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Chapter Text

July 8th, 1995 

The Burrow

Fred shot another shirt of George’s that had migrated to his side of the room over his shoulder, most likely missing the mess of a suitcase on his brother’s bed. At least it was closer than being in his pile. 

“Have you seen my sweater from mum last year? All we’ve got is two ‘F’s.” George asks with his head practically inside their shared dresser, like that would make it easier to find said sweater.

Fred shrugs, “Gin probably has it. She tends to snag old ‘G’s every year. Haven’t you noticed?”

George pops his head back up, looking at Fred quizzically, “Really? How’d I miss that?”

Fred just shrugs again, going back to trying to fold the rest of his clothing into his bag, “You usually wear ‘F’, so I’m the one left cold and shivering when she squirrels them away.”

Chuckling, George grabs an older ‘G’ sweater of his from a few years ago, “I’ll go see if I can switch her. Be right back.”

With George out of the room, Fred takes the chance to begin folding George’s clothing as well, knowing his twin would just end up frustrated when he tried to shove the pile into an unforgiving bag. He’d only got through the trousers before George was back and shooing him away. Fred cringed a bit when George proceeded to chuck the lumpy sweater in with his shirts, and tried to shut the top over the bulky pack job. 

“I had to tell her she could have it back when we get to Hogwarts, otherwise I don’t think I would have made it out of there alive. She’s a feisty thing, our Gin-bug.”

Fred laughs, throwing a pair of George’s socks out of his own bag at his brother’s head, “We taught her well. Now, zip-up that bag properly before the whole thing bursts open.”

Grumbling a bit, George unzips the bag and attempts to shove the lumps of clothes down further, “Should have learned that Extension charm from your girlfriend.”

“I’ll bring it back with me, promise. Might be a good start for a product, who knows?”

George hums thoughtfully, “True… it would be interesting to see how small of an item one of those charms could work on. You should see if you can get her help with that while you’re there.”

Nodding, Fred makes a mental note to do just that. Hermione had been pretty helpful during school last year; George had jokingly called her their secretary for a while, as she had been the one to always remind the twins to write down their ideas or brainstorms. It had saved them several times when they’d had to go back and look through something they had already figured out or thought of during an inventing session. Maybe she wouldn’t mind if he did some work over the summer with her.

“We’ll need to figure out a way to keep up with one another while you’re visiting Hermione,” George goes on as he lies flat over his bag, attempting again to close the straining zipper, “Sounds like this safe house we’re heading to is a bit lacking in forms of entertainment. And spending the next month with just Ginny and Ron as company might give me a lot of inventing time.”

“Yeah, we should look into that journal idea Hermione mentioned—” Fred paused, throwing a look over his shoulder at the still struggling George, “Did… you remember to tell Angelina about the whole safe house deal? It’s just… you said only Gin and Ronnie…”

George froze. His moment of inaction caused all the success he’d had to close his bag to unravel and burst open once more. Muttering a low curse at the thing, George pushed it away with a foul look. 

Fred waited. He waited for another beat. And then asked again, “George? Did you write Angie?”

Letting out a small frustrated noise, George finally looked up at his twin, and Fred came to realize maybe George had been ignoring all of Fred’s questions for a reason. And that maybe he’d missed a few other clues coming from his brother over the last week.

“Er, Ang and I… broke up.”

…What was he supposed to do? Fred felt a bit like just letting his jaw hit the ground before asking George, ‘ Why?’ . But that seemed insensitive. And, judging by the shadowed look crossing George’s face, it would not fly at this moment. 

“Uh,” Fred managed to say eloquently, “when, erm— when…?”

“May.” 

Fred blinks owlishly at his twin, “I’m sorry… Did you say May ? As in, two months ago May?”

George nods, looking anywhere but into Fred’s eyes. Which was probably a good thing, because Fred didn’t feel like he had very good control of the surprise on his face.

“Like… when we were still at Hogwarts, May?”

Letting out a loud huff through his nose, George gives Fred an exaggerated nod, “Yes, Fred, that May.”

But Fred still felt gobsmacked, “Why didn’t you say anything? Here I’ve been talking about ‘you and Ang’ for the past two months, and you’ve been—”

“We didn’t want to bring it up while everyone was stressed over final exams and Fleur and Harry’s last task. Angelina and I decided we’d just… let everyone find out later.”

Fred threw out his hands, feeling like he wanted to start pacing, “But… you didn’t even tell me! ”

And the look George gave him only served to break Fred’s heart a bit, “Freddie, you’re my best friend. And honestly, so is Hermione… but I didn’t want to tell either of you about this when you two were so,” he looks around like he’s searching for the right word, and Fred lets him have a moment. George sighs, giving Fred a contrasting sad smile, “ Happy .”

Fred still feels like the rug has been pulled out from under him. His twin had been going through a breakup for the past two months without Fred ever even suspecting and now was being told he’d not been told because George hadn’t wanted to get in the middle of Fred and Hermione’s happiness. While Fred’s twin had been sad.

“Georgie…” Fred says, feeling saddened at the thought and seeing George’s sad eyes, “you could have said something. It wouldn’t have changed anything for Hermione or me.”

George shrugs, sniffing as he goes back to his bag. Somehow, some miracle had happened and George was able to zip up the bag in a second. Giving it a stern look, he hoisted it up to his shoulder, “It’s not a big deal Fred. It’s done and I’m getting over it.”

Well, Fred was still upset for his twin, but he could drop it if that was what George needed right now. “All right,” he pulled his bag up from the bed, looking significantly slimmer than George’s monstrosity of a pack job, “So… Angelina doesn’t know about the safe house… or Sirius for that matter, I suppose.”

George shakes his head, “Nah, I never even got around to telling her about Bagman for Merlin’s sake.”

Fred feels like an owl again when he looks at George in bewilderment. They’d had that talk about telling their witches about Bagman and the shop after he and Hermione had had that blow out at the beginning of the year, “You never told her about the shop, did you?”

“No.” George shakes his head, looking a bit annoyed suddenly, “which was one of the reasons for the breakup. Apparently, I’m too secretive and don’t tell her anything.”

Fred makes an assenting noise, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

George sighs, “To be fair, she wasn’t wrong. But then I said something about her not bothering to ask me anything and being too busy to bother…”

Cringing, Fred murmurs, “Oh, Forge…”

“Yeah, I know.” 

They delve into silence for a moment, broken only by their mother shouting up the stairs for them to bring their bags down. She and dad had been going mad trying to sort out all the things they would need to bring to a safe house that had been, up until last week, unlivable. George goes out with a strained smile, trying to alleviate the tension in the room. 

Fred watched his twin go, feeling once again like he’d failed his brother in some way, just by being happy when George was not. 

-~-~-~-

August 3rd, 1995

1:48 am

 Grimmauld Place

Hermione caught the edge of the trash can before she pitched forward into the asphalt. If she thought she hated Apparating before, taking a portkey may have topped the list. Crookshanks let out a mournful yowl from the inside of his cat carrier, disliking being jostled by her stumbling. Fred’s arm not carrying their bags shot out to her back, wrapping a bit around her waist but mostly there to steady her. 

“All right, Granger?” He asks her gently, giving the small of her back a light rub while she pulled herself back together.

Letting out a small hum, Hermione still kept her eyes shut until the rising nausea dissipated and she felt she could see straight again. 

Looking around where she and Fred had landed, Hermione was a bit confused to find they were in the middle of a bleak, rainy street facing a row of houses that looked as depressing as their surroundings. 

The English townhouses looked to have had better days; most of the brick facings were crumbled or had been painted over, only for the paint to have begun peeling at some point in the past. One at the end had a few cracked windows, and another in the middle had one broken and another boarded up. A few doors were splintering or held together with an extra board, and the one directly in front of them— Number 11— had the only done up flowerbed with nettles and weeds, all looking as if they had been pruned like they were prized begonias. 

“Charming,” Fred mentions, looking around as well once Hermione had stood up straight, “wonder how we’re meant to—”

“Weasley.” A gruff, scratchy voice cut him off. Hermione and Fred looked around behind them into the small overgrown park, squinting in the pitch to make out the person calling at them.

It took her eyes a moment, but Hermione was able to make out the slightly lumpy, slouched figure of Professor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody. The man was mostly concealed in the dark, against a large tree. The reason it took so long for their eyes to adjust to the sight of him, was the DIsillusionment Charm that caused his person to seem distorted and caused their eyes to jump over him at first.

Seeing he had both of their attentions, Moody released the Charm and stepped out of the dark, “At least I assume you’re the Weasley I’m waiting for. Red hair and accompanied by a witch with curled hair…” Moody limped up the crumbling steps that lead from the small park fountain up to the street Fred and Hermione stood on. Hermione would have offered him a hand if she thought he’d have taken it, but the ex-Auror didn’t seem the type.

“Yes, I’m Fred,” Fred says once Moody is back in the street, facing the line of houses with them. 

Mad-Eye scoffs, dusting off his jacket of the leaves and bracken he’d accumulated while in the bushes, “Well, I’ve met the other one of you, so I assumed so, yes.” He turns his gaze— magical and otherwise— to Hermione, “And Miss Granger, I presume.”

It wasn’t a question, but Hermione had been raised to be polite, “Yes, Monsieur .” 

Moody gives her a look up and down, the eyebrow above his regular eye rising his furrowed forehead, “A Beauxbatons girl, eh? How’d you two manage to meet?”

Fred shot him a strange look but Hermione understood— “At Hogwarts, sir. Beauxbatons was one of the schools involved in the Triwizard Tournament.”

Understanding filters over Moody’s face but he just gives a gruff grunt and moves down the street a few steps, leaving the two young adults to look at one another and follow him. Hermione settles Crookshanks’s heavy carrier on the ground.

Fred did the same with his and Hermione’s bags, watching curiously as Mad-Eye grumbled under his breath, digging into one of the pockets of his large duster jacket. Finally, a small bit of parchment was produced and shoved into Hermione’s hand.

“Read that. In your heads, don’t be daft.” Mad-Eye tells them with a large sniff, trying to look unbothered while systematically checking over his shoulder and up and down the street. 

Hermione looks up at Fred who gives her a cross-eyed look, slightly bewildered by the twitchy man. She tries to whisper as low as she can, aware Mad-Eye was waiting on them, “Year in a trunk, oui ?”

Fred’s eyes go wide in understanding and he gives her a small nod. Hermione lifts the small note and reads—

The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve Grimmauld Place, London.

The moment she reads the bit about Grimmauld Place the walls of the buildings begin to shift, pushing bricks aside and doors seemingly shrinking until another entire building number appears before her eyes. 

Where before the numbers had gone up to eleven and picked up again at thirteen, there was now a very visible, clearly marked number twelve somehow there when a moment ago it was not.

Fred could obviously see it as well, as his jaw had dropped a bit while he stared at the new house. He looked over at Moody, who was already bustling up to the door and hobbling over the stairs. Hermione picked Crookshanks back up and waited for Fred to grab their bags before following the surly man, who was already shouldering open the peeling black door.

The entrance hall was… murky. It was as if the very air was at a standstill, with lingering dust motes and the musty taste of dirt that seemed to instantly adhere to one’s tongue. The walls and floors were all in deep, dark tones and led seemingly into an even darker house. It was just Moody, Hermione and Fred in the entrance, the late hour limiting the noise and movement in the house.

It made it all very… unsettling. 

Crookshanks began to rumble, uncertain about the environment he’d been brought into. Hermione made a hushing noise, a bit unsure if she was meant to break the silence or not. Moody still grumbled though it could have been because she’d spoken or because Mad-Eye was just a bit irritable by nature. 

“Move down the hall and the kitchen’s on the right. Molly should be there, I expect. Been waiting on you two since your sister called ya.” Moody whispers and nods his head down the dark hall, supposedly towards a doorway— but one Hermione could not spot in the dim lighting. 

“Right, cheers,” Fred says to Moody in a whisper, placing his hand at Hermione’s back to move her ahead of him down the hall. Hermione hoists Crookshanks’s carrier up into her arms to try and settle him, not sure if it was wise to let him have full run of the house. Hopefully, she could at least find a room for him soon to ease his curiosity. 

The pair turned into the room Moody had pointed out. Glancing over their shoulders, Hermione saw the ex-Auror going back out the door, and had to wonder why he wasn’t coming in to stay. Perhaps he was going home. It was late after all. 

Molly Weasley was indeed in the kitchen, sitting at a very long wooden table with matching black chairs that spanned the entire length. It was quite impressive actually— there was at least enough seating for twenty, if not room for more. The kitchen itself seemed a bit more lived in; in that, it was significantly less dusty and dank than the entrance hall. 

The Weasley matriarch sat with a pot of tea and a lapful of knitting, working away on itself while Molly worked on untangling a skein of maroon yarn. She’d obviously not been to bed yet, regardless of the late hour. She also didn’t seem to hear Hermione and Fred enter, as she continued muttering to herself while her fingers plucked away.

Fred grinned at the sight, the comfort of seeing such a familiar habit as waiting up for her children from his mother, soothing amongst the unknown and lingering fear.

“Hey, Mum,” 

Molly’s head came up with a frown already etched on her face, her eyes squinting in the dim lighting until she saw it was Fred and Hermione.

“Fred! Hermione! Oh!” she clapped her hands over her mouth, her entire body seizing up. Her shoulders were tense as her eyes flickered over their shoulders and out the doorway as if she was waiting for something. Hermione felt Fred tense up next to her, her own hand lingering awkwardly at her hip where her wand was located.

When nothing happened, Molly relaxed and gave them both a warm smile, her frown lines disappearing as she came forward to gather them both into a hug, “Sorry dears, it’s so good to see you! We’ve missed you both dearly. How was France? How’s your uncle, Hermione dear?”

Hermione whispered, “Er, he’s good Mrs. Weasley—”

“Molly, dear.”

“Right, yes, Molly,” Hermione gives Molly a warm smile, “he sends his regards, and wants to be kept in the loop about Harry, of course. Um,” she looks around the room, checking over her shoulder again unsurely, “Why are we whispering?”

“Oh,” Molly looks nervous and a bit maybe embarrassed, “this house has a few… intricate details. We’ve found it’s best to keep our volumes down when we’re not behind closed doors.”

Fred popped a brow at that, “Isn’t this supposed to be a safe house?”

Molly waves her hand like it’s nothing, “Of course it is! You saw how to get in, no one but those with the Secret can even see the house. We’re quite safe here.”

This only serves to make Fred frown a bit more, “Then why do we need to sneak around?”

Molly sighs, her shoulders slumping in the face of two curious young adults, “There’s some lingering Dark magic, that’s all. The kids and I have been working to clean the place up, but there are a few pieces that we can’t move, I'm afraid.”

Hermione and Fred share a look.

Molly goes on, “For now, just keep quiet. I can show you around tomorrow morning, but it’s late and you two must be exhausted. Ginny had you two rushing here so quickly and Harry’s not even here yet—”

“Harry’s still not here? When were we bringing him here?” Hermione asks, still in a whisper as Molly begins to push them back into the murky hallway.

Molly shushes her gently as she begins to lead them up the staircase, which neither Hermione nor Fred had seen when they’d been at the front door. Following Mrs. Weasley, Hermione kept the opening of Crookshanks’s carrier against her chest so the cat wouldn’t think he needed to meow or hiss at his surroundings. 

The stairs went up into many more levels than the outside of the townhouse suggested. They went up to the first landing where Molly pointed and whispered that she and Arthur’s room was the first and Remus’s was the next one over. There was also another room, but Molly whispered that it was another bedroom that was still in need of some cleaning.

The next floor was where Fred was left by the second room after Sirius’s own. There was also another door, but Molly didn’t mention who it belonged to, so Hermione assumed it was a guest room, as yet unused or perhaps also unclean. George was already asleep, Molly told them and warned Fred not to wake his brother while he went to bed. Apparently, he was rather run-down after all the cleaning in the last month.

Fred looked a tad concerned at this but still managed to sneak a goodnight kiss from Hermione when his mother had turned her back to continue up the staircase. Hermione left Fred behind as he slipped inside his room, handing over her own bag before shutting the door behind him with a soft snick . 

Ginny and Ron’s rooms were the only two at the top. Ron’s was first and Ginny’s last, both rather cramped in the slanted roof attic space. The rooms must have been a later addition to the rest of the house, as they were much closer together than the rooms on previous floors.

Mrs. Weasley carefully opened Ginny’s door, peeking her head in before popping it back out to look at Hermione, “You’ll be sharing with Ginny, dear. I hope that’s no trouble.”

“Of course not, Molly,” Hermione whispers as she steps into the room, “Is it alright for Crookshanks to be out? I can keep him in the room if not.”

Molly pursed her lips in thought, “I suppose it would be all right. There’s nothing he’ll be able to get into, especially if we just keep the den room door closed. We’ve not managed to get to that room just yet.”

Nodding, Hermione sets Crookshanks’s carrier down and lets out the latch. Her large ginger mountain cat streaks out, throwing Hermione a filthy glare as he scurries on lowly down the hall, his belly dusting the floor as he goes. Hermione cringes a bit, thinking perhaps she was in for a rough day tomorrow if he was in a mood. Maybe Fred would be able to calm him down better. 

Molly watched Crookshanks with amused eyes, giving Hermione a quick pat on the cheek, “Get some sleep, dear. We’ll talk more tomorrow. No use worrying just yet, there’s much to be done.”

Well, that certainly wasn’t going to stop Hermione was worrying, but at Molly’s dismissal, Hermione saw no way to question the older witch any further. Instead, she said her goodnights and closed the door as softly as she could behind her. 

As soon as Molly’s footsteps were heard going down the stairs, Hermione was shocked by the noise of Ginny hopping out of bed behind her.

“ Hermione!” Ginny whisper-yells, grabbing her friend’s hands and tugging her further into the room. 

A bit turned around at the sudden loudness of Ginny after all the tiptoeing, Hermione claps a hand over her young friend’s mouth and shushes her gently.

Ginny giggles beneath Hermione's hand, "It's all right, 'Mione! We can talk normally when we're out of the halls."

"Oh, right," Hermione drops her hand, "Sorry. Don't tell your brother,"

Ginny grins, "Won't. Promise." She looks her friend up and down, "I quite like your outfit, is it new?"

Hermione looks to check, smoothing her hand down the acid-washed denims and crinoline top, "Old, actually. We sort of threw anything and everything into bags before finding a portkey, so there wasn't much left to wear out. You can have the jeans if you like them. They've always been a bit long on me."

Ginny beams, “Thanks. I usually get hand-me-downs from all the boys, so it’ll be a nice change to get some girl trousers.”

Humming, Hermione nods. She’d never thought of that before. Maybe she could send Ginny a few other things she had lying around at home. 

“Now,” Ginny pulls her over to the bed to begin pulling down the comforter, “you have two choices: we have a cot set up in Ron’s room for Harry we can go and swipe. Or we can share the bed, at least for tonight. We weren’t sure when you and Fred were going to get a portkey, so we weren’t as prepared to make a cot up in here for you.”

“Sharing is fine by me,” Hermione shrugs, digging into her bag to find something to change into for sleep. She hadn’t been kidding when she said everything had been thrown in before leaving. “As long as you don’t snore or kick.”

Ginny giggles, shuffling over to give Hermione the right side of the bed, “Nah. Ron is a slapper and the twins both snore. Luckily, I got the good genes and am a perfect angel.” she bats her eyes for full effect, making Hermione chuckle as well. She knew perfectly well Fred barely snored, but she wasn’t going to tell Ginny that.

Changing quickly, Hermione slides into the bed next to Ginny, turning down the lantern with a whispered, wandless “Nox,”

She lays to face Ginny, seeing the girl’s eyes still wide-eyed as she waits for Hermione to settle, “I forgot you were old enough to do magic. Is it nice?”

“Well,” Hermione fluffs up her pillow a bit, “I’ve been seventeen for nearly a whole year now, but this summer was the first time I got to do it outside of school. It’s a bit strange actually, but it’s also quite nice. Seems natural now.”

Ginny squeak a bit, “You’ll be eighteen this year? But you were in sixth year last year!”

“Yes but my birthday is September 19th, so I had to wait nearly an entire year before I was allowed to attend my first year. It always set me in an odd position between two years, but it is what it is.”

“Huh,” Ginny frowns, thinking this over, “so… why didn’t you also put your name in the Goblet?”

Hermione hadn’t thought Ginny would ask, but found herself smiling at the innocent moment from her friend, “Well I thought about it, don’t get me wrong. But, I was more interested in my time at Hogwarts, since it was the place itself I was more interested in than the tournament. And besides, I wanted my friend to succeed and found I made a much better cheerleader.”

It makes Ginny smile and the girls settle into a comfortable silence for a moment. Ginny breaks it a few minutes later with a whisper.

“I’ve never had a sleepover before.”

Hermione cracks open an eye, looking at the young girl across the mattress from her. Her body looks so much smaller than Hermione’s ever seen it, and her face seems pinched. Without thinking, Hermione puts her hand out in the space between them, wiggling her fingers in invitation. Ginny puts her hand in Hermione’s, giving it a little squeeze. 

Hermione wiggles their hands, “This can be a first for both of us, then.”

It seems to make a difference for Ginny, as her wide, soft brown eyes look up into Hermione’s own, and she smiles. 

Ginny whispers, “I’m really happy you and Fred came home early.”

Hermione’s heart thuds in her chest. Happiness and fondness swelling for her found family and friends, “I’m really happy you felt comfortable to ask us to. We never want you to think you’re interrupting or being a pest Ginny. We’ll always help you, promise.”

Ginny smiles at the promise, thinking it sweet both Hermione and Fred thought to tell her the same thing to ease her fears. 

The girls smile at one another, hands staying together in the middle of the bed for the remainder of the night.

Monsieur - sir

Oui - yes

Chapter Text

August 3rd, 1995 

Grimmauld Place

Hermione wakes first, gently extracting her hand from the still slumbering Ginny’s as she slips out of the bed. Regardless of the late hour she and Fred had come in last night, Hermione’s body was too used to rising early to let her sleep in any longer. Dressing in the same cropped top she’d arrived in, Hermione digs through her beaded bag for some bottoms, intending to leave her jeans on the bed for Ginny. She manages to pull out a relatively unwrinkled long blue cotton skirt and a kerchief she ties around her throat. Good enough after a rather tiring evening. 

Once she was dressed and her hair was gathered into a messy feeling ponytail, she tiptoed out the door and down the first set of stairs. The daylight afforded the dark halls and stairs a bit more light, but the whole house was still daunting. Stepping carefully, Hermione refrained from using her wandlight to guide her, just in case it woke any of the others in their rooms as she passed by. 

There was noise coming from the kitchen at the bottom of the staircase, indicating Hermione wasn’t the first awake. Feeling a bit better for not being the first up in an unknown house, Hermione continued with a quicker step. The kitchen door was closed this time, meaning Hermione had to assume everyone was allowed to be a bit noisier whilst inside the room. 

Inside, Molly was at the stove, stirring multiple pots and setting a few knives to work on chopping on their own along the cupboard. Mr. Weasley was also sat at the table, reading the Daily Prophet with a quizzical look Hermione was used to seeing on the older man’s face. It was a scene she’d have expected to see in the Burrow, and to see it here instead warmed her heart just a bit more. The Weasleys would always be a warm and welcome sight, no matter the bleak scenery.

It was the third Weasley that gave Hermione pause. Sitting near his father with his own paper in hand and a cup of tea nearly finished sat Percy Weasley, with his squared glasses and dressed in a rather smart pair of robes. She assumed he hadn’t meant to, but the younger wizard appeared to nearly mirror his father’s morning routine.

Percy was the first to spot her, his eyes flickering over the top of his paper before double-taking, and laying the Prophet down on the table. A wide smile split his face, “Hermione! I didn’t know you had got in!”

Hermione smiles her wide grin, Molly and Arthur turning to smile at her in greeting as well at Percy’s exclamation, “Morning all, good morning Percy. I wasn’t expecting you either. How’s work at the Ministry?”

Percy stood as he shrugged, “The best it can be at the time, I suppose.” The odd non-commital answer made Hermione’s ears perk up, but she couldn’t try to figure out what it could mean with the elder Weasleys watching her. She was distracted anyways by Percy coming over to place his dishes in the sink and lean over to give her a small hug.

Letting out a pleased and surprised little hum, Hermione returned to hug before Percy let go and waved to everyone, off to work. 

“I’ll be home for dinner tonight, mum. Tell the others to stay out of that library until I’m back. I didn’t like the look of that last cupboard, and I’d feel better if Ginny and Ron weren’t around it.”

Molly waved at her son as he heads off to the floo, “Yes dear, I’ll make sure to tell them when they’re down. Have a good day!”

Percy opened the kitchen door and disappeared around it. The sound of a muffled floo went off.

Molly gave Hermione another warm smile, “Did you have a good sleep dear? We weren’t expecting you or Fred to be up this soon since you got in so late.”

Hermione took a seat at the table not very far from Arthur Weasley, “I’m afraid my internal clock doesn’t listen to reason, Molly. I’m usually awake by seven or eight each morning, even at home.”

Molly hums as she stirs, keeping her body turned to Hermione still as she chatted, “I only wish the same could be said of my brood. We’ll be lucky if the two of us aren’t dragging them down by their toes in the next two hours.”

Both Arthur and Hermione chuckled at the thought. Hermione asks politely if Arthur would mind if she took a cuppa from the pot in front of him, prompting Mr. Weasley to wave the set down to her. Filling her cup, Hermione then set the kettle back on the stovetop to refill the pot for the others. Molly tried to shoo her off, telling her she could do it.

But Hermione gave Molly a tongue-touched smile, “I’m perfectly well adept at filling a teapot, Mrs. Weasley, promise. I’ve even taught Fred how to do it too, you should be so proud.”

It makes Molly titter, her giggles enough to make Hermione grin as she sets the kettle before taking her seat again. Arthur gives Hermione a sly look, “That boy of ours behaved himself this summer, did he? I’ll admit I was expecting him to be shipped back in a box after the first time he tried to set a prank.”

Hermione snorts into her cup after a few mental images flit through her head, “I’m sure Hugo would have appreciated the thought at one point, but I’ve got a good grasp on how to waylay potential Weasley twin pranks. Kept him busy enough and Crookshanks was good for distracting him during downtimes.”

Arthur chuckles, flipping his paper down onto the table, finished with it for now, “Fred and George have always better behaved when their hands are busy. Hopefully that stays true for the rest of the summer,” he mutters this a bit, giving Molly a side-glance. His wife doesn’t catch it, but Hermione does. Her eyes flutter up towards the ceiling, hoping at that moment the boys are kind and behave for their mother. 

Molly flips another egg, stretching her back a bit as she does so. Hermione gulps down the rest of her tea and stands, going over to Molly and lifting the spatula from her hand. Molly turns, giving Hermione a perplexed look. Feeling cheeky, Hermione gives Molly a little hip bump and scoots her away from the stove.

“All right, madame . It’s someone else’s turn at the stove; you’ve been cooking all morning, I’ll bet.” Molly tries to swipe back the flipper, but Hermione holds it behind her back, “Ah-ah, no fights in the kitchen! You deserve a break, especially if what I’m hearing is right and you’ll be helping us clean all day as well! I’ll bet you’ve been cooking and cleaning this whole time, oui ?”

Molly shot her a slightly chastened and bashful look, giving Hermione her answer, “As I thought. Maintenant , go put your feet up and I’ll keep things going.”

Hermione then flipped the eggs, stirred the porridge and used her wand to stop the knives from chopping the fruit and had the sliced pieces begin to plate themselves. Molly sat with a disgruntled look on her face, but Hermione peeked over and could see the wary, pleased smile the mother tried to hide in her cup of hot tea. 

Arthur watched with glee, smiling when Hermione asked him how he liked his toast, “Beans to the side, please, sweetie. Mollywobbles likes hers on top if you don’t mind.”

Wriggling at the cute term of endearment (both of them), Hermione adds both beans as per order and waves her wand to send them off behind her, still tending to the rest of the food as she was unwilling to let any of it even dare to begin to burn under the eye of Mrs. Weasley.

With Molly and Arthur eating, Hermione hummed to herself as she continued to cook, following along to what Molly had started. The fruit was laid out on the table and muffins were placed into the oven to bake. 

More footsteps began to descend the stairs, though Hermine was too distracted to try and discern who they could belong to. She would have no doubt figured it out had she heard one set suddenly shift into four and clamber through the kitchen door with a bit more of a thud than a normal human might have made when opening doors. 

Which is why she’s shocked out of her monotonous task when a large, furry body knocks into the back of her knees.

Gasping, Hermione’s arms flail in the air for a moment before much more human arms are wrapped around her waist, catching her mid-fall and saving her from a burnt nose. She lets out a shout, “SIRIUS!”

Sirius Black barks out a laugh by her ear as he gives her waist a quick squeeze, chuckling still as she takes the egg flipper and smacks it on the top of his head. While she was certainly surprised at the sneaky appearance of Padfoot, she was even more surprised by the friendly hug from the man. 

Releasing her a moment later, Sirius reaches over her shoulder for one of the pieces of buttered toast. He tosses her a cheeky smile, looking much lighter and happier than the last time Hermione had seen him in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. 

“Nice to see you again, Miss Granger. You’re looking rather well this morning. Loving the tan.”

Hermione glares at the man but can’t help the slightly exasperated smile tugging at her lips. She’s sure that mischievous look Hugo always complains about is in her eye as she stares the man down, “Good morning, Chien .” Sirius barks a laugh, “How do you like your eggs? In your hair or on a plate?”

Sirius broke into peals of laughter— loud, short bursts of rusty laughter that seemed to ding off the pots and pans around them. Molly cringed a bit with a look thrown out into the hall, but nothing came about from the loud noise. The door had been closed behind Sirius by another man Hermione was not familiar with. She momentarily was a bit contrite at showing such a cheeky nature around a stranger, but it was done, and Sirius was still smiling. 

“A plate would be preferred, lovely, though I’ve no doubt your cooking would taste just as wonderful coming from my luscious locks,” Sirius throws her a wink to which she tosses a grape at his forehead, smirking proudly when it landed bullseye and plopped to the floor. 

“You’ll find out if that’s true if you don’t sit down in the next three seconds, Sirius.”

Giving her another grin, Sirius sat across from Arthur and Molly with a grin and a straight back, acting like a perfect angel for no other reason than to irk Hermione. Rolling her eyes, Hermione faced the stove to dish up Sirius’s plate, sending it and a mug of tea over to the man. She smiled more serenely when he gave her a polite thank you, his apparent cheeky behaviour muddled by warm food. 

During her and Sirius’s amusing morning greetings, Hermione had missed the second, unknown man moving over to the kettle himself to pour a cup of tea and filch a couple of pieces of toast.

When he saw Hermione looking at him, he gave her a polite smile that stretched the scars which ran over his cheek, and lit up a somewhat hidden spark in his eyes, “Hello, we’ve not met yet. I’m Remus. Remus Lupin,”

“Ah,” Hermione wipes her hand over her skirt before sticking it out for Remus to shake, “I’m Hermione Granger. Sorry your first encounter with me included trying to stick eggs in Sirius’s hair.”

Sirius snorts into said eggs. Remus gives Hermione a wider smile, though it is still quite contained, “Don’t worry, I completely understand. An old friend of ours rather often threatened a similar dish for Sirius’s ‘luscious locks’. I have a feeling eggs would be easier to clean out than mustard, however.”

“Never know till you try though, oui ?” Hermione throws a wolfish grin over her shoulder at Sirius, catching the man off guard enough that he forgot not to look scared at her threat. Arthur seemed to be trying desperately not to laugh while Molly continued to hide her amusement in her cup of tea. 

Hermione turns back to Remus with a contemplative quirk of her brow, “Your name sounds rather familiar actually. Something Harry told me, perhaps…” she tried to think what it could be, but came up blank. Remus looked a bit uncomfortable and wasn’t about to help her.

Molly was much more lenient and said to Hermione from her spot at the table, “He was the children’s Defence teacher two years ago, dear. I’m sure Harry and the others told you about him; he was their favourite professor.”

Remus blushes a bit at the compliment from Molly but doesn’t say anything to combat it. But it's also enough for Hermione to recall why the name had been so familiar.

Giving a little snap, she smiles a little more widely at Remus and says, “Oh right, you’re the werewolf professor. It’s nice to finally meet you!” 

Sirius chokes on his breakfast, laughing uproariously. Remus looks a bit thunderstruck but accepts the name with a grain of salt when he sees the twinkle in Hermione’s eye as she offers him some eggs.

She didn’t know it, but it was at that moment that Remus Lupin decided he quite liked Hermione Granger. 

Sirius made no secret of his enjoyment of the younger witch’s wit. He came over with his empty plate, still laughing and ribbing Remus by calling him ‘Professor Moony’. Standing next to Hermione, Sirius gave her big, shiny puppy-dog eyes.

Hermione gave him a rather uncanny ‘Molly Weasley’ look but dished him up another scoop of eggs. Still feeling rather cheeky and a bit punch-drunk to have new people to be around, Sirius leant in to give the witty witch another hug, hamming it up just to get a rise out of her.

While Hermione rolled her eyes and accepted the embrace from who was slowly amounting to be a London-based ‘Uncle’ replacement, at least in terms of his constant teasing, the door to the kitchen opened again to admit two more. 

A very sleepy George stumbled in behind a much more awake Fred, rubbing his eyes tiredly while trying to keep up with his annoyingly chipper twin. Fred looked to the stove first, as that was usually where he would find his mother in the mornings. Instead, he was greeted by the sight of his girlfriend being rocked back and forth in a hug by Sirius Black.

Rolling his eyes, Fred went over to the pair, completely bypassing Professor Lupin for the moment to instead smack at Sirius’s arms.

“What did I say about finding you all over my girlfriend, mate?”

Sirius releases Hermione, who sighs in a mixture of humour and exasperation, and finally goes back to dealing with the breakfast unencumbered. Of course, George took this moment to wake up and give Hermione a big hug from behind as well, a sleepy grin on his face as he rested his chin on the top of her head. 

Fred rolls his eyes at his brother, but it's with a much more lenient smile. Sirius teases the younger wizard, following Fred over to the table while they bicker over who (Padfoot or Sirius) was allowed to get attention from Hermione. The supposed protectiveness from Fred would normally bother her, even in pretending, but the happy look on Sirius’s face during the teasing and bantering changed her mind. She would gladly allow the friendliness between them if it made this poor guy feel some type of relaxation around friends. 

Meanwhile, Hermione let the still sleepy George— who was slumped a bit over her now like he’d been about to fall asleep— give her a squeeze and watch her continue to make breakfast over her head. Biting down on a smile, Hermione reached out for a cup of tea and put in two spoons of sugar. 

“Good to see you too. Tea, Georgie?” 

George reaches out for the cup, takes it with a smile and heads to the table. She watches with a fond look when Fred’s twin falls into the seat next to his mother, allowing Molly to pat his hand. He must have still been mostly asleep as he flopped his head to the side, craning down a bit to tuck his face into Molly’s shoulder. Judging by the delighted look on Molly’s face, her children weren’t normally as touchy as George was being. Even Fred gave him a fond look from across the table. 

Amidst the much noisier din of the breakfast table, Hermione handed over another plate of toast to Remus as the man passed by. He gave her a startled look, but she gave him one back that brooked no arguments. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in months. He took the plate without complaint.

Fred came back over once George was sitting and Sirius had gone back to shovelling eggs into his mouth, to replace the spot his twin had left hugging Hermione for himself for the first time that morning. 

“Hey,” he says softly into her hair, getting a humming hello back from her, “Mum let you take over cooking this morning?” his tone sounded a bit dubious at the idea.

Hermione cocks her head as she grabs a bowl of strawberries and a fresh cup of tea, “I don’t know if I’d say ‘let me’ but I’m certainly cooking, aren’t I?”

She turned around enough to give him the strawberries and tea while she waved her wand at the porridge. It began pouring out a bowl for Fred on its own, levitating over to the table and setting itself down. Hermione stuck her wand back into her hair before really looking up at him for the first time that morning, “ Matin, mon amour. ”

It makes that dopey little grin flicker over his face before he leans down to kiss the tip of her nose, “Morning, sweetheart. Have you eaten yet?”

Hermione shakes her head, placing another finished portion of eggs beneath a heating charm to keep them fresh for the next person down the stairs, “No, but I’ve only got a bit more to do before everything’s done. It’s just Ginny and Ron left to come down.” she lifts an empty plate and looks back up at him in question, “Eggs and bacon too?” he nods, so she scoops up enough for her to also sneak a few pieces for herself and sends it as well to the table. She gives Sirius a pointed look, warning him not to touch the food meant for Fred. 

“Then if I help it’ll be done in no time, and you can come to sit down with me.” Fred takes out his wand, setting the used dishes into the sink to begin cleaning themselves. Hermione smiles, agreeing with his plan and the pair quickly finishes up with the cooking and catches the last pot as it attempts to leave the sink before being completely clean. They’re done before Fred is even halfway through his tea.

He guides her back over to the table with her plate of honey toast, pulling back a chair for her before sitting next to her. George reaches over immediately to take a handful of the strawberries meant for Fred’s breakfast. Fred swats at him and tells him to get his own, pushing the bowl nearer to him and Hermione. Hermione throws another one over for George before Fred is even fully sat down.

Hermione didn’t see it, but Fred caught the lingering looks on his parents' faces as they watched their son and Hermione interacting in the morning. Molly looked so content she might have been Crookshanks after a successful hunt. 

Arthur finishes up his food and sends the dishes off to the sink to be added to the washing cycle Hermione still had on the sink, “We weren’t expecting you boys to be up so early.”

George groans, sinking his head back into his crossed arms petulantly. Fred throws George an amused look before sighing rather dramatically himself, “The Grangers wake up abysmally early. We’ve been leaving the house by eight most days. They’re monsters. It completely made me a morning person.”

Hermione snorts into her tea, gaining a grin from both Remus and Sirius who were seated across from her at the unladylike action. Arthur smiled at her as well, as always amused by his twins.

Molly patted George’s back gently, “Why is George awake then? I thought I told you to get more sleep, dear?”

George moans as he rolls his head to the side so he could say, “Because Fred’s awake and the man’s a menace at doing anything quietly in the morning.”

Hermione slides her remaining cup of tea down to George as recompense for Fred’s annoyingness, seeing as she sort of had a part in it. At least this time. George shoots her a tired smile and downs the tea before dropping his head to the table again amidst everyone’s quiet laughter. 

Everyone continues to enjoy their breakfasts, waiting for the last two Weasley’s to join them. But it’s neither Ginny nor Ron that comes through the kitchen door next.

A crumpled, hunched-over figure hobbles into the room, his large pointed ears droopy and sad looking where they protrude from his head. The house elf appeared to be quite elderly; his clothing— or what constituted coverings, at least— was so starched it barely moved as he shuffled through the kitchen, heading towards the larder. His knees were buckled and knobby, with thin bony legs somehow supporting his entire frame. The wrinkles covering his balding head and limbs were significantly more leathery than the other house elf Hermione had met at Hogwarts, named Dobby. 

This house elf was muttering to himself in low tones but didn’t seem to notice or care that he was passing by a group of witches and wizards enjoying their morning meal. Hermione thought perhaps he did know it, as a few rather pointed comments were said in a louder mumble than the rest as if he was trying to prove a point as he shuffled along the hardwood. 

Sirius, Remus and the other Weasleys all looked rather annoyed at the sight of the house elf. Sirius cleared his throat, “Good morning, Kreacher.”

The house elf stopped where he was, looking up at the people at the table without really seeing anyone. He met Sirius’s gaze with a rather smug look of his own, “Master Sirius and his friends are eating their meal. If my mistress were to see them now— mixed company indeed. Bloodtraiters and beasts dine at her table, eating her food, sleeping in her beds…”

“That’s enough, Kreacher,” Sirius bellowed, his good mood completely vanished, “Leave, or you’ll be finding your head among the others within the hour!”

Kreacher grumbled over this but didn’t seem worried about the threat. Hermione watched the old house elf with a frown, wondering if there might be something wrong with him, or if he was perhaps just too old and beginning to lose himself. 

The house elf turned to go, shuffling away all while muttering to himself. He stole another look at those at the table, glaring at them all. Hermione was a new face, however, and it made him and his mutters pause for a moment.

His eyes went wide suddenly and he brought a knarled crooked finger up to point it in Hermione’s direction, “A mudblood too! Oh, my poor sweet mistress! What would she think of poor Kreacher letting Master Sirius bring the likes of her in this house.”

“OUT! Now, Kreacher!” Sirius stood from the table, rounding it to most likely grab the house elf.

Fred and George were way ahead of him. Fred had spun and was off his chair by the time George had launched himself over the tabletop, both twins grabbing the elf’s arms and tossing him out of the kitchen bodily.

Dusting their hands of it, both boys took up their seat at the table again, this time with George on Hermione’s other side, bookending her with Weasley twins.

Molly gave them a rather mixed look of admonishment and pride but still told them off, “Don’t let him get to you, dears. Sirius is doing his best with him, but we can’t free him with how much he knows.”

Fred tossed a dark look over his shoulder at the closed door, “Doesn’t excuse his word choices, mum.”

Molly pursed her lips, “No. It certainly doesn’t.”

Sirius sighed as well, his shoulders suddenly lower and his face looking gaunt once more, “My apologies, Hermione. We’re all used to it by this point, but I wasn’t expecting that .”

Everyone else sort of gave her commiserating looks and George tucked his arm under hers, looping their limbs on the tabletop.

Hermione tried to make them feel a bit better about the situation, though she was a bit confused herself, “It’s not a problem. I’m not even technically a muggleborn— or, well, I’m not sure what I am. It’s a bit complicated.”

At Sirius and Remus’s curious looks, Fred said, “Her parents were muggles but her dad was a squib.”

Remus’s eyes lit up with understanding, “Ah, I see. I believe your magic would confirm you are a half-blood, then. But I suspect having such a direct line to a squib affects the way other magical creatures or beings detect you. I’ll bet Kreacher was just confused at the difference. He is rather old.”

Arthur looked interested in this line of thinking but was also clever enough not to bring it up. Getting a quick kick to the shin from Molly certainly helped as well. 

Hermione had no idea where he’d come from but Crookshanks was suddenly hopping up on one of the kitchen chairs, letting out a mournful sounding meow and breaking up the slightly tense silence. Hermione gave her cat a little heatless glare, about to admonish him for sitting at the table when Fred silently lifted his arm holding his cup of tea. Apparently knowing this signal, Crookshanks leapt from his seat with a purry sounding ‘ breow!’ and ducked under Fred’s arm to curl up on his lap. 

Fred used his free hand to pet down the cat’s fluffy back, “Morning, Crooks. Catch many mice for breakfast?”

Crookshanks let him know he’d had quite the pleasant meal entertainment and thanked him for asking with a mellow, “ Meow .”

Fred nods, like he understands perfectly, “Good job, mate.”

Hermione shakes her head, fondly this time and goes back to her tea, leaning into George’s side and ignoring Crookshank’s paw coming out to bat at her side. If he was going to snuggle Fred instead of her, he could bloody well do so.

George grins over Hermione’s head at his twin as Fred continues to pet Crookshanks over his breakfast, “You’re aware I’m getting a cuddle from your girlfriend while you pet her cat, yes?”

Fred just grins, giving George a wink, “Crookshanks is generally more friendly in the morning. Especially if you share bacon.”

Sirius snickers, watching as the cat lifts his head at the sound of his favourite food and purring loudly when Fred slips him a slice. Hermione stretches an arm out and snags a piece of bacon as compensation for the jab.

The door to the kitchen is opening again, this time bringing in Ron and Ginny. Both still looked a bit sleepy-eyed but Ginny’s hair was brushed out and Ron had his shirt the right way around, so Hermione figured they must have been awake for at least a few minutes. She’d more than once had to poke Ron at school and remind him his shoes were untied. It makes her smile when she sees the denims she’d left out for Ginny fit the other girl nicely. She’d have to see what else she’d stuffed into her bag today and see if there was anything else Ginny might like before she left. 

“Good morning, dears,” Molly says cheerily from the table. She goes to grab the food Hermione and Fred had finished for them, but Hermione takes out her wand and waves it all over to the table before the woman can do it. Molly sends Hermione a pretend little scowl, but the smile on her face belays the impact. 

“Mornin’ mum!” Ginny greets, saying her hellos down the table as well as she goes to find her seat. She pauses behind George and Hermione to give Hermione a quick side hug before wrapping both arms around Fred’s neck in a larger hug, “And morning, Freddie! It’s good to see you!”

Fred grins around his bite of eggs, patting his sister’s head awkwardly while being squished by her, “Morning, Gin-bug.”

Ginny pats the top of Crookshanks’s head before letting Fred go, sitting in the spot next to Remus and across from Sirius. She’s barely sat down before brandishing her fork in defence of her breakfast, stabbing down at Sirius’s wandering hand, “Mine!”

Sirius draws back his hand quickly, “Merlin, Red, you’re quick. I always forget that.”

“Years of experience, Black. I grew up with six brothers,” Ginny shrugs and sends her wave of fiery red hair over her shoulder, “And Ron.”

Ron, who had been about to sit, looked up at his younger sister with a scowl, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ginny just shrugs again and begins eating, occasionally batting away Sirius. 

Still scowling, Ron turns to give Hermione a nod of hello as well, “Hi ‘Mione, when did you get in?”

“Late last night,” Hermione tells him as she finishes up her tea, “we didn’t want to wake anyone up, obviously, but we wanted to get here as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, speaking of—” Fred looks up from Crookshanks finally, asking the whole table, “where is the lawbreaker? We thought he’d be here already by the sounds of things.” He looks at Ron with a serene look on his face, “And hello little brother, it’s good to see you too. I’m fine, thank you for asking.”

Ron waves him off with another scowl, mumbling through his large helping of eggs, “I’ve practically seen you all summer with George around. Don’t flatter yourself.”

Fred rolls his eyes at Ron while Arthur pipes up, breaking in between his sons' bickering, “There are plans in place to retrieve Harry in a few days. We’ve had to leave him at Privet Drive with his aunt and uncle, for now, to line up a time for everyone that won’t affect the Secret Keeper for Grimmauld. But he’ll be here in the next few days!”

Ginny didn’t look especially enthralled by this news but smartly didn’t say anything. Hermione clears her throat gently, smiling in Remus’s direction and changes the subject to his previous teaching, asking him about a few of the things Harry had mentioned to her over the last year. 

Everyone else also fell into more comfortable conversation, eating their breakfast and lingering a bit longer once they were done. 

Fred didn’t bother to stop Crookshanks from reaching up onto the table when he spotted the last piece of bacon on Ron’s plate, biting and dragging the piece down and munching on it quite happily.

Ron scowled at the cat and Fred, “Food stealer,”

Crookshanks purrs very loudly and leans further into Fred’s stomach. Fred pats the cat with a poorly hidden grin, smiling unabashedly when Hermione nudges him in the side.

She looks down at her spoiled rotten cat, “You do know you’re coming back to France with me , oui ?”

Quite melodramatically, Fred covers Crookshanks’s large ears as the cat only purrs louder under the attention, “‘Mione, don’t mention the F-word!”

“Fred!”

Crookshanks perked up, looking up at Fred excitedly. 

Fred cracks a grin, petting down Crookshanks’s back, “Not that F-word… though, judging by his reaction that one might also be on the no-no list in the future.”

Hermione rolls her eyes (mostly at her cat, but Fred wasn’t necessarily left out), “ Oui , I’m going to be dealing with your son’s withdrawals when we’re back at school.”

Grinning at the cat again, Fred lifts him to plop him on the ground, allowing him to roam now that he’d stolen more than his fair share of bacon, “Good boy, Crooks.”

-~-~-~-

August 3rd, 1995

Upstairs

Ginny is the last to slip into the twin’s room, shutting the door slowly and softly to make sure it didn’t make a loud noise. Ron was already sprawled over the end of George’s bed while Fred and Hermione were sorting through something on Fred’s side of the room. 

“Anyone else think it’s rubbish they’re not telling us anything about Harry?”

All three of her brothers and her friend raise their hands and make ascending noises like a court jury. Normally that would have made her laugh, but the stress of the past twenty-four hours had finally gotten to her regardless of the few hours of sleep she had managed to get last night, and she instead went and slumped over Fred’s bed.

Fred pulled back the bag he and Hermione were riffling through just before Ginny hit her target, carefully moving his sister’s hair out of the way before putting the bag back down and continuing on his mission.

Hermione took the time to move Ginny’s legs into a more comfortable position before helping Fred again, “We’ll get it all figured out, Ginny. Your dada said Harry will be here as soon as they can manage it and then we’ll be able to help him better.”

Groaning into the pillow, Ginny mumbled, “He’s going to be so cross,”

Fred hums noncommittally, finally pulling a thin box out of the small bag that shouldn’t have physically been able to fit, “What makes you say that, Gin?”

“Probably cause Dumbledore told us not to tell him anything,” Ron says, sitting up to lean against the wall while George sat next to him, “we’ve barely been writing him because of it. He was starting to ask stuff we were told couldn’t be in a letter.”

Hermione made a sound of frustration that had Ginny raising her head from Fred’s pillow, “Well, that answers my own questions on why I seemed to be the only one responding to him all summer.”

Ginny pulls a sorry face but doesn’t apologize. Neither does Ron or George.

“We wanted to write him, ‘Mione, honestly,” Ron says, “but then mum threatened to read our mail before we sent it if we didn’t think we could handle ignoring Harry’s questions. It seemed like a better idea to just… wait for him.”

George threw a sly look at his younger brother, “And it had nothing to do with you trying to sneak off some other letters you didn’t want mum seeing, eh?”

Ron’s face went a rather spectacular ruddy colour before he shoved George over, “Leave it alone, George.”

Cackling, George sat back up but gave Ron a few extra inches between them. Fred looked like he wanted to jump right in and continue hassling Ron, but Hermione put her hand over his arm and dragged down the box he was still holding, effectively distracting him and silently warning him at the same time. Ginny shot her an impressed look from her half-buried state in the pillows.

“Show George the prototype, Fred, before you’re mother comes up and finds us all together.” 

Fred grins widely at his twin, flourishing the now open box of quills towards George who was craning his neck forward with interest.

“Feast your eyes, brother, on the brilliance that is Hermione Granger’s mind!”

-~-~-~-

The group didn’t have much time before Molly was upon them, bursting in with a shrewd eye and hustling Ron and Ginny out to begin the ‘daily dusting’ in the hallway. George was sent out as well but told to focus on the kitchen for the morning. Fred had already tucked away the Self-Inking and Smart-Answer Quills back into their box and shoved them into Hermione’s bag, which was hanging innocently at her hip when Molly found them.

Fred and Hermione, she said with a kind smile, were going to follow her lead for the morning in the den so she could show them what they were up against before she sent them off on their own as well.

So the pair found themselves coughing and sniffling at the amount of dust Molly beat out of the heavy room-darkening curtains in her quest to source out the doxies, explaining over the dust clouds that the creatures were biting through any fabric they could find. Hermione took over the beating while Fred took over scooping up the doxies and their eggs when Molly looked to be slowing down, telling the woman she and Fred would handle it fine if she wanted to go and check on the others.

Molly seemed a bit unsure but decided she could leave them with this task that, easy as it seemed, would take long enough for her to walk the house and come back before they had finished. 

With Mrs. Weasley gone, Hermione tugged a handkerchief out of her bag and handed it to Fred before untying the one from her neck to shift it over her face.

“Tie that around her mouth and nose, it’ll help with the coughing.”

Fred takes it thankfully, tying it around his face then standing to assist Hermione with her own when she struggled to fit it around her hair. Tying and then tugging her ponytail free from the knot, Fred looked over the pile of doxies and eggs with a keen eye.

“How angry do you think mum would be if she caught me with doxy eggs in my pockets?”

Hermione looked up at Fred slowly, caught somewhere between exasperation and a healthy dose of interest, “Why would you need doxy eggs?”

A grin flashed over his lips as he looked down at her with bouncy eyebrows, “Well, doxies themselves have a pretty venomous bite— hence the Doxycide mum was spraying over the curtains,” he gestures to the misting jar Molly had placed down for them to use, “but their eggs could be boiled down and create a milder reaction.”

“Huh,” Hermione looks at the eggs from Fred’s point of view now, “They’d certainly be interesting to try, wouldn’t they?”

“Exactly my thoughts, sweetheart.”

Hermione grins up at him, the tip of her tongue peeking out between her teeth as her whiskey-brown eyes sparkled in mischief, “Well, it’s a good thing you know someone with a rather expansive bag and large pockets then, isn’t it?”

“A very good thing indeed,” Fred slips his hand down into the small beaded bag that secretly held an Undetectable Extension Charm within it. Luckily, after the last month he and Hermione had spent together in France, Fred also knew there were several empty vials and containers Hermione kept ‘just in case’. 

He’d been a bit too afraid to ask if those had always been there, or just after they had started dating.

Fred carefully scoops the doxy eggs into one of those containers, being extra careful not to touch them with his skin. Once he had enough (without Molly being able to tell there were a lot fewer eggs than she was expecting) he handed the eggs over to Hermione, who tucked the container back into her bag and completely safe from prying eyes. 

Standing back up from his knelt position, Fred cast an eye around the rest of the room, “Wonder if there are other things in this house we could use. I’ll have to show Georgie and see if he’s thought the same.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he has,” Hermione says as she picks up the Doxycide to give the next window’s curtains a good spray. Rather immediately, ten or so doxies fall to the floor incapacitated by the spray.

Wrinkling her nose at the pests, Hermione quickly sweeps them into the bag with the others to dispose of them later, “Just promise me you two won’t touch or collect things that could be potentially life-threatening?”

“Easy promise, sweetheart.” Fred squints over at a dark corner that seemed to hold recessed bookshelves along the south wall, “What’cha think about slipping a few of those books over there in your bag as well?”

-~-~-~-

Later that day, once Molly had released her children and Hermione from the continuous list of chores for a well-deserved break, Hermione found herself bunking down in the twins’ room with them. Ron went straight up to his room, mumbling something about a nap. Ginny went off in search of Sirius or Remus, ‘Whichever I can bug first.’.

George closed and locked the door behind them once Fred passed the doorway, using his wand to also set a Silencing Charm just in case his mother decided to come up and be nosy.

“All set you two,” George says as he pockets his wand again, “I think she forgets sometimes I can use magic now. Just a bit too trusting to let us all come up here.” He grins mischievously, making Hermione giggle a bit at the sight. 

Fred tugs the beaded bag away from Hermione’s arm, pulling the top open and digging inside, “I hope you’ve been on the same page as us, Forge, cause this house is practically made of gold!”

George watched with excitement in his eyes as Fred pulled out the three full containers of doxy eggs, a vial of dried poppy seeds and a rather old-looking jar of puffer-fish eyes. Not to mention the couple books on questionable magic, a vial that Hermione was positive was dragons blood and a small bushel of horse hairs.

“Oh, nice!” George picks up one of the doxy egg containers to take a closer look, “I’ve been trying to figure out how to collect these without mum noticing a missing bowl from downstairs.”

Hermione pulls out the extra vials, sealed dishes and containers she still had in her bag, “Well, you’re both welcome to mine, but this is all I’ve brought with me. And I don’t think it’s safe to transfigure new ones.”

George looks like he could kiss her, but Fred did it for him instead, “Brilliant! Thanks, Granger, this is going to help loads! If we do run out, we could see if Cedric would mind sending more to us. He knows about the shop too, so he wouldn’t think it suspicious.” He puts the eggs back and carefully piles the possible ingredients that Fred and Hermione had collected together, bringing them over to his side of the room. 

Knocking his heel into a floorboard, the board popped up on the opposite side revealing a small stash that looked similar in its ragtag appearance as the newly collected specimens. George stashed the new ones away with them as he explained, “I thought I’d learn a bit from the last time mum raided us and found our stash of products last year. I’ve got all the Wheezes stuff in other rooms just in case. She hasn’t found these yet, but then I don’t know what sort of seeking charm she used the last time.”

“Good thinking,” Fred says as he packs Hermione’s bag again, “And my lovely girlfriend has agreed to be our pack mule. It’s quite handy; mum didn’t even question why she was wearing her bag all day.”

Hermione throws a look over her shoulder at Fred, not all that impressed with her new designation, “Being your bag holder seems a lot safer than giving the two of you extended pockets if I'm being honest.”

Fred perked up at the idea, making Hermione point at him like she was scolding Crookshanks, “No.”

Chuckling at the pair, George sprawls out on the floor below them, tugging playfully at the hem of Hermione’s long skirt, “Come on, ‘Mione! It would make it so much easier, and you wouldn’t have to follow us around all day!”

Hermione looks at him with a small roll of her eyes, “Following you has the benefit of watching you, George. If I’m helping you collect these specimens, then I’m also making sure the two of you are behaving. I don’t trust that pockets meant for ingredient collecting won’t be filled with fireworks or pranks instead.”

The twins tried to act offended but were too giddy and dissolved into laughter instead. Hermione scooted back to recline against the wall Fred’s bed was against, content at that moment to watch the brothers get back into the swing of things. It had been a month since they’d been together, after all.

Between their jabs and playful teasing of one another, eventually, the boys shifted to their products again, discussing what they’d managed to get done while apart.

“I had to stop work on the Whiz-bangs after a rather unfortunate noise woke the whole house,” George grins while Fred cackles at the thought of George scrambling to conceal a literal explosion in his room, “but I think I’ve nailed the final result of the Yo-Yos. And, obviously, the Extendable Ears.”

Fred excitedly made grabby hands at the flesh-coloured puck George brandished, while Hermione wrinkled her nose at the thing.

“Please tell me whatever that is, it wasn’t a real ear in its past life.”

Both boys throw her weirded-out looks, “No, Granger, it’s fake.” George says slowly, a bit worried honestly at the thought process of the girl, “It worries me what you must think of Fred and me if that was your first concern.”

Hermione pushes at him with the tip of her toes, knocking him off balance enough that he windmills his arm to get it back. Fred snatches the Ear from him to look it over while George and Hermione bicker.

Fred prods at the Ear, pulling out what looked like a long, sinewy string that seemed never-ending, “Nice work, Georgie! It’s much better than last time. What did you end up using? Was it the elasticity charm?”

George swings a pillow into Hermione's face, resulting in a satisfying thwack and a squawk from Hermione, “Mostly. But then I got to thinking how we had to adjust the suppleness and give in our Fake Wands, and tried affecting the string with a similar charm and voila !”

Hermione looked over the edge of the pillow with raised brows, “Very impressive, George. I tried looking that one over from your notebook and didn’t think to use the same magic as a wandmaker.”

George shrugs, but looks proud of himself under the praise, “Thanks. Speaking of, what’s this about quills you two got up to?”

Fred summons the box of quills from Hermione's bag, much too lazy to grab them himself. He pulls out his and Hermione’s first real prototype of the Self-Inking Quills and one of the spare muggle pens she always kept on her.

After laying out the quills and Hermione showing George how each worked, Fred also pulled out the original ideas notebook the twins had been working on, as well as the nearly full one he and Hermione had done over the last month.

George took the new notebook with wide eyes, flipping through it with an impressed whistle, “Wow, you two sure can move when you put your heads down, can’t you?” he flips through a few more pages, snorting a bit at one of the rather humourous moments of legible bickering between the couple over some kind of Fizzy Drink, “Blimey, did you just work all summer?”

Hermione chuckles, “Nearly. It was a nice activity in the morning or before bed,”

Closing the notebook up for now, George throws a rather droll look at his twin, “You had a house to yourselves and you chose to study with your witch? Fred.”

Fred’s cheeks bloomed bright red, making George cackle and Hermione give her boyfriend a knowing look followed by a sneaky wink, “We only studied during French lessons, thank you very much.” Fred’s ears went red as well now, Hermione noticed with a grin, “Working is entirely different.”

“Well, whatever you want to call it…” George says as he begins flipping through their notebook again, pulling at a few loose bits of parchment (that to anyone else other than the three of them, most likely resembled gibberish or gobbledegook).

“You two might have solved enough together to get most of these new products out and ready this year!”

Madame - ma’am

Oui - yes

Maintenant - now

Chien - dog

matin cher - morning, my love

Chapter Text

August 4th, 1995

Grimmauld Place

Hermione was coming to the understanding that Molly Weasley had parenting down to a science. All of the cleaning they had managed to get through yesterday (and it was more than Molly was expecting when Hermione and Fred started using their wands for a lot of it) had both taken up nearly every free moment her children had and tuckered them all out so thoroughly none of them felt like doing anything but falling straight into bed.

Waking up the next day and hearing there had been a clandestine Order meeting while they slept caused mixed reactions. Ginny was peeved and let her mother know it by stomping and huffing around, causing little puffs of dust to rise from the floorboards each time she did it. 

Contrariwise, Ginny finally gave Hermione the answer for why everyone acted as if they were going to be eaten alive if they made too much noise in the house. All the younger witch’s stomping and grumbling caused the massive portrait of the late Mrs. Black to wake up and begin her own (rather classist) ranting temper tantrum.

And while Ginny was reprimanded for her temper as well as waking the painting, Ron was grumbling rather loudly over his meals about missing the meeting when ‘Everything you’re talking about has to do with my best friend!’

George wasn’t any happier, but Hermione and Fred figured he was less upset over missing the gist of the meeting than he was to have missed an opportunity to try out the Extendable Ears. Fred was a bit on the fence over how to react; not knowing enough about what the Order even was, was skewing his decision…all while also being a bit disappointed at the loss of real-world experimentation like his twin. 

Hermione herself held back her disappointment in a much more (inwardly) mature way: ignoring the new faces in the dining room once again, she entered the kitchen just like she had the day before, took the spatula out of Molly’s hand and hip bumped the woman away from the stove. Molly had looked a bit shocked but burst into giggles and sat down without a word, enjoying her tea while Hermione continued breakfast.

Hermione had a plan of her own: If Molly wasn’t going to let any of the younger generation of witches and wizards be a part of the Order of the Phoenix— and whatever it was they were so intent on protecting— then Hermione would do her best to wear her down while she could. From experience, neither Ginny nor Ron had the patience or mental fortitude to play the right mind-games Molly Weasely was willing to play to protect her children. The twins might have had a chance, whether by playing Molly’s games or just annoying their mother into breaking. But Hermione had a feeling they were too involved in their work to be able to focus on an entirely separate endeavour.

So it fell to Hermione; who had enough nerve and patience to hopefully wait out even the most uncompromising of mothers (and… sort of, if she thought about it too hard, her mother-in-law). She had the next month to try and find out as much as she could before she’d be leaving for France and Beauxbatons, and effectively-being left behind in regards to all this resistance business.

And speaking of— “I wrote Uncle Hugo this morning to let him know I’d be staying here until the new school year. If that’s still all right, of course?”

Molly looks up from her tea and the knitting she had pulled into her lap, frowning for a second before Hermione’s words caught up with her. Her face showed genuine happiness, which made Hermione’s hackles lower as well.

“Of course, dear! We’re always happy to have you!” Mrs. Weasley’s eyes rise to look over the room for a moment, “Though, it would be a nicer stay if we were back home…”

“ Balivernes! It’s not the place that I’m visiting, it’s the people, non ?” She throws a grin over her shoulder at Molly, thinking it might have been a bit too much to sell it, but the older witch’s answering smile spoke for itself. 

Maybe taking some of the pressure off of Molly’s shoulders would help her see some sense about this whole Order business.

With that in mind, when the first of the Weasley brood showed themselves again downstairs— Fred and George, of course— Hermione stopped them from heading straight to the table with a hand to Fred’s chest and a stack of plates levitating into George’s arms.

“Table first, tea second, boys,” she says while putting on a bossy voice and thickening her accent, mostly to see Fred’s amused smirk, “Then one of you can ‘ave the pleasure of ‘elping me with the bacon, merci .”

George growls as he goes to set the table, always grumpy before his morning cuppa— and it had already been interrupted by Ginny and Ron stomping back up the stairs. Fred grins at his twin before dipping down to give Hermione a quick kiss, “ Matin , sweetheart.”

Hermione grins, her smile showing off the tip of her tongue pressed to the side of her teeth, “ Matin, mon amour. Cuisiner aujourd'hui?”

Fred breathes in slowly, his eyes looking squirrely before he sighs out a very tentative, “... Oui ?  I got ‘today’ but the first part…”

Hermione thrusts the spatula forward, passing it over to him. Fred takes it with a small, ‘Aha,’ and diligently gets to work on the bacon and eggs. Hermione bites down on a smile as she tends to the pasties, overhearing his mumbled, “Wrong answer then…”

Meanwhile, George had fallen into a seat at the table and thumped his head onto the wooden table. Molly tsks at her son but leaves him be, well aware George was a monster before his morning tea and also still a bit grumpy herself from dealing with her children.

One of the new people at the table that morning took pity on George and served up a cup of tea from the pot in the centre of the table, waving it down towards the half-asleep boy. 

George took the cup and cheersed the woman before nearly gulping down the entire mug.

Arthur rolls his eyes at his son, “More tea, George?”

Nodding, George holds out his cup to be refilled and takes much smaller sips of this one, already looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. 

Hermione and Fred start sending the made and ready food to the table, allowing those already awake and seated to begin eating. Neither knows the older of the two women sitting at the end of the table, but Fred whispers quickly into her ear that the young witch was named Tonks and the man was Kingsley Shaklebolt. Hermione cocked her head a moment, the name ringing a bell, but she let it go after a moment. It would come to her later if it was important.

Making the food all at once this time and not waiting for each person to grab their dish gave the pair more time to enjoy their food with the others. Once the last dish of pasties was set under a warming charm and sent to the table, Hermione took her plate of honey toast while Fred grabbed a plate of fruit for them to share and they sat across from the nameless young woman and next to George.

Feeling more generous this morning, Fred slid the bacon a bit closer to his twin to give George a chance to lazily munch on some sort of sustenance. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he agreed with his mother— George really did look overtired and a bit rung out.

The young woman— Tonks, Fred had said— grinned at the two twins while Fred attended to George. Her big doe eyes flickering between them like she was taking everything in, a rather devious sparkle to her countenance that Hermione might not have noticed if it weren’t so close to the look the twins themselves sported most days. Her hair was a rather obtrusive shade of purple and cut into a cute, choppy cut that ended in wisps behind her small ears. In general, the woman was small; tiny, really. But her smile was so wide and stretched over her entire face, making the previously sweet face appear a bit feral in its mischievousness.

“Morning, boys. No hellos for Sissy Tonks?”

George was not awake enough for her sass and threw her a thoroughly unimpressed look. Fred snorts, tossing a blueberry at her. Hermione’s eyes widened when Tonks let the berry hit her hair only for the brilliant violet purple shade of her hair to morph quickly to match the deep blue-hued projectile, in a wave of blue and disappearing purple.

Fred scoffs at the now blue haired woman, “Buzz off, Nymphie. We haven’t called you that in years .”

“Yeah, especially when we figured out it didn’t bother you,” George says, only a bit sour at the mention.

“I think it bugged Charlie more than you,”

“And then bugged Percy when we offered you two to just trade places.” George looks around the table, “Where is Poncy Percy?”

Molly slaps at his shoulder, “Don’t call your brother names, George. And he’s at work.”

Tonks snorts, “Yeah, I recall a rather strongly worded letter from him when we got back to school that year. Good times.” A frown flashes quickly over her face as she tosses a grape at them both, “And don’t call me ‘Nymphie’, you brats.”

Hermione flicks her eyes to the side, catching Fred’s at the same time. He throws her a smile, “Sorry, ‘Mione. This is an old friend of Charlie’s from school. Hermione Granger, Nymphadora Tonks. Tonks, Hermione.”

Tonks smiles back at Hermione, the girls exchanging polite nods before Tonks burst out, “I figured you must be Hermione. I’ve met Fleur of course and she told me a bit about you. And Ginny can’t stop talking about you, so that certainly helped.”

Feeling a bit thrown at all the information, Hermione just smiles politely again, “Hopefully all good things. I’ll admit neither Fred nor Charlie have told me about you before now, so I apologize for not having my own raving reviews to go off of.”

Snickering, Tonks bites into one of the buns, “All good. Ginny mostly told me you were the smart, pretty French girlfriend with excellent fashion sense. And much too good for her goober of a brother.”

Fred tries to look offended but shrugs. Hermione scoffs and knocks her shoulder into him before thanking Tonks demurely for the compliment.

Tonks goes on, back to looking back and forth between the twins, “Ya know, I was sort of hoping you two would grow up and begin to look a little different from each other. How do you tell ‘em apart?” She looks to Hermione when she asks this, but amusingly it’s Molly who answers while she continues her attempt to untangle her knitting project.

“It helps that Fred can’t leave Hermione alone for longer than five minutes. Though, George tends to sneak in for a hug now and again.” Molly looks up to shoot a quick smile at her twins before looking back at her yarn, ignoring the slightly dismayed looks on her sons’ faces.

Fred scoffs, “Sorry ‘Mione, I’ll need to spend some time away from you from now on, on account of my own mother suddenly being able to tell George and me apart.”

Hermione shrugs, popping one of his blueberries into her mouth, “All right, mon amour . I’ll spend the day with Ginny.”

His head swivels, somehow appearing even more dejected now, “No, wait—”

Tonks cackles, enjoying the show while she munches on her breakfast. Of course, then Crookshanks decides to make an appearance and jumps up into the chair next to Fred, looking up at him with big eyes and pawing at his elbow. 

Molly bites down on another laugh, “There’s also Crookshanks, who is usually trying to get Fred’s attention.”

Fred scowls down at the cat, much to the amusement of everyone at the table, as he hisses, “Mate, you’re sort of giving the game away here,” Crookshanks just purrs, pawing a bit more insistently and looking over the top of the table at the bacon still in front of Fred.

Rolling his eyes, Fred scoops him up and plops him on his lap, “Ok, yes, fine,” and starts petting him as he pulls a piece of bacon close enough for Hermione’s cat to nibble on it. Hermione hides her smile behind her cup of tea, afraid if she begins to coo over her boys getting along so well, Fred just might storm off on principle. 

Ginny and Ron stumble down the stairs one after the other, both looking as dead on their feet as George, with matching dark rings under their eyes that made their high cheekbones appear gaunt. If Hermione didn’t know better, she would have guessed that they were the twins in the family. 

Ron seemed rather too tired to fight anymore and didn’t say a word past a very deadened ‘morning’ and scooped some eggs onto a plate. Ginny’s tiredness had evolved into pure exhaustion. The poor girl fell into the chair beside Hermione’s and fell into her friend’s side. Hermione silently and gently guided Ginny’s head down onto her shoulder, offering her support while she continued to eat and enjoy her breakfast, trying to nudge small bites Ginny’s way when the younger girl refused her own plate.

Thankfully, Ginny did accept the cup of tea her mother offered her, though neither woman spoke.

The awkward air that had come back in with the reappearance of the youngest Weasley was immediately dissipated by the arrival of two more Order members. It struck Hermione and Fred as odd that the very audible call of a Silencing Spell in the front hall didn’t bother anyone else when everyone had been so careful about staying quiet to avoid the loudness of Mrs. Black. But then the additional call of, “Morning all!” had Ginny perking up and bolting from the room.

Ron also looked quite excited but sat and simply watched his little sister run out of the room. George shot Fred and Hermione a look that seemed to mean something to Fred but Hermione didn’t understand what it had to do with their older brother arriving.

That is until she heard Ginny calling out in a happy tone, “Bill! Fleur!”

“Fleur?!” Hermione gasps and shoots out of her seat, rushing through the kitchen door and down the hall. 

Turning the corner, she saw as Ginny released Bill’s taller frame to wrap her arms around Fleur’s instead. The girls were still squeezing each other in greeting when they let out twin squeaks when they found themselves being enclosed in a Hermione hug as well.

Fleur lifted her head from Ginny’s to stare at Hermione in surprise, “‘Ermione?! Mon amie, what are you doing here?”

Hermione laughs, feeling fairly giddy at getting to see and surprise her best friend, “Fred and I came yesterday— well, yesterday night— when Ginny called us. She told us about Harry so we rushed over. And I forgot to tell you!!”

Fleur laughs now as well, cuddling Ginny into her side to give Hermione a better angle for her hug before releasing her friend, “Well, eet iz good to see you! ‘Ow long are you ‘ere?”

“The rest of the summer or until Mrs. Weasley kicks me out,” Hermione grins, enjoying the disbelieving laugh Ginny does into Fleur’s jacket.

Bill scoffs a laugh as well as he bends to hug the younger witch in hello, “I’m sure mum would rather keep you here all year than kick you out too early. Good to see you again, Hermione.”

“You too, Bill.” Hermione says kindly as she reciprocates the hug, “How’s the new job? Fred told me you decided to appease your mother with a desk job.”

Bill laughs rustily, “Something like that. It’s been fun enough, I suppose. I do miss the adventure of travelling, but Fleur’s made it a bit more palatable.”

“Oh?” Hermione looks back at her friend, who was a bit redder and still holding a much more smug-looking Ginny Weasley.

Fleur clears her throat delicately, but it doesn’t fool Hermione; her friend was nervous, “Bill asked the goblins to ‘ave me in ‘is department when ‘e ‘eard I was working at Gringotts. I ‘ave been assisting ‘im and learning curse-breaking.”

“Ah,” Hermione says sagely, but her distinct mischievous look was sparkling in her eyes, “well, that’s handy. It sounds like fun,”

“Mmm hmm,” Fleur hums, still with the politely uninterested look on her face that Hermione knew well enough after being around when Fleur was accosted by something that made her uncomfortable.

Hermione looks back and forth between Bill and Fleur, and back again, aware her extended silence was beginning to make the both of them squirm.

Ginny finally broke, feeling pity for the poor souls who’d found themselves under Hermione’s watch, “Come on you two, Fred and Hermione made breakfast again and I don’t want to chance Ron eating all of it.”

Fleur did look excited at the thought of food and allowed Ginny to take her hand and pull her down the hall, disappearing together into the kitchen to the happy greetings from the others. Hermione was left at the front door with Bill who had begun to fidget under Hermione’s unwavering smirk.

“Erm…” Bill muttered, so Hermione finally let him off the hook— but not easily.

“Working with Fleur, huh?”

Bill looked down at her nervously, not sure why he wasn’t able to keep his cool around Fleur’s best friend, “Yup, yes, it’s been going really well. She’s a brilliant woman, your friend.”

“I know,” Hermione smiles, “which makes me happy she’s found something she enjoys.”

Looking a bit relieved, Bill seemed to relax under Hermione’s gaze, which is why she said, “It’s nice of you to look out for her like this. I knew you were a good guy, but making sure she wasn’t going to be harassed by someone in another department was really sweet of you.”

She’s tripped him up, and she knew it by the way his eyes widened and he nearly choked out, “Course. I didn’t want her, um, uncomfortable.”

Hermione nods, playing it up while internally cheering and screaming ‘Gotcha!’, “Yeah, it’s really handy you don’t get affected by her Veela side, it must make her so much more comfortable while working with you!”

“Yeah,” was all Bill said, sounding incredibly meek and looking so shifty-eyed that Hermione nearly ended her little game and started laughing, “Um, Gin said breakfast was on?”

“Mmm hmm, oh yeah. I’ve been trying to boss your mother out of constantly cooking by taking over in the mornings.” She starts down the hallway as she talks, “I think it might be working. I’m going to see if she gets to the point where she just hands over the spatula when she sees me.”

Hermione hears Bill chuckling under his breath as he follows behind her, entering the kitchen and shutting the door once they were both inside. Ginny had left Hermione’s seat open and sat Fleur on her other side as the girls chatted over their toast. Hermione decides to let Bill go in place of taking her seat again, leaving him to pull himself back together. 

Fred leaned back in his chair to grin up at Hermione upside down as she lingered behind him. Bill went around to the other side to give his mother a kiss to the cheek in hello and shake Arthur’s hand. 

Hermione lets out a startled laugh as she rubs off the sticky pink-tinted lip gloss smear from his cheek, “If I hadn’t left you under your mother’s watch just now, I’d be a bit concerned.”

Bringing her hand away from his face to see what she meant, Fred grins at the remnants of Fleur’s greeting, “Gotta keep a close eye on me, ‘Mione. I’m a willy one.”

George snorts, “Think we can all agree you’re the least likely person to cheat on your witch, Freddie.”

On the other end of the table, Ron was in conversation with Tonks, Remus and the newly awake Sirius. When Sirius saw Bill had arrived, he asked the man seriously, “How’s security detail go last night?”

Ginny froze in her conversation while Fleur continued talking, telling the younger girl about her and Bill’s most recent vault. Apparently there was quite the funny story over some old wizard’s ‘prized possessions’ Ginny had been giggling over only a moment ago. George and Fred were more subtle in their interest, their heads turning a minuscule amount to the side. Ron, being next to Sirius, frowned and looked up at his older brother. Hermione just ate another bite of her toast.

Bill’s smile thinned, his eyes flicking to the side as if he would be able to see his mother’s reaction behind his back.

“Nothing to report,” Was all Bill says before taking a seat beside Ron and quickly dishing up some food. Remus asked Ron how his Chocolate Frog card collection was coming along, which roped Sirius back in as the man asked eagerly for Ron to go get them and show them off.

With Ron out of the room for the moment, Molly took the time to throw a sour look Sirius’s way. Ginny opened her mouth, obviously about to question Sirius and Bill, but Hermione was a step ahead and turned to Molly first.

“I was thinking Molly, with Fleur and Bill here we could start cleaning in the den this morning. You said there was that shifty desk we couldn’t touch, but I’m sure Bill would be able to handle it for us?” Hermione looked over to Bill with a very noticeable widening of her eyes. 

Luckily, Fred’s brother was as quick to pick up on a signal as he was, and nodded at his mother immediately, “Of course mum. One of us can go have a look after breakfast.”

Fleur was also a very perceptive person and asked Hermione in a calm and almost lazy sounding voice, “What iz in this desk?”

Fred shrugs as he slathers his eggs with syrup, “Mum thought a ghoul at first but I’m pretty convinced it’s a boggart.”

Fleur flinched so minutely that Hermione might have missed it had she blinked. Bill nodded at his brother, “I can get rid of whatever it is and we won’t have to worry about it anymore.”

Molly was too turned around to ignore Bill speaking to her, so she nodded and had to go back to her meal, the moment to yell at either Bill or Sirius having passed. Unluckily for Ginny, the moment had also passed for her to question anyone again, so she resorted to pouting into the dredges of her porridge as Fleur attempted to bring her back into conversation with her. 

Everyone was none the wiser when Bill tapped the toe of his boot against Fleur’s ankle beneath the table.

-~-~-~-

Cleaning up went quickly after the dishes were done by Remus and Tonks, who had somehow managed to throw not one but two of the plates right at Remus’s head in her attempt to levitate them to the sink. Hermione had clapped a hand to her mouth in shock and also in muffled amusement. Sirius was not nearly so quiet and loudly laughed at his cousin and best friend. 

Molly sent Ginny and Hermione into the den to follow Bill, directed to start with general dusting while Bill dealt with the boggart. Ron and Fleur were asked to clean the railings and staircases; Molly’s thinking being the pair would most likely be the quietest in the halls and wouldn’t bother Mrs. Black (everyone was grateful for Bill’s extra strength Silencing Spell, but no one was sure on how long it lasted). 

Despite Molly’s better judgement, the twins were tasked to work together to clean the bedrooms. Aside from Sirius and Remus’s, all the other rooms could use fresh air and fresh sheets. So the sulking pair of Weasleys went up to do so, both thinking they wouldn’t be collecting many new specimens for potential potion brewing while they cleaned out already cleaned rooms. Molly called out behind them not to be silly about it either and threatened to take their wands away if she noticed them up to no good.

Before Fred left her line of sight, Hermione threw him a wink and patted her bag still hanging at her hip. Fred’s eyes went wide and the last thing Hermione saw of him was him elbowing his twin in the side and excited whispers disappearing up the stairs. 

Bill was rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, tossing his jacket over a chaise by the door. Ginny wrinkled her nose at the cloud of dirt that rose when the jacket landed, “All right girls, where are we starting?”

Ginny pointed to a rather large, old walnut desk that Hermione noticed had a drawer that was jittering all on its own, “That’s the thing mum wants you to have a look at.”

Bill walks a bit closer, having a visual check before performing a magical one, “I think Fred’s probably right in it being a boggart, but just to be safe—” he waves his wand in a sort of dipping circular motion and an odd foggy blue shimmer emits from the tip before wrapping around the air above the desk.

Hermione and Ginny don’t hear or see anything, but Bill somehow gets his answer once the fog dissipates, “Yup, a boggart. Remus probably could have gotten rid of it, but I suppose mum’s been a bit stodgy about things lately, huh Gin?”

Ginny huffs, “No kidding. Before Fred and Hermione got here, she told George he couldn’t use his wand most days we were cleaning because she didn’t want something in the house reacting to the magic. Rubbish, I thought, but she was being a terror all month.”

Hermione hums, “I was wondering why Molly kept throwing the two of us looks whenever we got our cleaning done so quickly. She must have forgotten I was of age as well.”

Bill winces as he steps back from the desk, “Yeah, I don’t envy the lot of you right now. I’d say you could come to visit me at mine, but I reckon that wouldn’t fly at the moment.”

Ginny did look a little heartened at the idea but slumped when Bill finished, realizing it was true. Bill gave his sister a little commiserating pout, chucking her under the chin with his non-wand hand, “Chin up, Gin-bug. Harry’s gonna be here soon, promise.”

Hermione swallows thickly, looking back at the desk, “I can be backup if you need a moment, Bill.”

Bill nods at Hermione in thanks and takes point, aiming his wand at the desk drawer, “Thanks, Hermione. Stand back for now you two so we don’t confuse it. A confused boggart is a dangerous boggart.”

With that (and checking once more to make sure Hermione and Ginny were actually behind him) Bill waved his wand at the drawer, undoing the small latch. Immediately, the drawer flew open and suddenly Molly and Arthur Weasley were standing there.

Hermione blinked, astonished at the thought that Bill might be afraid of his parents. That is until the frown on Arthur’s face and the scowl on Molly’s made Bill’s shoulders hunch.

The fake-Molly spat at her eldest son, “It’s your fault they’re all gone, William! It was supposed to be your job to take care of them! And you were gone— off— wandering round some other country!”

“Mum…” Bill whispered, his wand wavering as he pointed it into the fake-Molly’s face.

Fake-Arthur said scornfully, “We trusted you to save your siblings, William. And now they’re dead, and it’s your fault.”

Fake-Molly let out a wailing sob, “My babies are dead because their brother couldn’t watch them for two minutes because he’s too busy !”

Bill shouted, “ Riddikulus! ” at the same time Hermione jolted forward to stand in front of him, to confuse the boggart into displaying her fear instead of Bill’s. Bills wandwork was quicker than Hermione’s feet.

The image of his scornful parents shifted until the entire Weasley clan stood there, with bright smiles on their faces and the twins especially laughing at Molly and Arthur covered in confetti. The image blinked out in the next moment and the three of them were left alone again.

Bill’s breathing sounded a bit erratic as he struggled to calm down. Hermione bit her lip, unsure if she should have stepped in sooner or done the right thing in letting the man deal with it.

Ginny whimpered, “Bill…” while reaching out to his arm.

Her brother shrugged off her hand before she even really had it on his back, turning and grabbing his jacket to pull it back on, “Don’t worry, Gin. It’s not the first boggart I’ve come across. I’ll be fine in a minute.”

Ginny cringes away, her facing falling again, “Of course,” 

Bill left the den, his head down and his wand stuffed back into his holster at his hip. Ginny was trembling, clearly very upset after seeing her oldest brother’s biggest fear was losing all of his younger brothers and sister. Hermione didn’t know what to do but figured the best she could offer was to hold her friend until she stopped shaking.

Ginny pulled away from Hermione, still fairly upset but her eyes were no longer teary, “Do you think he’s ok?”

Hermione hums, tucking some of Ginny’s fly-away hair behind her ear, “I think he knows what’s best and went to cool down the way he needed to, petit mignon . I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a Ginny-hug the next time you see him though.”

Silent together, Hermione thinks maybe she should take Ginny to one of the others while she gets started on the cleaning, when the younger girl speaks quietly, “Bill didn't have to deal with the boggart.”

Hermione frowns, thinking as she says, “Well, I suppose he'd be right that Remus could have done it, but your mum seemed to think he wouldn’t be up for it.”

Ginny shakes her head, “No, he wouldn’t be. But Fleur could have done it as well. I remember Harry saying the maze had boggarts in it, so Fleur would have known how to get rid of it too.” Ginny looks up at Hermione, a soft look and a question in her eyes as she asks, “Do you think Bill came to deal with the boggart, even though he knew what he’d see because he didn’t want  Fleur to have to see her fear again?”

Huh.

“Maybe… but Gin, it’s not something we need to ask about, ok? Fleur is still struggling after the Tournament and I don’t want us to accidentally trigger something for her, all right?”

Ginny’s eyes went wide, the sadness dissipating to something more like horror, “Y-yeah, that’s… ok.”

Hermione rubs Ginny’s arm, both in a hug-like motion as well as a way to get her blood moving again, “Ok. Now, we better get started on this cleaning before your mother finds us just standing here.”

-~-~-~-

August 5th, 1995 

Grimmauld Kitchen

Hermione’s plan to help out Molly to try and weasel her way into knowing more about the Order had so far only made Molly look less stressed out and more willing to give her children time off of cleaning. Which, not the worst byproduct, but not exactly what Hermione had been hoping for.

Amusingly, it also made Molly hand over the reins for one meal each day to Hermione, who got to cook and let Molly either recline in the kitchen to chat or go upstairs for a lie-down.

Today it was dinner, which Hermione began to cook while everyone else was finishing up their cleaning. Most of the den had been cleaned by her and Ginny the day before, after Bill had helped them get rid of that boggart— but there were shelves upon shelves of knickknacks and items that practically oozed dark magic.

Molly hadn’t let them handle them. Instead only allowing herself, Arthur, Sirius, Remus, Bill and Fleur check them over to determine what sort of things were inside before anyone else was allowed to touch them. Hermione, Fred and George were then permitted to handle the ones deemed ‘decontaminated’ and clean around them or throw them away properly.

Of course, this delighted Fred and George as it gave them unencumbered time to pocket many more-than-illegal, hard to get ingredients. Hermione became good at angling her hips to hide the boys dipping their hands into her beaded bag while their mother was around. 

This was where she left everyone while she went to start dinner, alone for once in the kitchen. The silence wasn’t stifling but Hermione eventually caught herself humming as she cooked, bobbing back and forth between mixing and waving her wand. 

Her humming was cut off by the sudden appearance of Kreacher, the house elf of Grimmauld Place. Sirius had told her after her first run-in with the elf, that she was allowed to tell him to leave the room if she found herself alone with him. Hermione had tried to tell Sirius it was fine, she could handle a house elf, but Sirius had looked… serious.

So Hermione kept an eye on Kreacher as the old house elf shuffled along, muttering under his breath like the first time she’d seen him in the kitchen, heading towards the same larder door. This time, he disappeared behind the door with no one else around to stop him; Hermione wasn’t going to grab his attention on herself. 

After staying still, waiting for Kreacher to reappear, Hermione continued her humming and cooking after deeming it safe to do so. 

It apparently wasn’t long enough. The old house elf had emerged when she started humming again, glaring at the witch as she cooked the food.

He was muttering before he was even fully in the kitchen again, “Mudbloods in the kitchen, touching food, pretending it's her place to serve. Kreacher should be making food. His mistresses house, blood traitors all around telling Kreacher to go away. Kreacher will save his mistress’s things, the blood traitors can’t have them.” Hermione furrowed her brow, not liking the sounds of that, “The mudblood is looking at Kreacher, perhaps Kreacher should teach the mudblood a lesson. Find her place, below Kreacher, below the dirt and back where she belongs—”

“Enough, elf.” a low, drooping sort of voice cut Kreacher off, sending Hermione into the air at the scare, “Leave, before I make you leave.”

Kreacher cowered, snapping his fingers and disappearing. Hermione was left with quite a different intruder instead, as Severus Snape stood in the kitchen doorway still glaring at the spot Kreacher had been standing.

“Professor! Wha— I didn’t hear you come in!”

Snape looked over to Hermione, his sneering face clearing the moment he realized she was speaking to him. The grumpy sneer on his face melted into his more usual one as he looked Hermione up and down quickly before his hooked nose was pointed to the sky.

“You would do well to ignore those who say such things, Miss Granger.”

It startled a confused laugh from her, though it was mostly out of nervousness, “It doesn’t bother me, monsieur . He’s just old and confused. It doesn't matter."

Somehow, Snape's sneer worsens, "It matters, Miss Granger, that for such a bright witch you allow others to dictate your worth."

Hermione dropped the pleasantries, forgetting she was speaking to a teacher beneath all that holier-than-thou attitude, "You mean how you're doing right now, monsieur ?"

It made Snape rear back as if he were offended by the accusation. But Hermione didn't give him a moment to defend himself or apologize (not that she expected him to think to).

She turned back to the stove, taking over the stirring from one of the charmed whisks, "Would you care for a cup of tea, Professor?" It came out perhaps a bit biting, but it was too late now. 

Seeming not to know what else to do but fall back on British customs, Snape accepted the tea and sat silently at the long table while Hermione continued her cooking. Hermione didn’t know why he was even there and didn’t care to ask him now. She was glad for the distraction and excuse cooking gave her to keep her back to the surly potions professor.

Thankfully they were interrupted a few minutes later when Sirius came into the kitchen and spotted Hermione at the stove. Grinning wickedly, Sirius tiptoed over, intent on sneaking up on the witch. 

He sadly forgot that his favourite witch to bug was dating a rather naturally sneaky wizard and had honed her instincts over the past year for tricks, pranks and general devious behaviour. Sirius hadn’t even gotten a foot behind her when her wand was being pointed over her shoulder, and a sharp pinch in his shoulder sent him yelping.

Clutching his shoulder and pouting, Hermione thought Sirius looked a bit more Padfoot-ish than human at the moment, but— “Serves you right, chein. Fred’s told you how many times now?”

Sirius’s lip protrudes even further, “I didn’t know I’d have to watch out for you too!”

Hermione rolls her eyes at the man-child, not all that annoyed by him really, just hamming it up for the bit, “Hands to yourself, Sirius, and I’ll sneak you an extra dessert.”

This had him perking back up, “What’s for dessert?”

“You’ll have to behave and find out,”

Sirius huffs, thinking it over before deciding it was clearly a better idea to listen this time and gives Hermione a nod. Hermione nods back, twisting her lips to stop herself from bursting into laughter when Sirius then turns and spots Snape sitting at the table, watching Sirius with the most derisive, gobsmacked look she had ever seen on a person.

Sirius’s entire body tenses, the entirety of his good mood vanishing in an instant.

“What are you doing here?”

Snape sipped his tea calmly, but Hermione could just imagine the ceramic creaking under the pressure.

“I’ve come with information.”

Sirius squints, unimpressed, “That doesn’t explain why you decided to park yourself where you don’t belong, Snivellus.”

She had no idea where that came from but rather than find herself in the middle of whatever schoolyard tiff this was turning into, Hermione shoved a plate and the sourdough bread into his stomach, making a harsh ‘oof’ noise emit from Sirius.

“Cut that up for me please, Sirius, before I call everyone down for dinner,” Hermione looks at Snape who hadn’t let up on his glaring, “Are you staying, Professor?” she hadn’t known Snape to stay for any form of food yet in the few days she had been here, but the hospitality drilled into her at a young age and nurtured by Hugo all these years was too difficult to beat down. 

Snape looked away from his glaring contest with Sirius to see Hermione as if he’d forgotten she was there. He suddenly looked unsure, so Hermione broke in before he could swan off, “Unless your message was for Sirius, then feel free to share and go if you have plans.”

It looked like overhearing Snape’s message— which she assumed was for the Order— wasn’t going to be easy with the strained behaviour between the two men. 

And with the sudden arrival of Molly Weasley hustling into the kitchen like she’d seen smoke rising from the doorway, Hermione’s chance lessened further.

“Severus, I didn’t hear you come in!” Molly says, dusting off her skirt as she moved, “What has Dumbledore—” she looked up, finally, and spotted Hermione still finishing up the cooking.

The woman practically lunges forward, hands out to take the bowl and mixer from Hermione’s hand, “Oh, Hermione dear, let me finish that up for you. The boys were just asking for something they said you were holding for them anyways.”

But Hermione held the spoon away from Molly before she could grab it, “You said I got to make the meal tonight, Molly. If you take over now then I’m insisting on doing breakfast on my own as well.” Blinking coquetishly might have been pushing it on the innocent act, but again, Hermione found herself acting before her head caught up with itself.

It wasn’t a threat Molly could ignore, knowing full well Hermione was good for it. So without that excuse to hustle Hermione from the kitchen, Molly sent a worried frown Sirius’s way. Obviously, Mrs. Weasley was picking up on the fact that Hermione (and the others) were trying to listen in on Order secrets. 

“Right, well then, would you mind going to get the boys and Ginny? It looks like everything is nearly ready…”

“Sorry Molly, I was just about to put the finishing touches on the dessert Fleur sent ahead and I don't want the cream to curdle. Would you mind grabbing them? I’d go, but…”

Thoroughly beaten, Molly nods and leaves the room to collect her children. Hermione really does start to beat up the cream for Fleur’s crêpes, knowing charming it to do it on its own would have worked just as well. Her plan worked too well, however, so she felt guilty enough that she did it by hand.

Sirius smirked at her from where he was leaning against the counter, apparently refusing to even sit near Snape, “Well done, Miss Granger. Very sneaky,” Hermione peeks at him from under a loose curl hanging over her eyes, “but I’m afraid I’ve been told you kids don’t get to hear Order business, so your sneaking won’t be paying off this time.”

Her cheeks feel warm but she refuses to acknowledge being caught out. 

“Don’t know what you mean, chein . It's my turn to cook.”

Sirius winks, “Gotcha,” then he looks at Snape with a more bored expression, “Remus is in the library.”

Snape nods and gets up, needing no further instruction. Hermione huffs as he leaves, noting the man had left his dirty cup on the table without bothering to clean it up. 

To Sirius’s credit— whether because he felt a bit bad for her or not— he summoned it to the sink himself as he left the kitchen, following Snape on his way to the library.

-~-~-~-

August 5th, 1995

Grimmauld Place

 6:22 PM

Ginny and Ron had volunteered to take on the last room in need of cleaning on Molly’s list, either needing the extra project to get their minds off of Harry arriving soon or to give the three of them a break. So Hermione went up to the twins rooms to help them work on shop talk for a time before dinner would be served, finally allowing Molly to chase her out of the kitchen for a few minutes.

While Hermione hadn’t been cleaning nearly as much as the Weasley children, she had been taking on a fair share of the cooking in her quest to relieve some of the tension on Molly’s shoulders. Both Molly and her children were grateful for it, as the older witch did indeed look a bit more friendly again and her children weren’t hearing her endlessly impatient and strung out complaints that came out in the form of cleaning. 

Fred and George, inwardly, didn’t mind the cleaning so much after they’d successfully created a means to collect the numerous and apparently unending supply of hard-to-get or experimental ingredients. Hermione’s containers and vials had indeed run out just that morning, and Fred wrote to Cedric to see how he’d feel about sending them some more. 

Apparently, George had kept up a casual and friendly letter exchange with the Hufflepuff champion after school, both twins still extremely grateful to the other boy for selflessly handing over his share of the Tournament winnings. Like Hermione and Fleur had found out— when you became a friend to a Weasley, you basically were adopted into the family. Cedric, whether he knew it entirely yet or not, had found himself at least two very loyal friends in exchange for his kindness.

…It would be a bit difficult to receive a small package to Grimmauld, seeing as they were living in a secret safe house, but George wasn’t too worried.

“Owls still come to drop off the morning papers and a few letters. Ron gets and sends letters constantly. We’ll be fine, just tell mum it’s from Hermione’s uncle if she asks.”

Fred squints at his brother from where he sat at the small desk in their bedroom, “Ron’s been getting letters? From who? I thought they weren’t talking to Harry?”

Hermione made a noise that might have been excitement or just acknowledgment, “Fleur mentioned Ron getting letters too. Do you know who they’re from?” 

George shakes his head then curses under his breath, pulling his finger away from the small cauldron currently bubbling a soft pink foam, “Nah, he won’t say. Ginny and I were trying all summer, but the guy won’t tell us. Gin’s convinced he’s got a secret girlfriend.”

This had Fred nearly toppling out of the desk chair, “ Ron’s got a girlfriend?! ”

Hermione screeches in broken bursts of wordless noise, throwing the pillow from beneath her head at Fred, her aim off just enough that it only manages to make it as far as his knee, “Not so loud!”

Fred tries to look chastised but only manages to dimple a bit deeper. George shakes his head at the both of them and just continues to stir the potion carefully.

Still giving Fred a stink eye, Hermione laid back out over the bed, much too comfortable and exhausted to get up and try harder. 

“And you don’t know that’s true, so don’t go and tease him about it.”

Fred sighs huffily, “I wasn’t gonna tease him…”

Hermione rolls her eyes, “I don’t believe that for a second. Maybe, if it is a girl, she goes to Hogwarts and you’ll meet her there. And hey! If he does have a girlfriend, then George and Angelina can double date with them instead of dragging the third wheeling Fred around.” 

Grinning cheekily at her boyfriend, Hermione’s smirk drops off her face at the wide-eyed, pale faced Fred that was looking at his twin in something like terror. And George was throwing a dirty look his way.

“I didn’t say a thing—”

“You’re such a rat—”

“The fact she even made that joke means I didn’t tell her!”

“Boys!” Hermione breaks in, scrambling up on her knees with her arms out, as if to stop them from going at one another while a few feet away, “Someone explain! What did I say?”

George and Fred were caught in a silent staring contest that consisted of Fred giving George big doe-eyes and George throwing squinty glares at Fred in return. 

Hermione couldn’t have told anyone who won or how, but George sighed loudly and turned to Hermione, with a significantly less squinty glare.

“Not your fault, ‘Mione. It’s just… Ang and I broke up.”

“Oh.” Hermione mentally hisses at herself for missing that rather large bit of information. Not that she had any way of knowing (apart from Fred breaking his twin’s trust) but still, she felt a mite guilty now. “I’m sorry, Georgie.”

George shrugs, leaning back onto his hands, away from the bubbling cauldron, “Not your fault, nor my prat of a twin’s I suppose.”

Sighing quietly, Hermione lays down on her stomach now that the danger of quarrelling twins had dissipated, “Still, I’m sorry that happened… When did this happen?”

Now George cringes a bit, Hermione missing the hurt look Fred threw at his brother, “Beginning of May?”

Hermione blinks a few times before she can say, “Are you asking me, or telling me?”

George snorts, “Telling. When I told Fred, he sort of blew up a bit.”

Giving Fred a look that said we’re talking about this later , Hermione soothes George, “Moving past that— Are you ok? Obviously you didn’t tell anyone, but we’re here if you want to talk, you know?”

Giving Hermione a grateful, warm smile, George just shakes his head and goes to give the potion another quarter clockwise turn. Hermione and Fred meet eyes over George’s head, both looking a mixture of sadness and worry. 

-~-~-~-

There was another Order meeting that night, so of course, Molly sent everyone up to bed quickly after Hermione’s dinner.  Ginny, again, did not go quietly and seemed to have a knack for hitting the exact right steps with the heel of her feet on her way up past the portrait of Mrs. Black, causing the woman to stir and begin shouting exactly when Molly would stick her head out into the hall to yell at her daughter. 

Rolling her eyes and feeling a bit like she was mothering the younger girl, Hermione catches Ginny’s arm before she can pass by the twins’ room, pulling her in quickly. Ginny sort of flies past her, not expecting to be grabbed so suddenly. Luckily, George catches her before she falls over, grinning down at his now bewildered looking sister.

“Hey Gin, fancy seeing you here.”

Fred chortes, “Yeah, never would have guessed with all that stomping,” 

Scowling at them both, Ginny looks back to Hermione in time to see her letting Ron inside as well before clicking the door shut gently.

“What are we doing?”

Hermione flaps her hand at Fred as she takes a seat on one of the beds, “They’ve a thing, that… is gross. Get them to explain it. I don’t like looking at it.”

Ginny wrinkles her nose like she’s smelt something off. Fred scowls at her, cuffing her head gently, “No that, you perv. George and I came up with a way to listen in on meetings.”

Now this has Ron and Ginny perking up, looking much more grateful for being kidnapped. George takes an Extendable Ear out of his pocket, quickly showing his younger siblings what it was and what it was meant to do.

So, trying their best to be as tactical as possible, Fred and George led the other three over to the banister where Hermione was quick to place Silencing Spells around, just in case. The regular squeaky and groaning floorboards were perfectly quiet as all five of them loomed in one spot to crowd around the Ear George was holding in his hand.

Working as carefully as he could, Fred slowly lowered the opposite end of the Ear down to the main floor, where it swung just shy of the kitchen door. Besides a small tussle and slap fight between Ginny and Ron to get the better spot next to George, the group was deathly silent as they strained to hear anything from the twins’ invention. 

Fred made a noise of excitement when the first whispery voice echoed up the line.

“ There’s no sense in rushing him here when we’re short people. It will be safer to wait until tomorrow when Vance, Tonks and Bill can be here.”

Hermione ignored Ginny tugging at her sleeve to continue listening. The line went fuzzy for a second, making Fred and George have to adjust while muttering swears until Ron whispered that he could hear again.

When the voices came back, it was someone else speaking, “ I’ll take the shift for tomorrow night, which will leave Arthur and Molly free for when Harry gets here.”

“No, I can still take the shift, Kingsley. Sirius will be here to greet Harry, they won’t need me here as well.”

“And I’ll have the children upstairs after dinner to ensure the halls stay silent. We don’t need the poor boy frightened as soon as he’s inside the front door!”

Hermione smirks a bit, thinking Molly might be on the right track if Ginny continued her regular after-dinner tantrum. 

After that, the Ear went fuzzy again, and no amount of adjustments or twisting made them come back. Reeling the Ear back in, the group called it for tonight and retreated back into the twin’s room.

It was another half hour before there was a knock on the door, making Fred stuff his and George’s still bubbling potion under his bed while George threw the coiled Extendable Ear into the closet across from him. 

They all relaxed when it was Fleur’s white-blonde hair that swung through the cracked door, her grin following as she took them all in.

“ Bonjour , everyone. I came to say goodnight and was not sure eef you were still listening in,” Fleur merely grins when all five of her young friends stumble and stutter over one another with excuses and cover stories. 

“Nice try, but I ‘ad a Detection Spell on the door, as per Dumbledore’s orders. My wand went off nearly an hour ago.”

Hermione groans, “Well, thank Circe it was your spell and not someone else’s then.”

Fred, on the other hand, scowled over at the closet, “We’ll need to adjust that charm, George. Literally setting off an alarm isn’t exactly condusive to sneaking.”

Nodding, George makes a mental note to look into it later, already thinking how to adjust the particular charm that hadn’t worked. 

Fleur smiles again, “Anyway, I am staying in my room tonight and wanted to see eef ‘Ermione and Ginny wanted to join me?”

Hermione had learned that the extra room she had passed on her first night here was the one Fleur frequented each week. Apparently when Fleur had written to Molly before leaving France, Mrs. Weasley had nearly demanded Fleur come and stay with them for as long as she wanted.

Not wanting to completely take advantage of Molly’s neverending hospitality, Fleur had negotiated on staying over only a few nights a week, and spending the rest in her small flat nearer to Diagon Alley.

Fleur hadn’t stayed over yet since Hermine and Fred had arrived, but told her friend she would most likely stay over once before Harry arrived, as she was planning to stay over more once the boy was at Grimmauld.

Ginny grinned and hopped up quickly, rushing to Fleur and giggling as she slipped past, saying over her shoulder that she was going to get her pajamas and meet them in Fleur’s room. Hermine also stood, happily agreeing to the impromptu sleepover.

With George and Ron asking Fleur about something, Hermione leaned over once she stood above Fred. 

“Goodnight, mon amour ,” Hermione murmurs, pressing a sweet kiss into the top of his hair. Fred cranes his neck back to give her that special crooked grin, his eyes resting on her lips long enough for her to get the message and lean down again to give him a proper kiss.

“Night, sweetheart. Have a good sleep.”

Hermione grins back, playfully rolling her eyes, “You’ve obviously never been to a girl’s sleepover before, have you?”

Waggling his brows, Fred catches her lips once more, “If that’s an invitation…”

Pulling back to smack at his shoulder, Hermione made sure to whisper as she said, “If you behave, I’ll see if I can sneak back…” another kiss, this one gentler and somehow warmer, “and we can have our own sleepover tonight. Oui ?”

Dark blue eyes are staring back at her when she pulls away, her hair curling around both of their faces, “ Oui .”

Biting her lip to stop herself from giggling, Hermione followed Fleur out of the twin’s room, sneaking a wink at Fred over her shoulder before Fleur had closed the door between them

-~-~-~-

Ginny was all snuggled in her quilt, wrapped up like a burrito between Fleur and Hermione, both in their own blanket rolls. Fleur was sleepily running her fingers through the younger girl’s hair, the long straight strands much easier to lazily play with than Hermione’s curls. 

Hermione was only a little sleepy and diligently stayed awake until Ginny was snoring softly. Fleur shifted away from the younger girl enough to prop herself up on the pillows the girls had stacked by the headboard.

Fleur whispered, “Are you staying?”

She could feel her cheeks bloom with heat, “I was going to slip out after the two of you fell asleep.”

Fleur pinches her lips together, “I won’t tattle, mon amie. ” 

Hermione lets out a breathless laugh, “I appreciate that. Just make sure you cover for me with Ginny in the morning.”

Also snickering, Fleur nods once, “I will think of something.”

Hunkering down into the blankets for a few more minutes of dog-piling, Hermione hints, “Can you tell me anything about the Order meetings?”

Judging by the crease that appeared between Fleur’s brows, Hermine wasn’t going to get much out of her friend, “‘Ermione…”

“Nothing?” Hermione didn’t want to whine, but the suspense of not knowing was getting to her.

Fleur sighs, pushing her head further into the pillow so the two friends were looking over the top of Ginny’s head, “Molly ‘as made it pretty clear she does not want ‘er children in the Order,”

Scoffing lightly, Hermione scowls over Ginny’s hair, “I’m not trying to get into the Order! I’m trying to figure out what they’re doing!”

“At the moment,” Fleur groans, rubbing at that crease, “Not much.”

“Oh?” Hermione cocks her head, finding the action awkward when lying down.

“We take turns guarding something in the Ministry, but that iz all I know. I ‘ave not been told what we are guarding. I think probably because they do not want me to tell my friends.”

“Guarding?” Hermione asks, picking up on the odd language.

But Fleur can only shake her head, “ Oui , but I do not know what.”

“Huh,” Hermione can’t think what it could possibly be that the Order would deem important enough to guard at the Ministry. Besides maybe a person… but who could it be?

Fleur lets out a long yawn, her jaw clicking and letting out a creaking noise, “If you find out, chère , let me know.”

Giggling, Hermione gives up and snuggles up to Ginny a bit more, the girl nuzzling into Hermione’s side, “I will,” a grin flits over her face, “so if you can’t tell me about the Order… what’s going on between you and Bill?”

Scowling, Fleur grabs the pillow from under her head and swings it to crash against Hermione’s snickering face, completely missing the fast asleep Ginny. Giggling and trying not to wake up Ginny or anyone else in the house as she stumbles out of the bed, Hermione slithers from her blanket roll and crawls to the door, all while avoiding the multiple pillows being launched at her from Fleur.

Practically choking on her laughter, Hermione scrambles for the door handle while she’s significantly shorter than usual while on hands and knees. Fleur continues throwing both pillows (transfigured ones at this point, surely; Hermione couldn’t remember that many projectiles on the bed before) and very quietly whispered choice words at her best friend as she sneaks out into the hall.

All the late night laughter was making her stomach hurt. Taking an extra moment in the hallway to settle her heart, Hermione stood and very carefully tiptoed over to the twins’ room. Thankfully, she knew they would most likely already be asleep and wouldn’t make her laugh any more for tonight. She had hit her quota.

Not bothering to knock, Hermione twists the handle and slips inside.

Balivernes - nonsense

Non - no

Merci - thanks

Matin - good morning

Mon amour - my love

Cuisiner aujourd'hui? - Cooking today?

Mon amie - my friend

petit mignon - little darling

Monsieur - sir

Chein - dog

Bonjour - hello

Chère - dear

Chapter Text

August 6, 1995

Grimmauld Place 

8:09 AM

When Fleur woke up in the morning after the girl’s sleepover, sans Hermione for the actual sleeping part, she forced her body to get out of bed a lot faster than she normally did. Ginny was still snoring softly in the divet she’d made in the centre of the bed, having been warm and tucked between the two older witches as she drifted to sleep.

Fleur had stayed over at Grimmauld enough times in the last month to know Molly Weasley occasionally stuck her head into her children’s rooms to wake them up. The older witch kindly had not done the same to Fleur yet, whether because Fleur was not her own child or was old enough Molly didn’t feel the need to— either way, there would be a lack of Hermione in Fleur’s room. And there would be a distinctly empty top-floor room this morning. Fleur didn’t want to know what would happen if Molly came across it.

Leaving Ginny to sleep in, Fleur tied her housecoat around her waist as she tiptoed to the door. She knew Hermione was an early bird and would usually be awake by now. Her friend had even told her she took over cooking breakfast a few times for Molly. 

But if Fleur knew her friend as well as she thought (knew) she did, Hermione would probably be fast asleep, still snuggled up to her boyfriend. 

Especially since said boyfriend was a Weasley, who were all notoriously heavy sleepers. 

Of the three bedrooms on the second floor, Fleur noted hers and the twins were the only ones still shut tight. Sirius’s bedroom door at the beginning of the hallway opened a crack. Which meant the man was most likely already downstairs. 

Tiptoeing to the room next to hers, Fleur very quietly rapped her knuckles once— twice— before turning the handle like she was defusing an explosive enchantment in a bank vault. There was no immediate greeting or prank set off, so Fleur slipped through the small opening and closed the door again behind her.

“‘Ermione?”

One of the lumps in one of the two twin beds shifted with a groan, revealing the top of a red-headed twin. There was no way for Fleur to tell which one it was with the low light, but she’d been here for a few weeks before Fred returned with Hermione from France, and already knew George slept in the bed on the right.

George squinted up at her with bleary eyes and a sleepy scowl before his brain clicked and he rubbed at his eye with a fist, “Fleur?”

“Morning, George,” Fleur greets him with a soft lilt to her voice she had always used when waking Gabrielle up at home, “Iz ‘Ermione still in ‘ere?”

Judging by the confused look on George’s face, Fleur assumes he had been fast asleep when Hermione came in last night. Chuckling quietly, Fleur goes over to the other bed and peers over the curve of the blanket. The nest of brown mahogany curls peeking out of the blanket answered her question well enough. 

Not quite sure where one began and the other ended, Fleur put her hand out on someone’s foot, and gave it a gentle wiggle.

“Fred, ‘Ermione, wake up,”

Apparently it was Fred’s foot as the second Weasley twin rose very similarly to his brother, rubbing at his eyes and squinting up at Fleur. Hermione’s head shifted when Fred moved, making the girl lift her head up and yawn wide like a cat.

“Huh?”

Fleur snickers, “Wake up, chéris , before Molly iz coming up to wake us.”

This made Hermione move a lot quicker than it did Fred. Still mostly asleep, Hermione nearly fell out of the bed before Fred caught her by the arm and helped lower her more gently to the ground. 

“How much time do we have?” Hermione asks Fleur while she searches for her housecoat.

Fleur shrugs, not actually sure, “You’re normally downstairs by now, so I’m sure she will be upstairs soon.”

“ Merde ,” Hermione mutters, finally tying her housecoat around herself. She bends over Fred to give him a quick kiss in good morning before she’s pushing Fleur out the door, “Morning, George!” thrown over her shoulder.

Back in the hallway again, Fleur grins at her friend’s rather spectacular bed head, “Did you ‘ave a good sleep?”

Hermione throws a look over her shoulder while she scurries (discreetly) up the stairs to the third floor, “Wonderful, thank you. My morning left a bit to be desired…”

Snorting rather unattractively, Fleur makes a shooing motion at Hermione, “Go get dressed, morveuse , and I will wake Ginny up too.”

By the time Fleur manages to coax Ginny out of bed and upstairs to get dressed, Hermione was passing them on the stairs with Crookshanks cradled in her arms. Hermione gives both of them a calm smile and says good morning to Ginny as she takes the stairs down to the first floor.

Fleur smirks when Fred bolts out of the room, obviously hearing Hermione on the stairs and catches his witch by surprise. Hermione lets out a sharp yelp that makes Crookshanks scramble out of her arms and the portrait of Mrs. Black to wake up, grumpier than any of the people Fleur had woken up that morning.

Molly came ripping out of the kitchen, followed closely by Percy who was already waving his wand at the portrait to trap her behind the heavy curtain before his mother could. Looking up the staircase, Molly blinked in confusion to see Fred, Hermione, Fleur and Ginny all in a small clump on the stairs.

“What are you all doing up there?” Molly whisper-yells up at them, her brow furrowing into something resembling suspicion. 

Fleur pinches her lips together, looking at Fred in worry that he returns over Hermione’s head. Hermione smiles brilliantly down at Molly, ignoring that Crookshanks had left a long line of scratches down her arm and that Fleur and Fred were looking incredibly shifty.

“Fred and I were just on our way down, Molly. Ginny slept in a bit after our sleepover, so Fleur volunteered to help her with her hair.”

Fleur thought this was very quick thinking and mentally gave Hermione a pat on the back. Molly, however, reacted much differently.

Her eyes went wide as she looked over the four young adults, “Sleepov— you stayed with Fleur last night?”

Fred throws his hands up like his mother was pointing her wand at him, “I slept in my room with George all night, don’t look at me like that!” 

Having the annoyed glares from four women and his older brother on him, Fred dropped his hands, “Sheesh, tough crowd.”

Ginny frowned down at her mum, “Is there something wrong, mum? Fleur doesn’t stay over very often and she was excited to see Hermione—”

“No, no, of course not!” Molly sent a look over her shoulder, not looking at all like she believed what she was saying, “Come down quickly, I’ve got breakfast on the table already. We shouldn’t be talking in the hall…”

Ginny shrugged and continued up to her room, Fleur trailing behind her after looking back to throw Hermione a worried look. Hermione and Fred continued down until they were on the same level as Molly and Percy, Fred taking a second to coax Crookshanks back out from under the stairs where he’d gone to cower.

Fleur peeked back over the railing once she and Ginny were at the top, wondering why Molly was so concerned about the Order that she hadn’t even wanted Fleur to spend time with her friends, lest they learn about the Order’s mission. 

It certainly made Fleur more curious about these guard duties, and why Bill had insisted on taking hers.

-~-~-~-

August 6th, 1995

4 Privet Drive

7:18 PM

“Lower your wand, boy, before you poke someone’s eye out,” a low, growly voice emerged from the dimly lit hallway. 

Harry’s heart felt like it was beating out of his chest, but he knew that voice. It didn’t mean he lowered his wand.

“Professor Moody?” he asked a bit uncertainly.

A grumble again and the shifting sound of a wooden leg being dragged across the Dursley’s polished wooden floor, “I don’t know so much about ‘Professor’, never got around to much teaching, did I?”

Harry laughs breathlessly, his wand lowering to his hip rather than straight in front of his face. He did not relax his grip on it completely, as he thought he had a rather good reason to be suspicious. He’d already spent an entire school year under the tutelage of a person he thought had been Mad-Eye Moody, and look how that turned out. 

Before Harry could decide what to do next, another voice, much more calming and just as familiar, floated up the stairs.

“It’s all right, Harry. We’ve come to take you to the others.”

Harry’s heart leapt. He knew that voice too, although it had been long since he had heard it.

“P-Professor Lupin?” Harry called, “Is that you?”

“Why are we all standing in the dark?” a light, feminine voice spoke in the same direction as Moody’s before she said, “ Lumos .”

A wand-tip flared and Harry could finally see everyone standing in his bedroom doorway. Moody and a pink-haired witch were watching him, with two other people behind them. Harry couldn’t see Lupin until he stepped out from behind the corner and smiled kindly up at Harry.

Harry took in his old professor’s face, having not seen him in a year. He knew Lupin was young, but the man looked tired and ill; and counting mentally, Harry thought it was probably because the last full moon had only been two days ago. Lupin had more grey hair than when Harry last said goodbye to him, and his robes were shabbier and patched to try and fit his thinning frame. Despite his rather poorly state, he was smiling broadly at Harry who could barely manage his own smile in his state of shock. 

His wand, he realized, was still clenched in his fist. Lupin noticed as well, his eyes flickering down and back up to Harry’s face with his smile turning kinder.

“It’s all right, Harry. It’s really me,” Harry’s old professor looked down at his wand again before saying slowly, “What was the first thing I gave you when you met me two years ago?”

Harry’s body relaxed at the question, already thinking there couldn’t be another person other than Ron, Ginny or Neville who would know to even ask him that, “Chocolate.” 

Lupin smiles and nods at Mad-Eye, “Very good. Would you feel better asking me one as well?”

Shrugging as if it didn’t matter, Harry still shuffled on his feet before asking, “What’s my godfather’s nickname?”

Lupin didn’t even hesitate, “Arsehole.”

“Remus.” Harry deadpans, failing to conceal his sigh of exasperation and amusement.

His own grin fighting at the corners of his mouth, Lupin says sagely, “Sorry, slip of the tongue. I meant to say ‘Padfoot’.”

Harry finally pockets his wand, much to the horror of Moody who tells him off immediately for putting it in his back pocket.

“I’m telling him you called him an arsehole,” Harry tells Lupin as he makes his way towards the group of witches and wizards apparently here to save him from the Dursleys. 

Giving him an (incredibly fake) admonishing look, Lupin says, “Language, Harry,” before he wraps the boy up in a hug.

Lupin had never hugged him before. But then, Harry hadn’t known about Lupin’s connection with Sirius and his parents until the end of his third year, and by then his DADA Professor was already leaving. Despite the man being thin and bony, Harry still melted into the embrace, soaking up that same familial feeling hugs from Sirius gave him.

Pulling away from one another, Lupin smiled at him before turning to the rest of the group.

“I believe you’ve met Mad-Eye, Harry, however briefly. But might I introduce you to our other friends?”

-~-~-~-

August 6, 1995

Grimmauld Place

7:42 PM

The lumbering sound of footsteps climbing the staircase made Fred immediately cast a stasis charm on the cauldron and send it whizzing into the cupboard. George and Hermione followed suit and stuffed the notes for the Bruise Removal Paste Hermione had begun insisting they work on, if only as a way to hide the bruises made by their other products, into Hermione’s beaded bag. 

When the steps moved on to the third floor without pausing at the second, all three relaxed and carefully restarted their work. Hermione laid back out on the floor, pulling another set of notes out for Fred’s latest idea, frowning down at the jumble of notes and beginning to rearrange and rewrite them onto a new piece of parchment.

“You know, you two are going to have to work on keeping your notes a bit neater. You won’t be able to send them to me constantly once we’re back in school to rewrite them for you.”

George grins at her briefly before going back to his work, “We’ll just have to come up with a better way to share our work with you when you’re so far away.”

Fred hums, sounding interested as he focuses on adding the dittany leaves, “There was that journal idea you had before the summer. We should go back to that again.”

George responds to this by rifling through the stacks of notebooks and parchment rolls that were stacked and roped together. He did this for about a minute before sighing, “Hermione…”

“I think I tied it with that purple ribbon,”

“This one?”

“No, sorry, the one with the weird bleach stain.”

“Got it,” George finds the small stack of paper titled ‘Babbling Books’ and tucks it underneath the stack he was currently working on.

Fred shakes his head in exasperation, “‘Mione’s got a point, George. That was painful,”

George blows a raspberry meant for Fred into the parchment he was scribbling on with one of the muggle pens Hermione had forfeited for the good cause of saving on ink, “Talk to our secretary about it. I’m busy.”

Swivelling to look at Hermione, Fred found himself being blasted with a patented girlfriend ‘ look’ that had him turning back to the safety of his possibly explosive potion, “We’re in need of a secretary, Forge.”

“I’ll add it to the list, Gred.”

Hermione rolls her eyes fondly, grinning as she continues transcribing George's messy scrawl, “You two are impossible.”

Their banter is interrupted by rather loud and explosive shouting from the floor above them. All three of their heads lifted and looked up at the ceiling in bewilderment as if waking up from a long sleep.

Fred grunts, “Think that must mean Harry’s here.”

“Why’s he yelling like that, do you think?”

Hermione sighs as she pushes herself up, gathering the notes and putting them away, “Ron or Ginny had set him off somehow, I reckon. The poor boy’s not heard from them all summer.”

George sighs, “Right, forgot about that. Reckon we should pop in and defuse the tension?”

Fred nods in agreement, “Sounds like it might be necessary. Either mum or the stupid painting is going to do it soon if we don’t.”

Standing and offering Hermione a hand up as well, Fred pocketed the Extendable Ears once again, recently fixed and fiddled with to hopefully fix the static issue, “Coming along, love?”

Hermione gives his hand an untrusting look, “You’re not really going to… pop in? Are you?”

George grins over Fred’s shoulder at her, a teasing lilt to his smile, “Why? Scared of leaving something behind, ’Mione? Fred’s not that bad at Apparating.”

Giving the younger twin a glare, Hermione heaves herself up from the floor out of principle, “No, but I’m not a big fan of Apparating as a whole. I think I’ll walk the twenty steps, thanks.”

George shrugs and kicks the remaining notes underneath his bed, “Fair enough. We’ll pop in and hopefully scare the pants off of ‘em. Then you can come and save us from being hexed by our sister.”

Hermione rolls her eyes, instead holding her hand out to Fred. Fred gives her a weird look, prompting Hermione to struggle not to smile as she reaches into his pocket herself, retrieving the Extendable Ears.

“I’ll take these and see if I can catch anything on my way up, all right? I’ll have to be quiet anyway so your mum doesn’t come rushing up to see if I’m telling her children forbidden secrets, oui ?” 

George thinks the idea a good one and gives Hermione a quick run-through on how to use them. Hermione was pretty confident she could have done it on her own (she’d seen then using it enough times in the past couple of days), but accepts George’s instructions before shaking her head in exasperated fondness when the boys then popped away with matching mischievous grins.

Hermione leaves the room and gently closes the door behind herself before tiptoeing over to the railing and allowing the Ear to descend before slowly making her way up the stairs.

-~-~-~-

August 6, 1995

Grimmauld Place

7:37 PM

Harry’s bewilderment deepened with every step up the stairs, Mrs. Weasley shushing him gently any time he tried to speak or took a step she thought too creaky. What were they doing in a house that looked like it belonged to Voldemort himself?

“Now dear,” Mrs. Weasely whispered once they had reached the top of the staircase and were facing two doors, “Ginny and Ron will explain everything. I’ve really got to dash,” she ushered him to the first door, “You’re in this one. I’ll call you when it’s over.”

Mrs. Weasley then rushed back down the stairs, leaving the utterly confused Harry to enter the room on his own. He glanced at the twin bed shoved to the side to make room for a full sized cot, and the gloomy high ceiling before there was a loud twittering noise and his vision was blocked by bright red.

“HARRY!” Ginny threw her arms around Harry’s shoulders, pushing herself into his arms and refusing to let go even as he sputtered on her hair, “He’s here! Ron! We didn’t hear you arrive, we’ve been waiting all day!”

“Let him breathe, Gin. Merlin,” Ron prods his sister’s shoulder, trying to dislodge her from their friend before she causes him damage, “You’re lucky you didn’t wake up that portrait with your yelling.”

Ginny huffs into Harry’s neck, simultaneously making his hair stand on end and a blush rush up to his cheeks, “Serves them right if I did. They didn’t even tell us they’d left to get Harry!”

Ron nods, finally just crowding Ginny between him and Harry to give his friend one of those quick man hugs that involved a much too hard slap to the back, “I know. I’ll bet they did it on purpose too.”

Grunting from being squeezed on both sides, Ginny shoves away to get some air before launching back into excited chatter that Harry found himself struggling to understand.

“Are you all right? We’ve been going mad here, thinking you’re probably pretty upset with us— but we couldn’t tell you anything! Dumbledore made us swear, not to mention mum’s been a right terror trying to keep everything from us. But now we’ve got so much to tell you and I’ll bet you’ve got a lot to tell us! When we heard about the Dementors, I swear, George and Percy were nearly dragging Ron away from the floo before he could break into your muggle relatives' home. But Sirius and Remus told us there’s no way they can actually kick you out of Hogwarts since there’s some kind of Decree or whatnot about Underage Sorcery that I stopped listening to halfway through. Something else to do with life-threatening situations, which honestly, we get into enough of those they should just know to give you a pass when your name shows up at the Ministry.”

Ron rolls his eyes, though he looks slightly concerned at the rate of speech his sister was managing, “Ginny, honestly, take a breath.”

Harry finally felt like he could breathe as Ron bodily moved Ginny back a step. He thought perhaps both of the younger Weasleys had grown a few inches, with Ron now towering over Harry by a few and Ginny now nearly the same height as Harry. Their nearly identical set of freckles and cheekbones still looked the same, though Harry thought perhaps Ron’s nose looked slightly crooked. He’d often thought that Ron and Ginny could nearly be mistaken as twins as well. 

“It’s really good to see you two,” Harry smiles, allowing the grinning Ginny back into his arms for a big hug, giving one more suited for a proper greeting than when she had launched herself at him.

“It’s good to see you too, mate,” Ron says, just smiling at his friend rather than attempting to kibosh his sister’s hug, “We missed writing to you all summer.”

There was a strained silence while that sentiment seemed to settle over the trio, making Harry wish there was something there to distract him. He settled on twirling a strand of Ginny’s hair around his pointer finger. 

“He seemed to think it was best,” Ginny mumbles, “I thought it was rubbish.”

At least that made the tight feeling in Harry’s chest dissipate again as he gave her shoulders another squeeze. Then he snapped out of it and also realized he was still holding Ginny against himself in one of the world’s longest hugs. In front of Ron.

Letting go and clearing his throat, Harry looked around the room, “So, why’s Dumbledore so keen to keep me in the dark this summer?”

Ginny shrugs, not looking bothered at being released so quickly, “Not sure. But he’s been pretty uptight about it.”

This made Harry frown deeply, that dark feeling creepy over his head again like it did whenever he started getting caught up in his thoughts, “Dumbledore just doesn’t trust me then?”

Ron shakes his head, “Don’t be thick, of course that’s not it.”

An angry breath is blown out of Harry’s nose, “So he just doesn’t think I can take care of myself? He needs to have all these people, what, protecting me?”

Ron and Ginny both shake their heads, “No, that’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it?” Harry asks, exasperated with his friends for still not giving him any straight answers. “If not that? How come I had to stay at the Dursleys all summer while you two got to join in on whatever's going on here?”

Ginny crosses her arms, glowering at Harry’s foul mood, “We haven’t gotten to join anything. Mum won’t let us in on the meetings, she says we’re too young—”

Harry’s head suddenly felt hot, and somehow without knowing where it came from, he was shouting explosively.

“SO YOU HAVEN’T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL! YOU’VE STILL BEEN HERE HAVEN’T YOU? YOU'RE STILL TOGETHER! I’VE BEEN STUCK, ALONE, LOCKED IN THAT ROOM WITH NO LETTERS! NO ONE TALKING TO ME EXCEPT FLOWERY NOTES FROM HERMIONE! AND SHE’S IN FRANCE!”

Ginny reared her head back at Harry’s shouting, her scowl turning dark as she stared back at the raging raven-haired wizard, “Harry—”

“I’VE HANDLED MORE THAN ANYONE HERE! AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT FOR MERLIN’S SAKE! WHO’S THE ONE WHO HAD TO FIGHT VOLDEMORT LAST YEAR?”

Ron put his hands up placatingly, not liking the look on his sister’s face or the red rage on Harry’s, “Mate, listen—”

But Harry wasn't ready to listen. Every bitter and resentful thought he’d had in the past month of loneliness was pouring out of him; his frustration at the lack of news, the hurt that his friends had had each other, his fury at being followed and not been told about it— 

“I HAD TO FIGHT DRAGONS AND SPHINXES! AND WHO SAVED BOTH YOUR SKINS FROM DEMENTORS WHEN WE FOUND SIRIUS!”

Harry was much too deep in to notice the absolute filthy glare on Ginny’s face and Ron’s backing away until he was sat on the edge of his bed, looking worried and slightly peeved as well.

“WHO SAVED THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE? WHO FOUGHT THAT BLOODY SNAKE AND GOT RID OF RIDDLE?!”

“We did,” Ginny’s scarily calm voice breaks through the cloud of black thoughts swirling in Harry’s mind, “I think, if you pull your head out of your arse, you’ll recall that we got rid of Riddle. Together.”

For the first time, Harry noticed the dark look on Ginny’s face and the clenched jaw of Ron.

Ron clears his throat, speaking more gently than Harry had ever heard from him before, “Yeah, and maybe that if Neville and I hadn’t been there, you never would have even gotten near that Stone?”

Ginny shifts back onto one leg, her hip jutting out sharply, “We’ll give you the basilisk. That one was all you. And the maze, though I’d like to argue that you had quite a bit of help in preparing for that particular danger.”

Ron hums, like he’s simply reminiscing and not defusing his bomb of a best mate, “And the Dementors. Think we all know you’re the more experienced one there. We know you’ve done those things, mate.”

“But if you ever ,” Ginny warns and Harry takes a deep breath, his head still pounding but his heart beating harder as his friend points her finger up into his face, “ Ever , say that all those things you’ve been through— that we’ve been through— were moments where you were doing things alone …”

Now Ginny takes a breath, visibly still upset but trying to calm down now that Harry had quit yelling, “Then I’m going to agree with Dumbledore that you should be left in the dark if you’re going to act like this. And I think you know how I feel about Dumbeldore’s decisions.”

It was like a lightning bolt went straight through Harry’s body and he was shocked back into existence. He could suddenly feel the floor under his shoes and could taste the slightly dank air in the room. Ginny’s deep brown eyes were boring into him while he adjusted and came back down to earth. Her fiery hair could have nearly been made of real flames at that moment, she was so wound up her magic was nearly sparking from the tips.

But she kept her cool, something Harry suddenly felt shameful for since he’d been unable to do the same.

Taking a beat to look around the room again and wait for his breathing to return to normal, Harry let his shoulders droop as he asked, much more calm and put together than before, “What is this place, anyway?”

It was like the room took a breath as well, as Ginny’s tense body released and Ron relaxed back to lean on his hands, “It’s Sirius’s old family house. He offered it up as Headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix.” Ron offered up.

“And what is the Order of the Phoenix?”

Ginny had to shrug, still stood in front of Harry with crossed arms, but a more flippant look on her face. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, “A secret society. It’s the people who fought against You-Know-Who last time.”

“And what is it they’re doing?”

“No idea, really. We’ve been stuck decontaminating the rooms until mum’s content, and you know how she is,” Ron rolls his eyes a bit, “But they talk about guard duty all the time.”

“Couldn’t have been me, could it?” Harry asks drily. He realized he was pretty much standing around like a weirdo in the middle of the room, and took a seat on the corner of the cot.

“Oh, yeah,” Ron says with a dawning look of realization.

Ginny didn’t seem so convinced, but before she could voice her own concerns there were two loud cracks that interrupted, and with it, Fred and George appeared in the spot Harry had just vacated. 

“ARRGH!” Ron shouted, flying back into the wall at his back in shock, “Stop doing that!”

George (Harry was pretty sure) looked over at Ron with a large, playful grin, “We’ve not done it that much for you to react like that.”

Fred (Harry was more confident this was Fred judging by the slightly tanner skin than the other twin that he would have received while in France) threw Harry an identical grin, “Hello, Harry. We thought we heard your dulcet tones.”

“Yeah, really shouldn’t bottle up your anger like that, harry. Let it all out.” George says, moving over to the same bed Harry had sat on and flopping face first down into it, “There might have been people fifty miles away who didn’t hear you.”

Ginny scoffed, a reluctant smile twitching at the corner of her lips. Not that Harry was staring at her lips.

“No kidding,” she says as she uncrosses her arms and actively relaxes her tense shoulders, “Where’d you two leave—”

Suddenly the door was opening and everyone’s head swivelled to look as if it were an automatic response. Harry was a moment slower than the others, but when he saw who was at the door, his jaw dropped.

“Hermione?!” 

Hermione Granger smiled that large, tongue-touched grin that always made the corners of her eyes crinkle and her nose turn up. Harry had forgotten how much he’s missed seeing that mass of curls and warm whiskey-coloured eyes, whether they were twinkling in amusement or worry. Either way, one look from Hermione usually had a person entranced in some way, and Harry was no different.

Hermione opened her arms as she nudged the door closed behind her, “ Bonjour , Harry! Come here, le frérot! I’ve missed you!”

Stumbling to his feet, Harry allowed his pseudo-sister to wrap him up in one of the warmest and most comforting hugs of his life. The one he’d received from Lupin not even an hour ago or the one from Mrs. Weasley downstairs paled in comparison. It was like all those bad thoughts that had been swirling in his head a moment ago were nowhere to be found; he couldn’t even remember if they’d been real anymore.

Harry pulled back, still keeping Hermione in the circle of his arms, “Why— when did you get here? Why are you here?”

Ginny frowns in amusement, looking back at the door, “Why’d you walk?”

Fred sighs, loudly, “Hermione doesn’t like apparating.”

Making a sort of ‘tsk’ noise into Harry’s hair, Hermione gives the twins and Ginny a peeved look, “Who apparates inside a house?!” she looks back at Harry, smiling softly again as she runs a hand over his messy, long hair, “And I’m here for you, silly.”

Harry’s happy smile melts off his face and a frown of concern takes its place, “For me?”

Hermione nods, “We came as quickly as we could when we heard. We got here a few days ago, not realizing no one was planning to get you until now, for whatever silly reason.”

Harry felt dreadful suddenly, and looked over at the now sitting down Fred who was reclined next to Ron, “I made you miss France?”

Fred scoffs and rolls his eye, but his ever-present smile doesn’t leave his face, “Nah mate, I was only there for a few more days anyhow. Besides, I got to bring Hermione with me, so it’s all the same to me.”

Harry wasn’t so sure, but didn’t expect he’d win against either Fred or Hermione is he tried to argue that he had ruined their summer vacation together. They shouldn’t have bothered coming just for him.

Hermione kept one arm over Harry's shoulders as she turned to face the others better, and tossed something George’s way, “It’s a no-go with the Ears by the way. There’s an Imperturable Charm on the kitchen door.”

“How d’you know?” George asks curiously, pocketing the Ears without question.

Hermione just shrugs, “I saw Crookshanks pawing at a Dungbomb and it kept bouncing off the door. If you can’t make contact with a door, then it’s an Imperturable Charm.”

George looked impressed with Hermione’s deducting skills while Fred heaved a sigh that Ginny copied.

“Shame. I was hoping with Harry showing up they’d have forgotten to bother hiding things from us.”

Harry looked at them all, concern and confusion warring on his brow, “They’ve really not told you anything?”

Hermione shakes her head, “ Non , and I’ve been trying, believe me. I try to cook for Molly as often as I can, hoping to be around when someone comes in with a new message. Unluckily, everytime, Molly’s found some way to work around me.”

Ron looked at Hermione with surprise and sudden comprehension, “Is that why you keep cooking?”

Hermione shoots Ron a bemused look while Fred reaches over and cuffs the back of his brother’s head, “Well, she certainly didn’t come home with me just to be your personal chef, Ronnie.”

Huffing a laugh, Hermione leads Harry over to the cot with George, kicking at the twin’s legs until he shifted enough to allow the both of them to sit down, “I also just enjoy cooking, Ron, but I’d been hoping to learn a bit more by doing it.”

Ginny grins at Hermione as she takes a seat right there on the ground so she was mostly central between the two beds, “I think mum’s only let you cook so much for her because she enjoys watching you bully Fred and George into helping you.”

Hermione giggles while Fred throws his sister a scandalized front, “I help! All on my own, thank you, sister mine.”

George grumbles, “Nah, I get bullied.”

They all have a laugh at George’s expense for a moment, the mood in the room not so gloomy and tense as it had been. Once they all calm down, Harry looks over at Hermione again.

“Who else is here? There were a bunch of people who came to get me. Moody and Lupin, some others I’ve not met before. Tonks, who’s got this bright pink hair!”

Hermione’s brows went up and her eyes flew over to Ginny, who’d perked up again, “Pink? Oooh, she had violet last time!”

Ron chuckles, “Mum won’t be happy if you turn your hair pink, Gin.”

Hermione makes a noise like she’s hurt as she gazes at Ginny’s long, fire-red hair, “Please never dye your hair, Gin.”

Ginny pouts a bit, crossing her arms again, “None of you are any fun.”

Fred and George gasp and begin complaining, waxing poetic until Hermione throws her shoe at Fred.

“Anyways,” Hermione turns back to Harry once again, one shoe less than before, “Sirius is downstairs, did you not see him when you came in?”

Harry’s eyes went wide, shaking his head in the negative, “No, just Mrs. Weasely. And she sent me up here right away since she said they were in the middle of a meeting.”

Hermione makes a grumpy sort of noise through her nose, rolling her eyes for real this time and looking more than a bit cross, “ Ridicule . Fred, I know your mother has her opinions, but she’s being ridiculous.”

Fred holds a scandalized hand to his chest, like Harry’s Aunt Petunia did when she reacted to a particularly juicy bit of gossip from a neighbour, “Why’s she just my mum when you’re peeved off at her?”

George snorts, “I think that’s just how in-laws work, mate.”

Hermione continues as if neither had spoken, “Lupin is staying here as well, so you’ll be seeing the both of them often. And Fleur stays most nights, though she still has to work and stays in her own flat to be closer to Gringotts for her shifts.”

Harry was quite excited to see Fleur as well after his terribly crumby summer. Fleur had at least sent more letters than either Ron or Ginny, but she’d also been busy with work and couldn’t write to him as often as he wanted. And, apparently, also busy with this Order business.

Ginny pipes up, “And our brother Bill, when he’s not working.”

Harry hums, “Bill’s not working in Egypt?”

Now Hermione’s grin turns wolfish, that mischievous twinkle Harry had missed so much back in full force, “Oh yes, Bill took a desk job in England, to be closer to family and the Order, you know?”

Harry nods, but he doesn’t think he does know.

Fred’s grinning sharply now as well, he and Hermione exchanging looks across the room, “Yeah. At Gringotts.”

“Oh?” Now this has Harry’s eyebrows rising up into his hairline. 

“Uh huh,” George snickers, “They come to Order meetings together most times, as well. And Bill swings by to take Fleur to work with him when she stays overnight here.”

“No!” Ginny gasps, “I never noticed that!”

Fred’s nodding rapidly, “And they got all flustered the first time they came over when Hermione and I were here. Fleur couldn't look at either of us for very long and Hermione got Bill all tongue-tied.”

George cackles, “That was amazing, that! I’ve never seen Bill so unsure of himself.”

Hermione is snickering as well, “Perhaps that relationship bet we made is going to pan out after all.”

“There’s a new bet?” Ginny asks excitedly, perching up on her knees, “What’ve we got so far?”

Fred ticks off his fingers as he counts, “I’ve said February initially, but if I could reguess I’d say January now—”

“No re-guessing! First and only guess counts!” Ginny interjects.

“Fine. Harry said Halloween, which I’m thinking might not be far off mate. George said Christmas time and Hermione agreed. You two want in as well?”

Ginny was already nodding, a large smile on her face in her excitement, “June.”

Fred threw her a baffled look, “ June? Gin, have you seen them together recently? It won’t be bloody June!”

But Ginny was insistent, “June. I’m positive.”

Humming noncommitedly, Fred looked to Ron who had his nose all scrunched up in thought, “Ron?”

Humming and going back and forth with himself, Ron finally nodded decisively and said, “

“December.”

George gives him a look that suggests Ron just dribbled down the front of his shirt, “So… the same as Hermione and I?”

But Ron shakes his head, “Nah, like, early December. Around the second week or something. Before Christmas”

Hermione looks fascinated, “That’s a rather accurate guess, Ron. Any reason for it?”

Ron shrugs, not looking all that affected by the oddness of his guess, “No, just feels like something’ll happen then.”

“Hmm,” Fred hums but leans back next to Ron again, “well, it’ll be amazing if you’re right then.”

The group of reunited friends spend the next while together just talking, trying to bring Harry up to speed with everything they did know. Once that had been exhausted, Fred and Hermione shared a bit of their vacation, which they hadn't really had a chance to do with Fred’s siblings before now either.

They were interrupted when there were footsteps heard climbing the three flights of stairs. 

“Uh oh,” George whispers and scrambles from the bed. Nearly at the same time, Fred threw an apologetic look at Hermione as he snapped away from sight with a loud crack, while George reached over and grabbed her wrist, snapping the both of them away with two more loud cracks. 

Seconds later, Mrs. Weasley appeared in the bedroom doorway, looking over it with a shrewd eye.

“The meetings over, you can come down and have dinner now. Everyone’s dying to see you, Harry. And who’s left all those Dungbombs outside the kitchen door?”

“Crookshanks. Fred was throwing them down the stairs for him. He loves playing with them.”

Molly rolls her eyes and mutters as she pulls away from the doorway, “ Fred and that cat… Honestly, Hermione is going to have to frisk that boy to make sure he doesn’t try to hide that cat when she leaves .”

She looks back at the three still sat there, “Well, go on and wash up before coming down. And one of you go get the others. I’ll bet they’re all in the twins' room again, for whatever reason.”

Bonjour - hello

le frérot - little brother/kid

Non - no

Ridicule - ridiculous

Chapter Text

Harry followed Ginny and Ron downstairs, a bit confused why they were practically tiptoeing down each flight. Ginny paused on the stairs and stopped Harry when they reached the second floor. Ron squeezed past and wandered down to the door in the middle of the three, rapping his knuckles on the frame a few times.

When Hermione’s head popped out, she looked rather green in the face and queasy, but left the room with the twins behind her. As a whole group now, they continued the trek downstairs to the kitchen. 

There were a couple of Order members sitting at the table when they turned the corner into the kitchen, though Harry caught a few of his ‘Advance Guard’ leaving through the front door while Mrs. Weasley waved them off. Thankfully, he also noticed Snape was nowhere to be found, obviously having left before Harry and the others had come downstairs.

Hermione went first into the kitchen, grabbing up a wooden spoon from the counter and stirring up something on the stove, muttering as she did so. George, Ginny and Ron went past her to take seats at the table, so Harry followed them while Fred stopped to attempt to pull Hermione away from the cooking. 

Harry fought down a grin when Fred ultimately failed and instead was roped into helping Hermione at the stove, while Hermione grabbed Ginny, Ron and George to help set the table.

“Your mother isn’t a house elf, don’t expect her to just serve you food from way over here!”

When Harry attempted to take half of the plates from Ginny, who already looked like she was seconds from toppling over, Hermione shooed him away to the table.

“ Non , Harry, these cretins can work. You go say hello.”

Harry briefly caught Fred telling Hermione something about it being Mrs. Weasley’s turn. Hermione huffed and told him to remove the stew from the heat.

Having his orders, Harry turned to find a seat at the table amongst the Order members staying for the evening meal. He didn’t like to admit it, but Harry was a bit oblivious to his surroundings when he had things on his mind. So it was Bill he spotted first at the table, stood next to Kingsley and quickly rolled up scattered bits of parchment from the table as the two men whispered. Harry only briefly caught a glimpse of what looked to be plans for a building before Bill was putting them away.

“Journey all right, Harry? Mad-Eye didn’t try to fly you via Greenland, did he?” Bill calmly accepts the roll of parchment Kingsley passes him, trying to pass it off as unimportant while he chats up Harry. But judging solely on the envious look Ginny threw it on her way around the table, it had something important to do with the Order.

“He tried,” Tonks chirps as she leans into the table, bumping a candle with her arm as she does so, “Oh no— sorry!”

“Here, dear,” Mrs. Weasley sighed, sounding a bit exasperated as she waved her wand over the small flame and extinguished the fire that had caught the edge of the roll Bill was still holding.

Bill snickers while Tonks tries— and mostly fails— to apologize to Molly who just waves it off. Tonks cringes at the burnt edges of the parchment, but Bill fixes it with a small wave of his wand and tucks it inside his long coat.

“You’re a menace, sissy. Did you pass the Auror training by fumbling across the finish line?”

Tonks scowls at Bill, swiping at his arm as the twins laugh and poke fun at the Auror the Weasleys apparently knew rather well.

Obviously, the others had met these Order members before. Hermione immediately started up a conversation with the pink-haired Tonks while playfully berating Bill for teasing her, all while she passed by with cups and goblets floating carefully behind her, setting themselves at each table place on their own. Lupin was already at the table as well, a few seats down from Tonks and speaking with one of the men Harry had met earlier. 

Harry’s perusal of Grimmauld’s dual kitchen and dining room was interrupted by a knocking at the opposite end of the table. Whipping his head back around from where he’d been watching the enchanted sink clean the dishes (he always loved watching that one), Harry’s eyes went wide at the sight of his godfather.

Sirius Black smiled widely at his godson, his teeth now much straighter and clean after being able to live somewhere other than alleys or caves. His hand was still poised over the table where he’d knocked to gain Harry’s attention.

“Hello, pup.”

Harry grinned, “Sirius!”

The boy turned away from the table to rush the older man, pushing into his chest to accept the open-armed invitation from his godfather.

Sirius chuckled and enveloped Harry in an enormous hug that rivalled one of Hagrid’s, his breath ghosting over the top of Harry’s head as the two nuzzled as close together as they could.

“I’ve missed you, prongslet. I’m sorry I couldn’t have you come with me after school was out.”

Embarrassingly, Harry felt his eyes well up at the thought and he hurried to hide his face in Sirius’s shirt. Coming home to Sirius after a year at Hogwarts, especially after last year, even if it was coming home to this home; it was almost too much for Harry to even hope for. 

Sniffling while trying not to be obvious about it, Harry gave Sirius’s waist a squeeze, “‘S ok. Only had to deal with the Dursleys for a month this time.”

Sirius’s arms tightened around Harry’s shoulders almost painfully before his godfather released him, pushing back on his arms to get a better look at him. Harry looked up into those dark eyes, crinkled with happy humour and perhaps squinted in lingering worry as well.

“Well, you certainly found your own way out of staying there, didn’t you?” Sirius says teasingly, giving Harry’s shoulder a little shake before taking a seat at the table. Harry settled himself in next to Sirius quickly, giving Lupin a smile from across the table before grimacing at Sirius.

“I would have rather just snuck away or something instead of fighting off a Dementor.”

Lupin chuckles, “I think perhaps you were better prepared to fight a Dementor than to run away from home, Harry.”

Harry shrugs. He’d pretty much done both a couple of years ago. What Lupin didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him and wouldn’t get Harry in trouble. Sirius chuckles in that rusty sort of way, slinging his arm around the back of Harry’s chair.

Sirius grinned over at Ginny as the girl took her seat next to him, dishes and cutlery now set around the table, “Wha’ d’you think, Red? Should we sneak Harry out, see if we can prove Moony wrong?”

Ginny simply rolls her eyes, “On your head, be it, Black. My mother’s on a warpath and you’ll be her next victim if you let Harry out.”

Lupin threw Sirius a perplexed look but didn’t mention anything. Sirius ignored him to continue verbally sparring with Ginny. Harry wasn’t sure what his dad’s friend meant with that look, but even he knew the kitchen table wasn’t the place to ask.

Another member of the Order, who had evidently missed the night’s meeting, came into the kitchen on her own.

“ Bonjour , everyone!” Fleur Delacour announced to a returned round of greetings from the room. 

Harry writhed out from under Sirius’s arm at the sight of his second sister, jumping up from the table and wrapping his arms around a very surprised Fleur’s waist.

“Oh! ‘Arry!” Fleur did her best to return Harry’s hug, but found herself so trapped by Harry’s arms that she laughingly wrapped her arms mostly around his head and shoulders. She playfully gave his cheeks and the top of his head little kisses, while he pretended to struggle  under the attack, “I almost forgot you would be ‘ere!”

“I didn’t forget, Harry!” Hermione calls out cheekily as she hands a full bowl of mashed potatoes to George, “that means I’m your favourite, right?” She spins quickly after to snatch the now floating bowl from the air, where George had begun levitating it to spar mid-air with Fred’s own bowl of caesar salad.

Fleur scowled at her friend over Harry’s head, accidentally tightening her grip around his head, “ Ne l'essayez même pas, ”

Hermione quips back around the now scowling George, “ On verra! ”

Finally getting his head out of Fleur’s vice grip, Harry pulls out of their hug to see her face better, “It’s good to see you. C—Comment…ça va?”

Fleur beams, petting back the hair she had disturbed, “I’m good, ‘Arry. Je vais bien. Well done,”

Harry’s cheeks grow warm as he smiles at the beautiful Veela witch he hadn’t seen for a couple months now. Like Hermione, Fleur had quickly become one of Harry’s favourite people and he’d missed seeing her.

Fleur takes his arm, dragging him back to the table and placing him in his seat between Ginny and Sirius, “Spend some time with your godfather, ‘Arry, and you and I shall talk later.” Harry nods and watches Fleur out of the corner of his eye sit down next to Bill, who looks over at her with a smile.

Mrs. Weasley returned then, dusting off the front of her apron as she closed the kitchen door. Immediately heading to the stove, the older woman paused when she saw Hermione already directing things along the table.

Smiling at the girl, Mrs. Weasley gives Hermione’s cheek a fond pat, “Good girl, Hermione, dear. Thank you.

Hermione chuckles as she watches the twins try once again to battle it out between the floating bowls of salad and vinaigrette. 

Mrs. Weasley sighs, exasperated already, “Boys, please just—” her tired complaint is interrupted by the sudden inclusion of the butterbeer and pot of stew.

Hermione makes a squeaking, wordless noise of worry when the heavy knife-carrying breadboard is added to the fray as well. Mrs. Weasley yells, “Fred! George!”

But it’s too late. Luckily, Mrs. Weasley’s yell caught everyone else’s attention as well as the twins’, so that when the flagon of butterbeer Fred had been levitating sloshed too far and upset its equilibrium, all sitting at the table had enough time to leap back.

Unfortunately, the butterbeer upset the huge pot of stew on its way down, resulting in the main course going flying down the table in a tremendous display of steak, corn and beans. And in their hurried attempt to catch the food, the breadboard tipped over when its corner hit the edge of the table and both bread and knife flew across the table… ominously landing blade down into the wood where Sirus’s hand had been only moments ago.

“FRED!” Hermione and Molly yelled together, resulting in George’s shock dissolving into giggles. Fred reached across the table with a charming grin thrown at a similarly laughing Sirius and Harry, while he tugged the knife out and began righting the food. Poor Crookshanks, who had only just stepped into the kitchen when the stew was turned over, let out a frightened hiss and bolted underneath the side buffet.

“FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE!” screamed Mrs. Weasley, “JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW, YOU DON’T HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY LITTLE THING!”

“We were just trying to save some time!” Fred says, saving as much of the stew as he could in the meantime, “Sorry, Sirius, mate. Didn’t mean to—”

Sirius was still laughing too hard to be able to do anything else. Harry, with his stomach cramping from laughing, tried to settle down again only to catch Ginny’s grin over Sirius’s hunched form and he lost it again.

Hermione was shaking her head, muttering in French as she told them to sit down, collecting the ruined bits of food and sending them off to the trash.

“ Garçons stupides. Tout gâcher... ta mère ne le fera jamais…”

Fred cringes as he takes his seat next to George, “There was definitely an insult in there somewhere.”

Bill, his eyes twinkling, smirked at his brothers, “More than a few, boys.”

Fleur was shaking her head as well, though also trying to fight down a smile as she too listened to her friend mutter and complain.

Molly, not knowing French, was complaining also, making for a rather amusing mirrored round of complaints toward Fred (and George) from Fred’s mother and girlfriend. The snorting giggles occasionally coming from Fleur, Bill and Sirius weren’t helping matters either.

Finally, with the help of everyone, dinner was served— albeit more than half an hour late. And because of this, Percy and Arthur arrived from work to everyone just starting their meal rather than arriving in the middle of it. 

There were more snickers (including a few from the rather chastised Fred) when Hermione stopped Fred by tossing a few pieces of the fallen steak near his plate.

“Go and save your son now that you’ve scared him half to death.”

Fred finally got to start eating once there was a malcontent Crookshanks sitting on his lap, refusing to take the steak from Fred’s hand unless he saw Hermione pass it to him first. 

For a few minutes, aside from the clinking sound of spoons dragging bottoms of bowls, there was the occasional snigger or chuckle, only to be haphazardly silenced by a look from Molly. Then Mrs. Weasley turned to Sirius.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you Sirius, there’s something trapped in the library again.”

Bill frowns, looking down the table towards his mother, “I thought I’d gotten rid of that boggart already. It's not back again, is it?”

Molly looked concerned at this, “I’m not sure. I saw it shaking around that desk again just today.”

Sirius shrugs, not all that bothered by Molly’s incessant cleaning, nor of what she did to the house, “Do whatever you like, Molly. I wouldn’t doubt it's a second one if Bill’s got rid of the first one.”

Molly twittered, “And there are more doxies I found in that old bedroom no one’s using. I thought we might try and tackle them tomorrow.”

Harry felt Sirius’s body tense next to him as he dug too forcefully into his bowl of stew, “I look forward to it,” Harry could hear the sarcasm in his voice, but was sure Mrs. Weasley was ignoring it. 

Across the table, Tonks was entertaining Ginny, Ron and Fleur by transforming her nose between mouthfuls. Harry watched her go between the protruding beak of a duck to a pig’s snout, before shrinking down to a mouse’s whiskers and then what might have been the nose of a tapir. 

Next to Fleur, and turned the other way, Bill was speaking in hushed tones with Lupin and Arthur Weasley, while Percy seemed to be listening and mentally writing everything down. They were too far away for Harry to hear much, but he thought Bill might have been telling his father about the goblins at Gringotts.

An obnoxious burst of laughter from the man Sirius had introduced him to briefly before dinner had begun— Mundungus— was laughing to himself as he chatted up the twins, who looked less than impressed with the man’s story on how he’d managed to two-timed some wizard he’d sold and resold shifty toads to.

Hermione, on the other side of Fred and ignoring the conversation with Mundungus, smiled politely when the man on her other side, Kinglsey, asked her politely if she’d always lived in France.

“Well, I’ve been living with my uncle in Paris since I was a little girl, but before that, I lived in England.”

Kingsley’s eyes lit up and a large warm smile broke out across his face, “I thought it might have been you! I recognized your name the last time I was here, but didn’t have a chance to speak with you.”

Hermione blinked, a bit blind-sighted by the apparent association between them, “Sorry? Have we met before?”

The kind, smiley man extended his hand for her to take, “Kingsley Shacklebolt, Miss Granger. We met years and years ago when I was a new Auror. You’ll not remember me I’m sure, but my partner and I at the time were the Aurors who responded to your case the night your uncle came to bring you to France.”

“Oh!” Hermione takes his hand, welcoming the soft handshake, “Oh, yes, I think I do remember you. I thought your name sounded familiar as well, but I couldn’t place it.”

This made Kingsley’s smile soften further, placing his other hand on top of the one he already held, “I have to say, it makes me very happy to know you grew up so well. You were one of those cases that… well, I’ve thought about you throughout my years as an Auror.”

Hermione smiles back, this one tinged with a hint of grief, “That’s really kind of you, Kingsley. I know Hugo thought you and your partner did excellent work to help me that night.”

“And how is your uncle?”

“He’s good as well. He still works in the French Auror Office, wreaking havoc and flirting far too often, but he’s good.” Hermione grins while Kinglsey chuckles, and the pair dive into sharing stories from the past few years.

Harry, once again tucked under Sirius’s arm, was enjoying the dessert of rhubarb crumble and custard immensely. He’d not been allowed to enjoy any desserts or sweets since he left Hogwarts to go to the Dursleys, so was content to relax into his godfather’s side and indulge.

Everyone else seemed to be of the same mind around the room. Mr. Weasley was leaning back in his chair while chatting with Percy; Tonks was yawning widely, ner nose back to normal (though… perhaps more button-shaped than before); and Ginny had lured Crookshanks away from Fred’s lap with her own pieces of steak, rolling them across the floor for him to chase and gnaw on.

It was nearing late evening by now, and as everyone finished up their last morsels of dessert, Molly said with a yawn in her voice, “Nearly time for bed, I think.”

Sirius, pushing away from his dish as Molly said this, looked down at Harry all tucked up into his side, “Want to hang out in the library a bit before you head to bed? We can bring Moony with us, have a chat just the three of us?”

Harry thought this a brilliant idea and nodded emphatically, “Yeah, cool.”

Grinning crookedly, Sirius smiles up at Lupin and then back down at Harry, “You know, I’m surprised you haven’t started asking questions as soon as you got here. I figured first thing, you’d come ripping in here, asking about Voldemort.”

The cozy, warm atmosphere in the room was sucked out, like the feeling of an oncoming Dementor took over the room. Lupin, who’d been about to take a sip from his goblet, slowly lowered the glass looking warily at Sirius.

“I did!” Harry says (not whines, he swears), “I asked Gin and Ron, but they said they’ve been left out of the meetings—”

“Yes, because you’re too young.” Molly said sternly, now sitting up straight with her fists clenched on the arms of the chair, all signs of previous drowsiness gone.

“Since when does someone need to be included in a super-secret club to ask questions? Especially questions that pertain to something they’re a part of? Harry’s been trapped with those muggles all summer, without a single person able to tell him anything! Imagine how that’d feel?”

“Hang on!” George cut in from down the table. Leaning around Hermione, Fred and Mundungus, George was scowling in his mother’s direction, “I’ve been asking questions for the last month ! I’m of age, what’s your excuse for that?”

Molly, if it was possible, scowled deeper at Sirius while George yelled. Sirius calmly shook his head.

“It’s not my business to tell someone else’s child what they can or can’t do. That’s your parent’s decision. Harry, on the other hand—”

Sirius was interrupted by Molly, who spoke over an interrupting George.

“It’s not down to you to decide what’s good for Harry!”

“Parents don’t get to decide things for their adult children!” George’s outburst was shushed by Hermione and Tonks, who were watching Molly and Sirius glare at one another. Percy threw a concerned look at the closed kitchen door. Fred, unwilling to get in the middle of a separate argument, placed his hand over George’s arm to stay him.

Sirius— and Lupin, for that matter— was watching Molly in a strained sort of silence, like he was biting his tongue even as he spoke, again fighting to remain calm, “I think you’ll find it is … seeing as his parents quite literally gave me that permission.”

Molly’s mouth snaps shut, her eyes squinted dangerously, looking to Harry like she was hoping to attempt a jinx on Sirius using just her eyes. Lupin’s eyes were fixed on Sirius as well.

“All that aside for the moment,” Remus said, “Harry can ask any question he wishes of us, Molly, though we’ll be sure to only share information with him and his friends,” Lupin looks behind him pointedly where the entire younger generation was watching, “they need to know.”

This was apparently not enough, as Molly was yelling at Sirius again, “He’s not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!” Mrs. Weasley shouted, loud enough this time that Percy winced, still watching the door, “He’s only just fifteen and—”

“And he’s dealt with as much as most in the Order,” Sirius said through his teeth, “and more than some. He should get to ask about things he’s already a part of!”

“No one’s denying what he’s done! But he’s still—”

“He’s young, but he’s not a child! None of them are.” 

“He’s not an adult either!”

“No, but you’ve got two adult sons you won’t let make their own decisions, so I don’t see how age even affects anything according to your standards!” Sirius was properly yelling now, matching Molly’s tone and volume while Lupin sat still, watching Sirius pale-faced.

Mrs. Weasley’s face went a truly amazing hue of red, practically spitting out, “He’s not James , Sirius. And my daughter is not Lily !”

Sirius and Remus both went stone cold silent while the rest of the table seemed to take a collective breath. Harry felt all the air in his body get sucked out into the room, like Mrs. Weasley’s words had somehow punched him in the stomach. 

He wasn’t aware of it, but he must have sunk into his godfather again as Sirius’s tense body unwound enough to wrap his arm over Harry’s shoulders once more.

“I’m perfectly aware who they are and just where my friends are, thanks Molly.” Sirius said coldly.

Ginny hissed from the floor next to Crookshanks, “ Mum !” but Molly wasn’t capable of hearing her yet.

“Dumbledore is already reminding you not to tell Harry everything and to stay indoors—”

“I believe those instructions were meant to be personal Molly, for all your arguments against listening in on others' conversations —”

“— as much as you might see of them in Harry and his friends, he is still in school and the adults responsible for him shouldn’t forget it!”

It was like this level of volume was the last straw, and suddenly Mrs. Black’s portrait could be heard rustling and grumbling until her loud bellowing voice was shouting down the halls of Grimmauld Place. Percy winced again and rose quietly, rushing to deal with the portrait while Sirius and his mother continued to quarrel. 

Sirius glowered at Molly, Harry the only thing keeping Sirius from leaning across the table, “Are you saying I’m an irresponsible godfather?”

“I’m saying you’ve not been around him long enough to know what’s best for him!”

Sirius growled, “ That was not my fault. Perhaps you should look to Dumbledore and ask him just why it wasn’t Wormtail thrown in Azkaban that night!” 

“Arthur!” Molly rounded on her husband, who up until then had looked unsure when or even how to step in, “Arthur, back me up here!”

Mr. Weasley sighs, carefully removing his glasses and wiping them off on the edge of his shirt, placing them back on the bridge of his nose and then answering his wife, “As well-meaning as Dumbledore’s instructions for Harry were, he is not a guardian of Harry’s. He has his best interest in mind, but so, I assume, do Sirius and Remus.”

“Personally,” Lupin says quietly, looking away from Sirius at last, “I think it better that Harry gets the facts— not all the facts, Molly, but the general picture— from us, rather than a garbled version from…others.”

Fred and George exchanged covert glances, unsure or not based only on Remus’s mild expression, that their old Defence teacher had some inkling of the Extendable Ears currently sitting in George’s pocket.

“Well,” Molly huffed breathlessly, looking around the table and realizing she wasn’t going to get any support from anyone there, “I can see I’m going to be overruled. But I’m saying, as someone who has Harry’s best interests at heart—”

“ He’s not your son ,” Sirius says quietly, but it still cuts Molly to the quick. 

“He’s as good as! Who else has he got?” Molly says fiercely.

“He’s got me! And Remus! Or what about the two witches he’s been calling ‘sister’? Or any of the others here!?”

Ignoring him for the most part, Molly’s lips curled cruelly, “Yes, the thing is though, it's rather difficult to look after him when you’re locked up in Azkaban, isn’t it?”

Sirius started to rise from his chair, while Molly’s children all yelled some form of ‘ Mum! ’ down the table at her. 

“Molly, you’re not the only person at this table who cares about Harry,” Lupin says sharply, very nearly baring his teeth, “Padfoot, sit down .”

Sirius dropped back into his chair. Molly’s lower lip was trembling though she kept her gaze locked on Sirius.

“I think Harry ought to have a say in this,” Remus continued with his no-nonsense voice, “he’s old enough to decide for himself.”

“I do want to know what’s going on,” Harry said at once, keeping his own gaze on Lupin. As much as he appreciated Mrs. Weasley standing up for him and calling him another son to her, he was frustrated and impatient. He needed to know what was going on.

Lupin nods once at Harry, directing his next words at Molly and Sirius again, “All right. We’ll move ourselves into the library to allow the kitchen charms to clean up, and we’ll answer your questions there. Anyone else who wishes to come, may as well.”

“Absolutely not,” Mrs. Weasley says, quieter but still ferocious, “Ginny—Ron—Hermione—Fred—George— I want you upstairs and going to bed, now.”

“Absolutely not,” Hermione parrots back.

“I’m fine here, thanks,” Fred says.

“Think I’ll stay,” George also says, happily bookending his brother and friend’s negative reactions.

Ginny and Ron were looking a rather mixed version of baffled and outraged. Their reactions were a bit delayed under their mother’s harsh glare and words, though they were no less angry.

“If Harry’s allowed, why aren’t we?” Ron shouts, while Ginny pulls a face that resembles her mother’s own scowl, “We’d just be hearing it all over again from one of them after anyways!”

And, “I’m pretty sure I’ve got just as much right as Harry to learn what Voldemort’s up to!” from an indignant Ginny.

Mrs. Weasley was now scarlet in the face but was quiet like she didn’t know what to do. Mr. Weasley, looking a tad worried over his wife's colour, reached out to rub her back.

“But—”

“I don’t feel it exactly necessary for me to remind you, Molly,” Hermione says calmly from her seat between Fred and Kingsley, “but I am not your child. And being of age, I have every right to make my own decisions.”

George tags on, “And being your child but also of age—”

“— we also get to make any decisions for ourselves we care to make.” Fred finishes, keeping an eye on his mother and father, and slipping his hand over to rest it on Hermione’s leg beneath the table.

It seemed to be the last straw for Molly, as she let out a squealing noise of discontent through her pursed lips and rose from the table, headed to the sink to scrub her anger out on the dishes.

Lupin, still perhaps the most level-headed, looked to Harry, “We’ll meet you in the library in a moment, Harry. Sirius?” Lupin looks to Sirius who nods tersely, and stands to leave, giving Harry’s shoulder a small, barely-there squeeze before he leaves. 

Lupin also rose, nodding to those struck silent down the table, left behind his friend. 

-~-~-~-

Harry didn’t waste any time. He stood and made for the door after politely taking his dishes to the sink, leaving them off the right of Mrs. Weasley and her vigorous cleaning. When he turned back around, he nearly collided with Ginny who was already taking him by the sleeve of his shirt and pulling him out of the room and toward the library.

By the time Harry was stumbling in behind Ginny— Ron, George, Fred and Hermione were right behind them, forming a line as they slipped through the cracked door. Hermione held the door a moment longer as Fleur came in behind her, shutting the door with a soft snick behind her back.

She shrugged when the others threw her a curious look, “I may be in the Order, but your brother ‘as a tendency to take on more than ‘is fair share of messages. I’d like to ask questions too.”

Sirius still seemed rattled from his and Mrs. Weasley’s fight, so Remus was the one to turn to Harry and prompt him gently to begin his questions, promising the others their own chance after his.

Harry took a deep breath, “Where’s Voldemort?”

Remus shook his head, “That we don’t know.”

“There haven’t been any funny deaths or things pointed out of the Muggle news,” Sirius says, finally heaving a breath and releasing his shoulders like he was shaking everything off his body. “Not as far as we know… and we know quite a lot.”

“More than he thinks we do anyway,” Lupin says as he tucks his hands deep into his pockets.

Everyone tensed when the library door creaked open ominously, making everyone’s head swivel to see who else was entering. When no one passed through the door jam, George leaned back to peek around the door.

“Ah,” he says quietly— an oddity for a Weasley twin most days, “seems mum’s keen to keep an ear on us.”

Fred quirked a brow and leaned back to look as well, spotting the back of his mum’s skirt as she walked past the room. Rolling his eyes, Fred opened his hand out to George. Not missing a beat, George dug into his pants pocket and retrieved the pair of Extendable Ears Hermione had returned before dinner and plopped them onto Fred’s palm.

Quick as a whip, Fred had unwound the Ears and tossed one end towards the door, tucking the second over his shoulder and in his own ear.

“Just in case,” he grins at the group, slinging an arm over Hermione’s shoulders in a show of nonchalance. Sirius looked incredibly intrigued but kept his attention on Harry.

Harry crossed his arms in front of himself, taking a step closer to Sirius and Remus, “How come he’s stopped killing people? He obviously isn’t against it or anything, after Cedric nearly died last year.”

“Because he doesn’t want any attention on him. Not yet. His comeback didn’t work out quite the way he planned.” Sirius grins crookedly, dimples creasing one side of his face.

“Why?”

“Well, you messed it up rather brilliantly for him, didn’t you?” Remus says almost fondly, his own smile looking melancholy as he gazes down at Harry.

Harry blinks, then frowns, “I did?”

Ginny rolls her eyes, elbowing Harry in the side, “Well for one, you and Cedric didn’t die.”

“Exactly,” Sirius nods, “you weren’t supposed to survive! Voldemort coming back, killing the very child who’d taken him down so embarrassingly all those years ago? Only to be beaten by the same person again? Not exactly the grand show he hoped to put on for his followers.”

“Not only that,” Hermione says, keeping her voice down to match their near whispering, “but you told Dumbledore as soon as you got back. The last person he’d want to know would be Dumbledore.”

Ginny frowns again, “Why would Tom not want Dumbledore to know specifically?”

Hermione scrunched her face up, looking over at Ginny, “Tom?” 

“Are you kidding?” Ron asks from Ginny’s other side, lowering his voice when everyone shushes him, “You-Know-Who’s terrified of him!”

Remus nods, “He seems to think Dumbledore was the only one strong enough or powerful enough to ever stop him. Until you— who has now stopped him multiple times.”

Harry nods, taking it all in. He looks at Sirius again, “So what’s the Order been doing then?”

“Making sure Voldemort can’t carry out his plans,” Sirius says quickly.

“Shh!” Fred says suddenly, tugging Hermione in front of him. He wraps his arms around her waist, turning the both of them for a moment to hide the side the Ear was draped over his back and shoulder. Fleur shifts back to compensate for George pressing into her side. Harry and Ginny’s sides are pushed together so closely in the tightening circle, that Harry gives up and puts his arm out to come up and rest his hand on her opposite shoulder. In a completely friendly, not-at-all weird way. Honestly.

Everyone waits until Fred gives them the all clear and George leans back once again to make sure the doorway was clear. 

Sirius whispered into the small circle, “Dumbledore’s idea is Voldemort wants to build up his army again. He used to have huge amounts of witches and wizards he’d bullied or bewitched into following him— his faithful Death Eaters, some other dark creatures… and you heard he was attempting to recruit the giants. He’s certainly not going to try to overtake the Ministry with only a handful of Death Eaters.”

“Makes sense,” Hermione murmurs, Fleur nodding along with her.

“So you’re trying to stop him getting followers?” Harry reiterates, his finger unconsciously tracing the gold chain around Ginny’s neck. Ginny tried desperately not to shiver at the feeling. 

“We’re doing our best,” Remus says gravely.

“The main thing right now,” Sirius says with a pointed look Fleur’s way, “is to try and convince as many people as possible that Voldemort really has returned.”

Fred blanched, “There are that many who don’t think he’s back?”

George nods though, “Yeah mate. France obviously hasn’t gotten the news yet, seeing as the Ministry put a kibosh on the Prophet even writing a small take at the end of the Tournament. No one here is even talking about it like it's real.”

“The Ministry’s attitude is a large problem,” Sirius agrees, “you saw Fudge after Voldemort was back, Harry. Well, he hasn’t shifted his position at all.”

Remus lets out a disbelieving snort, “He’s absolutely refusing to believe it happened.”

Ginny scowls while Harry asks desperately, “But why? Why’s he being so stupid about it? If Dumbledore—”

“That’s it though,” Sirius interrupts, “ Dumbledore .”

Fleur looks baffled, shifting around George, “‘E’s more scared of Dumbledore than You-Know-Who?”

Sirius shrugs, “Frightened of what he’d up to. Fudge thinks Dumbledore’s plotting to overthrow him for the Minister roll.”

“Which he doesn’t want,” Remus says, “Many people wanted him to have it, but he’s never expressed interest. Fudge was always asking Dumbledore for help and advice in his early days as Minster. He’s always known Dumbeldore was much more clever than he is. But now, Fudge is rather fond of power and much more confident. He’s managed to convince himself that he’s the clever one now and Dumbeldore’s just stirring up trouble for the sake of it.”

“So the problem, you see, is that while the Ministry insists there is nothing to fear from You-Know-Who, it’s hard for us to convince people that he’s back. Especially if they really don’t want to believe it.”

“But… you’re telling people, aren’t you?” Harry asks, feeling for the first time since arriving at Grimmauld like he was losing what hope and anger he’d held before.

Remus and Sirius smiled humourlessly at him, which in and of itself was an off sight.

“Well, as everyone thinks I’m a mad mass-murderer and the Ministry's put a ten-thousand Galleon price on my head, I can hardly do much to stroll around and talk to people, can I?”

Remus heaves another sigh, “And I’m not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community. Being a werewolf, and all.”

Hermione shrugs, “I thought you raised a few good points over dinner. Those people don’t know what they’re missing.”

Both Remus and Fred grinned at Hermione, with Sirius chuckling in that rough, throaty way. Harry kept asking the men a few questions, the entire group listening in and occasionally asking things on their own. It was all rather despondent and didn’t seem very uplifting or like the Order was getting very far. Until Hermione asked Sirius, 

“What is he after other than followers?”

She wasn’t the only one to catch the fleeting look Sirius and Remus shared with one another.

“Something he thinks could be a weapon. Something he didn’t have last time.” Remus says slowly like he wasn’t sure if he was meant to be telling them this.

But it was like Harry had suddenly been tossed a bone and he jumped on it quickly, “What kind of weapon?”

Ron wasn’t far behind him, “Something like the Killing Curse—?”

Fred made a distressed, angry sort of sound at Ron just as Mrs. Weasley burst into the room, red-faced and breathing heavily, “That’s enough! Ginny, Ron, bed! Both of you!”

Harry recognized Mrs. Weasley hadn’t included himself, the twins or Hermione and Fleur in that demand, but everyone seemed to think they had pushed the woman far enough tonight. Sirius and Remus whispered their goodnights and the group slowly dispersed. Ron left first, his mother clucking at him and following him back to the kitchen where he was obviously headed for a snack. Fred and George (loudly) made their way up the stairs, having the presence of mind to stun the curtains covering the portrait of Walburga Black as they did. 

Hermione and Fleur blew Harry good night kisses before they ducked out, walking up the stairs much more quietly than the boys, whispering together with their heads close.

-~-~-~-

Ginny paused outside the library, her hand steadying herself on the frame. She was left alone in the hallway suddenly when her brothers' voices disappeared behind their bedroom door and Fleur and Hermione’s whispering was too soft to hear past the first floor. 

Harry was still in the room with Professor Lupin and Sirius. After the long day, and then long meal, Ginny felt exhausted. She couldn’t imagine how Harry was feeling after everything. Flying for hours, being thrown into a strange new place, being bombarded by them and then her mother during dinner—

Yeah, Ginny was tired, but she would bet Harry was even more so. 

“Ginny?” 

Gasping and looking up quickly, Ginny came face to face with Harry, who looked slightly more worried than tired as he watched her lollygagging in the hall, “Gin, I thought you went upstairs,” he whispered to her.

Her heart was racing a bit in her chest, though she told herself it was from being scared and not because Harry was standing so close.

“I was waiting for you.”

The worry sheds off Harry’s face like a wave, replaced by that fond look Ginny had started noticing last year when he was looking at her like he was now. 

“You didn’t have to. You look exhausted.”

Thrown by this illegal feeling of talking to Harry alone for the first time in ages, Ginny gives him a funny look, “Thanks, Potter,”

Harry stutters before catching the glint of humour in Ginny’s eye, and jostles her arm instead, “Not what I meant— you always look nice, Gin,” Well, now her cheeks were red again, “it’s just… I know you were worried about me.”

“Uh huh,” Ginny says quietly once more.

“I was worried about you too… I hadn’t heard from you or Ron, and Hermione was being pretty shifty about things…”

Ginny sighs, realizing he was just assuming she was still worried that Harry was angry at her about the summer’s letters— or lack thereof— and hadn’t picked up on the fact she might want to wait for him for another reason.

“I am sorry, Harry,” Ginny interrupts softly, reaching forward the last few inches to poke her fingers at his clenched fist, “We knew you’d be angry, but we were going with what Dumbledore said because we thought he knew best. One of these days, I’m going to follow my gut around him.”

Harry releases a sort of pent-up, breathy laugh that is curt and fully formed all at once, “He does have good intentions, Gin. Even if you don’t like them sometimes.”

Ginny grumbles, even as her shoulders slump down in something like relief when Harry’s fist unfurls and his fingers allow hers to curl around them, “We’ll see,”

They stand there a moment, their hands touching but not enough to call it ‘holding hands’, not sure where to go from here.

Harry clears his throat, dropping his hands to stuff them both deep into his pockets, “Er, are you coming up? Or…”

“Er, yeah, I thought…” Ginny looks over her shoulder, checking the kitchen door but still seeing no sign of either Ron or her mum coming out, “Well, never mind. I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

Harry nods, also glancing at the kitchen door before spinning on his heel and walking slowly and carefully up the stairs. Ginny, with one last glance at the library doors, followed Harry. It was a quiet trek up to the top floor, neither sure what to say to the other.

-~-~-~-

Remus sighs when Harry leaves the library, the door swinging mostly shut behind him. His ears perk up when he hears Harry hesitate in the hall rather than head straight upstairs. But his shoulders slumped again when he realized Harry had only stopped to speak to Ginny, who had apparently been waiting in the hall.

The tired ex-professor repressed a chuckle at the awkward conversation between the youngest Weasley and his… (huh, what was Harry to him?)... Harry ; not meaning to eavesdrop but with heightened hearing, it was difficult to allow privacy so nearby.

Sirius looked up from where he’d started mindlessly tracing a fingernail up and down the back of a leather armchair, “What?”

Remus just shakes his head, amusement still curling one side of his mouth, “If I tell you, you’ll only go out there and embarrass him,”

This made Sirius perk up more, his previous dour mood taking a backseat to the potential gossip, “Harry? What’s he doing?”

Remus shakes his head again, failing to stop the grin now as he stepped in Sirius’s path. Hopefully, one day Harry would thank Remus for backing him up from Sirius’s innate need to know everything.

“It’s none of your business, Pads. Besides, he doesn’t need his godfather stepping on his toes.”

One of Sirius’s dark brows flew up to his hairline, his own grin widening into something distinctly evil.

“Is it Ginny? Please, oh Merlin, please Moony—”

“Don’t be an ass, Sirius. They don’t need you hovering over them. Being fifteen is already hard enough without you.”

Sirius pouts up at Remus, “But he’ll only be fifteen for another three hundred and fifty-eight days! I need to embarrass him while I can!”

“You’re ridiculous,”

“No, I’m Sirius. You’d think you’d remember your best friend’s name after twenty years.”

“Lily was my best friend.”

“Since when?!”

“Since you and James were always off being ninnies. We bonded over the knowledge we’d be the ones having to drag you to or from detention for one reason or another.”

“...I resent that remark,”

“Boo for you, it’s true.”

Sirius tries to look mad, but fails under his good humour and finally feels like his old self again. Bickering with Remus had always been funny. Doing so now was bittersweet, as there was a distinct lack of heckling from either James or Lily, or nervous laughter from Peter. Remus looked happy as well, his eyes weren’t so sunken and his laugh lines finally appeared more prominent around the frowning ones.

Being around Harry and his friends had helped them both, Sirius thought. It was different than when Sirius and Remus had been young, obviously. They were the responsible adults now— however that happened... but it was nice to see laughter and young teenage drama again. Seeing Fred and Hermione falling in love, George and Ron bickering over food, Bill and Fleur pretending they didn’t like each other—

And Harry and Ginny dancing around one another, all skittish and shy, while Sirius and Remus (and perhaps Molly too) recognized the lingering hands and tragic looks exchanged between the two best friends for what it was.

Remus makes a soft noise that makes Sirius look up at him again, the humour dissolved from his face to be replaced by something more curious.

“What? What is it?”

Remus shrugs, “I just remembered something,”

Sirius frowns, crossing his arms in front of himself, “Care to share with the class, Professor?”

Another quirked brow, but Remus’s ever-present patience holds firm, “You call Ginny ‘Red’?”

Sirius blinks, his jaw popping out in annoyance, “Yeah, so what?”

The friends watch one another in a moment of silence before Remus continues softly, “She’s not Lily, Sirius.”

Sirius scowls, “I know that Remus.”

“Do you? Perhaps Molly was right to tell you that tonight, you seem to be forgetting.”

Growling in annoyance, Sirius paces to one of the armchairs again, “I don’t think Harry and Ginny are my best friends, Remus. I know they’re children, I know they’re their own people, and I know it would be wrong to treat them like James or Lily.”

“And yet…”

“It’s not why I started calling her Red!” Sirius whisper-shouts, well aware the door was still open a crack, “It… came out accidentally last year. She and her brother were always with Harry whenever they came to see me. And there was just… this moment in that cave, we were talking and she must have said something that sounded so like that same sarcasm Lily had, and I just…”

Remus smiles, sadly, “You did it without thinking,”

Sirius frowns down into the carpet, “I… hadn’t spoken to many people in the past twelve years, Moony. I think I just… forgot that I wouldn’t have anyone to use all those nicknames on once I was out.”

“That makes sense,” Remus nods, turning to face away from Sirius and look about the room curiously, as if he’d not seen it before, “It is rather humorous that Harry managed to find a best friend with red hair, though. It didn’t shock me too much to notice the similarities myself.”

Barking out a short laugh, Sirius picks his head back up, “Potters and their redheads, I suppose.”

Remus breaks into a quick grin, that mostly twitches his lips, “At least I’m not the only one who noticed the similarities between our friends and our new young ones. Though,” Remus cocks his head in thought, “having been Ginny’s professor for a year, I can attest that her school habits are not a mirror of Lily’s. Nor are Harry’s.”

Sirius snorts, “No, but I’ll bet Hermione makes up for that. Harry’s mentioned more than once that it’s dangerous to mention homework around Hermione, let alone late homework.”

Remus chuckles with his friend, “Yes, Harry seems to have a knack for finding people who fill all those small roles we’ve left behind, doesn’t he?”

Now Sirus sighs, his shoulders hanging sadly as he ruminates on who should have been the one berating Harry on late homework or pointlessly brushing his hair in the morning; the one who should have been able to see him playing Quidditch at school. See him causing trouble at Hogwarts and falling in love with his best friend.

He sighs again, “He does at that.”

Chéris - darlings

Merde - shit

Morveuse - brat

Bonjour - hello

Ne l'essayez même pas - Don’t even try it

On verra! - We’ll see!

Comment ça va ? - How are you?

Je vais bien - I’m doing well

Garçons stupides. Tout gâcher... ta mère ne le fera jamais… - Stupid boys. Mess it up...your mother never will...

Chapter Text

George whispered excitedly into his twin’s ear as they scurried up the stairs behind Hermione and Fleur. 

“Did you hear him?”

Fred taps at George’s arm, also feeling the excitement mounting in his brother rising in his own chest, “ Moony , he said!”

George’s hand smacks into the centre of Fred’s chest, just as they reach the second landing, “And Padfoot , are you joking?!”

Unable not to, Fred let out a noise of pure elation at the puzzle of their lives showing its pieces, finally .

“I could have sworn the name Wormtail came up as well, but I think by then my mind was playing tricks on me.” George continues on, grinning like an idiot as they reach the girls, their own whispers quieting when the twins draw nearer. 

Hermione’s brows pull together at the giggling duo, “What are you two chickens clucking about?”

The twins stopped in front of the girls, large and jittery smiles on their faces that matched their twitchy legs. 

“You remember that map George and I have of Hogwarts? The one I showed you when we—”

George slammed his hands over his ears, “I don’t wanna know!”

The other three shush him while Fred also adds in a smack to the back of his brother’s head and Hermione shakes her head in exasperation.

“Not that, you plonker. Anyway, that map?”

Hermione nods while Fleur looks confused, but stays silent, “Yes, you said you two found it when you were in your first year. What about it?”

George grins, “You know there’s those names on the front, right?”

“Sure, Fred said they were the ones who made the map,” Hermione frowns, not understanding yet why the pair was so excited.

Fred nods emphatically, “ Yes, their codenames!”

“Nicknames, more like, apparently,”

“As we’ve just discovered,”

“And have apparently become lax in our usually excellent sense of sniffing out general mischief and pranks.”

Hermione takes a breath, ignoring the urge to rub the bridge of her nose, “I don’t…”

Saying together in highly excitable loud whispers, the twins said together, “Sirius and Remus are the Marauders!”

Hermione blinked. Fleur blinked. George and Fred were stuck smiling so large, that they missed Harry and Ginny walking up the stairs, pausing when they saw everyone still in the hall. 

Ginny leaned over the railing into the hall, not leaving the staircase, “What are you guys doing? Mum’ll be up here soon,”

George whipped around, Fred not far behind, “Gin— Harry! Mate! You never told us your godfather and Remus were part of the Marauders!”

Harry looks a bit blind-sighted, but shakes it off and shrugs, “Yeah, sorry… there wasn’t really any time, seeing as you all didn’t really know about Sirius…”

Fred nods, “Makes sense,”

Ginny looks amused beneath the dark circles under her eyes, “Not to mention trying to explain why Remus was ‘Moony’ without giving away that secret as well.”

George perks up, “Why’s Sirius Padfoot?”

Harry shrugs, fighting down a yawn, “He’s a dog, I guess it was an inside joke. They haven’t explained it to me.”

Ginny throws Harry a small smile, “I can think of who made it up. Seems like the same thought process you’d have if your best friend could turn into a dog on command.”

She received a rather droll look back from Harry, but the boy made no further comment. Hermione cocked her head to see around Fred’s shoulder. The twins were apparently stuck staring at Harry and Ginny in something like shocked awe.

“And Wormtail? I know you’ve said that name before…”

A dark look flashed over Harry’s face, “Yeah, Peter Pettigrew,”

Fred frowns, recalling the name from Harry’s third year, “Wasn’t that the bloke’s name we kept seeing on the map a couple of years ago?”

George nods, “Yeah, I remember cause we saw it a couple times and went to find him, but every time we followed it we always ended up running into Ron and—” George and Fred’s eyes went wide.

Ginny nods, “Yup. Wormtail was Scabbers. The rat.”

“Weird,” the twins whispered. Hermione looked quite intrigued at the mention of this past adventure, but held her tongue and continued watching alongside Fleur.

Harry looked like he wanted to keep going upstairs, closer and closer to his bed, but stayed next to Ginny who had leaned over the rail to whisper down the hall to her brother and friends.

Fred shook himself out of it first, “So… Moony’s a werewolf, Padfoot’s a dog, Wormtail’s a rat… were they all animagi?”

Ginny nods, rocking back on her heels tiredly, “Yup. Sirius told us they did it all together to spend the full moons with their friend.”

Hermione and Fleur make a cooing noise; George bounces a bit, “Nicknames based on their animagi forms. That’s wicked, that is!”

Harry shrugs again, actively fighting down a yawn, “‘S why my dad got stuck with Prongs of all things. Suppose being a stag doesn’t lend much to the imagination.”

“And now you’re forever stuck with ‘pronglset’ from your uncles,” Ginny snickers, allowing Harry to try and shove at her shoulder, making both of them sway on the spot.

Fleur made a noise of worry and stepped around the shocked twins, moving to usher the younger kids up the stairs, “Alright you two, eet iz time for bed before you both fall down the stairs.”

Harry nods and does yawn now, moving his arm to allow Ginny to duck under him and go up the stairs ahead, his hand hovering at her back like he was prepared to catch her if she suddenly fell asleep and tumbled back down. 

Hermione, finding herself stuck with two shocked silent twins, chuckled and clapped her hands on their shoulders, “And you two, time for bed I think. Best sleep off all this big news we’ve heard this evening.”

Fred looked over his shoulder at her, his jaw still dropped open, “Harry’s… Harry’s dad…”

Hermione nods, biting on her smile, “Was apparently as big a mischief-maker as his son. Hopefully in different ways,”

George whispered reverently as Hermione steered him towards his bedroom, “He’s like… a legacy .” 

Giving him an odd look, Hermione went over to the dresser and dug out pj’s for both boys, just dunking her hand in and hoping her handful equalled a full set, “I’m not sure that word means what you think it means, George.”

Fred seemed to come back to himself when his pajamas hit his chest, catching them and looking back over at his girlfriend, “Are you staying in here tonight?”

Hermione pauses, her hand on the door frame ready to swing herself back out, “Sure. You’re mum’s bound to check upstairs on the others, but I’ll come back when I hear her go back downstairs.”

Sending him a quick little air kiss, Hermione disappeared from the door, leaving Fred and George alone.

George looked over at his brother as Fred’s head popped out the top of his clean t-shirt, “I know all that stuff we heard downstairs was important, and like, the answer to everything I’ve been trying to learn all summer…”

Fred nods, “But physically hearing Harry say ‘my dad, Prongs’ may have made my entire year, George.”

George laughs, a short burst of a thing that made his chest ache, “Yeah, my thoughts exactly,”

-~-~-~-

August 7th, 1995

Very Early Morning

Later that night, much much later, Fred still lay awake in bed staring up at the wooden plank ceiling. He could hear George’s light snoring from the bed on the opposite wall and felt Hermione’s slow breathing press her chest into his side as his own breath caused her head of curls to rise and fall where she lay over him.

It’s not that he wasn’t tired— Fred could feel his eyes practically straining to close themselves, but his brain just wouldn’t turn off. He wasn’t sure how long Hermione had been sleeping, but it was already long enough that it would be cruel to wake her up just because he couldn’t fall asleep. 

Sighing and releasing the breath slowly, Fred threaded his hand beneath Hermione’s head to lift her gently from his chest, sliding himself to the side to place her down into the warm spot he left behind on the mattress. Pausing to watch her nuzzle into the blankets, Fred slid out of the bed pausing to pull a t-shirt over his head before tiptoeing out the door. Maybe a glass of water would help.

Grimmauld Place was a frightening place in the middle of the night. Granted, Fred had spent most of the last seven years of his life living in a magical, haunted castle, so how much worse could a townhouse be? 

Fred tried to stay as quiet as possible as he made his way to the stairs, but he wasn’t completely sure where the creaky spots were just yet. George would know, but Fred was on his own for this one. 

He proudly made it to the bottom of the flight with only minimal creaking and groaning of steps and floorboards. Just because he was stuck being awake didn’t mean he wanted everyone else up with him, no matter how funny it might have been to wake everyone up with that bloody portrait.

Only, he realized he might not be the only one awake, judging by the light coming from beneath the kitchen door. Fred pushed the door open, allowing it to swing into the room and spilling light out into the hall. 

His mother sat at the long table alone, hers the only chair pushed out as she leaned over a tepid cup of tea, idly running her thumb up and down the side. 

“Mum? Why’re you still up?” Fred asks softly, stepping into the room to shut the door and stop the darkness in the hall from creeping in. 

Molly lifted her head from her staring contest with her late-night tea, tiredness also pulling at stubborn eyelids, “Fred dear, what is it?”

“Just came down for a drink. Couldn’t fall asleep,” Fred shrugs and goes over to the pitcher on the counter, summoning a glass over and having it fill while he looked back over at his mother, “So… why’re you up?”

The tired look seemed to worsen on Molly’s face before she looked back down into her tea. She reminded Fred of Ron at that moment, whenever his younger brother was in one of those stubborn angsty moods.

“Couldn’t sleep either, I suppose.”

Fred hums, sipping at his water and wincing at the gross temperature. The pair of them are quiet together, though he doesn’t find it awkward. Between he and George, Fred had always been the one less twitchy in the quiet. 

Molly tapped a nail against her cup, still not taking a sip from it or doing anything about the fact that it must have been cold by now. Fred finished his glass and put it in the sink, mentally hearing Hermione chastise him for not cleaning it himself. Just this once, promise sweetheart.

He leaned back into the counter again, crossing his arms and watching her for a moment. Hermione really must be rubbing off on him if his first reaction to his mother’s off behaviour was to actually pay attention instead of immediately cracking a joke. 

“How’d you know it was me?”

Molly lifts her head again, a curious look on her face. Fred’s cheek twitches, “You said Fred. How’d you know so fast if I don’t have Hermione or Crookshanks around to tip me off?”

He gets a huffy sort of chuckle from her for his troubles, but her eyes go straight back to looking into her tea, “I always know my children, Fred, no matter how much you and George like to think I forget.”

Fred grins, “Then why’d you really start putting letters on our Christmas jumpers?” 

Molly scoffs and scowls, though Fred knows she’s only doing it to hide her amusement, “It was cute.”

“I think you’re lucky you and dad didn’t use any vowels when you named us, otherwise there’d have been some naughty words spelled out in family pictures.”

It made his mum blink and look up at him again before her face went blank and her more normal tone returned, “I’m going to be very cross if I find out you chose your future children’s names based on what words you can get out of them.”

Fred cracks a grin, “I dunno, there’s some lovely names out there. I’ll bet I could get Hermione to agree to a few O’s, some S’s, maybe an I…”

“Fred.”

“No, that’s an ‘F’. You think you’d know that, seeing as it’s on George’s sweater every year.”

“It’s on your sweater.”

“Then why’s it always end up in George's pile?”

“Because I know you two will just swap it anyway,”

“So… it’s George’s then, yes?”

Molly sighs, but Fred knows there's a smile there now, “How does Hermione handle you?”

Fred shrugs, heaving his hips away from the counter and pulling the nearest chair out with his foot hooked around the leg, “No idea.”

He looks up into her face (well, maybe down a bit, his mum was quite a bit shorter than him), to see her watching him fondly, “She’s so good for you, Fred.”

He hums, “Yeah, I know.” And it’s not like he means for it to come out, but maybe this was why he couldn’t sleep and his mouth acted before his sleep-deprived brain could catch up, “You were… really out of line with her tonight, mum.”

Molly’s face goes white, her eyes wide as she looks at her middle son’s serious mien, “I— Fred, I was…” a breath shudders out of her chest, and her shoulders droop, “she’s like another daughter to me, Freddie. I just wanted—”

“And as much as I adore that and you for feeling that way,” Fred cuts her off, feeling it more important to actually say things out loud than listen to his mother try and explain herself to him, “Hermione is of age, and not your child. And I’m not going to get into the whole thing about George and I…”

Molly whimpers a bit, “I know. I should apologize to her tomorrow.”

“Yeah, probably.” Fred pauses, allowing that to sink in for both of them, “And I’ll make sure she apologizes too,” Molly looks at him curiously to which he shrugs, “she was a bit defensive because of Harry, but I know she felt bad for snapping at you the way she did. She’ll feel better if she apologizes.”

His mother’s brows pull together, a soft look in her eyes nearly turning teary as she takes him in, “All right,”

They seem to take a moment to breathe and Fred sikes himself up for what he wanted to say next. He hadn’t known he’d end up being the voice of reason for his mother, but he was going to take the chance while he could. Maybe he’d be able to sleep after this.

“And… you were too harsh on Sirius, mum.”

Molly’s shoulders hunched but her jaw clenched rather than immediately disagreeing. Fred took it as a sign to continue, “He’s Harry’s guardian,”

“Not a very good one,” Molly mutters, her hand fisting around the cold cup of tea.

Fred sighs, pulling his wand out from his pajama pocket to tap it on the porcelain, steam rising from the drink again. It gave him a minute to think and Molly a moment to stew.

He puts his wand down gently, the soft click of the wood against the table sounding loud in the quiet kitchen. Fred sighs, his eyes roving his mother’s tense forehead and trembling lips.

“Mum,” he exhales, “he was in prison —”

“I know that!”

“Do you?” Fred asks, tilting his head to try and catch her eye, but she was resolutely looking at the table rather than at him, “because by the sounds of things, you seem to think Sirius had a choice over being in Azkaban or raising Harry.”

“I know he didn’t have a choice,” Molly seems to battle with herself, “but why should he get to just come in and decide things for him now?”

Fred watched his mum, this strong woman who’d raised him and his six siblings all while his dad worked and struggled financially. They’d all turned out fine— a bit hot-headed at times, but fine overall. His parents had big hearts and whenever one of their children’s friends came over, they were extended all the comfort and hospitality they had, even if it meant slightly smaller plate sizes when there were extra mouths to feed at meals.

And when Ron had brought Harry over that first summer, the black-haired boy wearing clothing four sizes too large for his skinny frame, Fred had no doubt his mother would tuck Harry under the same wing all her own children were under. It was the way she was, and he loved her for it. But sometimes, her mollycoddling reached smothering heights, and Molly Weasley forgot that simply caring for a child did not equal adoption. In her eyes, once she claimed you, you were one of hers. 

“We all know you love him, mum,” Fred says, his voice gentle like it got whenever Hermione was upset. She called it his ‘sweetheart’ voice, “Everyone here does. Because he’s part of our family. But he’s also part of other people’s families too.”

Molly seemed to sink, but she was silent. Fred ploughed on, “Sirius— and Remus… they were the Potter’s best friends, weren’t they?”

She swallows and nods silently. 

“And from what I could tell, they were all sort of all one another had, no?”

Molly’s lips twitch as she swirls her tea, “You picked that up from Hermione as well. The question at the end of a sentence to prove your point.”

“Mum.”

“Sorry,” Molly sighs, “Yes, the five of them were nearly inseparable.”

Fred shifts, “Right, forgot about Pettigrew. Anyways, as far as they were concerned, that was their family.”

Molly nods, looking up and watching Fred with a careful look on her face, “Yes. Lily was a muggleborn and James’s parents were quite old when they had him. Sirius…” she looks around sort of half-heartedly gesturing around the room, “well, he’s not exactly quiet about his family. And Remus always did try to isolate himself.”

Fred listens, waiting for her to finish before adding softly, “And then Harry came along. I imagine it must have been a lot like if one of my siblings told me they were having a baby. I’d be pretty ecstatic.”

Molly just listens, finding herself glued to Fred’s face as he speaks with her. He smiles, a sad sort of feeling taking over as he whispers, “And I’d be absolutely wrecked if I found out my sibling died and I lost all contact with that little baby all in the same night.”

“Fred,” Molly whispers, coming to realize what he was getting at and feeling horrible for it.

Fred takes a deep breath, leaning back in his chair and giving his mum a chance to breathe as well, “He’s like me, mum. Me and George. Imagine what we’d be like if we had to watch the other die and then get locked up for twelve years. Sirius lost his family, and his brother, all in one night. He doesn’t need you telling him he’s no good at raising his son, too.”

He pushes away from the table at that, feeling like he needed another glass of water after this. But he was so tired and ready to fall back into bed next to his girlfriend and listen to his twin snore.

Molly wasn’t crying but she was upset. Fred couldn’t decide if she was upset with herself, or just thinking about what Fred had said about him and George. It was something he’d thought of without really acknowledging the thought, just after he and George figured out the marauders. They’d always been their inspirations, people the both of them could look up to and connect with. Just friends who loved mischief.

Knowing who they were and what happened to them was bittersweet. Joking and laughter, it turned out, didn’t save one from war.

Fred leans down, pressing a kiss to his mother’s cheek as she sat pensively, “Goodnight, mum. Love you,” and walks back out the kitchen door to tiptoe sleepily back to his room. 

-~-~-~-

August 8th, 1995

If Harry thought the tension lingering in Grimmauld the first day after his rather explosive first night here was the worst it could be, he would have been wrong. It turns out that adults had just as much, if not more, capability to hold a grudge against one another for much longer than teenagers. 

Practically creeping down the stairs that first morning, Harry, Ginny and Ron had been a bit stymied to find Sirius and Mrs. Weasley sitting across from one another at the dining table, sipping tea and eating their breakfast. 

Hermione, who had been cooking breakfast that morning, had tossed them a wide-eyed look that Harry thought probably meant, ‘ Don’t ask.’

So they didn’t and followed each and every one of Mrs. Weasley’s instructions on how to continue the endless venture of cleaning out Sirius’s old family home. Laying their heads down at the end of the day was a relief— from cleaning until their hands were sore and as well as from the glares and silent treatment between Sirius and Mrs. Weasley.

And when they got up the next day and followed one another down the stairs yet again, it was even more terrifying to find Mrs. Weasley taking a turn at the stove, as she and Sirius offer short, clipped sentences to one another. 

“Another waffle, Sirius?”

“Yes, thank you, Molly,”

Fred, Hermione and a barely awake George were all sitting on one side of the table facing the stove, watching the two adults fight without actually fighting. It probably would have been a lot funnier to watch their heads ping pong back and forth, if it weren’t for the palpable tension in the room. 

Ginny cleared her throat a bit as she took a seat near Sirius, gaining herself one of those large and crooked genuine grins from the man.

“Morning, Red. What sort of trouble do you have planned this morning?”

Ginny gave Sirius a look before checking to see if her mother was watching her. When she spotted Molly serving Ron and Harry some food, Ginny spun back to stick her tongue out at Sirius. George lets out a snort when he catches Sirius attempting to grab Ginny’s childish action with quick fingers, only for Ginny to close her mouth before he could. All before anyone else noticed or saw either immature gesture.

George rolls his eyes as he slurps his tepid tea, “You’re both ridiculous,”

Ginny looks quite baffled and offended by this, while Sirius raises his glass in silent cheers.

-~-~-~-

August 11th, 1995

Ginny’s 14th Birthday

Hermione woke up first— not that it was a surprise to her. Ginny, out of all her brothers, was the worst morning person. Hermione didn’t really need to be careful crawling out of the bed as it was impossible to wake Ginny up with anything less than a set of cymbals. Especially after the pair had stayed up late the night before, giggling and planning what they could do to celebrate Ginny’s birthday when they had to stay in the gloomy townhouse.

Digging into her beaded bag, Hermione brought out the birthday gifts she and Fleur had bought for the younger girl together. Mostly stuck staying in the safe house, Hermione had asked Fleur for a few things she wanted for Ginny and the older girl had been happy to help, adding in her own choices as well. Fleur had dropped off the gift one night when Ginny was distracted enough to miss her friends hiding a gift bag in Hermione’s purse.

Much like she had done her first day in Grimmauld, Hermione laid out the outfit she and Fleur had gotten for Ginny. Her choice of a pretty blue pair of high-waisted button fly denims and a red checked woman’s fit flannel. Ginny had a number of old ones from her brothers she seemed to like wearing over her own shirts or tying at her waist. Hermione hoped having a new one still allowed Ginny’s normal cool style to show through.

Fleur had thrown in a hair shining potion that Hermione herself would never dare use on herself. Curls like hers were more likely to turn into a rat’s nest than actually go glossy like Ginny’s own fiery mane would. Both Hermione and Fleur went in together on the pair of shoes Hermione places next to the pants. Close-toed, because Hermione now knew firsthand how cold Hogwarts got for half the school year. 

Once everything was laid out, Hermione snuck out to use the bathroom before the others woke up, and slipped back into the bedroom she and Ginny shared just as the younger girl began to stir. 

Grinning at the messy head of hair that was emerging from the quilt, Hermione sat on the edge of the bed not being taken up by Ginny’s birthday gift.

“Happy Birthday, petit chéri ,” Hermione whispers as she attempts to brush Ginny’s hair out of her face to actually be able to see her friend.

Ginny blinked up at Hermione, not comprehending yet what was going on. It took another moment before a brilliant smile broke out, and Ginny stretched lazily.

“Thanks, ‘Mione. How was your sleep?”

Hermione chuckles, finding the sleepy mumbling of every Weasely rather adorable, “Good. How was yours? Did you even fall asleep before dawn?”

Ginny grins up at her friend, “I’m pretty sure the birds were still asleep, so it couldn’t have been four yet.”

Shaking her head, Hermione tugs Ginny up into a sitting position, “Come on you, I want to help you get ready. Did you want to shower first?”

Ginny runs a hand through her hair, twisting her face around as she decides, “Nah, I’ll wash my hair tonight. Maybe you could braid it for me?”

Hermione nods, “I’d love to. And…” she shuffles back, nods her head over to the clothing she’s left on the bed, “maybe you’d like to wear your gift this morning as well.”

Ginny looked over at Hermione’s gesturing, her eyes going wide when she spotted the outfit.

“Hermione!” Ginny reached out to snag the shirt and jeans, holding them up and to her chest, “This is too much!”

But Hermione is already shaking her head, “No, it’s not. It’s from Fleur and I, we split it together.”

Ginny seemed like she wanted to complain, but she was also holding the new outfit to herself like she expected them to disappear, so Hermione knew she liked them. 

“Go on, pop to the loo to change, and I’ll do your hair when you get back. It’ll give me enough time to read how to use this stuff,” Hermione lifts the hair potion from Fleur, cringing as she begins reading the instructions carefully. Ginny bounds out of the room, coming back in a few minutes, her cheeks warm with excitement.

Settling down on the ground between Hermione’s knees, Ginny happily chatted while Hermione combed back her hair and sectioned it off, starting the right side with a thick boxer braid. 

Once the first was tied off, Hermione shifted to start the next side while Ginny lifted a hand to pat down on Hermione's job, “You’re quite good at this. Do you braid your own hair often?”

Hermione shrugs, “I’ve done box braids in my own hair once or twice, but it's a bit too coiled to do these sorts of braids often. Not without a lot of hair potions, and those generally just make my hair feel too heavy.”

Ginny hums, leaning her head back a bit for Hermione to reach the top, “Is that why you had Fleur do your hair at Hogwarts so often? You didn’t want to do it yourself?”

Chuckling as she smooths the next piece down, Hermione says, “Mostly, yes. It also gave Fleur a chance to wake up in the mornings.”

Listening to Ginny dissolve into giggles makes Hermione smile serenely as she continues down the braid, thinking to herself that she was going to miss these little moments with her friends when she went back to school all alone. 

With the last braid tied off, a timid knock on their bedroom door had Ginny shifting to her knees and bouncing over to answer it. Hermione went to roll over, unable to see who it was behind the door from her spot on the bed.

“Oh, hi Harry!” Ginny greets chirpily, and Hermione freezes. She reclines on the bed, trying not to be obvious about listening in and trying not to be seen.

“Hey Gin,” Harry says back, sounding a bit more shy than usual when speaking to his red-haired best friend, “happy birthday,”

“Thanks,” Ginny says kindly, and Hermione hears the pair share a quick hug behind the door.

Harry clears his throat, “I, uh, got you something.” Hermione listens as there is the tell-tale sound of a paper-covered object switching hands and Ginny ripping into it. A soft gasp makes Hermione’s ears prick.

“Oh Harry,” Ginny whispers, and Hermione wishes suddenly that she wasn’t there. Maybe this should have been private… “These are too much—”

“No, they’re not,” Harry says not unkindly, “I found them in my vault, so I technically got them for free.”

“I don’t think that’s exactly what that means, Harry,” Ginny says fondly, exasperation clear in her tone. 

“Well, I’m pretty sure they were my mum’s, so I can’t exactly give them back,” Harry didn’t seem to hear Ginny make a little squeak at that tidbit of blase information, “Besides, I found them and they made me think of our charm. I thought having a set would be nice, that’s all.”

Hermione felt her heart melting, though she wasn’t quite sure what this ‘charm’ was. Apparently, it meant something to Ginny though, as the young girl sighed and Hermione heard the paper crinkle again. She assumed the present and its wrappings had found themselves crushed in the middle of a hug.

“That’s… really nice, Harry. Thank you,” Ginny sniffled a bit, and Hermione found her cheeks felt a bit warm as she looked down at her lap. Ginny cleared her throat, the hug apparently over, “Um, we’re about to head down for breakfast…”

“Right, yeah,” Harry stutters, “I’ll, uh, meet you down there. Just wanted to give you your gift before—”

“Ok,” Ginny says softly, holding the door open as Hermione listened to Harry thunder his way downstairs. She held onto the doorframe a bit too long to be unnoticeable before swinging it mostly shut and looking at Hermione, who was trying desperately to act innocent and normal on the bed.

Ginny swallowed thickly, looking down at the soft, velvety case Harry had handed her, “He gave me a pair of his mother’s earrings.”

Hermione looked up, seeing Ginny looking a bit lost as she watched the jewellery in her hand, “Yes, he did,”

Still a bit frozen, Ginny nods without looking away, “Does that… mean something?”

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, “I don’t know.”

Ginny grunts in something like frustration, still without being able to look away from the earrings, “It feels like it’s supposed to mean something different, but it’s like whenever we’re close to something being clear it just gets—”

“Yeah,” Hermione sighs, recalling the first half of her term at Hogwarts when she and Fred seemed to be dancing around one another, “I think that’s just how things are.”

“What things?” Ginny asks a bit desperately.

“Feelings.”

Ginny sighs, “They suck.”

Hermione hums, “Sometimes. But other times they’re nice,”

All she gets is a groan in reply.

-~-~-~-

The girls make it downstairs once Ginny deems herself presentable once more, with a large grin on her face and her eyes desperately trying not to search out Harry’s in the kitchen. She sort of wished Hermione hadn’t pulled her hair back now, as it felt like Harry’s birthday gift was a shining beacon on her earlobes for all to see and bring attention to. Hermione kindly reminded her she didn’t have to wear the earrings if she was going to overthink them and kindly received a dirty look from Ginny in return. 

If it meant that Ginny has to resist constantly touching and fondling the smooth gold circle studs, she could deal with it. Not wearing Harry’s gift seemed like a worse idea than having them being pointed out and the resulting embarrassment that would garner. 

Ginny’s entrance into the kitchen was met with a cheer from all her brothers, something Ginny received yearly and pretended to be annoyed by. The twins were quick to be the first ones to scoop her up, twisting back and forth, swinging her up and around until Molly was swatting at them to put her down. 

George released Ginny, though Fred tucked her back under his arm while George brought out a wrapped gift from behind him.

“Here you are Gin-bug, your first gift right in the morning!”

Hermione snickers while Harry coughs into his fist a bit, sharing a slightly blushed look with Hermione, who grins at him behind the cup of tea Molly hands her. 

Ginny smiles politely, deciding not to break it to the twins that she had already gotten two (well, perhaps three) gifts already that morning. She unwraps it quickly, and perhaps a bit violently, but that was always the way the twins had taught her to open gifts since she was a baby. With gusto.

Inside was what looked like a little slab of wood, only it was thick and treated with a little cushion adhered to the bottom. It had a small divot that ran along the top and a recessed circle at the corner. 

Ginny looked up, unsure what it was. Fred grins, poking at it a bit to drag back the tissue paper and showing the set of quills and a new inkpot underneath, “We might have had some help picking it out, but we promise it’s from us and not ‘Mione,”

“It’s a lap desk. We thought it would be nice for letters and writing,”

“That is, if you’re still interested in writing for the school paper,”

“And if not, then we’ve found you a cozy place to do homework so you don’t have to share that table in the common room.”

Ginny looks surprised and quite touched by the large and thoughtful gift. She gathers the boys into another hug as she thanks them. She also gives Hermione a happy look as she takes her seat across from her at the table, knowing full well she must have seen the lap desk while in France and talked Fred into it. 

Ron, between stuffing a new piece of bacon into his mouth and gulping down some Pumpkin juice, slid a pack of Sugar Quills over to Ginny, who graciously took them with a simple thank you to her brother. 

Arthur, before he and Percy had to floo to the Ministry, ducked down to give his daughter a cuddle. Percy said a perfectly chaste happy birthday to Ginny and slid her a new book before leaving for work. Hermione tugged the book out from under Ginny’s elbow later during breakfast, grinning when she read the title ‘Language, Syntax, Grammar and Politics’. It would seem Ginny's brothers had unanimously come to the agreement that writing was a good fit for their little sister. 

Charlie obviously wasn’t in attendance, as he was still working in Romania on the Dragon Reserve. But Molly mentioned there was a gift from him coming by owl, as Charlie had written the day before to ask if packages were able to arrive at Grimmauld. 

Ginny excitedly answered the door when she heard the familiar voice of Bill setting a Silencing spell on the portrait as he and Fleur arrived for food before needing to be at Gringotts. Everyone chuckled when Ginny came back clinging to Fleur’s side with a sulking Bill following them in, complaining that he’d not ever been left hanging for a Gin-bug birthday hug her whole life.

“It was like I was a piece of liver the way she looked at me! Pushed me to the side to grab Fleur first!”

Once Ginny thanked Fleur for her part in the outfit Hermione had laid out she launched herself at her oldest brother and didn’t let go until Bill had to scrape her off when he was trying to get back out the door. 

The rest of the day was spent blissfully not cleaning. As exciting as it was to have a difference in the usual daily structure, it was spent trying to ignore the fact that Harry’s trial was scheduled for the next day. 

After breakfast, Ginny brought everyone into the library for a few rounds of Gobstones. Ron and Harry migrated to play some chess when they were inevitably knocked out, while Hermione curled up with a book. It was always dangerous to play Gobstones with Weasleys. 

Sirius eventually wandered in, giving Ginny’s head a hug while she tried to swat him away. The animagus left laughing, tossing a small packet of Bertie Botts Beans and a prettily wrapped pair of Quidditch gloves at her before ducking out. 

Kingsley and Tonks arrived for lunch, the latter handing Ginny a small set of temporary hair dyes. Hermione picked through them later, noticing they were more like chalk than actual dye, and soothed Molly’s worries over it once Tonks left. Not that Hermione doubted Ginny would attempt to charm the colours to be more permanent.

Once lunch was served and finished, Ginny and Hermione went back up to their room, wanting to just chat and enjoy purely girl company for a while. Their alone time was inevitably broken by Harry, who had been hanging out solely with Ron. However, his nervous energy about his upcoming trial made the long silences his and Ron’s usual conversations consisted off a bit suffocating.

So Hermione left the trio upstairs and made her way down to the twin’s room after another hour of chatting. Ginny had been hanging out with her all day, it seemed to Hermione more polite to let the younger girl enjoy her other friends as well.  

It also left Ginny alone (more or less) with Harry, whom Hermione was pretty confident Ginny had been attempting to avoid all day. 

Unfortunately, it had also caused Hermione to miss nearly an entire day of Fred’s company, and she found herself missing him more and more the nearer they came to supper time. 

Landing on the second story, Hermione was about to knock on the second bedroom door when it swung open, and one of the boys grabbed her wrist before dragging her inside. 

“Wh—! Que fais-tu?!” Hermione yelps, stumbling into the very dark room behind whichever one had pulled her inside.

“Sorry sweetheart,” Fred’s voice came from somewhere on the floor, making the one Hermione had been kidnapped by George, “we’ve got to keep the room as dark as possible while this one finishes so we can’t have the door open very long,”

Hermione huffs loudly as she reaches over to pinch George’s arm in retaliation. He made a properly satisfying noise that granted her forgiveness for pulling on her. “Some warning would have been nice, that’s all.”

“Well, you’ve been kidnapped by my sister all day, so there wasn’t exactly a perfect time to mention the impending need for darkness.”

Rolling her eyes, fully using the opportunity to do so while it was too dark for Fred to see, Hermione felt around until she caught the corner of a bed to sit down on. Just relaxing while George and Fred continued to bicker and work around one another made Hermione begin to drift off, finding the chatter and darkness the perfect recipe for a good nap.

George peeked over at his friend when he realized it had been a while since Hermione had said anything. It was dark, but his eyes had mostly adjusted to the gloom. Enough to spot Hermione flat out on her back, breathing slowly and fast asleep.

A soft chuckle from his twin made Fred look up, squinting in the dark to make out George’s silhouette, “What’s so funny?”

“Our sister seems to have worn out your witch.”

Fred looks over to where he’d seen Hermione land on his bed, and tuned in to hear the soft breaths he usually heard when she was sleeping next to him. 

“It’s probably also because this was the first day she let mum do all the cooking, with it being Ginny’s birthday.”

George hums as he stirs the cauldron in front of him once clockwise and then three quarters turn the opposite, “I still don’t get how you ended up with such a good one, Freddie. You take her to a creepy old house over summer to live with your family, and instead of running screaming she cleans and cooks with your mother.”

Fred snorts, “You got me, mate.”

“And puts up with all your tomfoolery and mischief,”

Grinning into the faintly shining potion, Fred gets ready to divvy it up into vials, “I’m a lucky bloke, that’s for sure.”

George goes quiet, the only sound in the room at the moment being Hermione’s breathing and the twin’s held breath as Fred slowly and carefully drags out small strings of the finished product into vials, capping them and setting them aside for George to label.

Once Fred had the last one bottled and sealed, George piped back up, “I think I could have had that too,”

“Oh?” Fred carefully set down the vial before looking at his twin. Well, in his twin’s direction.

“Yeah,” George breathed but didn’t elaborate. It hurt Fred even more than his twin and best friend was not only falling into heartbreak but that he didn’t seem like he wanted to discuss it with Fred. 

So Fred didn’t push.

petit chéri - little dear

Que fais-tu?! - What are you doing?!

Chapter Text

August 12th, 1995

Harry Potter’s Disciplinary Hearing

Harry woke with a start as if someone had yelled in his ear while he’d been fast asleep. The churning nerves in his stomach were so terrible that Harry wondered how he’d even managed to fall asleep. He nearly expected the room to look different that morning, rather than the normal vaulted ceiling and slightly dusty sunlight streaming in from the high window. 

There was a fresh pair of slacks and a nice button-up shirt, freshly laundered and laid out nicely at the foot of his bed. Mrs. Weasley must have come in sometime after he and Ron had fallen asleep. It felt nice jumping into the hand-picked outfit. 

Before heading downstairs to scrounge up some breakfast, Harry ducked into the loo to try and flatten his hair down, cringing at the ridiculous amounts of cowlicks present on the top of his head. He pulled the elastic he perpetually kept on his wrist and finger-combed his long hair back, hoping he’d manage to make it look somewhat respectable. He wouldn’t have time to do much else this morning. 

Trying not to think of the next time he’d get the chance to shower or do his hair better, Harry stepped out onto the landing, pushing down the even worse thought that he might never see Ginny or Ron or his other friends again after this hearing. He walked alone, quietly, down the flight of stairs, past the gloomy heads of Kreacher’s ancestors, and into the kitchen.

Harry had honestly expected it to be empty, but when he reached the door he heard the soft rumble he’d come to expect in the mornings, of people’s voices on the other side. When he pushed the door open, the light from the kitchen lit up his face in the dark hallway. He saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasely, Percy, Sirius, Remus and Tonks all waiting for him inside. All were dressed for the day aside from Mrs. Weasley, who was still wrapped in a quilted housecoat.

Mrs. Weasley leapt to her feet as soon as she saw Harry, “Breakfast! Harry, come sit!” she was already waving at the fire stove, making a few eggs crack into a bowl.

Tonks sent him a lazy grin as Sirius opened his arm, allowing Harry to sit next to him and fall into his side, “M-m-morning, Harry,” Tonks yawned largely. Harry thought she looked rather tired for it being moring, no matter how early it was. He also noticed her generally bubblegum pink hair was a rather normal blonde, done up in song curls that ran over her shoulders. 

“Morning, Tonks.”

“Sleep all right?’ She asks, her usual gaiety softened with her sleepiness.

“Yeah,” Harry answers, and clearly he must look a bit concerned as Tonks waves him off.

“I’ve been up all night. Auror stuff, ya know?” He didn’t, but he nodded anyway. Her head lolled to the side for a moment, eyes sliding shut sleepily and her grip on the mostly full cup of coffee looking dangerously near to tipping off the table. Remus pushed her shoulder and her cup back over so she listed the other way, her eyes coming open again once she was straight again. 

“What would you like, Harry?” Mrs. Weasley asks from the stove, “Porridge? Waffles? Bacon and eggs? Toast?”

“Just— just toast, please. Thanks,” Harry says, thinking it a bit sad to eat toast as his last meal. But he also didn’t think he’d be able to stomach much more than that. 

Sirius smoothed down some of Harry’s flyaway hair, giving his shoulder a squeeze as he settle his hand down across his godson’s back. 

Remus glanced at Harry, then said to Tonks, “What were you saying about Scrimgeour?”

“Oh yeah,” Tonks says, sitting up again as she begins to slide down her chair, knocking into the one next to her, “well, we need to be a bit more careful, he’s been asking me and Kings funny questions…”

Harry was a bit glad he didn’t have anything to contribute to this conversation, as he took a bite of the toast Mrs. Weasley set in front of him. It, unfortunately, felt like a piece of cardboard, but it would be better than having nothing in his stomach later. 

Mrs. Weasley sat down on his other side, beginning to fuss with his shirt, tucking in the sides better and smoothing out the creases at his shoulder. He wished she wouldn’t, it only made him feel worse.

Sirius, still with his arm around Harry’s back, snickered at Harry’s uncomfortable look but offered no help to stop Molly’s fussing. 

Tonks was still talking to Remus across the table, her head getting closer and closer to the table, one thick curl hanging over her coffee cup. Harry caught Remus’s quick flick of his fingers, moving the curl away from imminent danger with a small burst of wandless wind. “...and I’ll have to tell Dumbledore I can’t do night duty tomorrow, I’m just too t-t-tired,” Tonks finished, yawning until her jaw popped.

“I’ll cover for you,” Percy pipes up, “I’m ok, I’ve got a report to finish anyways,” 

Mr. Weasley wasn’t wearing any wizard’s robes as he normally would on a morning before work. He looked up from his breakfast to Harry, “How are you feeling, Harry?”

Harry just shrugged. Sirius’s hand rubbed at a tense spot on his back.

“It’ll all be over soon,” Mr. Weasley said, “In a few hours, this’ll all be over and you’ll be cleared.”

Harry didn’t say anything.

Mr. Weasely went on, obviously trying to make Harry feel more relaxed. Unfortunately, it was mostly doing the opposite, “The hearing’s on my floor in Amelia Bones’ office. She’ll be the one doing the questioning, being the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

“Amelia’s ok, Harry,” Tonks piped up earnestly, “she’s fair, she’ll hear you out.”

“Just don’t lose your temper,” Sirius murmurs to him, making Harry look over at his godfather for the first time that morning. Sirius didn’t look like he’d gotten much sleep last night, and it made Harry feel worse for feeling good that he had.

“The law is on your side, Harry,” Lupin insists, leaning over the table a bit, like he wanted to be closer to Harry, “even underage wizards and witches are allowed to use magic in life-threatening situations.”

Luckily Harry was interrupted from having to come up with something to saw through his dry mouth, by the door creaking open and Fleur slipping inside. 

Mrs. Weasley got up again to grab Fleur a cup of tea, as the younger woman drifted through the dining room towards Harry. Perhaps in other situations, and with other people, Harry would have been embarrassed by the earnest way he reached up and behind himself for an awkward hug as Fleur leaned over to encase him in her own arms. 

She pressed a kiss into his thick, unruly hair, fondly petting it down as her fingers tangled in the incredible mess and lazy bun he had attempted upstairs, “Good morning, le frérot. Did you even try to brush this down today?”

Harry felt his cheeks go warm under Fleur’s mothering and the twin looks of amusement and fondness on his godfather’s and old Professor’s faces. 

“He comes by it honestly, unfortunately,” Sirius says, leaning to the side to allow Fleur better access to the mass of raven-black hair atop Harry’s head.

Fleur pulls out her wand as she places the elastic Harry had used on her own wrist, beginning to comb her fingers and her wand through the mess, “Well, I ‘ave enough experience with my own ‘air and that of ‘Ermione’s, so yours should not be so much a problem,”

It felt like in no time Fleur had managed to smooth back all of Harry’s hair into a respectable bun, and a promise to help him trim it into something more manageable once he got back. At his morose look, Fleur sweetened the deal by promising to force the rest of the Weasley boys into a trim as well. Mrs. Weasley looked as though Fleur had announced she was gifting the matron a million Galleons. Harry wished he’d be around the see it.

Mr. Weasley checked his watch, nudging Percy with his elbow as he announced, “We’d best be off. We’re a bit early, but better to be early than late, eh?”

“Hermione would be so proud,” Percy teases with his usual straight face, but it makes Fleur let out a soft snort into her tea.

Tonks reaches across the table, taking Harry’s wrist in hand for a moment to give it a squeeze, “You’ll be all right, Harry.”

“Good luck,” Remus nods, “I’m sure everything is going to be fine,”

Sirius stood with Harry, following him, Mr. Weasley and Percy into the drawing room where the floo fireplace was. Percy gestured for his dad to go first, and as Mr. Weasley stepped into the floo, Sirius drew Harry into a hug. It felt so good, Harry lifted his arms to keep his godfather there for a bit longer. 

“You’re going to be fine, Harry. I promise. It’ll all work out.” Sirius’s raspy voice whispered lowly, right next to Harry’s ear so he couldn’t miss it.

Harry shook his head into Sirius’s shoulder, “You can’t promise that—”

“I can,” Sirius says earnestly, “I’m going to see you here for lunch, you hear me?” 

All Harry could do was nod, not sure he was going to be able to manage much else for his godfather.

-~-~-~-

Time ticked away at a glacial pace. Ginny had been pacing a hole into the floor, so Hermione had taken it upon herself to drag the worrying girl around, trying to ply her with distractions. Fred tried desperately not to feel a bit grumpy at his girlfriend’s attention once again being taken away from him, but he found the childish instinct tugging at his mind more times than he ever wanted to admit. 

It made it worse that Fred also felt badly for Ginny, as he could clearly see his baby sister was legitimately upset she had missed saying goodbye to Harry that morning before he’d left for the Ministry. According to Hermione, as she’d whispered to him over breakfast that morning, Ginny’s charm on her wand hadn’t gone off properly and the girls had slept in. Fleur had tried to make Ginny feel better by letting her know she had seen Harry before he’d gone, but it seemed to only make Ginny feel worse. George and Ron had given the wincing Fleur a shrug, trying to silently tell her, ‘ What can you do? ’

After the first hour, everyone else began to get a bit more twitchy as well. Ginny hadn’t quit her pacing, regardless of Hermione’s attempts to distract her. And Hermione let her worry after that, also throwing Fred a worried look. 

A small questioning for the use of underage magic shouldn’t be taking this long. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but Fred had a feeling it had little to do with the strong magic Harry had used, and more to do with the fact that it was Harry . 

Molly eventually had everyone sitting down for a late breakfast, since no one had had much of an appetite earlier. Ginny offered to collect Sirius for their meal, as the man had squandered away in his room upstairs for the morning. 

Their meal was as quiet and tense as the rest of the morning had been. Remus got Ron and Ginny to start talking with a conversation about Quidditch, which Fred noted made his mum’s shoulders relax. A tinge of something like remorse hit Fred in the gut, and he turned to Hermione next to him.

“Could you pass the Pumpkin Juice, sweetheart?”

Hermione looks up at Fred in bemusement but does as he asks and grabs the jug for him, “I thought you didn’t like pumpkin?” she whispers as she places the glass container down.

“I don’t, but you do,” Fred fills up the empty juice glass sitting on her place setting, “and you haven’t had any yet.”

Hermione, obviously finding the thought sweet, stretches up to press a kiss to the side of his jaw in thanks before she continues to enjoy her meal. That uncomfortable feeling in his gut released a bit at the happier look on Hermione’s face. 

Looking around for more inspiration to shift the mood, Fred picks up a crumbly scone from the plate nearest him, and after a quick glance Molly’s way, launches the scone directly into George’s forehead.

Letting out a squawk George sat up straight, looking directly at Fred. Fred, biting down on his cheek, instinctively pointed to his right. Thankfully, Hermione was sitting on his left. 

Unfortunately, Ginny was on his right. 

Growling, George scooped up a spoonful of beans and unceremoniously launched them at Ginny.

The room went dead silent as the splat landed dead centre on the side of Ginny’s head, and the resulting splatter reaching across her cheek and into Tonks’s hair who was seated on the other side of Ginny. 

Hermione made a choked noise next to him, her jaw dropped as she looked from Ginny to George, who looked extremely pleased with himself. 

Ginny’s face went bright red, “GEORGE!” 

“What?” George screws his nose up at his little sister, “You started it!”

“I did not!” Ginny scooped the beans from her hair, flicking them down into her plate with a scowl of disgust. 

George frowned, confused at the relatively truthful sounding complaint. And when he looked back at Fred, his frown evolved into a scowl of his own at the obviously contained laughter on Fred’s face.

“You— FRED!”

“What?!” Fred gasped, faking (rather terribly) shock, “you’re the one who threw beans, mate!”

“Because I thought she threw the scone!”

“Who said that?”

“You did you little brat!”

“I don’t recall saying anything!”

“You pointed!”

“Well that’s your fault for thinking that’s what that meant!”

George growled again, standing from his seat and moving to grab Fred, seemingly right over the top of the table. Fred, seeing this coming a mile away, scraped his chair back to avoid his twin’s hands. 

Their mum’s warning tone stopped Fred from running off and George from climbing after him, “If either one of you moves another inch, you’re both grounded until the day you die. You hear me?”

It had the right effect, for the most part. Fred, who was still seated, froze with his legs mostly extended on the ground and his hands bracing at the edges of the chair where he’d been about to push himself up with. George froze rather spectacularly hovering over the table, his arms extended with one foot planted on the ground but his opposite knee already leaning into the table. 

Tonks and Sirius hurriedly hid their sputtering laughs behind their hands, not wanting to demean Molly’s command by laughing at the twins who were in quite a bit of trouble. Hermione had her head in her hand, while Ginny struggled not to grin in her own anger. Ron rolled his eyes and continued eating. Remus watched George, looking a bit impressed if not amused by the whole thing. 

Molly glared at the pair of them, “What are you doing now ?”

Fred looks over at her, his eyes the only thing moving as he pretend-whispers through his ‘frozen’ jaw, “You said—”

“—not to move!” George finishes, his earlier anger quickly replaced by humour in the blink of an eye.

Their poor mum sighs, loudly , “Sit. Down . And finish your food. Properly .” Molly warns with her finger out at them both as George slides back down into his seat, and Fred scooches his chair back under the table.

When he’s settled, he’s faced with Hermione looking at him with the most weary eyes he’d ever seen. But Fred found that feeling in his gut had dissipated, so he didn’t feel badly for the distraction. But he gave the top of her knee a little squeeze in silent apology.

It made it a bit hard not to just start laughing when he caught Sirius’s eye across the table, and the older man’s crows feet were showing behind his hand he’d pressed across his face.  

The table descended into silence again, though this time Fred (and clearly George as well) found the silence much more familiar than the first time. Fred certainly did at least, as he perked up when his mum turned her back to collect more scones from the stove to offer.

Reaching to grab one of the hot scones for himself, he didn’t get very far when Hermione’s heel collided with his shin hard enough that his entire leg bounced up and hit the bottom of the table. 

“ Hng !—” Fred bites down on a yelp, Hermione grabs a scone for her own plate and Sirius has to physically bite down on the palm of his hand to stop any sort of laughter from slipping out, as Fred gives his mother— who had looked at him shrewdly at the disturbance— an unwincing, insincere smile of innocence. 

Molly squints between him and George, giving Sirius a strange look as well as she sits back down. While she’s looking away, Fred grabs his wand and shoots from the hip, causing all of Hermione’s hair to blow over the top of her head into her face as she attempts to bite into her scone.

“ Ack! ” Hermione sputters, spitting out her hair and pieces of scone. Fred grins, only to drop it when his mum looks over at them again. 

Hermione flings her hair back, giving Molly her own version of an innocent smile, “Sorry, faulty hair charm. I missed Fleur this morning.”

Molly seems to believe it well enough that she just shakes her head and tries to finish her meal, ignoring any more distractions. Fred smirks and winks at Hermione, who flicks a scone crumb at his face.

Sirius has to leave the room then, but Remus doesn’t seem too concerned so Fred counts it as a win. 

-~-~-~-

Unfortunately the dark dungeon Harry entered was all too familiar, though Harry knew he had never stepped foot inside it before. Perhaps childishly, Harry wished Mr. Weasley had been able to come in with him. 

It was the same dungeon in Dumbledore’s memories Harry had seen in the Pensieve the year before when Dumbledore had allowed him to view his past memories in an attempt to discern the whereabouts of Barty Crouch Senior. The walls were made of dark stone that reflected the light coming in from the sconces and a large fireplace set at one end. Empty benches rose on either side of him, where Harry had found himself stood on a slightly raised dais. 

Ahead, in the highest level of the benches, were many shadowy figures. They had been talking in low voices, but as the heavy door swung closed behind Harry, an ominous silence fell over the room.

A rather cold male voice rang across the room, “You’re late.”

“Sorry,” Harry said nervously, “I— I didn’t know the time had changed,”

“That is not the Wizangamot’s fault,” the voice snarked, and Harry realized it belonged to the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. “Take your seat,”

Harry looked down to see a rather throne-like wooden chair in the center of the floor, obviously laid out for the person on trial to be seen from all sides. On the side of the chair and looped around the headrest, heavy chains lay dormant. As Harry sat down, he imagined the chains were about to spring to life and keep him there. They merely clinked but settled again, not binding him. Feeling rather sick at the memories of who else had sat in this chair, Harry looked back up to the bench above.

There were about fifty of them, Fudge in the middle front, all wearing plum coloured robes with an elaborately embroidered ‘W’ on the left hand side of the chest. They were all staring down their noses at him with very austere expressions. More than a few looked frankly curious. 

Fudge looked rather disgruntled to be there, his expression pinched as he grumbled over the parchment in front of him. Harry noticed, with some small relief, that Percy Weasley was sat on the Minister’s left hand side. The Weasley man nodded carefully at Harry but gave no indiction o anything away. Harry wasn’t sure if Percy meant it to be reassuring or not. Because he wasn’t feeling very reassured. 

There was a witch next to the Minister on his other side, though she was leaned back in the bench enough that Harry couldn’t make out her face. He could only discern a brightly pink coloured scarf that was tucked and fluffed out above the neck of her plum coloured robe. As Harry reclined in his chair, the woman leaned forward enough for Harry to see her bulging eyes as they seem to trail up and down his person in silence. 

Fudge cleared his throat before beginning in a nearly bored drawl, “Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August, into offences committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy—” Fudge glanced at Percy, seeming to make sure his scribe’s quill was marking as he dictated, “by Harry James Potter, resident at number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.”

“Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasely—”

“Witness for the defence,” Harry strained his neck as he looked over, recognizing the soft, strong voice as it came closer to the center of the room, “Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.”

It was a rather fortifying feeling that rose in Harry’s chest at the sight of his Headmaster. Having someone in his corner was a tremendous relief, after having assumed all night and all day that he was bound to do this alone. He tried to catch Dumbledore’s eye, but the Professor was not looking his way. Instead, he steadily continued to look up at the obviously flustered Fudge.

“Ah,” Fudge said, looking thoroughly disconcerted. The witch next to him had morphed her face into a grotesque grimace. “Dumbledore. You, er, got our message of the changed time then?”

“I must have missed it,” Dumbledore says pleasantly, resting his hand gently on the top corner of the wooden chair Harry sat in, “However, due to a lucky mistake, I arrived at the Ministry three hours early. So no harm done.”

“Right,” Fudge looked to have swallowed a lemon for a moment before he shuffled the paper in front of him, nearly burrowing his nose inside them, “Well then. The charges, yes,”

Peering back over the pile of disarrayed parchment, Fudge ignored Dumbledore to glare down at Harry as he read imperiously, “In accordance with paragraph D, article 15A.2.7 of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, the accused did knowingly—”

Harry, who felt like shrinking beneath the heavy statement and the glares of the silent onlookers, was nearly shocked from his chair when the Minister of Magic was cut off by so untactfully by Percy.

“I think you mean to read from Article 14A.2.7, Minister. Paragraph C,” Percy lifts his quill, obviously just having written the previous statement from his boss, “Article 15A.2.7 is for those under scrutiny of using Dark Magic.”

Fudge spluttered for a moment, sending a not so subtle glance at his Undersecretary as he shuffled his parchments again. Harry noted Madame Bones seemed to be looking at Fudge rather sternly as the man fumbled. Fudge didn’t look all too enthused to have been tripped up under such a formal affair.

“Well spotted, Weatherby. Please note the correction in the record.” Fudge grumbled as he attempted to straighten in his chair. Madame Bones reached forward, tapping her wand on the parchment the Minster now held, making herself a copy and leaning back in her seat once she held it. Fudge seemed to glower at nothing.

“Weasley, sir. And the change has been noted,” Percy nods respectfully, even as Fudge seems to sour that Percy was not merely scratching the mistake entirely.

Fudge, flustered enough to clear his throat a few more times, nods back to Percy, “Of course, Weasley. Ahem—”

But Percy interrupted again, speaking in more of a whisper that still managed to reach every ear in the dungeon due to the acoustics, “Did you want a cup of tea, sir? You seem tired,”

Fudge shooed Percy away, red-faced now as he gripped his parchment, “No, that will be all, Weasley. Court is in session.”

Percy merely nodded and continued to scribe as Fudge went on. Harry seemed to be the only one to notice Percy’s smirk or the way Dumbledore’s eye twinkled up at the younger man. It amazed Harry that it took until that moment for him to realize maybe it wasn’t just Charlie the twins got their sense of humour from. 

-~-~-~-

Harry ran the last few steps out of the courtroom, nearly colliding with Mr. Weasley, who was standing right outside, looking apprehensive and rather pale. 

The older man took Harry’s arms in hand, holding him steady even as he questioned him, “Harry, Dumbledore didn’t say—”

“Cleared!” Harry breathed, perhaps for the first time in hours, “of all charges!” Mr. Weasley beamed, his hands coming up to grasp Harry’s shoulders in excitement.

“Harry, that’s wonderful! It’s a relief, but of course they couldn’t have found you guilty, not with the evidence, but even so, I’ll admit I was a bit…”

Mr. Weasley trailed off, disquieted by the number of Wizengamot members trailing out the courtroom doors.

“Merlin’s beard, you were tried by a full court?!” Mr. Weasley exclaimed at a hushed level as he pulled Harry aside to let them all pass.

“I think so,” Harry whispers back quietly. 

One or two of the wizards nodded at Harry as they passed and a few, including Madame Bones, said casually, “Morning, Arthur,”. But most averted their eyes. 

Cornelius Fudge and the toadlike witch were among the last to leave the dungeon. Fudge acted as though Mr. Weasley and Harry were part of the wall, but again, the witch looked Harry up and down almost appraisingly as she walked past. Harry fought down the shiver that seemed to affect his back as she walked by without a backward glance. 

Percy was the last out the door, closing the dungeon behind him and locking up. He chanced a glance towards the back of Fudge’s cloak before looking at his father and Harry, giving them a quick nod and rushing off. Mr. Weasley didn’t say anything to Percy, and ignored Harry when he looked up in question to the odd behaviour between father and son. 

“Not here, Harry,” Mr. Weasley murmurs, clapping the hand still on harry’s shoulder, “Let’s head home now, hmm? The others must be going spare worrying after you by now,”

Agreeing wholeheartedly, Harry stepped quickly to keep pace with Mr. Weasley as they went towards the elevators again. Mr. Weasley was better explaining the whole mess with the bewitched toilet in the muggle bathrooms when Harry caught sight of a familiar head of bright blonde hair. 

Tugging on Mr. Weasley’s shirt, the pair stopped to watch as Lucius Malfoy seemed to trail after the Minister as they entered the elevator together, the two of them in deep conversation. 

Harry frowned, peering over at Mr. Weasley, “Why would Mr. Malfoy be down here? He wasn’t in the courtroom.”

Mr. Weasley glared at the closed elevator door as the box began to move up, “Trying to sneak in, if you ask me. Nosy bugger,” Mr. Weasley looked down at Harry, noting his amused smile with red-faced chagrin, “Don’t tell Molly I said so, either.”

“I promise,” Harry says, swallowing down a laugh. He’d had to make similar promises to Fred about Hermione anyhow. What was one more Weasley?

“Come on now,” Mr. Weasley reiterated, “let’s catch the next elevator.”

-~-~-~-

By the third hour of waiting, Hermione took matters into her own hands once again. Mrs. Weasley had given up on corralling any of her children, as she herself worried over why Harry’s trial could be taking so long. Her worrying manifested into overcooking. It certainly helped Ron’s form of worrying, as the young wizard happily munched on the mountains of cookies and tarts his mother continually pushed his way down the table. 

Hermione tried a few times to move Molly away from the stove, but after a few successes that only turned into regressions, Hermione took a couple of the plates and left the kitchen. Her boyfriend and his other siblings had sequestered themselves inside the den, where George had spread out a game of Gobstones the twins were distracting Ginny with. 

Sighing, Hermione folded her legs beneath herself as she sunk into the carpet next to Fred, leaning a bit into his side as she placed the plate between herself and George. George, Fred and Ginny all paused long enough to shove a cookie into their mouths before making their next move.

Fred, avoiding a bursting Gobstone, leant into Hermione’s side enough that she was nearly toppled over, “Whoops! Sorry, love, bigger splash than I thought. Did you want to be dealt in?”

Hermione scrunched her nose, shaking her head, “No, merci. This is a game I’m happy to leave for you and your siblings to enjoy.”

George chuckles, “Harry likes it too,”

Hermione shrugs, taking another cookie for herself, “I said what I said.”

Just mentioning Harry made Ginny lose her concentration, and in the next second, she was covered in bright orange goo from her own exploded Gobstone. Fred and George looked bereft at the loss of their distraction, but Ginny was again distressed, so they had to shift gears.

Fred shuffled back to give Hermione more room to lean into his side, her head resting on his shoulder, “Did you wanna come check on our work upstairs, Gin? George and I have a few new things we could show you.”

Ginny did seem a bit interested in seeing her brothers’ products, so the twins bustled Hermione and their sister up to their room, the Gobstones cleaning themselves up after a clever cleaning spell Hermione waved over the set as they stood.

The foursome had barely settled on the floorboards between the twin beds when Ron slipped inside after them, shaking his head to himself.

“Even I’m beginning to get sick of all that baking. I don’t think she even noticed I’ve left.”

George looked amused even as he shuffled to give Ron some room, “She might notice when the piles of sweets and cakes begin to pile up.”

Ron shrugs, not seeming offended by the slight. Ginny launched into asking Fred a bunch of questions about the potion he was stirring, listening intently as he, George and occasionally Hermione explained what each was. 

Fred pointed to a few capped and sealed vials tucked carefully inside the space beneath a loose floorboard, currently lifted for easy access as they worked, “Those are the start of the witch line we’re starting,”

Ginny looked back at him curiously, so he said, “Particularly, beautification potions,”

“Curtesy of the constant hounding Fred and I have heard from Alicia and Katie for the past five years,” George rolls his eyes, even as he points out a few of the finished products to Ginny as he lists a few out, “ Everlasting Eyelashes, Pimple Vanisher, Flirting Fancies— ”

“‘ Flirting Fancies ’?” Hermione quirks a brow, leaning forward to pluck up one to look closer, “I don’t remember the plans for this one.”

George pulls it back, grinning at Hermione’s disgruntled look, “You don’t know everything , Granger.”

“I know quite a lot, Weasley,” Hermione points at his shoelaces just to spite him, making them fly out from his shoes as he cursed and attempted to snatch them as they launched across the room. 

Fred laughs, “They’re candies you can eat to give you a boost of confidence. Particularly around the bloke or bird you fancy,” he takes the vial back from George to put back in with the others in their hiding spot, “we’re still trying to nail the timing of the candy, but so far they last for three hours.”

Hermione nods, “Simple and nonaggressive. I approve,” 

Ginny grins as she fingers the top of the candies vial, looking between Fred and George, “Who was testing these to know exactly how long they last?”

Fred went a bit pink, which Hermione noticed with an amused fond look. George grinned as he quipped, “Fred… and Bill. Not that he knew that. But I’m sure Fleur appreciated it, at least.”

“What am I appreciating?”

The five on the floor whipped around to the door with wide eyes, not having heard the footsteps leading in or the door opening and closing. 

“Fleur!” Ginny said happily as she scrambled up from the floor, going in for a hug immediately. Fred and George shared nervous looks and began packing away their work, thinking it unnerving they had missed Fleur arriving while they were brewing. 

Fleur, still being attacked by the kraken-Ginny, looked around curiously but didn’t question anything, “ Bonjour , everyone.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at Gringotts?” Hermione asks, craning her neck to the side to receive two quick kisses on her cheeks from her best friend, which she reciprocated in kind. Fleur, somehow able to bend down while still being held by Ginny, fondly tucked the young girl back into her side as she straightened back up.

“ Oui , but Bill insisted I come back ‘ome to see you all,” Fleur looked at the boys, “‘E thought I was too distracted worrying about ‘Arry to get much work done.”

Fred looked a bit too cheeky for Hermione’s liking, so she gave his thigh a quick pinch to stop him from blurting anything out.

Hermione patted the floorboard next to herself while Fred pouted, “You can come to worry with us then. We’ve been trying to come up with good distractions all morning.”

Fleur pinches her lips together, giving the door behind her a nervous look, “I was actually thinking…” she peeks down at Ginny before giving Hermione a significant look, “perhaps with everyone so distracted, now iz a good time to discuss… things.”

The Weasley siblings looked a bit befuddled by this, but Hermione understood immediately. She straightened her skirt as she stood, grabbing up her wand and pointing it towards the twins’s beds.

“A camp out! What a good idea, Fleur! Très bien!” Hermione spoke loudly, sending the blankets and quilts up into the air as she began doubling and duplicating the pillows. Her friends all gave her strange looks, but she carried on.

“Gin, go grab another plate of cookies from your mum! We can have a pretend camp night, it’ll be fun!”

Ginny still looked dubious but ducked out from under Fleur’s arms to do as Hermione said. Fred, seeming to pick up what Hermione was up to, nudged Ron, “Ron, go grab those spare curtain rods from the library.”

“What?” Ron bumbled out as Fred nearly pushed him from the floor.

“Just do it,” Fred rolls his eyes as Ron leaves the room. Fleur, watching Hermione with an amused and perhaps slightly worried look, meets Fred’s eyes for a moment, “How’re your Silencing Spells?”

Now Fleur’s eyes lit up as she smiled and pulled her thin willow wand from her pocket, “Nearly as strong as Bill’s.”

“Perfect,” Fred says and claps his hands together. George, who had been carefully clearing the floor and hiding away the last of their work under the floorboards and beneath the beds again, stood up on his mattress to allow Hermione to line the floor with the pillows.

“Are we having a sleepover?”

Hermione waves her wand to make one of the settling pillows rush up to smack George in the nose, “Help me with the sheet.”

Grumbling but compliant, George grabbed the corner of the sheet Hermione was pulling at, and with the curtain rods Ron returned with, erected a t-frame tent that stretched out between the two beds and covered the pillowy floor. 

Ginny scrambled inside (cookies in hand) with a giggle, flopping in the middle on her stomach. George grinned and chased her in, making his little sister grumble at him when he decided to cozy up right next to her rather than one of the many open spaces. 

Fleur crawled in after them, after sharing an amused glance with Hermione, who followed her friend with her boyfriend going in after her. Ron came in last with a forced grumpy face, though Hermione thought he looked a bit pleased with the fort idea. 

Hermione lifted her wand to add one last detail, sprouting tiny little blue flames she placed into a couple jars she still had stored in her bag for Fred and George. Fleur helped by levitating a couple of them and leaving a few in the center of their pillows. 

Ginny giggled again, “I’ve never made a tent before, this is fun,”

Fleur pats Ginny’s hand, “I ‘ad to make them all the time for Gabrielle when she was very little. I am surprised your brothers did not.”

“I’m pretty sure Bill and Charlie made a pact not to show Ginny one, otherwise they knew they’d have to make one for the princess every night,” Fred laughs, dodging the cookie Ginny throw at his head. 

“You’re not supposed to call me that,” Hermione is pretty sure, that if she and Fleur weren’t here, Ginny would be sticking her tongue out at Fred.

George snickers, “Why, because only Bill and Charlie get to call you that?” Ginny is silent, but it’s answer enough for the twins who high five one another over Ginny’s head. 

Hermione bites down on her smile, “All right you three, I know the fort is fun, but it’s for a grander purpose,” she looks to her friend who had chosen to lay out somewhat nearby Ron, leaving Fred and George more space, “Silencing Spell in place?”

Fleur nods, “ Oui , and I don’t know ‘ow long we ‘ave. Your mother was clearly in the middle of baking downstairs…”

Ron sighs, “She’s been baking for the past two hours, so I’d bet we have some time.”

“All right,” Fleur pushes herself up to rest on her forearms, tucking her wand under her stomach for safekeeping, “I don’t really know as much about the Order as the others. Bill tends to take more on in regards to guard duty, as eet iz easier for me to cover for ‘im at work than the other way around.”

“Let’s start there,” Fred suggests, leaning in curiously, “Guard duty. Guarding what?”

Fleur shrugs, “I do not know.”

Hermione wrinkles her nose, “Really?”

“Really,” Fleur sighs, “I do not know eef eet iz because they don’t trust me not to tell you,” George stifles a snort at the irony, “but all I know iz Order members take turns guarding something kept in the Ministry.”

“What could there possibly be at the Ministry the Order thinks is important enough to guard?” Hermione ponders, but Fred moves on, not wanting Hermione or the others to get caught up on one thing if they had limited time.

“Is Snape part of the guard?”

Fleur frowns but shakes her head slowly, “ Non , I don’t think so.”

“What’s he doing then? He doesn’t come at any schedule and is always here to either speak to the whole Order or just Remus and Sirius,” Ron asks as he works it out. Ginny gives her brother a considering look, not realizing that pattern for herself before.

But Fleur looks sad she doesn’t have a better answer for him, “‘E comes to share small insights to ‘E-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and ‘is whereabouts.”

“How does he know that?” Hermione asks, baffled at the thought.

“I cannot be sure,” Fleur hedges, “but ‘e must ‘ave some sort of inside informant to be so accurate.”

“Yeah, or he’s a double agent,” Ron glowers, but no one negates his theory.

“We can’t blame someone for something like that without proof, Ron. So don’t run with it until we know for sure. And make sure Harry doesn’t get carried away at school when we tell him, either.”

Ron nods at Hermione, agreeing though he didn’t look thrilled at the idea. 

Fleur sighs, nibbling on one of the cookies, “I’m not sure eef there iz much more to tell, mes amies. ”

Hermione sighs, “That’s ok, it’s more than we had before.”

“Agreed,” Fred nods, “And at least now we have more to go off of with that guard duty.”

“Harry will still want to figure out what’s at the Ministry that’s so important,” Ginny points out the obvious, and everyone agrees but has no idea how to try and deter Harry. Not that they wanted to, it was just that their friend was a bit hot-headed when it came to Voldemort and the impending dangers it brought.

Silence fell over the group for a moment as they all took in what they had learned. George broke the silence in a very George way, as he looked over to leer down at Fleur, 

“So… what’s going on with you and Bill?”

Fleur spluttered as Hermione gasped and swatted at her friend’s arm. George grunted at the pass but raised his eyebrows at the very pink Fleur.

“Well? These two haven’t been around as much,” he gestures to Hermione and Fred,” and these two have been worrying over Harry too much this summer to notice much else,” here George nods to Ginny and Ron, “but I’ve noticed you two look pretty chummy each time you show up. Together , might I add.”

Fleur was still gobsmacked, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to say anything, “Nothing iz going on!”

Hermione squinted at her friend, Fleur’s tone too off to be passed off as normal, “Really? Don’t the two of you work together? You’re around one another all the time, chérie .”

Fleur threw a dirty glare at Hermione, beginning to get defensive, “ Oui , we work together.”

Ginny grins, looking far too pleased, “All the time?”

Fleur ground her teeth, “I am… ‘is assistant.”

“Ooh, cheeky,” George winks, “I’ll bet Bill suggested that himself. Didn’t want the other blokes working at the bank to try and scoop you up.”

Fleur flustered, always more affected by George’s blunt teasing than the rest of his siblings, “Eet… was ‘is idea, oui , but that isn’t why I agreed!”

Hermione laid a placating hand over Fleur’s hand, recognizing Fleur was getting uncomfortable, “Of course not, Fleur, we’re only teasing. You worked hard to get that job,”

Fred nods, “Yeah, and Bill knew that too. He’s said before how impressive you are, it makes sense he’d want to work with a capable person he could trust to watch his back.” Fleur hackles relaxed, her icy blue eyes warming a bit more. Until Fred smirked, “And he certainly doesn’t mind watching yours.”

“Fred!” Hermione chastises as Fleur growls and launches up, making a swipe at Fred who let out a manly squeal and tried to avoid her claws. 

The brief clamber in the tent is interrupted by another red-head army crawling into the tent, his longer body sticking mostly outside the frame to leave enough room for everyone. 

“What are you lot talking about in here?” Bill asks, looking around in no little amount of amusement at the nest his siblings had concocted. 

Everyone froze where they were, looking over at Bill wide-eyed and a bit frightened. Fleur was still mid-flight towards Fred, who had hidden behind Hermione. 

“Bill!” Ginny said, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, “What are you doing here?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” Ron asks, frowning in suspicion at his eldest brother. 

Bill smirks, “Aren’t you all supposed to be better at keeping your voices down to avoid suspicion?”

Each of his siblings (and Hermione and Fleur) adopted perfectly innocent faces that Bill didn’t trust for a second. 

He rolls his eyes at them, “‘S What I thought. I came for lunch and ran into Harry downstairs. I came up to tell you since you obviously didn’t hear him—”

“Harry’s back?!” Ginny yelps and furiously crawls out of the tent, Ron not far behind her as they bolt for the door. Hermione is a bit more careful not to knock any of the blue flames over as she follows, tugging the twins out with her when they look torn between sticking around and checking on Harry themselves.

Fleur also wants to follow, but hesitates long enough in the fort for Bill to give her a flirty grin, “Were you talking about me?” Her cheeks flame red, signalling to him they very much were, “You were.”

“ I wasn’t,” Fleur pouted, “your annoying brothers, ‘owever…”

“Fred?” Bill guesses, but Fleur shakes her head.

“George. ‘E iz much worse. ‘Ermione ‘as a good handle on Fred, but that twin of ‘is…”

Bill hums as he watches Fleur closely, waiting until her blush had settled a bit more. He was getting quite good at not riling Fleur up so much anymore. Not that she couldn’t take the teasing (as his family was wont to dole out), but after a month of talking and working together, Bill was well aware of Fleur’s internal struggles. Conflict, sometimes even for fun, wasn’t always the most comfortable for her. 

Once she took a breath, Bill slid his hand across the pillow fort to touch the tips of her fingers, getting her attention again.

“I do like working with you, Fleur,” 

Fleur sighs, her fingers twitching beneath his as she gave him a strained smile, “I like working with you too, Bill.”

Feeling brave, he twisted his hand to fit beneath hers in a faux handhold, “And I didn’t ask for you to join as my assistant just to get closer to you.”

Fleur’s eyes went wide, briefly forgetting she was basically holding hands with Bill, “‘Ow long were you listening?!”

Bill grins sheepishly, not really regretting anything, “Not long enough, I suspect.”

“Bill,” Fleur groans, her cheeks going pink again, though this time Bill recognizes it as a more natural warmth than the embarrassment George and Fred had caused before. 

Chuckling, but attempting not to, Bill wiggled Fleur’s fingers to get her attention, his smile widening as her icy blue eyes peeked out at him, “You should have Silenced the whole room, not just the tent.”

“Noted.”

Still snickering, Bill began pulling himself out of the tent, realizing someone might come up and find them if they weren’t seen downstairs soon. But Fleur’s hand tugged on his, stopping his cold.

“Bill,” Fleur whispers, her eyes now freezing him in place where she still sat in the fort she’d made with his siblings, pillows and pretty blue flames flickering around her, “I’m… sorry I’m making you wait.”

Panic seized his gut, but Bill shook his head calmly, “I’m not. I’ll wait as long as you need, darling.”

Fleur’s eyes widened at the new term of endearment, but she gave him a nod and allowed him to pull her from the fort, distinguishing the flames as she left.

le frérot - little brother

Merci - thank you

Bonjour - hello

Oui - yes

Très bien! - very good!

Non - no

mes amies - my friends

Chérie - dear

Chapter Text

August 22nd, 1995

Days spent in a dreary home over the summer holidays dragged on. For a family that was used to a large acreage of land they could take advantage of throughout July and August, the Weasley children were dreadfully bored being all cooped up. 

Ginny tried a number of times to beg her mother to let them out into London, just for a few hours. Molly was adamant it wasn’t safe, but Harry could tell Ginny was wearing her down. 

That morning the house was hot from the summer sun beaming through the windows, all the black and dark accents in the house absorbing the heat easily. Ron had groaned when they’d woken up that morning, dreading having to even get dressed when it was so warm.

Hermione had come to the rescue, poking her head in their room (looking much too awake in Harry’s opinion for such an early hour). Leaving a moment later after pulling things from their dressers, Ron and Harry were much happier to wear the newly tailored jean shorts and thinner shirts.

Hermione had apparently helped out the rest of the house as well, showing off rather impressive tailoring and sewing charms she explained she’d learned from her godmother. The twins had sleeveless shirts and similarly cut shorts as Ron and Harry, and Ginny had on a borrowed summery dress. Hermione had even helped Molly, who now seemed much more content to cook near the hot fire with her new thin muslin dress. 

The afternoon got only hotter and Mrs. Weasley finally folded (if only to get the six whining young adults out from under her feet). There was a small walking park just across the street from Number 12, shrouded in thick trees and sporting a small fountain. It wasn’t much, but the kids all treated it like it was an oasis in the middle of a desert.

Fred and Ron ran back inside after an hour spent lounging in the grass, coming back with a picnic blanket and a basket packed by their mother. The group spent another few hours outside, nibbling on their snacks and playing a (muggle) game of frisbee. 

They were sent back inside just before dinner by Hermione, who had been asked by Mrs. Weasley to keep time and come back in before it began getting dark. It wasn’t easy getting such a large group back into the safe house, but after a couple trips up to the hidden door, all were back inside feeling much happier after stretching their legs. 

-~-~-~-

August 23rd, 1995

Mrs. Weasley lazily sorted through the day’s mail, the pile always slightly too large to just toss it on the table and let everyone paw through it. With the number of people and Order members in the house, there was always a jumble of letters and notes sent to Grimmauld.

She sighed as she slowly made small piles, “We’ll need to collect your things from Diagon Alley soon.”

Ginny perked up, “Can we actually go?” 

Seeing her mum’s hesitation, Ginny plowed forward, “Please, mum. I don’t want dad or Bill choosing my things. That’s embarrassing,” she whispers the last bit, getting an amused side glance from Hermione, who was curled up in a chair Fred had transfigured slightly to be more like an armchair, with Crookshanks purring in her lap. Harry had thought it was quite a thoughtful thing for the boy to do for her.

Mrs. Weasley sighs, resigned, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. You’ll be leaving next week anyhow. I’ll see who can go with you all, I’ll not have you going alone.”

Ginny accepted this with a nod, looking more excited than Harry had seen her in a while. Hermione looked up from her book again, 

“Could I come along as well? Hugo’s told me about the Alley, but I’d love to see it for myself.”

Mrs. Weasley smiled lovingly at the young woman, “Of course, dear. There's a lot to do there, I’d hate to keep you from a fun afternoon.”

That settled, Mrs. Weasley went back to sorting the mail, one for Ron popping up next, “Oh Ron, there’s one here for you, dear.”

Harry looked up, not really thinking about it as he spotted the letter Mrs. Weasley was waving towards Ron. But his attention was caught by his best mate’s red face and quick reflexes as Ron stood and snatched the letter, basically stuffing it down his pants immediately. 

George, who was sat nearest to Ron, guffawed into his bowl of cereal at the act. 

Fred looked at Ron aghast, his summer homework spread out in front of him, “What the bloody hell is that about?”

Ron glares him down as he shuffles out of the kitchen, “Nothing, don’t worry about it.” And then he’s gone.

Fred looks to George, who is just as struck silent as the rest of the room, “That wasn’t normal right? You saw it too?”

George nods, “Weirdest way he’s hidden his letters so far,”

Mrs. Weasley looked at them at that, her brow furrowing in contemplation, “What letters? Ron hasn’t been…” she frowned, “well… I suppose there were a few for Ron, but I thought…”

“He and Gin weren’t allowed to write to Harry, remember?” George pipes up, excitement at his mother also beginning to suspect something showing in his eyes. “And Fleur and Hermione are here, so who’s he been writing to?”

Mrs. Weasley tried to appear like she was reprimanding George, but even Harry could tell she was curious, “It’s his business, George, leave your brother alone.”

George scowls, “Are you saying you’re not interested in the secret witch Ron’s been writing to? Because it’s been my main source of entertainment all summer, don’t steal this from me.”

“You need a hobby, dear,” Mrs. Weasley rolls her eyes, making Hermione giggle off to the side, “Ron doesn’t dig into any of your letters.”

“But I’m not the one getting secret letters for him to look through, so that’s a moot point.”

Mrs. Weasley sighs, going back to sorting letters, “Then to make it fair, next time Angelina sends you a letter I’ll ask Ron if he’d like to sniff around it first.”

Harry sees Fred wince and Hermione sucks in a small gasp of air through her teeth. He’s not sure why the reaction, but just based on the instantaneous switch in George’s mood, Harry assumes Angelina might be a sore subject. 

George clears his throat, “Right,” and he doesn’t say anything more, dropping Ron’s secret letter entirely. 

Mrs. Weasley doesn’t seem to notice, but Hermione and Fred exchange a look that Harry doesn’t get. Ginny doesn’t seem to have noticed anything wrong and was continuing to enjoy her own book while she nibbled on leftover bacon from breakfast.

“Hermione, dear,” Molly calls after some time. Hermione lifted her head from where it was lolling against the side of her chair, pulling herself out of the dreamy-dissociative feeling of reading her book.

Molly waved a letter in the air towards Hermione, “There’s one here for you, from your uncle.”

Releasing a humming sort of noise, Hermione stood to collect the letter, bringing it back to her own spot where her book now sat alone between Fred and Ginny. 

Hermione slid back into her chair while sliding her finger beneath the envelope seal of her uncle’s letter.

Dearest loutre,

Your class list arrived today, and rather than filling it in for you and facing your wrath later, I selflessly sent it on to you. I find it would have been particularly funny to see you raging around when you found out I’d signed you up in exclusively drivelling lessons and classes. An entire term filled with only Household Charms and Beauty and Self-Care Potions sounded rather enthralling. 

I feel quite strongly that I’ve saved my own life by sending you your list, bereft of my input. 

Give my regards to Fred, if you would, chère.

Love, your doting and brilliant uncle, 

Hugo

Refusing to laugh at her uncle’s ‘wit’, Hermione refolded his letter and tucked it back into the envelope, removing her school class list instead, “Hugo says to tell you ‘hello’, Fred.”

Fred, without looking up from his summer Charms homework, drawled, “Did he mention anything about frogs?”

Hermione froze over her list and did a slow double take, looking over at Fred completely baffled, “ Non ?”

He shrugs, fighting down a quivering grin while he makes a mark in his notebook, “Nevermind then. What did he have to say?”

Her mouth gaped open and closed a few times, completely speechless while Ginny giggled, before shaking her head and deciding to ignore it. Maybe what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

“He sent along my class list, thankfully without choosing any himself.”

Ginny perked up, leaning around Hermione’s arm to try to read the list, pouting a bit when she realized it was all in French, “What sort of classes do you get to pick in Beauxbatons?”

Hermione hums, “There is a lot to choose from actually. Beauxbatons doesn’t teach core classes exactly the same way that Hogwarts does.”

“Oh? What’s different?” Ginny asks curiously, watching Hermione grab a quill and inkpot from her bag.

“Hogwarts doesn’t give you the option for some classes, oui ? Like Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, you have to take them no matter what…not until after your O.W.L.S.” Ginny and the twins nod along, “and once you reach sixth and seventh years, you choose to continue.”

“Well, in Beauxbatons, we take every core class for all seven years. But we choose electives to give us a more refined education for each core class as well.”

Ginny wrinkled her nose, “That’s interesting, though I wouldn’t be very excited to be forced to take classes like Divination or Arithmancy. Are the electives at least interesting?”

Hermione makes a harumphing noise of displeasure, lifting the list in front of her in a disdainful manner, “Oh, the electives are all tailored around the core classes, so you’re more choosing what to ‘specialize’ in.”

George cocked his head as he thought this over, looking less in a mood than a few minutes ago, “That doesn’t sound like too terrible an idea, actually. If a student actually does it, that is. I’ll bet there’ve been a few who just take whatever’s easiest.” 

Hermione rolls her eyes, “It would be… if all the electives were more useful than learning to keep house.”

The three Weasleys stopped, identical (ish, in Ginny’s case) confused faces looking at Hermione.

“What?” Ginny asks finally. Hermione looks up from her class list, seeing their disgruntled faces.

She sighs, puts down her quill and begins pointing down the list of electives she had yet to reach.

“Here, these are three Potions électives: Beauté et soins du visage, Remèdes et soins, and Potions de base. ”

Fred frowned, leaning in now to get a better look at where Hermione was pointing, “Doesn’t that word mean ‘beauty’? Is that a class on making beautification potions?”

Hermione nods, getting looks of disgust from Ginny and George.

“You can take a class all about how to brew, like, hair potions?” Ginny asks incredulously.

“Not just hair potions, but yes.” Hermione takes back the list, “The other one there is for learning healing and care potions— I took that one in my third year and promptly dropped it halfway through term when I realized the first half was for useful healing potions, but the second half was all about ‘dealing’ with pregnancy and children rearing. The last is more like your Hogwarts NEWTS classes, which is what I take.”

Ginny’s eyes went wide while George and Fred’s jaws dropped, “It’s… a class that teaches you how to care for children?”

“Sort of,” Hermione says, checking off on Potions de base perhaps a bit too forcefully, “It’s more meant to teach witches safe sex… there’s strangely a lack of male students or content in the class.”

Fred grunts, “That’s terrible. Not terrible that there’s a class to teach sex education, cause I’m sure Hogwarts could benefit from one,” he rolls his eyes, “but it’s very sexist, isn’t it?”

Ginny nods emphatically, “No kidding,” she looks back down at Hermione’s list, “Are they all like that? Built to tell witches what to do?” 

“Not all of them,” Hermione says as she points to the section beneath Charmes, “but Charms is one of the worst. There’s Ménage Charmes , which is actually helpful Household Charms. Aside from the textbook called “ A Witch’s Guide to A Kempt House” , it’s all right. And then there’s the Charmes de nettoyage class, that teaches ‘young witches how to keep a clean kitchen’.”

“No! Hermione, these are awful!” Ginny grabs the list as if going to read the rest for herself.

Hermione watches her and the twins in amusement, glad they see things her way regarding the internal sexism ingrained in her school. There were quite a number of students and past professors who had heard it from Hermione too often, each time ignoring her or refusing to understand why what they were learning and teaching was so outdated.

“ Oui . They’re not all awful of course. But it certainly leaves few choices for those witches who recognize they want more out of their classes. Nor for the rest of the student body, male or otherwise.” Hermione sighs, checking off another elective, “At least we still have the core classes.”

She seemed to have stumped the trio with her patriarchal class list and silently chose her classes before sliding it into a new envelope and putting it with the others to be sent out later that day. When Hermione returned to the kitchen, Fred pulled her over to tug her down, kissing her in full view of the others in the kitchen. Harry and George pretend to make retching noises but are firmly cut off by Molly swatting at the back of their heads with her tea towel. 

He whispers up to her, partially hidden by her curtain of curls, “If you do have to learn any of those rubbish charms or potions or whatever, I want you to teach me them, and then that way I can be the one that does them when we’re together after school.”

Hermione grins, unable to resist pecking the tip of his nose playfully, “Deal, mon amour .”

-~-~-~-

August 28th

Diagon Alley, London

It was decided Tonks would be the best person to go with the group, as she wasn't working and was off from guard duty that night. And, no one would think twice about the pink-haired witch being around a group of Weasley’s when she had been friends with Charlie since they were at Hogwarts together. 

Tonks claps a hand on Ginny’s shoulder as soon as the brick wall behind the Leaky Cauldron opens up the way to Diagon Alley. 

“Molly asked me to take Ginny and Ron to Madame Malkin’s for some new school things, but otherwise you’re all free to wander.” The young pink-haired Auror had her little gaggle of youngins looking at her unsurely. Tonks grinned, “Three out of six of you are of age, I’m pretty confident you won’t get lost, maimed or jailed.”

George and Fred snicker, though Harry looks momentarily concerned by that last bit. Hermione smiles, taking Fred’s hand in hers before he can bugger off with his brother.

“Maybe we can all walk down the Alley together, so you can all show me the shops?” Hermione suggests, “That way you can all show me your favourite spots?”

Fred grins, reminded of a similar route Hermione took when they were in Paris and she was all too excited to show Fred everything there was to see. 

“Good idea, ‘Mione. Tonks can take Ron and Gin to Malkins since it’s about halfway down the shops, and the four of us can meet them there again.”

Harry agrees to stick around with the older kids, saying he only had to pick up a few things from Malkins anyway and didn’t want a new fitting. Hermione told him, as Ginny, Ron and Tonks walked off, that even if he did need something tailored, Hermione was very capable and could do it for him later. And for Harry, who had never liked the gossipy Madame Malkin much, thought this was a much better idea. 

Hermione allowed the three boys to tug her side to side of the Alley, occasionally popping into shops to either show her something inside or to actually make a purchase. Harry pulled her happily into Eeylops Owl Emporium where Hermione more happily cooed at the preening owls while Harry picked up treats for Hedwig.

Harry in turn followed Hermione into the Magical Menagerie to pick out treats and toys for Crookshanks. Fred came in with them only to be the one to swoop Hermione back out the door when she began getting too attached to the tiny kittens meowing in the window. 

“I’d bet my life Hugo and Crookshanks would blame me if a usurper came home with you, ‘Mione.”

George and Fred of course wanted to go into Zonko’s, but Hermione managed to convince them to wait until they met back up with the others. Surely Ginny and Ron wanted to go in as well. And besides, Sugarplum’s was right next door as well.

Hermione asked curiously if all three boys had received their wands at Ollivander’s as an eleven-year-old wizard came out with a brand new wand gripped in his fist. 

Harry nods, “Course, yeah. Where’d do you get yours in France?”

“France’s wizarding section is called Place Cachée. Hermione took me a couple of times. It’s a bit like Diagon, I guess,” Fred answers for her, making Hermione smile and give him a little wink.

“Yes, it is. And there’s a wandmaker there named Acajor, who runs Baguettes Magiques de Cosme Acajor . Hugo took me there where I turned eleven, though he complained before and after that, he couldn’t take me to Ollivander’s instead,” Hermione smiles softly, clearly recalling the moment she received her wand. Since it was a momentous occasion, the boys quite understood and each gave her kind smiles before they were moving on again. 

Fred caught Hermione’s hand again as they moved down the Alley. George and Harry made similar noises of excitement and dashed off to look in the window at Quality Quidditch Supplies. Hermione grinned at the boyish squabble between the two when George nearly pushed Harry over to see first.

“Sometimes it feels a bit like I’m babysitting when it comes to your siblings.”

Fred snorts, giving her a hand a squeeze, “That’s not terribly inaccurate, actually. Is it like that when it’s me acting like a toddler?” He says this just as Harry jumps onto George’s back, causing the older boy to squawk and attempt to beat him off.

Hermione coughs out a laugh, “Maybe not as bad, but you have your moments too.”

Fred yells over to his rowdy sibling and adopted one, “Oi you two! I saw Ginny pop her head out just now, we gotta go!”

It was enough to get their attention, though George was still made to carry Harry over, who continued to cling to George’s back like some sort of urchin. Hermione tutted playfully, swatting at Harry’s feet as he dangled in front of her and Fred while the group made their way to Madame Malkins.

Harry jumped off when they reached the tailor’s shop, a surly Ron leaning against the window outside.

“The ferret came in halfway through our fitting,” Ron says to Harry as an explanation for his mood. Harry scowls as well, instantaneously dropping his previous good mood.

Hermione rolls her eyes, “By ferret, do you mean Draco Malfoy?”

Ron nods while Harry continues to scowl, “Was he a putz the whole time?”

“Course he was,” Rom rolls his eyes, though a smirk tugs at his mouth, “Apart from when Ginny threatened him with her Bat Bogey’s… only she told him they wouldn’t necessarily come out of his nose.”

Fred chokes while George has to grab the doorframe lest he falls over laughing. Hermione fights not to laugh, if only to try and act like the adult, “Ok, well… should we all head inside, or wait out here?”

Harry groans, “I really do need a few things, and if you’re still all right helping me, ‘Mione…”

“Of course I am, frérot. Let’s go,” Hermione wraps her arm around Harry’s shoulders and pushes them inside the tailor’s shop.

Ginny and Tonks are up on the slightly raised second floor, standing by one of three mirrors where Madame Malkin, Hermione presumed, was flitting around Ginny to fit and hem the new school robe the young girl had on. Tonks was playing with Ginny’s concentration by quietly morphing her hair into different colours each time Malkin looked away. Hermione saw Ginny desperately trying to stay still while watching Tonks through the mirror, and hoped for Tonks’s sake that Ginny’s new robes didn’t end up wonky because of it.

Hermione called up, “I’ve brought the boys back, you two! Relatively unharmed to boot!”

Tonks turned to look over the rail with a wide grin poking out of her more normal bubble gum pink hair, “Well done, Hermione. You deserve a trophy for it as well,”

“Oi!” The four boys downstairs with Hermione all complained, knowing full well Tonks wasn’t completely wrong.

Hermione smiles and tugs Harry, who was still under her wing, towards the racks, “All right, you. What did you need this year?”

Harry begins pawing through the trousers, “My ankles were poking out nearly the last three months of school last year, so I’m afraid to see what they look like now.”

Hermione chuckles as she holds out her arm to help Harry hold his choices, “Probably a good idea to pick new ones then. Shirts too? Your shoulders feel bigger after this summer,” Hermione turns to begin grabbing a couple white shirts, not seeing Harry’s embarrassed blush while Fred grins flagrantly. 

When Hermione comes back with three new shirts and sweaters, Harry is less red though still gives her a look, “You’re pretty embarrassing, did you know that?”

Hermione just shrugs, “I don’t have siblings, Harry, you’re going to have to suck it up and deal with my coddling. Just be glad Fleur isn’t here; she’d be walking out of here with things galore for you.”

Harry seemed to consider this and silently agreed Hermione was the lesser of two evils when it came to his two rather fashionably inclined faux sisters. 

And it made Harry feel a bit vindicated when Hermione then turned to her smirking boyfriend and proceeded to pick out a couple things for him as well and add them to her pile, his smirk disappearing as he attempted to stop her. 

Unfortunately, Harry had forgotten during Hermione’s shopping that Ron had told him Malfoy was inside as well and was quickly reminded when the other boy suddenly appeared next to him with that smarmy sneer on his face.

“Potter,” Malfoy said, stopping on the other side of the rack Harry was looking through, “I’m surprised they let you out of Azkaban long enough just to pretend you were coming back to school this year.”

Harry scowls at the blonde boy, “I don’t know where your father was trying to sneak in, Malfoy, but obviously he wasn’t important enough to get in since he’s telling you false information.”

Malfoy’s cheeks went a bit pink as his face screwed up further with a snarl, “Father wasn’t—”

Harry waves him off, going back to picking through the robes, “I couldn’t care less what your father is up to, Malfoy. I’m a bit busy here,”

It was quite satisfying to hear Malfoy splutter and rage quietly. But it was even more satisfying to hear Malfoy nearly swallow his tongue when Hermione came up behind Harry again.

“ Bonjour, Mr. Malfoy,” she says calmly and sticky-sweet, “lovely to see you.”

Apparently even Malfoy could detect the undertone of sarcasm in Hermione’s well-practiced tone, as he glared at the pretty witch who hadn’t yet given him a good reason to snap at her, “Granger,” 

Hermione cocks her head, accepting the robe Harry was holding in his hands onto the pile she had now for him, Fred and George, “Looking for new school robes, Mr. Malfoy? Seems a bit unnecessary if your old ones from last year fit just fine.”

Harry, who had just been blushing over Hermione commenting on his growth spurt, found the slight to Malfoy’s near lack of one quite funny. Malfoy caught on well enough and sneered worldlessly, spinning to stomp off back to his mother.

“Whatever. See you at school, Potter. If you can stay out of trouble long enough to make it there.”

Harry and Hermione watched the other boy stalk off when Fred came up behind Hermione.

“You’re rather brutal, Miss Granger,”

“Thank you, Mr. Weasley, I’d like to say it’s a credit to my uncle’s own wit, but I’d be lying if I didn’t give you some credit.” 

Normally Harry would gag and moan about Fred leaning down to kiss Hermione in front of him, but he was in too good a mood about Malfoy getting beat down to care. He just tossed a pair of trousers at Fred’s head instead.

Tonks and Ginny came back down soon after, with Ron not far behind with his own new robes in his arms. Madame Malkin was finishing up with the Malfoy’s purchase as the large group of Weasley’s plus extras made their way to the front with their large purchase.

Malkin waved her wand around the countertop as everything was piled on top, eyeing the things Hermione put down that belonged to the twins and Harry.

“Not needing a check on hems, gentlemen? I can do it quick enough,” 

Harry shakes his head, “No thank you, ma’am. We’ve got a few more errands to run, and Hermione’s a crack at clothing charms.”

Ginny pipes up excitedly, “Yeah, she even makes some of her own clothes, too.”

Madame Malkin looked at Hermione in interest as she rang everything through, “Is that so? Are you self-taught my dear, or apprenticed?”

Hermione shrugs, “A bit of both, I’m afraid. My godmother back home has her own shop I’ve practically grown up in, and I worked with her over the summer.”

“Well, that sounds wonderful. Who is your godmother, perhaps I know her shop?” Malkin asks politely, accepting the coins Harry and Tonks hand over.

Hermione cringed a bit, preparing herself, “Erm, Terri’s Tailoring . She’s housed in La Bon Marché. ”

Madame Malkin’s eyes widened, and the Galleons and Sickles were nearly upended from her hand, “You’ve worked in Terri’s ?! Oh, oh I adored her shop! Oh, it has some of the most beautiful dresses— and her designs!” Madame Malkin looked close to fluttering to the ground as she exclaimed over Terri’s fashions. 

Hermione smiled demurely, “Yes, she’s very good. I’ll have to mention your compliments to her next I see her, I’m sure she’ll enjoy them.”

Madame Malkin’s eyes were glimmering as she took Hermione in again, her gaze lingering on the Paris-style puffed sleeved blouse Hermione had carefully tucked into a checkered dress, “You live in France still, my dear?”

“ Oui , I’m in my last year at Académie de Magie Beauxbâtons ,”

“Hmm,” Malkin nods to herself a bit before meeting Hermione’s eyes straight on, “well, once you’ve graduated, you think about coming to live here in London and I’ll give you a job here with me.”

Hermione looked more amused than shocked, though Ginny gave Hermione an excited squeak, “You haven’t even seen my work.”

“I see what you wear my dear, and that’s nearly good enough.”

“I’ll think about it, Madame,” Hermione sighs, though the thought of someone just handing her a job based on sight is a bit flattering, “ Passe une bonne journée.”

With the whole group being waved off, Hermione makes them walk a few steps away before Ginny is practically jumping all over her friend.

“Hermione, you should work at Malkin’s! Then you’d be here and we could see you all the time!”

Hermione laughed while Tonks smiled fondly at the younger girl. Hermione also didn’t miss the look of interest on Fred’s face, but she ignored it for the time, “I’m still in school, Gin. You’ll have to miss me this year regardless if I accept Malkin’s offer or not.”

Ginny pouted, but Hermione gave Fred’s hand a quick squeeze. He kept silent, determining her little squeeze meant they’d discuss it later. A fluttering feeling in his stomach at the thought that Hermione wanted them to make that sort of decision together when it clearly regarded the future. One they’d be in together.

“Is your godmother’s dress shop in this Cash Place too?” Ron asks curiously.

“Place Cachée ,” Hermione corrects gently, “And no, actually. Her shop is a muggle and magic store in a rather popular muggle shopping centre. The back entrance leads to the magic side and there’s a curtain that separates the shops.”

Ginny skips closer in interest, “Is it like Malkin’s shop too, where you get school robes?”

“ Non , Terri makes things a little more…” Hermione makes a face, “on the fashionable eccentric side. Place Cachée has a more general shop, Maison Capenoir, that has things for Beauxbatons and regular day wear.”

Fred pokes his jumpy sister in her ribs to get her attention, which was firmly attached to Hermione, “That’s where all your pretty Ball dresses came from, Gin.”

Ginny’s eyes go wider somehow and Hermione throws Fred a glare over the top of his sister’s head.

“No wonder Malkin got so excited! Is your godmother famous?!”

Hermione chuckles, as does Fred, “No, though I’m sure she’d not mind if you said so,”

And just to throw more ignition at the fire, Fred adds, “Maybe I’ll tell Terri, and she’ll finally send me those pictures of you when you were little.”

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, Ginny’s poor body following the natural order of things and nearly falling flat on her face at the sudden change of movement.

Fred grinned down at his girlfriend, who looked stuck between shocked and resigned, “She wouldn’t.”

“No?” He grins, the tip of his tongue poking at his teeth teasingly, “Because I swear I was seconds away from getting a whole album out of her last time we were at the shop.”

She scowls at him, “Because you were sweetening her up with coffee and cookies while I was stuck working!”

Fred nods sagely, “The things one learns from a nosy mother. Honestly, we don’t give mum enough credit sometimes. She’s the one who sussed out Percy’s secret girlfriend a few years ago, did you know?”

George makes a keen sort of noise, “I always thought he’d told dad, who told mum.”

“Nah, mum’s just that good,” 

“I’m not allowing you to have those pictures,” Hermione says, pointing up into Fred’s nose, though she struggles to keep a straight face. 

Fred leans down to peck a kiss on the pad of said finger, “‘Allowing’ lends itself to think you’ll have any choice in the matter, sweetheart.”

Hermione still glares through her blush while her friends all have a good chuckle around her, “ Morveux.”

“Hm, don’t know that one. I’ll have to ask Fleur later,”

“I’ll tell her not to tell you.”

“That’s not very polite, ‘Mione.”

“Neither is blackmailing embarrassing photos from your girlfriend.”

-~-~-~-

August 28th

Grimmauld Place

A quiet knock on the door preceded Hermione slipping inside, closing the door gently behind her with a soft snicking noise. She tiptoed over to Fred’s side of the room, whispering a quiet greeting and goodnight to George on her way past. 

Fred held the coverlet back for her to slip under, sighing softly when he, at last, felt their chests, hips and legs line up perfectly under the blankets.

Hermione fussed with her hair for a moment, attempting to tuck it away from her face as well as stopping it from poking up into Fred’s, “I think Ginny might have finally caught on to us,”

“Honestly, I’m surprised it’s taken her this long,” Fred whispers as he mutters a small Silencing Spell, just so their chatting wouldn’t bother George. His twin had told him after the first time Hermione snuck in that he wasn’t bothered by them talking, but that he refused to sleep with his pillow smushed over his head to block out any sounds of snogging. Fred put up a charm each night just to be on the safe side. 

Hermione hums, sounding a bit amused as she finally settles fully into his side, “It is a bit weird for her, but I think Harry’s been stressing her out.”

Fred frowns, leaning up on his elbow to look down into Hermione’s face, “What’s Harry been doing?”

He squinted at the little grimace on his girlfriend’s face, “Do I need to go threaten a boy for my sister’s honour?”

Hermione scoffs, “What would that even look like? Frogs, fireworks and fudge smashed into his bed?”

Fred cocks his head in a thinking pose, “Doesn’t sound terrible, actually. Good one, Mione.”

“I’d better never be credited for that one in the future. I’ll plead the fifth.”

“What’s that?”

Hermione shrugs, “Part of Muggle law. Just means you won’t admit if you were or were not guilty. Usually, it’s in terms of murder, but not always.”

Fred blinked owlishly at her, “The longer I know you, the more terrifying I realize Muggles are.

“You should have met the boy who lived across the street from me when I was little. Robby would have scared you off Muggles forever.”

They chuckle together before lapsing into a comfortable silence, just enjoying the still air around them. Finding quiet amongst a pack of Weasleys— and a myriad of other witches and wizards— wasn’t easy. It was especially difficult for the normally more introverted Hermione to find time during the day to simply sit in a corner and read when she was almost constantly rushing around to try and appease everyone. 

“I don’t think I ever saw myself being in such a social place and enjoying myself so much,” she whispers into the silence.

Fred shifts beneath her, sounding a bit groggy as he asks, “What’s that?”

Hermione shifts as well, tucking her hands up between their chests as she faces him, “I was just thinking—”

“Always scary when that happens,”

“— that if I’d been home right now, I probably wouldn’t have seen sunlight in at least three days or talked to another person other than Hugo. Or Crooks.”

“Cats aren’t people, ‘Mione.”

“You say that again the next time Crookshanks is staring you down, and tell me he’s not mentally cursing at you for withholding pets or bacon.”

“Point.”

“Anyway,” Hermione huffs, struggling not to laugh at his ridiculousness, “What I was trying to say was, was it’s funny how your family naturally turned me into a bit of an extrovert. I’ve never been around so many people all the time and not gotten nervous or fidgety.”

Fred smiles into her hair, rubbing at her arm, “That’s good, sweetheart. No chance of anyone being left out when it comes to the Weasleys.”

“Which seems like it would be the opposite, with so many of you running around,” Hermione grins as she presses a smiling kiss into the hollow of his shoulder, “It’s a wonder none of you were just simply misplaced.”

“I’m sure mum thought of it on more than one occasion after one too many pranks from Georgie and me,” Fred admits, though it's done with a pleasant grin on his face, so Hermione isn’t worried.

Hermione snuggles into his further, “Well, I like it. I always wanted siblings. It’s nice that yours like me.”

“Pretty sure they all adore you, actually,” Fred ponders, his hand slowing his idle tracing for a moment, “And I know they wouldn’t hesitate to toss me over if they had to ever choose between us.”

Hermione shuffled back to look up at his face, their noses an inch away from one another as she grins, “Are you saying I’d win the kids in the events of a divorce?”

Fred rolls his eyes even as he fails to stop a breathy laugh from escaping, “I know you’re joking, but I never want to hear the word ‘divorce’ from your lips ever again, please. Merci ,”

Her grins only gets wider, “ Je ne monterais jamais les enfants contre toi, mon amour.”

She gets a squint in reply and a suspicious, “I don’t trust you when you reply to me in French and already sound like you’re gloating.”

Hermione shrugs one shoulder, her smile not dimming, “ Et j'apprendrai à nos enfants à faire de même.”

Fred deflates, sighing so heavily Hermione actually felt his chest concave, “I’m just going to smile and nod from now on, and hope it doesn’t bite me in the ass later,”

Hermione cheekily nips at his chin before better kissing his jaw, “ Oui , mon amour .”

That brings a smile back to his face, his cheeks turning up even as he kept his eyes closed, “That one I got.”

“See? You’re learning.” Hermione quips, giggling as he cracks open an eye just to squint it at her again. 

Hermione drifts off into a daydream (or, well, it was night, but she wasn’t actually asleep yet), thinking over the number of times she and Fred jokingly spoke of future kids. Future marriages. Future homes. Future plans in general. It still seemed so unreal to her, that she'd found her person at such a young age, and was lucky enough to figure out she was his person as well. 

She was going to miss him ridiculously for the next year. 

Fred’s hand brushing at her cheek woke her up again, her eyes refocusing on him and not up in the clouds. 

“Sorry, I don’t think I actually fell asleep there,”

“No, you were humming for a second though,” Fred tells her gently, his thumb catching at the corner of her mouth almost reverently, “What were you thinking about?”

“Just things,” Hermione adopts his tone, the quiet whispering suddenly seeming too loud for the space between them, “why? Was I drooling or something?” she goes to wipe at her cheek, but Fred’s thumb distracted her by poking the space a dimple would be, had she been blessed with one.

“You were smiling a bit; it reminded me of when we first met at Hogwarts, during that Halloween feast. I couldn’t look away from you when you were teasing Fleur, then teasing me, and you had this,” again his thumb catches the corner of her mouth, “little smile at the corner. It was like it was a secret I’d noticed and no one else got to see it. It was like your smile had its own inside joke and I found I wanted to know it badly…"

“Fred…” Hermione whispers, thinking it both incredibly sweet and more than a bit enthralling that he’d even thought that, let alone noticed such a small detail as an extra little wrinkle at the corner of her mouth. 

Fred grins, though its softer than his usual one as he continues to trace her lips with his thumb, drawing her in closer without really meaning to.

“So, I wondered what you were just thinking about to make it show up again.”

“Kids,” Hermione whispers, unable to keep quiet and keep looking at him all at once, “Before, in French. I was talking about kids. And I sort of just… kept thinking of them.”

It sent a tingling shock down the length of her spine to watch his blue eyes grow a shade darker, “I'm listening,"

A blush took over Hermione's face, a warmth she ignored in favour of trying to find her footing under this new Fred, "It wasn't any concrete plans, mon amour , just a passing fancy."

"Did you think of how many kids we were going to have?" Fred whispers, his fingers trailing up her sides, making small goosebumps pop up in a trail he left behind, "because my current answer is less than seven."

It shocks a laugh out of Hermione, her body reminding her brain this was still the same Fred she could laugh with, especially during a serious conversation. 

"My answer is always going to be less than seven, Fred "

Fred shrugs, "Speaking from experience, seven is a lot. But I could settle for six,"

"Oh you could, could you?" Hermione flicks him in the centre of his forehead, "Are you planning to be pregnant with a few of those as well or will you be making me do it all?"

"Well, you can do as many as you'd like and then we'll switch over to me. Hopefully by then we'll have already hit our limit, but I'm open to negotiation."

Hermione can't help but laugh, the ridiculous once again being a firm companion in their conversation.

"Deal,"

"Good," Fred nods, pressing a smiling kiss into her curls as she wound down from her giggles. "It's… it's really nice being able to joke about this sort of thing, 'Mione."

Hermione wraps her arms around his waist, making him shift to allow her arm to burrow under his hip, "I like that you want to talk about it. Not many boys our age think about kids, Freddie."

Fred makes a sort of wiggling motion Hermione can't decode, "I guess growing up with so many siblings, it's something  I've always had at the back of my mind. I like kids, and I'd like to have kids, and now that I've met you," He tugs her closer to give her a heart-melting kiss, "I'd like to have kids with you ."

Hermione sighs, sagging into his side as they cuddle and relax, getting sleepy as the hour grows later.

But she reaches out to pinch his hip when he mutters into her hair— "I bet we could beat mum and dad's high score though…"

"I'm going to make you carry all our kids if you don't watch it, mister."

Loutre - otter

Chère - dear

Oui - yes

Beauté et soins du visage - Beauty and facials

Remèdes et soins - Remedies and care

Potions de base - basic potions

Charmes - Charms

Ménage Charmes - Household Charms

Charmes de nettoyage - Cleansing Charms

mon amour - my love

Frérot - little brother/kid

passe une bonne journée - have a nice day

Morveux - brat

Je ne monterais jamais les enfants contre toi, mon amour. - I would never turn the children against you, my love.

Et j'apprendrai à nos enfants à faire de même. - And I will teach our children to do the same.

Oui, mon amour - Yes, my love

Chapter Text

August 31st, 1995

Grimmauld Place

Sirius kept catching wide brown eyes peeking over the top of the paper. He lifted the Prophet a bit higher to ignore the pleading puppy dog look.

He heard a little sniffle and a shuffle, which he tried to ignore as well, though his Animagus form should have apparently been a cat, as his curiosity got the better of him. Those eyes were still looking at him and somehow appeared even bigger now. Sirius furiously lifted the paper again.

Next thing he knew, a plate of bacon was being pushed slowly through the small space he’d left between the morning paper and the table. 

Sighing, loudly , Sirius closed the paper and tossed it at Hermione, “ Fine , Merlin’s saggy left bollock, you win!”

Hermione wriggled happily in her seat as she grabbed the Daily Prophet , silently celebrating while Molly shouted indignantly from the other end of the table at Sirius’s swearing at the table. 

Sirius ignored her in favour of munching on the bribery bacon instead, “There isn’t anything exciting in there, anyways.”

Hermione sticks her tongue out at him briefly before ducking back behind the newspaper. Fred chuckles as he comes to sit next to his girlfriend, sliding a cup of coffee in front of her as he sits with his own mug of tea.

“The Grangers keep a pretty strict reading schedule in the morning. If you’ve gotten in the way of Hermione and her newspaper, you're lucky you’re alive.”

Sirius rolls his eyes though inside he’s secretly quite amused at the studiousness of the witch who just bought his compliance with bacon. 

Fred sips at his tea as he attempts to read over Hermione’s shoulder, “Anything interesting, love?”

“Celestia Warbeck’s cancelled her concert,”

Fred hums, “Shame.”

“Isn’t it just?”

Molly makes a grunting scoff sound, causing her son and his girlfriend’s amused eyes to flicker towards her, “ I like Celestia Warbeck’s music,”

Fred takes another rather dramatic slurp of his mug, “Oh, we know…”

Molly gives her middle child a very Molly look that normally makes her children scurry away in fear. But Fred feels a certain sense of safety being three feet away, behind a table and seated next to Hermione. 

Ginny comes into the kitchen then, a large handful of similarly sized letters in hand. She gently closes the door behind herself before saying to the room of scattered siblings and Order members, “A bunch of Hogwarts letters came. I think they might be our booklists,”

Harry frowns at Ginny, accepting the letter addressed to himself from her as she leans over the table to hand it over, “Why’d they send them this late?”

Molly frowned as well, leaning over to read from George’s as he cracked the seal on his, “Perhaps there was an addition to the normal lists? We’ll have to send someone to go grab them for you children, I’m not sure there’s anyone who could go with all of you again before tomorrow.”

Fred opens his and twists it to let Hermione take a peek as well. There were the two normal sheets inside; the first was the regular reminder that term started on the first of September, and the second was indeed a book list. 

After a quick scan, it was determined the only missing book was a new Defense Against the Dark Arts text to go along with the more usual Standard Book of Spells . 

“ Defensive Magical Theory ,” Hermione reads aloud from Fred’s list.

Ginny frowns as she leans over to read Harry’s after reading her own, “By Wilbert Slinkhard?”

“Yes,” George answers for her, “you don’t have the same one, do you?”

Ginny nods, “Harry and Ron do for fifth year as well,”

Molly leans over to look at Ginny’s list, “Each year has the same book? That’s odd…”

Hermione looks up from reading Fred’s letter to look at the others around the table, “I didn’t receive any theory from Hogwarts Defense last year. Is theory normally taught?”

Lupin, who had been sitting down at the table while this was going on, cleared his throat, “It is, but usually more in a oral lesson rather than reading material. Most students find theory a bit… dull,”

Ron groans, “Great, this’ll be a looong year. And no Tournament to make things more interesting,”

Harry gives Ron a sideways glance while Hermione is less subtle as she says to Ron, “But rather less danger for our friends, oui ?”

Ron’s cheeks go a bit red as he gives Hermione a sheepish nod.

“So, who’s the new Defense teacher?” Fred asks, “Obviously Dumbledore finally found one.”

His mum looked at him a bit shocked, “How did you hear Dumbledore was having trouble finding a professor?”

Fred’s mouth sort of flopped open uselessly for a moment, trying to come up with an excuse that wasn’t simply ‘Extendable Ears, of course!’. Thankfully, Hermione was much quicker and saved him from his fumbling.

“You and Arthur said something about it a couple of weeks ago while I was cooking in the kitchen, Molly,” Hermione’s chirpy voice brooked no argument or suspicion, “I didn’t think anything of it, but I must have mentioned it to Fred. Sorry,”

Now it was Molly’s turn to fluster, waving Hermione off and no longer concerned about the possibility of eavesdropping. Hermione gave Fred a little wink while he gave her knee a quick squeeze.

“What’s wrong, Ron?” Ginny’s voice broke Hermione and Fred apart, not realizing they had been falling into one another’s eyes and forget they were in the middle of the kitchen.

Ron had shuffled his letter and noticed a third note was still tucked inside the envelope, as well as a shiny gold and scarlet pin that had slid out onto the table.

“No way,” George said in a hushed tone.

Fred stared incredulously at the little innocuous pin laying in front of his little brother, “Prefect?” he looked back and forth between Ron and pin, “ Prefect?”

Molly screeched— which had the unfortunate side effect of Mrs. Black’s echoing scream starting up in the hallway. Sirius jolted from his chair with a groan, rushing off to shut up his mother’s portrait. 

Ron found his prefect letter being snatched away from his hand, still stuck blinking uselessly at it. Molly’s eyes hurriedly read through the letter, while George and Ginny crowded her sides to read it with her.

She was exclaiming happily in a second, “Ronald! Oh, Ron, oh that’s everyone in the family! Prefect, oh Ronnie, oh I’m so proud! We need to owl your father, he’s going to be so happy!” 

George lifts his head from inspecting the pin with Ginny to share an incredulous look with Fred, “What are Fred and I, the next door neighbours?”

Hermione smirks, tucking her latest letter from her uncle under her leg to peruse later, “Long lost cousins, perhaps?”

Fred glares half-assed at Hermione, though he finds himself more amused than put out that his mother basically forgot he and George had definitely not been Gryffindor Prefects.

He leans in to knock Hermione’s side, making her list over while failing to hide her amusement at the situation, “

Molly was fluttering around, her hands not knowing what to do with themselves as she waved them about, stood still waving, then squished Ron’s cheeks together. The boy’s face was bright red with an embarrassed and perhaps proud blush, but he wasn’t able to say anything over his mother’s excitement. 

Sirius came back into the kitchen while Molly was smothering Ron, who seemed to be finally lucid and trying to bat her away.

“Mum… don’t… mum, get a grip…” Ron muttered, while Ginny looked like she’d just received an extra helping of dessert, watching her brother be attacked by their mother. 

Taking his seat back, Sirius threw a curious look at Ron before looking at his godson, who hadn’t said much since that Prefect badge had slid out onto the table. 

Unknowingly mirroring Fred from a moment ago, Sirius knocked his shoulder against Harry’s, “You all right, prongslet?”

It seemed to shock Harry out of a mood, the younger boy shaking his head out like he’d been distracted by something. He blinked up at Sirius a moment, making his godfather repeat himself.

“Er, yeah, I guess,” Harry sneaks a look back at Ron, who was currently excitedly talking brooms with his mother, who looked a bit tense. Sirius watched a little frown tug at the center of Harry’s brow, but waited for him to speak up. Remus caught his eye down the table, wordlessly looking at Harry and glancing at Ron’s shiny new Prefect badge still flat on the table. 

Sirius nodded; he was already on it.

It took Harry another minute before he leaned back into Sirius, his voice quiet as he whispered, “It’s just… I’d thought…” It seemed Harry didn’t know how to express himself, but Sirius already knew what was going through the boy’s mind.

“Dumbledore might have… made you prefect?”

Harry’s cheeks and neck went red, but that frown was still in place and he gave Sirius once sharp nod. Sirius nods back more sagely, remaining silent while Harry stewed. 

Ron was still in the throes of his mother’s celebrating, his siblings playfully ribbing him through their own congratulations. Sirius, making a split-second decision, clapped Harry on the shoulder to get his attention off his friend. 

Harry looked up at Sirius in confusion, hurt clear in his expressive green eyes. Sirius fought down saying something about Lily, as it wouldn’t be helpful or welcome in that moment. It was just one more thing he would save for a better time. 

“Let’s step out, Harry. We can talk in the den,” Harry nodded and followed Sirius out. Hermione seemed to be the only one to take immediate notice, but gave Harry and Sirius an unassuming smile as they left the kitchen.

-~-~-~-

Ron was made to stay downstairs with Molly who insisted on them owling Arthur, and if they couldn’t reach him, to fire call Ron’s dad to tell him the news. She was already in the middle of writing to Bill, Charlie and Percy, regardless of Ron’s whining that she was being embarrassing. 

Hermione herded the remaining Weasleys back upstairs to save Ron from further ‘humiliation’ as he began to call it each time Fred, George or Ginny heckled him. They were happy for their brother, but Hermione also knew Ron had a different outlook on familial teasing than his siblings. She’d never say it, but Ron and Percy were a lot alike in that regard. 

Ginny insisted on running upstairs to get Hermione’s hairbrush and ties, wanting her friend to do her hair for her that morning. Tomorrow would be the last time Ginny could get Hermione to help her before school began, so she “ Was going to get as many styles in as she could in the next twelve hours.”

Hermione continued to smile at the now empty doorway Ginny had raced away from. George was already flopped on his bed, tossing one of Crookshanks’s toys up and down in the air above his head. Fred sat on his bed, leaning against the wall, and pat the spot next to him in invitation.

Hermione settled in next to him, clutching Hugo’s letter as she wiggled in. Fred hummed, nuzzling the side of her head, totally content.

While waiting for Ginny (whose footsteps could be heard only now getting to the next floor), Hermione cracked open Hugo’s letter and read it silently, not minding Fred idly reading over her head.

Hermione, 

My dearest, loveliest, darlingest niece— now that you’ve made me miss you for the remaining month of the summer, I humbly request your birthday list be sent to Rue de Pierre de Lune. I assume, by this point, your initial plan to be home on the 31st has been changed as you are not here, and your blasted cat has not been sent home either. 

Molly and Arthur have been writing me as well (which you were already aware of, but I felt like reminding you the three of us share all the icky, gooey, adorable moments our children force upon us), and have repeated they don’t mind having you in their home. However, loutre, I will be the one to remind you, that you also start your term tomorrow and need to be in Paris for the carriage to arrive. 

If you plan to stay the extra night, that is fine, I will meet you at the dock to say our goodbyes. Please write me back rapidement to tell me your decision.

Hello Fred, have a good term!

All my love, 

Uncle Hugo

Hermione had to cringe at her forgetfulness. With everything going on— her becoming so comfortable around the Weasleys and the oddness of Grimmauld Place finally settling, Hermione had completely forgotten she had planned to be back home before September first.

“ Fille stupide ,” she mutters under her breath, yelping when Fred pinches her thigh.

“That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about, show some respect.” Fred grins cheekily, proud of both his joke and his quick translation.

She rolls her eyes at him but secretly finds it amusing, “I… may have forgotten I was meant to be home today…”

George snorts from across the room.

Fred struggles to hide his own amusement as he pats her leg, “I’ve always said I enjoy your excellent timekeeping. Especially when it benefits me,”

Hermione taps his nose, making his reel back and let out a weak sneeze that makes George cackle. 

She moans, “I should have scheduled a portkey forever ago! Now I’m going to have to go through emergency travel again, and you know how annoying that is.”

Fred wrinkled his nose, “Yeah, I don’t envy your return trip. That was mental,”

“See if Bill and Fleur can help you out,” George pipes up, still tossing the cat toy up and down, “It’s not odd for curse-breakers to travel, I bet Bill knows some way around pesky portkey lines at the Ministry.”

Hermione makes a noise of agreement, ticking it off in her mind to send a note to Fleur after writing back to Hugo.

“Do you have a quill and parchment in here I could use?” Hermione asks Fred, “I left my bag downstairs without thinking,”

While Fred grabs her paper and produces one of the muggle pens Hermione had gifted him and George, Ginny arrives back into the room, this time with Harry and Ron behind her. 

“I picked up a few strays. Ron says mum is setting up a little surprise party for Ronniekins, so you’re off cooking duty, ‘Mione.” Ginny says as she skips inside, settling on the corner of the bed Hermione was sat on. 

“Sounds good, Gin. I’ve just got to write my uncle and then I can do up your hair for you,” Hermione flattens a book over her lap to act as a desk while she begins jotting down her Paris address on the envelope. She glances up at Harry, who was kicking at a floorboard nearby, “I can help you with yours too, Harry. And teach you that charm. Fleur and I aren’t going to be able to keep you looking human if you don’t bother trying.”

Harry blushes a bit but throws Hermione a sheepish grin from under his fringe.

Hermione begins her letter, saying out loud to Fred as she writes, “I’ll tell Hugo I’ll be at the docking station for 1, but that I’d like to wave everyone here off for the train. I don’t leave Paris until the afternoon, so I’ll have plenty of time to see you off and travel afterwards.”

Fred presses a kiss into her hair as she writes, “That’ll be nice, we won’t have to rush saying goodbye that way.”

Ginny rolls her eyes, “Won’t have to pull Fred off you long enough to say our own goodbyes, you mean.”

Oddly, it was Ron who spoke up, “Leave ‘em alone, Gin. They’re not going to be seeing each other for a whole year,”

Ginny did look a bit contrite but Hermione just gave her a soft smile, going back to her writing quickly to ignore that heavy feeling settling in her stomach. She was afraid if she opened her mouth in that moment, she might do something truly embarrassing like burst into tears in front of Fred and all his siblings. 

-~-~-~-

Mrs. Weasley returned from Diagon Alley around six o’clock, laden with the missing DADA books and a long package wrapped in brown paper. It was decidedly broom-shaped, and Ron immediately tried to take it with a moan on longing. 

“Don’t bother unwrapping it now, everyone is arriving for dinner. You’ll only have to pack it away in a moment anyhow,” Mrs. Weasley tells him, but the moment she was out of sight Ron and Harry were tearing into the wrapping.

Mrs. Weasley entered the kitchen, where Hermione and Fleur were hanging a sparkling scarlet banner over the set dinner table, which read: CONGRATULATIONS NEW PREFECT!

“Oh, that looks lovely, girls!” Molly enthused, clapping her hands under her chin as she watched it settle. Hermione jumped down from the chair she’d been standing on (and tried not to be too jealous that Fleur hadn’t needed one).

Hermione looked at the banner with her hands on her hips in satisfaction, looking over their work, “Never thought I’d find an actual use for that glitter charm, but I suppose it’s come in handy finally.”

Fleur looked at her friend, wildly amused, “Where did you learn a charm for glitter?”

The younger witch shot a shifty look at her, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Molly chuckles at the pair, patting both of their shoulders as she moved past them to help Arthur set the rest of the table, carefully taking the large ham from Tonks as the Auror nearly tripped over her own boot heel.

“Would you mind bringing down the rest of the children, Tonks dear? They were meant to be packing, but I’m afraid without Fleur or Hermione up there they might have begun a sock war.”

Perking up at a task she was more inclined towards, Tonks skipped up the stairs, only tripping once on her way up.

Fleur floated over to Molly, who was poking and pulling at the dishes until they were to her liking.

“Was there more I can do for you, Molly? I feel like I ‘ave not been around to ‘elp much…”

Molly spun around, fluttering her hands around Fleur, “You’ve been a wonderful help already, dear! Hermione had most things under control already, having you was an extra treat!”

Fleur smiles kindly, her long hair for once straight and loose around her shoulders, causing the Veela-witch to look especially ethereal that evening. Hermione had mirthfully watched Kingsley and one of the other Order members, Diggle, continually get caught staring blankly when Fleur walked by. Fred had made it into a game to see how many times he had to snap them out of it before Bill noticed.

Fleur pushed her hair back over her shoulder, unwittingly looking more like a supermodel than a curse-breaker with the blase move, even as she revealed the little dragon curled around her collar, “Eef you are sure…”

“Perfectly,” Molly tells her, going to Hermione as well, who had begun piling the cream puffs into a tower, “I’m going to miss having you both here to help.”

Hermione grins at the older witch, “You don’t think we rubbed off on your brood, Molly? Surely they’re just as big a help as we are?”

Molly scoffs, though her eyes are twinkling, “I don’t see any of them in here right now, do you?”

Fleur smirks, that delicate mask she seemed to don when dressed up rather than in her work robes breaking for a moment, “Not without a lack of trying, though…”

Molly just huffs, “Sneaking in to ‘help’ eat the food all day is not helping.”

The three witches all chuckle together, stopping as Tonks arrives back with the rest of the missing youngsters. Molly immediately starts clapping to get everyone’s attention,

“I thought we’d have a little party rather than a sit-down dinner. Everyone should be arriving here soon, but help yourselves!” Molly grins at Ron, seeming unable to stop herself from smooshing his cheek between her hands as she was wont to do all day.

“Your father and Percy are on their way, Ron. They were thrilled when I sent them an owl,”

Fred caught George’s eye and shared an eye roll— Percy was going to be unbearable. 

Tonks did indeed help herself, jumping immediately on the treacle tarts. Harry wasn’t far behind and playfully fought her over the large one at the top. 

Sirius and Remus, who had been banned from the kitchen after a totally legitimate and not-at-all infantile pumpkin pasty throwing competition, followed the group in as well. 

“We’ve done what we can to block that portrait, so hopefully on top of Bill’s Silencing Spell, we won’t be hearing from her this evening,” Sirius announces as he comes in, swinging one arm around Ginny and his other around Harry. It gave Ginny too good a shot to swipe Harry’s winning treacle tart, shoving it in her mouth with a proud grin, like Crookshanks when he caught a mouse. Remus had to turn away lest he laugh at the look of sadness and resignation on Harry’s face. 

Mad-Eye Moody stumbled his way in shortly after everyone began grabbing butterbeers for themselves (Bill was shooed away from unearthing the Firewhisky). Other Order members filed in, joining the party until the kitchen was packed with happy faces and good moods all around. 

“I think a toast is in order!” Arthur announces into the room, everyone hushing to turn and listen. Molly smiled and held her cup up to Ron, as everyone followed along. Arthur smiled proudly at his youngest son, “To Ron, the new Gryffindor prefect!”

Ron beamed with a red face while everyone drank to him and then applauded. 

“I was never a prefect myself,” Tonks said brightly from right behind Harry and Sirius. Her hair, he noticed, was bright tomato red and waist-length tonight. She looked a bit like Ginny’s older sister. “My Head of House said I lacked a certain necessary quality.”

“Like what?” Ginny asks from Sirius’s other side, ignoring the distrusting way Harry was shielding his food.

“Like the ability to behave myself,” Tonks grins.

Ginny laughed. Harry smiled and Sirius gave his godson a squeeze. 

Once her laughter wound down, Ginny looked up at the man, “What about you, Sirius? Were you a prefect?”

Sirius let out a startle barking laugh, “No one would have made me prefect! I spent too much time in detention with James. Moony was the good boy, he got the badge.”

Remus, who had wandered over sometime around Ginny and Tonks’s laughter, drolly said, “I think Dumbledore might have hoped I would be able to exercise some control over my best friends who indeed had a precedent for winding up in detention.”

Sirius grins wolfishly, “And how would you say that went, Remus?”

Remus didn’t even blink, “Sadly for Dumbledore, I also had that same precedent.”

Ron was surrounded by Percy, Arthur, and George, rhapsodizing about his new broom. Arthur listened patiently, as only a father of seven could; George looked nearly apoplectic and a second away from smacking Ron with said broom; Percy looked like he was struggling to remain patient while his younger brother enthused about something he himself had little interest in. 

Fleur and Hermione found themselves in their own struggle, trying desperately not to laugh as Bill was fondly and continually man-handled by Molly, who was raising their usual argument about Bill’s hair. 

“It’s truly getting out of hand, William! And you’re so good-looking, it would look so much better shorter, wouldn’t it, Fleur? Hermione?”

Fleur, caught unawares at being shoehorned into complimenting Bill in front of his mother, was stuck gaping and blushing while Hermione gave Bill a once over. 

“I don’t know, Molly. Bill has this whole ruggedly handsome thing— it goes rather well with the curse-breaking job,”

Bill glared at Hermione who held absolutely no shame in grinning back at him. Fleur fanned her face a bit, Gwyrrd crooning from beneath her curtain of hair at the breeze.

Fred and George found themselves unwillingly pulled into a corner by Mundungus, who tried once again to fence off some— rather illegally sourced— Venemous Tentacula seeds.

“Come on, lads,” Mundungus wheedled, “ya both know these are Class C Non-Tradeable! ‘Ow else ya gonna get em, ya figure?”

George rolls his neck, taking a deep breath, “Hence, why we’re not interested, Dung,”

“We’ve got a mate at school who’s good with Herbology,” Fred tried to explain, “We’re going to ask him once we’re back at school.”

“Wiv all the trouble I went through to get em?” Mundungus scowled, attempting to pout at them. With his sagging jowls, it came off a lot more pitiful than he must have hoped.

Fred shrugs, “We didn’t ask for these, Dung. You’re the one who overheard us and assumed…”

George nods, “Besides, you’d better hope Mad-Eye hasn’t got his eye on you, selling illegal ingredients to Hogwarts students…” 

Mundungus’s eyes went wide as he dropped the pitiful pouting, “Good point, that,” he shoved his hand into his pocket and pushes something at George, who brings his hand up to take it instinctively. Dung then scurried off, looking over his shoulder shiftily towards Mad-Eye.

George looked down at what he now held and rolled his eyes, showing the Venemous Tentacula seeds. 

Fred snorts, “We should do business with Dung more often if this is how he goes about things.”

“No kidding,”

Luckily for the twins, Harry, who had been passing by to get himself another butterbeer, overheard and saw Mundungus handing something over to the twins. Harry watched them go, feeling a bit uneasy as it occurred to him that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would eventually want to know how Fred and George were financing their joke shop business. It was inevitable they would finally learn about it. 

Talking Cedric into giving the Triwizard Tournament twinnings to them had been a simple choice, but Harry hadn’t thought about repercussions when he’d done it. Would Mrs. Weasley still think kindly of Harry when she found out he’d made it possible for Fred and George to start a career she thought was unsuitable?

To make things worse (and that heavy pit in his stomach to burrow further), Harry caught the sound of his name. Kingsley Shaklebolt’s deep voice was audible enough even over the music being changed back and forth, depending on who was nearest to the radio.

“...why Dumbledore didn’t make Potter a prefect?”

“He’ll have had his reasons, and like always, we aren’t privy to them right now.” That was Lupin, Harry recognized. He took his time knocking his bottle of butterbeer into the ice bucket, allowing the charm Bill had set on it to freeze his drink perhaps a bit more than he’d have liked. 

Kingsley went on, “But it would’ve shown confidence in him. It’s what I’d’ve done. Especially with the Prophet having a go at him every few days…”

And that concerned Harry. He’d seen his name a few times in the Daily Prophet , but it hadn’t ever been anything new. Most mornings, Harry had to ask Hermione or Percy if there was anything new about him or Voldemort, and the pair of them would begrudgingly give him sections of the paper. But maybe Harry should have been reading the entire paper.

His pleasure at being at the party disappeared, and he sort of wished he was upstairs in bed.

Sirius somehow noticed he was in a bad mood again and swooped over to tuck his godson under his arm. 

“Come’ere prongslet, Moody found something for you,”

Allowing himself to be steered away, Harry stood in front of Mad-Eye, taking the tattered photograph the man pulled from the inner pocket of his robes.

“Original Order of the Phoenix,” Moody says gruffly, poking a meaty finger into the center of the photo, as if Harry wasn’t already staring at it. “Found it last night while I was lookin’ for my spare Invisibility Cloak, seeing as Podmore hasn’t brought mine back… thought people here might like to see it.”

Had Harry been still paying attention, he might have noticed the slightly less gruff voice from Moody, or Sirius’s hand giving Harry’s shoulder a squeeze.

Sirius leaned into Harry’s side, lifting his other hand that still held his butterbeer to point along the line of people waving then looking more sternly into the camera, 

“There’s Moody,” he says unnecessarily, as the Moody in the picture didn’t look much different than the Moody now. Just a more intact nose, “There’s Dumbledore next to him, and Diggle on his other side.”

Harry follows Sirius’s finger as it trails down to the next line of people, his brief hesitation before continuing to make Harry focus up on his godfather’s quivering hand. Sirius clears his throat, “That’s Marlene McKinnon. She was killed two weeks after this photo was taken. She and her whole family.”

He clears his throat again, saying a bit throatily, “That’s Frank and Alice Longbottom, your friend Neville’s parents.”

“Yeah,” Harry mutters, recognizing Alice’s round cheerful face very well, as it was the image of Neville.

“Poor devils,” Moody growls, “Better dead than what happened to them…”

Sirius glares heatedly at Moody, “ Thank you Mad-Eye , ” Sirius took over again even as Moody grumbled at him. Harry watched as Sirius went down the line, naming other witches and wizards Harry had never heard of before, or sort of recognized their name. There were a few people he knew without Sirius having to tell him, but he allowed his godfather’s voice to wash over him, creating a wonderful distraction for the voice ringing in his head.

“Hagrid, of course, looks the same… Elphias Doge, you’ve met him, though I forgot he used to wear that stupid hat… Gideon Prewett, and his twin Fabian. Molly’s older brothers.” Moody stayed silent but shoved his finger around to make those in the photo shuffle around, unseen people rotating around for Harry to see.

Harry took an extra second to watch the red-haired men grinning and nudging their elbows into one another’s sides. He could tell they were twins, they looked as identical as George and Fred. 

“That’s Dumbledore’s brother, Aberforth. There’s Dorcas Meadowes, she was in our year as well. There I am!” Sirius says a bit more happily, as his likeness is shoved forward by Remus, who grins at his friend’s stumble, “That’s when I had shorter hair, but still just as dreadfully handsome.”

Harry looks up to give his godfather a rather familiar feeling look of exasperation. Sirius grins toothily, looking back at the picture and making a keening noise.

Moody grunts, “There we are, I thought that might interest you!”

Harry’s heart turned over. His mother and father were sitting together, beaming up at him as Lily suddenly grabbed James’s shoulders, James laughing as he pretended to dip Lily from her seat on his lap. The happy looks on their faces nearly caused harry to ignore the watery-eyed man next to them whom Harry recognized as Wormtail… though he looked decidedly younger and more healthy than the last time Harry had seen the traitor. 

It was all a bit too much. Seeing his parents, happy and laughing; watching a younger, less scarred Remus joking and smiling widely at Sirius; The Prewett twins, Marlene and Dorcas, whose names Harry had heard between Remus and Sirius a few times while at Grimmauld. 

— That angry pit in his stomach, still leftover from feeling both angry and disappointed in himself and Dumbeldore, for giving Ron prefect and not him… and being sick with himself for thinking he deserved something more than Ron. Sirius’s talk earlier had helped, but everything seemed to be pressing in on Harry, and he needed to get out. 

Moody seemed like he was proud of bringing Harry the photo, like he’d given Harry a treat. Harry just found it disturbing. All those people… waving happily… forever immortalized in that moment without knowing what was about to happen to so many of them…

“Yeah, er, listen,” Harry handed the photo to Sirius, who took it easily, “I just remembered, I told Hermione I’d finish packing, uh, something.” He rushed off before Sirius could get a hand on him, knowing if he let the man touch or talk to him, this bad mood he wanted to simmer in would disappear again. 

Harry wasn’t the only one wanting to leave the party. Molly Weasley began ushering her children around, mentioning she wanted them to begin going up to bed. She was letting out wide-jawed yawns, but folded easily when Ginny asked if her mum would mind making up a batch of hot chocolate.

Hermione and Fleur were already upstairs in bed, having begged off another drink during everyone else’s last round. Fred was hoping Hermione had decided to crawl into his bed instead of her own, but hadn’t wanted to be pushy even if it was their last night together for a while. He’d last seen his girlfriend stopped by Sirius at the doorway before she’d slipped out.

Ron was (for once) too full and begged off the heavy chocolate drink, going up to bed with a round of goodnights and last-second congratulations from all. That left Fred, George and Ginny waiting around their mother like hyenas, sniffing the sweet aroma of the melting chocolate impatiently. 

Ginny basically snatched hers up as soon as Molly scooped it into a mug, topping it with fluff and leftover chocolate shavings from the cutting board. She bolted off as soon as she could.

George took the next one and waited while Molly dished one out for Fred. Only, Fred was handed two mugs instead of one.

“Erm, George’s got one already, mum,”

Molly shrugs, beginning to clean up the pan with a sleepy yawn, “I thought Hermione might like one,”

He can feel his cheeks going warm, “Then Ginny could have brought up one more…”

Molly looks over her shoulder at him with a quirked brow, “Makes more sense for you to do it since Hermione’s in your room. We don’t need to bother Ginny when you’re perfectly capable.”

George chokes on his sip of cocoa, wide eyes staring at his mother then flying to Fred before turning tail and rushing upstairs. 

Fred felt like he wanted to follow but found his feet felt like they were glued to the floor. He was still staring in horror at his mum, who looked more amused than Fred thought she would (or, maybe should) when she found out one of her children had been sneaking their partner into their room overnight.

“Oh Fred, I’ve known for a while already, you don’t need to look so shocked,”

“I—” Fred gulps, “I’m… still shocked, mum.”

Molly shrugs, looking highly amused now, “You kids have always thought you get away with a lot more than you actually do. Sometimes your father and I just can’t be bothered to do anything about it. There’s seven of you, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Sort of a difficult thing to forget,” Fred mutters, “So… you’ve known this whole time?”

“I think so,” Molly gives him a discerning look, “it took a while once you two were here. I didn’t notice if she was sneaking in right away.”

Fred drags a hand down his face, “No, she didn’t… so, yup, the whole time. Wonderful,”

Now Molly chuckles, turning while she dried her hands on a hand towel, “You’re not the first, Freddie, and you certainly won’t be the last. Though, you are the first of your brothers who’s been in a stable relationship with the girl you’ve been sneaking into your room, so I can give you that.”

Fred rolls his neck, looking downwards at his mother, feeling a bit exhausted at this roundabout way of her leading up to his punishment, “So, if you knew this long, were you just, what? Waiting to see how long I’d do it to give you a better idea of how long I’ll be grounded for?”

Molly snorts, “No dear, you’re not in trouble. Perhaps you’ll get a bit of a talking-to from your father later, but you’re not in trouble.”

Now Fred was even more turned around, “Wh— mum, this isn’t funny,”

“I didn’t say it was,” Fred didn’t believe her when she failed to repress her laughter while saying so.

“Stop laughing, I don’t like it.”

“Fred,” Molly sighs, still sounding like she was about to start laughing in his face, “I find it odd that this is the first I’ve ever heard you or George say those words to me, but also, dear, I trust you and Hermione. It’s not something to get in trouble for, because I let it happen . Your father and I trust you, and Hermione, and we know you love one another. And it’s a real love, not just a fling or a romance from school. We’ve watched you two and seen you together and Freddie,”

Molly grabs Fred’s hand still empty, the second mug of hot chocolate still on the table where he’d set it down, “We know that girl’s your witch, and that she’s sticking around for a long time. We love her too and we don’t want you to think we’re going to try and get you in trouble just because you’re in love.”

Fred sniffs, gives his mum’s hands a squeeze and lets them go to grab Hermione’s mug again.

“Ok…well,” Fred briefly meets his mum’s eye before finding it a bit too embarrassing to meet her eyes right then, “sorry for, you know, sneaking around behind your back.”

“I’ll let it go this time,” Molly smirks.

“Thanks,” Fred breathes out as if on a laugh, but still too nervous to really laugh about this yet, “I’m going to… bring this upstairs for Hermione, then.”

“Sounds wonderful, dear. Good night,” Molly smiles, letting Fred go now that she was through with him.

He only made it a few steps to the door when Molly called out and froze him in place again, “Now that the cat’s out of the bag, I’m also meant to remind you our father and I correspond with Hugo quite regularly,” she had to bite down on her knuckle to stop her self from ruly laughing at her middle child when he shoulders hunched up to his ears, “Good night, dear!”

Fred left the room quickly, muttering under his breath as he started up the stairs determinedly, “...gonna have to suck up now… stupid frogs… never gonna hear the end of this…”

-~-~-~-

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August 31st, 1995

Grimmauld Place, Kitchen

Late that night

She couldn’t be sure how long that Silencing Spell Bill had set would last, so Hermione still tiptoed down the stairs and past the portrait of Mrs. Black. She also wasn’t sure who would still be awake and was in danger of being caught sneaking downstairs, so the tiptoeing was essential.

There was still a light on in the kitchen, so Hermione already knew she wasn’t the first downstairs. Perhaps they’d been down here the whole time waiting for her. She felt a twinge of concern that she’d taken so long to come down, but she’d needed to make sure George and Fred were fast asleep before coming down.

The door thankfully didn’t squeak but Hermione still slipped in quickly to block the light leaking into the hallway. Like she thought, there were still (already?) two figures sitting at the table, leaning over a few bottles of empty butterbeers. 

Both men looked up when Hermione came in, straightening up in their chairs as she came to sit with them.

“Thank you, Hermione,” Sirius whispers, his voice rougher with fatigue. 

“It’s no problem,” Hermione replies, shaking her head when Remus offered to get her a butterbeer, “I shouldn’t, I need to be up early tomorrow. Besides, I’ve always liked Gigglewater better,”

Sirius cringes, “Sorry, we’re keeping you awake.”

Hermione waves him off, “The amount of times the twins have kept me up with a midnight potion brewing session, a little lack of sleep isn’t going to affect me.”

Sirius chuckles, though Hermione thinks it’s a tired sound rather than the usual larger-than-life persona the Animagi usually showed. He tucked a hand into his jacket, pulling what looked like a small letter from his inner pocket. 

He pushes it across the table for Hermione to pick up.

“This is why I asked you to come down here, Hermione. I’m hoping you might be willing to help me,”

“Help you? With what?” Hermione frowns, looking down to skim the letter. It was from Dumbledore to Sirius, and seemed to be regarding Sirius’s technical status of ‘Missing and Wanted’.

“Dumbledore thinks I still have a chance to prove my innocence,” Sirius leans in, watching Hermione finish reading the letter where Dumbledore had offered a few first steps and ideas for Sirius and Remus.

“We’ve run into a problem, however,” Remus says, waiting for Hermione to look back up, “it’s a bit difficult to access the sort of literature we’d need without raising some eyebrows.”

“There’s an owl service from Flourish & Blotts…” Hermione frowns as Sirius and Remus both shake their heads.

“The sorts of books we’d need aren’t exactly easy to track down, unless one has access to the law library in the Ministry… or the library in Hogwarts.”

Hermione’s shoulders slump, “Well, that’s a bit bleak. How do you think I could help you?”

Sirius shrugs, “Look through the library at Beauxbatons? We’re going to see how often Dumbledore can send us books from Hogwarts, but with how busy the man is, we’re not confident he’ll be able to keep up with our demand.”

“Researching from a distance is going to be difficult,” Remus sighs, “I’m already going to be travelling to do other business for the Order and Dumbledore. Not to mention I’m banned from a few resources just because of my… wolfy habits.”

Hermione scowls, “That’s completely unfair!”

Remus just shrugs, “It’s what’s done,”

“And,” Sirius cuts Hermione off from continuing a tirade, “I’m not exactly able to waltz into the Restricted Section without being arrested. We’re a bit tied up here, Granger.”

Hermione sighs, fed up with the situation these two had been shoehorned into. Dumbledore had basically started them off only to leave them without another thought towards just how large and important this was to the both of them. And Harry, if Hermione was honest.

“Of course I’ll help you,” Hermione pushes the letter back at Sirius, taking the moment to grab his hand and give it a comforting squeeze. She made sure to reach out with her other hand to do the same for Remus as she stood, the men said their goodbyes as she went to sneak back upstairs. 

“Oh, and Hermione?” Sirius whispers, making Hermione stop just at the doorway, “Maybe keep this to yourself for now? I don’t want to get any hopes up if things… don’t work out the way we want it to.”

Hermione hesitates, but Remus follows through, “Between the three of us and Dumbledore, that's already a lot of people poking around very specific literature. We don’t want you to get in trouble, or for someone to find out you’re helping Sirius Black.”

It didn’t sit right with her, but Hermione agreed anyhow, deep down wanting to help Sirius more than anything.

Loutre - otter

Rapidement - promptly

Fille stupide - stupid girl

Chapter Text

September 1st, 1995

King’s Cross Station, London

“Boys honestly! Just because you can use magic now, doesn’t mean every opportunity to do so is appropriate!”

Hermione sighs from her spot at the foot of the stairs as Molly yelled up to the second floor, where Fred and George had just knocked their sister down most of a flight with their hovering trunks. Ginny looked a bit stunned where she lay, halfway between Hermione and the now screaming portrait of Mrs. Black. Dropping the bag she had taken from Ron to help him out, Hermione climbed up to give Ginny a hand while the twins were berated. 

Taking Hermione’s hand, Ginny pulled herself up with a mumbled ‘thanks’ and a glare up at her older brothers. Yet another reminder for Hermione that she might never fully understand what it was like having siblings. 

“Come on, let’s at least get half of us to the floo before your mother explodes,” Hermione tells Ginny, who smirks and leads the way, leaving Fred and George still fenced in by their (rightfully) irate mother.

“You know you’re going to miss all this chaos when we’re gone,” Ginny teases, but Hermione takes her hand and gives it a squeeze.

“ Oui , I am,” in the front entrance everyone else was ready to go, other than the twins. Harry and Ron were attempting to keep Hedwig and Pigwidgeon— Ron’s new owl— from snapping at one another from their cages. 

The tiny pigmy bird had been a gift from Remus and Sirius, and partially from Hagrid who had been so kind as to procure the little owl for them since they were currently unable to leave the house. Sirius had given it to Ron that morning, telling the boy it was a gift they hoped Ron found helpful since he’d had to borrow the family owl quite often that summer. And, Sirius made note to mention, it was also a replacement since Sirius had effectively lost Ron his pet rat a couple of years ago.

Ron had blushed a bit at the mention of sending letters by owl but was quite excited about having an owl on his own. Harry, Hermione had noticed happily, hadn’t seemed jealous of his godfather or Remus gifting his best friend such a special gift. He’d seemed a bit sad the night before during Ron’s party, but Hermione hadn’t managed to get him alone to ask him.

He seemed fine now, if not a bit more attentive to Hedwig. It probably helped that there was a rather massive black dog panting at his feet, and pawing at his shoelaces.

Molly came in then with Fred and George sheepishly dragging their trunks in by hand, Mrs. Black’s portrait still raging in the hallway. With so much noise going on, and so many people moving around, it was pretty useless to bother closing her curtains at the moment. 

“Harry, you’re to come with me and Tonks, as well as Hermione and Fred,” Molly shouted over the noise, Fred and George taking their chance and escaping from behind their mum. “Leave your trunk and owl, Alastor is going to deal with all the luggage… oh, for heaven’s sake, Sirius, Dumbledore said no!”

Ginny and Harry both set their puppy-dog eyes on her immediately, rather hilariously looking similar to Padfoot, who had his head cocked to the side and made a pathetic whining noise. 

“Oh honestly…” Molly said despairingly, “well, on your own head be it!”

She wrenched the door open and made everyone file out; Fred and George, Hermione, then Ginny, Ron, and Harry. Each of them (aside from Hermione) had left their luggage in the house, where Mad-Eye was already shrinking the trunks and giving half to Kinglsey, who was pocketing them before Apparating away.

Hermione’s luggage was already shrunk and stashed away in the safety of her Extended beaded bag, which was strung around her shoulder. With nothing else to pack, and most of her books and regular school necessities still in Paris, Hermione had attempted to help the others as much as she could. Molly had commented at one point that she’d never seen everyone with all of their items packed and in the correct trunks on the first go, ever.

Tonks was on the street corner in bland muggle clothing, her hair nearer to her shoulders and a rather mousy-looking brown colour. She grinned at the group as they came closer, “Wotcher, all. Better hurry up, hadn’t we, Molly?”

“I know, I know,” Molly sort of moaned, trying to hurry up everyone behind her, “If only Arthur could have got us cars from the Ministry again… but Fudge won’t let him borrow so much as an empty ink bottle these days…”

Harry waved to Ron and Ginny—who was going to go with Mr. Weasley and Remus— as Padfoot trotted behind him. Fred and Hermione swung their clasped hands between them as they kept a few paces behind as per Tonks’s instructions. Both were capable and able to use magic on their own should they need to, and as Tonks pointed out to Molly, a couple walking together was less conspicuous than a larger group of five… with Harry-bloody-Potter in the middle of them. 

It took the group of them twenty minutes to reach King’s Cross on foot, and thankfully nothing more eventful happened during that time other than Padfoot scaring a couple of cats for Harry’s entertainment. Hermione privately thought it was a good thing she’d left Crookshanks at Grimmauld to collect after everyone had boarded the train, as her cat hadn’t seen ‘Padfoot’ for a long time and most likely would have been quite keen to play around with the Animagus. 

Once inside the station, they lingered casually between platforms 9 and 10. Hermione knew from Hugo and Fred describing the Hogwarts Express docking platform, that there was a magic entrance hidden from muggles somewhere around where they were standing. Molly had Tonks go first, shooing her over to the entrance, whispering much too loudly at her to, “Be subtle!”

Hermione watched in wonder as Tonks leaned against a brick pillar together. Her shoulders seemed to sink in too far to be normal, and then in the next blink, she was gone. 

“Oh!” Hermione gasps, watching carefully this time as Harry and Padfoot went next, Padfoot keeping himself as well behaved as possible so he wouldn’t be kicked out of the station. Harry looked around, more aware of his surroundings and the muggles there than Tonks had been, and nearly fell back through the wall when Padfoot yipped at him in excitement and pushed into his legs. The pair of them were gone in another blink.

Molly, with a roll of her eyes, nods for Fred and Hermione to go next, “You two go ahead, then I’ll follow you in a moment.”

“Come on, ‘Mione,” Fred tugs her hand, and Hermione follows willingly, trying not to look too excited. 

Fred carefully nudges the both of them towards the wall, angling himself so he was mostly stood in front of her while her back was to the wall. To many a casual observer, the pair probably looked like a regular couple saying their goodbyes before their train.

“Keep your eyes open, and keep stepping back once we’re through,” Fred whispers to her, kisses the tip of her nose, and gives her waist a gentle push as he nudges her into the wall leading to platform 9¾.

Hermione does her very best not to blink at all and finds herself in a bit of a blurry blackness for a moment, and then in an entirely new section of King’s Cross that hadn’t been there before. The bright red Hogwarts Express stood emitting steam over the platform that was already packed with departing students and their families.

It was nearly immediately that Hermione heard a familiar shout of glee before her hand was snatched away from Fred with a yelp from her boyfriend, as Lee Jordan descended upon him.

“HERMIONE! Oh, Merlin, it’s good to see you! These plonkers didn’t tell me you were in England!”

Hermione burst into laughter, both at the humorous image of Lee climbing Fred like a tree and the look of distraught on Fred’s face.

“It’s good to see you too, Lee! There was a change of plans this summer, so I’ve been visiting the Weasley’s for the past month.”

Lee scowls at Fred, nearly poking him in the eye as his hand came around his head in an attempt to stay put while Fred tried to buck him off, “And no one thought to tell me?! I could have whisked you away for an afternoon to give you a chance to relax!”

Hermione took in the rather chaotic tangle he and Fred were currently in, “I’m… not entirely sure how relaxing an afternoon with you would be, Lee.”

Lee chortles, bouncing his eyebrows at her as Fred tried again to swing him off his back, “Never know until you find out— ack !” Lee grunted as Fred finally managed to get his leech off, basically backflipping him onto the train platform with a scowl.

“You mangy monkey, don’t hit on my witch while climbing me, you bastard.” 

Lee, somehow still grinning despite now being winded, winked up at Fred, “Don’t be jealous, you can be invited too, mate.”

Fred rolls his eyes as he extends a hand down to his friend, helping the wily boy back up, trying desperately to ignore Hermione’s sniggers, “I’ll pass, thanks.” Once Lee was up, Fred opene his arms for a better hug, pulling Lee in for one of those back-clapping man hugs, “Good to see you, Lee.”

Lee grins over Fred’s shoulder at Hermione, “Good to see both of you. And George, wherever he’s gotten up to,”

Hermione looks over her shoulder at the spot in the wall she and Fred had just emerged from, just as Molly came through, and in another second, George and Remus.

George quickly got the same treatment from Lee that Fred had received, all the whole scowling and attempting to beat him off. Hermione noted Fred offered absolutely no help to George.

Lee called from George’s back (once he was firmly wrapped all around George), “Nice dog, Harry!”

Harry, who was only a ways away with Padfoot, grinned at Lee, “Thanks, Lee,” Padfoot wagged his tail frantically. 

Hermione happened to hear Molly whispering to Tonks, “Oh good, here’s Alastor with the luggage…”

A man, very much not Alastor, came along through the archway entrance, pushing a trolley of everyone’s luggage. A porter’s hat was pulled over his eyes as he limped along, and Hermione realized it was the wizened Auror, camouflaged with a Polyjuice Potion. 

Lee was loud enough to mask Mad-Eye as he muttered to Molly and Tonks, only loud enough that Hermione heard because she was so close to Tonks, “All ok, don’t think we were followed…”

The entrance went off again, this time Mr. Weasley coming through with Ron and Ginny, who immediately came to rejoin the others. Everyone pitched in to help Moody load the luggage up next to the train, and then Moody stepped away for a moment. When he was back, the Polyjuice had worn off and it was once again Mad-Eye Moody who limped over to the group currently forming a loose circle around Harry. 

“No trouble?” Moody growled, and Remus and Arthur both shook their heads.

“None,” said Remus, who had just noticed Harry trying to keep Padfoot down from jumping onto his shoulders, rolled his eyes and went over to press Padfoot’s head down.

Moody grumbled, “I’ll still be reporting Sturgis to Dumbledore. That’s the second time he’s not turned up in a week. Getting as unreliable as Mundungus.”

Hermione frowned at this information, tucking it away for further contemplation later. 

Lee, still from George’s back since George had given up on loosening his grip, made an excited noise as he wriggled.

“Lemme go! I gotta go hug my lady love!” 

George rolled his eyes hard as Lee let go (since it had been Lee the whole time who’d been clutching George’s head and shoulders), before bolting towards the recently arrived Fleur.

Fleur barely had a moment to reorient herself as she stepped through the entrance to platform 9¾ with Bill following a moment after. Hermione wasn’t entirely sure Fleur even knew where the rest of the group was before Lee was yelling an excited battle cry and launching himself into her arms.

“ Oh Circé, Lee fait attention à mes cheveux!” Fleur yelped, reeling her head back with her arms out to meet the collision about to happen. 

Bill choked on a laugh as he gallantly tugged the rather pretty looking braid now pinned between Fleur and Lee back behind her shoulder, freeing it from Lee mussing up what was clearly an hour of hard work. 

Lee snuggles into Fleur’s neck, “I don’t understand when you when you yell at me like that, woman.”

It was Fleur’s turn to scoff and roll her eyes, but everyone saw the smile she tried to hide behind Lee’s head of braids. Hermione internally thanked Fred for basically getting in the way of Lee seeing Hermione first and getting a similar hug from Lee. Her much smaller stature wouldn’t have held up as well as the taller Fleur or the stockier twins. 

“Eet’s good to see you again, Lee,” Fleur pats his back, then thankfully Lee let her go, much kinder to her than to either Fred or George, “‘Arry, le frérot , come ‘ere so I can ‘ug you goodbye!”

Hermione caught the genuine look of surprise and warmth that flashed across Bill’s face as Fleur held her arms open for Harry, who didn’t hesitate to move into them. Hermione was thinking more and more that Bill and Fleur were near perfect for one another. Bill, being the older brother to six siblings, obviously enjoyed seeing Fleur basically adopting his own adopted sibling as her own. 

Bill shook Harry’s hand once Fleur let him go (after at least a full two minutes of coddling and fussing to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything; “Between Mrs. Weasley and Hermione, believe me, I’ve got everything.”).

“Have a good year, Harry. If you don’t, I’m scared I’m going to be the one who hears all about Fleur’s frérot causing trouble.”

Harry went a bit red even as he grinned sideways at Fleur, who took the moment to grin and tug his collar straight, “I still don’t know what that means. I’ve just been hoping it’s not bad,”

Bill chuckles, leaning in to say gently, “It means, ‘little brother’. Like me or Charlie might call you ‘kid’. Not actually a brother… but near enough.”

Harry looked incredibly pleased and left Fleur’s side with one last hard hug and a promise to answer her letters as soon as he could and not let them pile up.

Hermione grabbed Harry once he came back, aware she might not get another chance to give all the Weasleys and Harry a last goodbye before they left if the way Fred kept glancing at her was any indication. Harry told her the same thing he’d told Fleur; that he would watch for her letters and promised to write her if he needed any help during OWLS.

Harry was passed along between Tonks, Remus, Molly, Arthur and Padfoot, who attempted to give Harry a hug from his hind legs. When they started to get too much attention because of it, Remus shoved Padfoot’s head down again, while Molly hissed, “For goodness sakes, act more like a dog!”

Hermione didn’t let go of Fred’s hand, and he didn’t let go of hers. Instead, he gave it a squeeze to get her attention once she hugged Ron and Ginny, tucking Ginny’s long hair back behind her ear.

“Come on, come walk with me. We usually grab one of the carriages nearer to the end.”

George told Fred he and Lee would catch up with them, so Hermione and Fred meandered down the platform. A warning whistle sounded and seemed to motivate more students toward the train. 

Fred’s grip on her hand was a bit too tight, but Hermione wasn’t going to say anything.  

She also began to notice that with the surge of more people coming closer to board the train, there were a number of Hogwarts students Hermione remembered from last year from classes or hallways. And apparently, a number of them recognized her as well. 

Hermione wasn’t one to notice when people were… well, noticing her. She was aware she’d had a few admirateurs throughout the years, but she’d never taken any interest in being the sort of witch who longed to be admired. And normally, when she caught a boy looking at her, she would smile kindly and move on, or simply walk away. 

Being surrounded by a number of young adults openly staring after her and Fred, and ones she could place a few names to, felt different and she found she couldn’t shake the feeling of just being blatantly watched. And, she noted with a hint of irritation, that Fred was getting his equal share of looks.

Fred leaned onto her side, “Ignore them— you remember how bad gossip is at Hogwarts. They’re just getting started early.”

She snorts noiselessly, “ Oui , thank Circe I’ll not be around to hear them. You’ll have to keep me up to date on all the good ones.”

Fred’s face fell a bit, making Hermione mentally berate herself.

“I’m going to miss you terribly, Freddie, but distance doesn’t mean we can’t still be the same Hermione and Fred.”

His lips quirked up a bit, the more natural form of his mouth relaxing Hermione immensely. She didn’t want to remember him as sad when she recollected this moment later. 

He pulled her a step closer as he stopped by the middle of a carriage, away from either door behind or in front of them to avoid the students attempting to board, “It’ll be hard to be the exact same when I won’t be able to do this for the next year.”

And if her body melted into the floor when she felt his hand cup her jaw to angle their lips perfectly for a tender kiss, Hermione would never be able to admit it to him. He’d never let her live it down. And, she worried and trembled, he’d more than likely attempt to replicate this kiss until he could beat each previous one.

Hermione didn’t so much mind the stares and whispering from the younger and equal-aged students as they moved around them, thinking to herself that she could be all right with Fred being stared at so long as they knew exactly which witch he’d be kissing. 

A little humming sound left her when red pulled away, making him smile again as he wiped his thumb under her bottom lip where some of her gloss had ended up. She wasn’t as kind and left the little smear she’d left on his own. 

“What’re your plans for Christmas?” Fred asked suddenly, making Hermione’s brain whirl for a moment as it tried to catch back up with conversation again.

“Erm, I usually go home to spend it with Hugo.”

Fred nods, “And Terri?”

“Sometimes. She has a nephew and his family she visits, but she comes by for at least a dinner over the break.”

“How do you think Hugo would feel about the two— or three, if Terri wants— of you coming to England for the holiday?”

Hermione blinks up at him, “...You think you’re parents would be all right with that? What if your mum and dad aren’t back at the Burrow yet…”

“Offers still stands,” Fred says gently, “Mum told me to invite you, like, a week ago. If she’s not worried and Hugo wouldn’t mind, you’re welcome to come. And besides,” Fred grins that mischievous little grin that always spells trouble for Hermione, “it’ll give me a chance to kiss you again sooner than June.”

That breaks through, and Hermione smiles warmly up at Fred, going up on her tiptoes to be the one to kiss him this time.

The expression that was on his face afterwards, like he was just waking up and didn’t quite know where he was, left Hermione giggling. This was a much better goodbye than either of them being sad. 

“I’ll ask Hugo once I’m in Paris, and tell him about your… erm,” she squints, realizing she was coming up blank for the correct word. 

Fred waits, then smirks and then grins wildly at her when he realizes she was still having trouble thinking of the right word.

“You haven’t done this in a while,” he remarks as he wraps his arms around her, one hand at her waist while the other trailed a tad bit lower, “use whatever you’re thinking of. Let’s see if I can guess.”

Hermione pouts a bit, “I’ve been speaking more English this entire past year than I normally do. I’m usually talking in French throughout my school year, and both being spoken at home with Hugo.”

Fred cackles a bit, “Are you implying me and my family have lost you your ability to be bilingual?”

Hermione growls, “If that were true, I’d remember the bloody word for demande .”

He cocks his head, “Demand?”

“ Non , it’s not that rude sounding…”

Fred hums, “...Request?”

“ Oui ! Oh, ‘invitation’...” Hermione perks up happily, giving him another kiss in thanks, “Circe, that’s embarrassing.”

“Not embarrassing, remember,” Fred kisses the tip of her nose, obviously just as unapologetic for the gooey-ness of their conversation, “Impressive.”

“Right,” Hermione grins, and he grins, and they just smile at one another for a long moment. 

“Hermione? Fred?”

The pair break away from one another gaze to look over at the person calling for them and spotted Katie Bell grinning at them a few feet away.

“It is you! Merlin, I didn’t know you were in England!”

Hermione chuckles as Fred releases her (mostly) to turn towards their friend, “That seems to be the reaction from everyone. Seems we were a bit remiss in not writing everyone that I came home with Fred.”

Katie skips forward to grab the both of them into hugs, “You didn’t need to share your summer with us, I don’t blame you two for wanting to spend time together. Having a bunch of us around you all the time, I’ll bet you wouldn’t have been able to have much alone time anyhow.”

Hermione could nearly feel Fred biting his tongue not to admit they’d still had to do so since they’d just spent the last month around his family. But Grimmauld and the Weasley’s ‘summering’ was still a secret no one was allowed to mention. The Order of the Phoenix’s headquarters needed to stay quiet. 

“And how was your summer, Katie?” Fred asks once he gets his own embrace. Katie smiles as she flicks her long black hair over her shoulder. Hermione notices a new ear piercing at the top of one ear that hadn’t been there the year before. 

“Good, thanks. My parents and I went to Barbados for a couple weeks, then we stayed home for the rest of the summer. I caught up a couple of times with Alicia and Angelina… actually, they should be around here somewhere…”

Katie looked over her shoulder in search of the last two-thirds of the Gryffindor Girls trio. Fred sent Hermione a slightly frantic look that she quieted with a wide-eyed look of her own.

Unfortunately (or perhaps, fortunately, as it may have filled in any potential awkwardness with so many people), George rocked up with Lee, Fleur and inexplicably Cedric Diggory in tow, as Alicia caught Katie’s eye, and dragged Angelina over to the larger group. 

It seemed, Hermione realized, that other than Angelina and George themselves, Hermione and Fred were the only people who were aware of the breakup. 

Alicia was her usual bubbly and friendly self, gathering Fred, Lee then George into a happy hug and then attacking Fleur and Hermione with a separate flurry of embraces. And while Angelina gave them similarly excited hugs, Hermione was highly aware of the way the girl made a sort of drive-by hug for Fred and avoided touching George at all in order to greet Lee and then say hello to Cedric.

Hermione’s eyes flicked to George who outwardly looked no different, but with her experience of looking at Fred and hanging around the other twin for most of this summer, Hermione could detect the tight look around his eyes and the absence of a grin. 

Alicia, like the others, took no notice of anything out of the ordinary, “When did you get back, Fred?”

Fred shrugs, “Beginning of August. Hermione’s uncle didn’t mind me taking Hermione back with me, so she’s been staying with us the rest of the summer.” They hadn’t thought up an excuse for why Hermione might have come back with him, but it was good enough for on the fly.

Hermione still gave a bit more context, hoping it was enough for their friends not to ask more questions, “Harry got in a bit of trouble with some Dementors, and I came back with Fred to see everyone while things got sorted.”

Katie nods, “Yeah, we heard about that. But he’s ok, right? I was going to find him on the train,”

George nods, “Yeah, everything’s worked out fine. Bloody git always manages to weasel his way out of things, doesn’t he?”

Everyone shares a laugh at that, and Hermione tries not to stare at Angelina when she stops laughing a lot sooner than everyone else. 

Fred turns to Cedric, apparently being of like minds with Hermione, and not wanting things to become awkward to invite unwanted questions amongst everyone, “And Diggory, I thought you were out travelling? When did you show up?”

Cedric smirks, “I walked up just as you and Hermione were walking off, and George warned me it might be safer to stick near him and Fleur.”

Hermione blushes as Fred pokes Cedric’s shoulder, “Thanks, but also, bite me, Diggory.”

Cedric laughs, “I only got back from the States yesterday, but thought I’d come and wave you all off since I wasn’t due at the Ministry until later today.”

Hermione perked up, “Do you have a job lined up there?”

He nods, looking pleased with her asking, “In the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Since there was a need for a new lead, there was an open employee position to fill.”

“Well, good for you! Hopefully, with a few brains in the Department, there won’t end up being another Tournament in the next five or so years.” Fred grins even as Hermione pinches his arm and Fleur reaches over to smack at his arm. 

Fleur mutters at him, “That iz too soon, tu morveux .”

Fred smirks but then immediately looks affronted, “Hey wait, I know what that one means! Don’t be mean!”

Fleur looks rather pleased with herself as she smirks back at him, “ Allez-vous me dénoncer?”  

It took a second or two of Fred squinting suspiciously at Fleur silently before he looked down at Hermione with a pleading look.

Hermione snorted, “I told you to learn more French. I won’t always be around to back you up against Fleur.”

The rest of their friends laughed while Fred let out a truly dejected harumph , “I’ll just have Bill do it then, so you might as well help me now.”

Fleur went pink at the innocent insinuation that Bill would ‘be around’ near enough for Fred to ask him something about  Fleur. Hermione smirked at her friend as she finally gave in and told Fred, “She asked who you were going to tell on her to.”

As Fred turned to retaliate now that he was in on the joke, Hermione’s eye was caught by Cedric asking Alicia a question. Something, from what Hermione caught, about a scarf or some such that Alicia had been wearing last year at Hogwarts. The relevance was lost on Hermione, but the bright pink of Alicia’s cheeks was not.

‘ Interesting ,’ Hermione thought to herself, wondering if she’d have a chance to ask Fred to spy for her before he left, without Alicia noticing. 

Another warning whistle went off, and the scramble to board the train became a bit more congested. Katie decided it was best to go and find a compartment before they were all filled with little firsties. Angelina jumped to follow her after a cool goodbye that Hermione figured was more because George was there and not a reflection of her feelings toward everyone else. 

George clapped Cedric on the shoulder, “We’ll write you once we know the first Hogsmeade weekend, and you can come grab a butterbeer with us.”

Cedric grins, shaking both Fred and George’s hands, “Sounds great. I’d love to hear about the rest of you lads’ summer. Tell Harry hello for me, would you? Looks like he jumped on the train with the younger Weasley’s already.”

“Will do,” George tells him, Fred nods, and Lee and Hermione wave as Cedric takes a step back. 

Fleur quickly tells Cedric she’ll walk back with him and darts forward to grab George into a hug since he was the nearest. 

“Be good, George. Molly ‘as given me full permission to tell you all off when you are off causing mischief.”