Unlikely || George Weasley

Chapter 8 - Butterbeer

{I've made up some names for students who died in the Battle of Hogwarts.}

The Burrow, May 19 1998

"Could you hold Teddy for a second, dear?"

Mrs Weasley thrust the baby into Hermione's arms on her way past the dining table. Hermione cradled Teddy's head, shushing him and rocking him gently. She had no experience with babies, but thought that was what you were meant to do.

It was quiet in the house for a change. The second day of funerals had been worse than the first – today had been Remus and Tonks. There had been a small service in a dusty countryside church after the burying of the coffins. Andromeda had bluntly refused to lay her daughter and son-in-law to rest in the Black family plot. Not that Remus belonged there any less than Tonks – both completely outcast by the family. It wouldn't have made any sense. In the end they were buried in adjacent plots in the graveyard of Tonks' childhood church where the service had taken place.

Harry had been red eyed and silent. She and Ron stood with him at towards the back of the gathered family and friends as they said goodbye. There were fewer people at this funeral than Lavender's. Harry insisted on attending every single service, with the unspoken burden of each death weighing on his mind. Hermione and Ron had tried to reason with him, to get through to him and ease the guilt but he wasn't having any of it. It was just how Harry was. He'd gone for a long walk through the countryside with Ron as soon as they'd apparated back to the Burrow.

Teddy burbled, his tiny hands reaching out and pulling at a strand of Hermione's hair.

"Ouch, naughty. Let go, please." She teased it out of his grasp and tickled his cheeks. Teddy smiled a toothless, wide smile at her. She found herself smiling back.

Mrs Weasley bustled back into the room and scooped Teddy from her, patting her hand reassuringly.

"There's some cold lemonade in the fridge if you want any, dear, and I'm making pie for dinner. Is leek and ham ok?" Molly asked, stroking Teddy's mop of sandy blond hair off his forehead. It turned electric blue at her touch.

Hermione's stomach twisted in guilt. "Yes, thank you Mrs Weasley. That sounds perfect."

The older woman tutted. "Molly, dear. Call me Molly."

"Oh. Thank you, Molly. And – and thank you again, for letting me stay. I'm sorry I'm such a bother..." Her gut twisted painfully as she tried not to think about her empty family home. A house that had been wiped clean of any memory of her. She had nowhere else to go, without a knut or sickle to her name. If it hadn't been for the Weasleys, she'd be homeless. Nothing she could do would ever make it up to the family entirely.

"Don't be silly! You're always welcome here. All those empty bedrooms, such a waste of space otherwise." Molly chuckled dryly. She'd finally convinced Hermione to take Charlie's old room on the top floor. She was so grateful for the chance to expand and unpack in her own space, she didn't even mind the assortment of dragon posters that occasionally scared her by roaring in the night.

Mrs Weasley took Teddy upstairs for his afternoon nap while Andromeda was still at the service. Harry and Ron still weren't back from their walk yet, Ginny was practicing quidditch drills in the garden and Fred and George had apparated straight to the shop. They planned to reopen fully in Diagon Alley on the first day of June.

She hadn't spoken to George much since the evening after the Fiendfyre incident. He always looked so guarded, so tired – Hermione desperately wanted to talk to him properly. To say she was confused by her friend was an understatement. Her head was a complete muddle of emotions and arguments that spilled out into her daydreams. She hoped nobody else had noticed.