Unlikely || George Weasley

Chapter 10 - Yule & Fool

{If you're in to listening to music that features in the story, get Don't Stop Me Now by Queen ready for the latter half of the second memory. How do you feel about music chapters? Let me know!}

Grimmauld Place, December 21 1995

Dear Mum and Dad,

Merry Christmas!

I'm so sorry to leave it this late, but I'm just so busy with schoolwork that I really think I should stay at Hogwarts and get on top of it all. We've started on animal transfiguration this term, which is heinously tricky, and I want to stay at school over the holiday and keep working. The OWLs aren't far away, and I want to do you both proud. Sorry again.

Have a fantastic time skiing! Tell me all about it when you get back.

Miss and love you both lots,

Hermione.

***

She'd given up on the idea of a skiing holiday with her parents long ago; she wasn't coordinated enough to get any enjoyment out of it. So, when Dumbledore had summoned Hermione to his office yesterday morning and solemnly explained that Harry had had a vision of Arthur Weasley being attacked by a giant snake prove true, she hadn't battled with her conscience for long. She sent a rushed letter to her parents saying she was sorry, but she needed to stay and revise at Hogwarts over the Christmas break.

They didn't need to know any more than that.

She'd missed the Hogwarts Express, so her whole journey down on the stomach-churning Knight Bus to London was spent worrying about her best friends and trying to suppress the terror she felt. Harry had been acting so strangely recently, his occlumency lessons with Snape not going well at all. She was sure he would be in one of his foul, erratic moods when she got there. He'd be blaming himself as usual. And Ron – well, Dumbledore had spoken about the attack in a grave, serious voice. She hoped to any and all the Gods listening that Mr Weasley would be ok.

The bus sped on, jumping from the snow-capped mountains of Scotland to heaving cities plastered in Christmas fairy lights, to icy country lanes surrounded by fields. Each movement sent a wave of increasing nausea through her. Hermione couldn't wait to learn to apparate and never take this bus again.

She'd brushed the snow off her scarf and been bustled in to the dark London house by Mrs Weasley, who pulled her into a fierce hug. The doorbell had caused the portrait of Walburga Black to howl and curse Hermione's bloodline from above.

"How is he?" Hermione had asked immediately.

"He'll live, dear, thank Merlin. They're working on him now. It was so lucky – if Harry hadn't seen..." Mrs Weasley had trailed off, dabbing her eyes with an already sodden hanky. Hermione hugged her again. She didn't need to finish.

Hearing her arrive, thanks to the shrieks of Mrs Black, Ron ran down the stairs and hugged her too. She had gripped him back tightly. Hugs conveyed an awful lot, if you held on long enough. She'd noticed over the years that she didn't hug Ron as often as she hugged Harry, their friendship was more turbulent and likely to splinter. But she still loved him – not in the way that she was certain Mrs Weasley suspected though.

"I'm so glad to see you," Ron said in a gruff voice, breaking apart and looking drained. "Harry won't come out of Buckbeak's room. He won't even look at any of us – I don't know what to do." None of the Weasleys so far looked like they'd had any sleep.

"We'll see about that," Hermione shook off her damp coat, hung it on the back of a nearby chair and marched up the stairs. "Get Ginny and wait in your room. I'll talk to him."