks, Lupin, Sirius, and Bill all meandered in, each outstretching their hands to greet the Grangers. 

“Hermione’s parents!” Lupin said excitedly, smiling wide, “I had the pleasure of teaching her, back in third year...brilliant girl! Absolutely brilliant! Best in her class, I’ll assure you, you’ve raised an all-star, that’s for sure.”

Both Mr. and Mrs. Granger beamed at this praise and proceeded to shake all the other’s hands, as well, exchanging names. Molly made her way back into the room, telling everyone: “Dinner’s not going to be ready for another hour!” But none of them listened, carrying on with their conversations. 

“We must be going,” Jean spoke, “We have dinner plans, we’ll just have to say goodbye to Hermione.” Hermione and the others had come downstairs again and were making their way into the kitchen.

Phil leaned across the table, and spoke quietly, so only Arthur and his wife could hear. 

“Take good care of Hermione here,” he said, glancing over at his daughter with a look of worry on his face. 

“We will, we will.”

“And tell your son to, as well. Though I’m not sure he needs telling...seems to be watching out for her quite a bit.” They looked over in the direction of Ron and Hermione - Ginny was introducing Hermione to Tonks and excitedly asking for auror stories, while Ron stood behind them, eyes glued to Hermione only. 

“He sure is.” Arthur smiled at the Grangers knowingly. “Come, I’ll see you out. Hermione, come say goodbye to your parents!”

sixth year

The year before Ron’s sixth year, Arthur and Molly Weasley were cleaning the living room when suddenly, there was a knock on their door. It was Hermione and her parents, making their second ever appearance at The Burrow. Hermione looked rather tan from the summer, with a characteristically large bag of books in her arms, her parents hoisting up her presumably weighty trunk. 

“Thank you so much for having her again,” Jean said, “Probably has had enough of us, after traveling all summer…”

Hermione shook her head and set down her books, looking around the seemingly empty house. “Where’s Ron?” she asked, clearly trying to mask her eagerness. 

“Outside, dear. Practicing Quidditch with Ginny,” Molly answered, catching Arthur’s eye and smiling. 

Fred and George then wondered down the hall, both carrying bludgers and decked out in Quidditch gear. They both exclaimed when they saw Hermione. “Miss Granger, to what do we owe your acquaintance?”

“What are you two doing here?” she asked, as George patted her on the head. 

“It’s past six. Store’s closed, and the little ones wanted us to come over and play a match,” Fred answered, and then raised his wand to his throat and yelled out to his younger siblings in a booming voice: “OY! RON! HERMIONE’S HERE!” He winked at Hermione, who had turned a brilliant shade of pink, and then the twins bounded down the steps out of the house. 

Ron seemed to appear in a matter of seconds - which was quite impressive, to Arthur, considering the boy must have ran since he didn’t yet have his apparition license. “Hermione,” he grinned, sweaty and covered in dirt. 

She wrinkled her nose but threw her arms around him anyways, their parents watching as the two of them held onto one another for slightly too long to be “just friends.” Blushing, Ron grabbed her trunk and began to drag it up the stairs to Ginny’s room, Hermione following after with her bag of books in her arms, asking him about the events of his summer. 

Ginny then bounded in the door, just as sweaty and dirty as her brother had been. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Granger!” she said cheerfully, slightly out of breath. “Hermione upstairs already? I haven’t quite finished setting up the cot…” Ginny then ran up the stairs, calling after Ron and Hermione. Fred and George then walked back inside, both grumbling: “Hermione arrives and suddenly, Quidditch is no longer on the agenda,” Fred said, “Whole reason we came over here in the first place!”

“Oh, shush. They’ll play with you later tonight,” Molly scolded. 

George then outstretched his hand to shake Mr. and Mrs. Grangers, introducing himself for probably the third or fourth time since he’d known Hermione. “George,” he said, “That one is Fred. Not that you’ll be able to tell...our own mum can’t tell, most of the time.”

“George!”

“Sorry, mum.”

“Tea? Anything to drink?” offered Molly, continuing to busy herself in the kitchen. 

“Oh, no, we can’t stay long, Jean has an early appointment tomorrow…”

Fred tossed his bludger onto the ground and then kicked off his shoes, falling back onto the couch. “So, Mum, Dad, Mr. and Mrs. Granger,” he began, smiling mischievously, “We have a bit of a bet going. Would you like to way in?”

“What in the name of Merlin are you two up to?” Molly frowned while George let out a loud laugh.

“About Ron and Hermione!” George clarified. 

“George reckons they’ll get together this year,” Fred explained “But I say ickle-Ronnie-kins’ll muck it up, somehow, and we’ll have to wait longer.”

“Ginny agrees with me,” George defended himself, “Ginny talks to Hermione, she hasn’t upright admitted it, but Ginny’s pretty sure…”

Just then, before either the Grangers or the Weasley parents had a chance to respond, Ginny appeared in the stairwell, looking rather miffed. “They kicked me out. Had to talk about Harry-business, that apparently, I’m not allowed to hear.” Ginny rolled her eyes and grumbled, though George grinned. 

“Harry-business, right. Reckon I’m going to win this thing!”

“Oh, have you told them about the bet?” Ginny perked up, laughing at the expressions on her parents’ faces. 

“Yes, I’m asking them to way in - ”

“Cut it out, you three,” Molly snapped at them, “Don’t make fun of them, you know how Ron gets, go on now, finish up your match!”

“Can’t play with an uneven number, Mum,” George retorted. 

“Yes, you can. Go!”

Ginny, Fred, and George all disappeared outside, while Molly apologized profusely to the Granger’s. “Completely inappropriate, those boys, I’m sorry…”

Though, the Granger’s weren’t offended at all. In fact, they were rather amused. “I think I agree with George,” Jean said quietly with a smile. 

“I don’t know,” Phil said back, “Hermione can be fairly stubborn…”

“Only time will tell,” Jean said back. 

Arthur smiled at them. Time would tell indeed. 

seventh year

Hermione arrived at The Burrow late at night, all on her own. Ron met her outside, where she’d apparated, and brought her into the kitchen, where the only one still awake was his father.

“Where are your parents?” Arthur asked - he had been looking forward to seeing them. He’d grown rather fond of them, and with all the terrors going on in the wizarding world, it would have felt reassuring to know they were all right. He’d told Ron to tell Hermione that the offer of putting her parents into hiding still stood, but Ron had become oddly quiet after that, muttering excuses and not giving his dad a direct answer. 

At Arthur’s question, Hermione blanched. She tried to keep her expression stony, but he noticed the tears growing in her eyes.. “They...” she started, but couldn’t seem to finish the sentence. 

“They have to go into work early tomorrow,” Ron cut in, putting an arm around Hermione and guiding her towards the stairs. Silently, he levitated her trunk and sent it up in front of them. “Couldn’t make it, sorry Dad.”

Arthur frowned at the two of them, wanting to ask more questions, but stopped dead when he saw the look on his son’s face. Ron was reprimanding him with his eyes, an expression he never had expected to receive from his own son. It gave him the feeling that perhaps, Ron had shouldered a burden much heavier than he knew, much heavier than he would ever know. It made him feel both incredibly old, and incredibly young at the same time. 

It wasn’t until a few hours later that Ron reappeared in the kitchen, surprised to see his dad still there. “You’re still up,” he commented, standing at the bottom of the stairs and staring at his dad. 

“Can’t sleep,” Arthur admitted. Thoughts swirled around his mind. He knew they were in the relative calm before the storm. 

“I’m getting tea for Hermione,” Ron explained, grabbing a mug and setting it on the counter. 

“She’s still awake?” It was nearly midnight.

Ron nodded, turning slightly red, clearly hoping his father wouldn’t ask if Hermione was in his room, as opposed to Ginny’s. Arthur didn’t mind - he knew how his son felt about Hermione, and he saw the clearly terrified expression that had been on Hermione’s face upon arrival. 

“Ron,” Arthur said slowly, quietly, “Are Hermione’s parents okay? Are they safe?”

In the time he had gotten to know them, he had grown to consider them friends. The thought of them being hurt, simply because of their blood status, made him feel sick. 

Ron looked uncomfortable, staring at the floor and holding the mug of tea in his hands. “They’re…yeah. They’re safe.”

“What did she do?”

Ron glanced up at his dad nervously. “You won’t tell Mum?”

Arthur sighed. “If you don’t want me to.”

“Modified their memories,” Ron admitted, “Hermione says she’ll be able to reverse it, after...after all of this is over, but she’s...she’s not doing too well. She’s pretty upset, Dad.”

Arthur closed his eyes and nodded. The fact that Hermione felt she had to modify her own parents memories, as opposed to trusting the Order to hide them, broke his heart. He worried what exactly the two of them and Harry were up to, what they were planning. And a part of him was angry, angry that Hermione could do that to her parents - but then he saw the look on his son’s face, one full of worry and caring, and kept his thoughts to himself. 

“You take care of her,” Arthur said, looking at his son in the eyes. 

“I will,” Ron said fiercely. 

“Now, go bring her that tea.”

That year, Arthur did not hear from Mr. or Mrs. Granger. He sometimes wondered where they were, who they thought they were. But it was far too dangerous to try and reach out. 

later

For nearly a year, he thought he would never see them again. Even after Ron and Hermione left on their trip to Australia, he was afraid it would go wrong, that they would come back empty handed. So, when Mr. and Mrs. Granger arrived on their doorstep, with both Ron and Hermione, Arthur was ecstatic. 

Upon arriving back in England, Ron and Hermione had taken the Granger’s to their old home and gotten them settled. But, after just twenty-four hours back, Mr. and Mrs. Granger demanded that Ron take them to The Burrow. After hearing the stories of what Hermione, Ron, and the others went through, they were desperate to see Harry and the Weasley’s, to thank them for their daughter's safety. 

Of course, it hadn’t been smooth sailing - the first few days after restoring their memories, while they were still in Australia, were rough. There were many tear-filled nights, nights when Hermione relived her trauma to her parents, nights when her parents felt betrayed by Hermione’s actions. But things had gotten better. And the Grangers were home. 

“Thank you,” Phil whispered, throwing his arms around both Arthur and Molly, “Thank you for our daughter. 

“We’re so sorry about your son,” Jean said, tears in her eyes. Molly, weeping, threw her arms around Jean. 

“And thank you too, Harry,” Phil said, motioning to Harry and putting his arms around him, “We got a chance to thank Ron, but not you.”

Harry tried to brush it off, but both Mr. and Mrs. Granger gripped him tightly. 

“I’ll make dinner!” Mrs. Weasley said, wiping her eyes, “This is something to celebrate!” Molly hadn’t cooked a proper meal in weeks, not since before the battle. Not since Fred. 

That night, they ate good food, exchanged stories, and began to mend what had been broken. It was an eclectic bunch: Bill and Fleur, young Teddy Lupin and Andromeda, Harry, the Grangers, and the rest of the Weasley’s. Even George came down from him room, forcing a smile, to have a meal with his family. 

“We’ll have to have you over,” Jean said, “I don’t believe you’ve ever been to our house?”

“Yes, lovely idea!” Molly said back, a large grin on her face. 

“Suspect we’ll be getting to know one another quite well,” Phil commented, looking over at Hermione and Ron, who sat by the fireplace with Harry and Ginny. Hermione leaned against Ron, and their parents watched as Ron pressed a kiss to her temple. 

“Suspect we will,” Arthur grinned back. 

And indeed, they did. 

Years later, when Ron and Hermione married, Arthur was thrilled that they were welcoming Mr. and Mrs. Granger into the family. Not just because they were muggles - but also, because they were friends.