Chapter Text
If there was one tradition Hermione had no intention of breaking, it was spending the last fifteen days of summer at The Burrow.
It had started almost by accident a few years ago. The first time was for the Quidditch World Cup, then an invitation from Molly, followed by another, and before she knew it, spending the final two weeks of the holidays with the Weasleys and Harry had become a summer staple. After all, two whole months away from her best friends was enough to drive anyone mad.
They had already been settled at the house for four days. The afternoons flew by in a blur of Exploding Snap games, walks around the grounds, and makeshift Quidditch matches. Hermione, like any bookworm (Ron’s words, not hers), preferred sitting under the shade of a tree with a good book, though she would occasionally look up to cheer for Ginny, who seemed to take special pleasure in defeating Harry and Ron at the same time.
However, if Hermione had to pick her favorite moment of the day, it was always breakfast.
The entire family gathered around the table, the scent of freshly made food, conversations crisscrossing over one another, and her best friends planning whatever they were going to do this time.
"The remodeling is going pretty well," Harry noted before taking a sip of his tea. "I think I'm going to keep most of the house as it is. I just want to change the wallpaper, plus I’ve already started moving the paintings up to the attic, though none of them seem very happy with the idea."
Hermione couldn't help but smile, imagining Harry arguing with the portraits of old Blacks as he tried to drag them upstairs. The last time she had seen one, it had hurled a couple of insults at her—insults she could perfectly ignore now, thanks to years of practice.
"And when do you plan on moving in?" she asked, spearing a piece of scrambled egg from her plate with her fork.
"If Kreacher finishes putting up the new wallpaper, I should probably be able to live there by Christmas."
Hermione's smile vanished the moment she heard the elf's name.
"Harry..."
Harry knew, the moment he pronounced Kreacher's name, that he had just stepped into dangerous territory.
It wasn't the first time.
Hermione had spent years arguing that house-elves deserved to be free, and though he shared some of her views, living with Kreacher had taught him that reality was far more complicated than either of them had imagined. The old elf remained grumpy and insufferable most of the time, but he seemed genuinely content taking care of the Black home.
He had tried to give him a day off once, but it only resulted in him eating salty food for the rest of the week and getting contemptuous glares from him.
Though Hermione, of course, did not see it the same way.
Harry recognized the signs instantly: that tiny intake of breath, the way she straightened her back, and the determined spark that appeared in her eyes whenever she was about to defend a cause.
He sighed inwardly, resigned to his fate.
But fate smiled upon Harry, and before Hermione could start, Ginny emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray piled high with cinnamon and sugar biscuits. The delicious aroma flooded the room, and the tray barely survived a couple of seconds before Ron lunged at it with an enthusiasm that made it seem like he hadn't eaten in days.
"Hey! Leave at least one for us!" Ginny protested, trying to swat his hand away.
"What? I am sharing." His mouth was so full of biscuits that he could barely close it, his cheeks covered in sugar and cinnamon like a toddler caught eating sweets. But, well... Ron was a four-year-old when it came to food.
Harry watched the scene with an arched eyebrow.
"Ron, you've had four."
"Five," Hermione corrected automatically.
Ron stopped chewing just long enough to shoot her an offended look.
"I didn't know you were keeping score." His offended look lasted a tenth of a second before his eyes darted right back to the plate of biscuits with absolute fascination to keep devouring them.
"There were only 10 biscuits, it's easy to see when half of them vanish," the brunette laughed teasingly before receiving another recriminating look from Ron.
Ginny let out a loud laugh.
"Well, when the house is ready we'll have to go see it. We can spend a few days there for Christmas... provided Ron doesn't empty the pantry on the first day." The redhead took a seat beside Hermione and Percy, who seemed completely absorbed in a conversation with his parents at the other end of the table.
"Hey!" Ron sputtered indignantly, pausing with another biscuit hovering inches from his mouth.
The guys laughed at the redhead's reaction, mostly because they knew Ron was perfectly capable of clearing out the pantry all on his own.
"Have you spoken to Dumbledore about that?" Hermione questioned, attentive to Harry's response. She more than anyone wanted him to have his own place, even more after knowing everything he went through with his aunt and uncle whenever he returned from Hogwarts, but the risks over the last few years were too high to act recklessly. "You know, about having your space, if it's safe to live alone right now."
He fell silent for a moment, and Hermione's gaze hardened.
"No, not yet." Harry rubbed the back of his neck, looking so guilty that Hermione already knew what was coming next; she always knew when it came to Harry and his impulsiveness. "But things have quieted down. After the disaster at the Ministry, he hasn't shown up again."
"Harry, that doesn't mean it's saf—" the brunette reproached, her eyes accusing him.
"Besides, Grimmauld Place is safe. Sirius lived there for years without anyone ever finding it," he continued, completely blowing past what Hermione was saying.
"No, Harry, that doesn't matter, you know very well it's to—"
"It's been over a year since we've heard anything from the Death Eater's. We even looked under every stone, but everything seems fine, and—"
"Harry!" Her voice rang out above all the conversations at the table.
All the noise in the kitchen went dead for a moment.
Arthur stopped eating his breakfast, and Molly looked up from the teapot. Even Percy cut off the conversation he was having with his parents.
Harry blinked, startled—a bit more by the volume of her voice than by the fact that she was scolding him.
He was already well used to that.
Hermione felt her cheeks burn for a moment as she became the center of attention, offering an apologetic smile to the rest of the table.
"I'm sorry, please carry on..."
Molly smiled at her warmly before returning to pour the tea, as if wishing to play down the disruption, a gesture for which a still very embarrassed Hermione was deeply grateful. The girl cleared her throat, trying to ignore her mortification, though Ginny’s muffled giggling beside her didn't help much.
"Precisely because of that, it worries me. Just because they haven't appeared doesn't mean they've disappeared."
"A year, Herms... a whole year."
"A year and 3 months..." the brunette corrected, much to her chagrin.
"I'm not saying I plan to put up a sign with my address and leave the front door unlocked." Though, knowing Harry, it wouldn't surprise her too much. "But I think we've earned at least a little bit of peace, don't you think?"
"I just think you should talk to Dumbledore about the matter. He would know for certain what we ought to do." Hermione lowered her gaze toward her teacup. A year and three months. In the beginning, everything had been so chaotic. After an entrance as big as the Ministry, their sudden disappearance out of nowhere had put the entire Order of the Phoenix on high alert. But then 4 months passed, then 8 months, then a year passed, and little by little the guards thinned out and the meetings stopped being so frequent. No one explicitly said the danger was gone... but many were starting to act as if it were. "Just talk to him. Send him an owl explaining things. If everything is going as well as you think, he shouldn't have any reason to tell you no, right?"
"I'm sure Dumbledore has better things to worry about than where I am sleeping," the black-haired boy replied, weary of the conversation and wishing Hermione would just let it drop.
"We both know that whatever he is doing, he will answer your letter."
"Herms..."
"Harry..."
The tone of both was laced with exhaustion. The truth was, Harry could never quite understand Hermione’s exhaustive worry, and Hermione had no idea how Harry could be so reckless in his actions. Both were gearing up to say something else in their favor, but Ginny’s voice cut across them quickly.
"Actually, I think it's a good idea." Harry shifted his tired gaze to his redhead girlfriend. Ginny, who was eating the last biscuit she managed to snatch from Ron, was watching him intently. "Nothing sounds better than spending Christmas all together in your first house, but I'd rather the dinner not be crashed by a bunch of uninvited Death Eaters burning down everything you just fixed up."
Both held their gazes for a couple of seconds. Ron and Hermione didn't know which of the two to look at—Ginny with her confident composure, or Harry who looked utterly doubtful.
Harry let out a long sigh.
"Fine. I'll write to Dumbledore."
A victorious smile couldn't wait to bloom on Ginny's face.
"Perfect. Frankly, I prefer the only explosions at Christmas to come from Fred and George."
The conversation drifted on for a good while. As was usually the case at The Burrow, one topic inevitably led to another. Grimmauld Place, in some way Hermione couldn't quite track, gave way to Chocolate Frogs, then to their last visits to Hogsmeade, and before Hermione could even follow the thread, Harry and Ron were already debating the best lineup to secure the Quidditch Cup this year.
When Molly finished clearing the table, everyone agreed that today would be a day of doing absolutely nothing. After all, yesterday had been an exhausting day for the 4 of them, with Ginny winning 2 Quidditch matches in a row against the boys and Hermione finally finishing her last pending book on Advanced Ancient Runes.
Spending the day in the Weasleys' living room and doing nothing was a plan that, in fact, the brunette found quite appealing.
Although Ron insisted on a game of wizard's chess, and after 10 minutes of a redhead buzzing persistently in her ear, Hermione accepted—on the condition that he wouldn't complain when he lost again. Harry and Ginny did seem to want to follow the established plan. Both occupied the old sofa by the window, sitting far too close to each other for Ron's taste, who didn't stop making faces of absolute disgust every time he saw them laughing quietly like a pair of lovesick fools.
Hermione had to stifle a laugh when Ron let out an exaggerated gagging sound.
"Have you never seen a couple before? You should mature and behave like a normal person," Ginny snapped after putting up with her brother for as long as she could. 10 minutes to be exact according to Hermione—a minute and a half longer than last time.
"I would if you guys did too."
"Someday some poor unfortunate soul will be your girlfriend, and then it will be my turn for revenge." He stuck his tongue out at his sister as a sign of mockery before promptly receiving a cushion blow to the right side of his face.
Hermione laughed as she moved one of her bishops across the board.
She had truly missed this.
Not just Harry and Ron, but the constant noise of The Burrow. The unimportant arguments, the jokes, the smell of food that seemed to never disappear, and the ease with which everyone filled the house with life. Her parents had worked through most of the summer, and although she enjoyed the silence to read, there were moments when her own house felt entirely too quiet.
The Burrow was exactly the opposite.
Perhaps that was why she always ended up feeling a little more at home there than she was ever willing to admit.
A sudden hooting broke the moment.
Four owls descended through the open living room window and dropped several letters onto the table before taking flight again.
Hermione recognized the Hogwarts crest immediately and her hands moved as fast as they could to snatch it up. She knew that none of the boys was in any particular hurry to check what came in their letters, but she certainly was. She wanted to know if there would be a new book they had to buy, some notice about the start of term, or if she required exclusive ingredients for her new advanced potions classes.
It didn't take her long to rip open the letter and read it. In fact, she read it twice just to be absolutely certain of what she was seeing before leaving it on the table.
When she looked up, a huge smile illuminated her face.
"And what does it say?" Ginny asked with curiosity. "You're smiling so much I'm worried classes start tomorrow."
Hermione let out a small laugh.
"By Merlin! It is much, much better than that."
"Worrying..." Ron muttered low before receiving a playful swat from Hermione.
Harry stopped hugging his girlfriend to straighten up in his place and Ron leaned in to join the conversation, pushing the chessboard aside to look at the brunette in confusion.
"The Ministry and Hogwarts are going to start a new cultural program for the students."
None of the three understood where this was going. The bewildered expressions on all three boys' faces almost tore a laugh from Hermione, who still seemed to be on the verge of exploding with excitement.
Hermione took a breath, hoping not to speak as fast as when she usually got excited.
"They are going to open cultural clubs."
"Clubs?" Ron repeated, confused. "Like the Quidditch team?"
"Not exactly."
Hermione pulled the letter from Harry's hands and pointed to one of the handwritten paragraphs.
"Read this part."
Ginny leaned her face in and began to scan the text with her eyes before reading aloud.
"«Starting this upcoming school year, all students must belong to a cultural, artistic, sporting, or social club approved by the Ministry in order to sit for their O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams.»"
The redhead looked up with disgust.
"Is it mandatory?"
"Keep reading."
"«Students may submit proposals for the creation of new clubs during the following 15 days. Approved projects must conduct activities during the year and present an exhibition at mid-year and at the end before the student body and the Ministry's Council of Magic and Culture.»"
The room fell silent for a few seconds.
It was Ron who spoke first.
"So... we have a final project?"
Harry's gaze scanned the letter with disinterest, passing it to his girlfriend before lying back on the sofa again.
"Sounds like a lot of work."
Hermione shook her head, incapable of hiding her excitement.
"No! Don't you understand? We can create our own clubs!"
Ron arched an eyebrow.
"And why on earth would I want to do that?"
Hermione took the letter again and quickly looked for the corresponding section.
"It says right here that any student can propose one, provided it promotes the artistic, cultural, sporting, or social development of the magical community. If the Ministry approves it, the club will officially open during the course."
None of the three seemed very excited, but Ron was the one who stood out over the rest. He seemed to want nothing to do with the content of the letter, and that tore a smile from Harry; seeing his two friends being as opposite as always was a spectacle.
"I suppose someone will propose a Quidditch club."
"The Quidditch team already exists, genius," Ginny shot back with a mordant smile at her brother.
"Then a chess one?"
"Also already exists."
Ron let out a heavy sigh.
"Well, those were all my ideas. It was a good attempt."
"It wasn't many ideas, so that tracks," Ginny mocked before starting a small cushion fight with her brother, leaving poor Harry as a victim of crossfire and a Hermione too lost in her thoughts, looking at the letter with dreaminess and too many plans.
Hermione barely listened to them.
Her mind had already started to work. She would base it on what her parents had done in university, and she hoped that if the Ministry approved it, her research would be as important as the texts she loved to read.
She already had even in mind what her club would be about.
While the others had already moved past the content of the letter, she was already imagining the name of her club. Hermione Granger was ready to have the best club of all.