CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
Hermione's POV:
I didn't sleep well. Maybe it was being back here, reminding me of everything I'd fled from just a mere week ago, maybe it was because asking for a few good nights in a row is apparently too much.
Whatever the cause, I woke suddenly at three in the morning, my heart racing with fear, the screams from my past echoing in my head, and my body trembling with remembered pain. I pulled my knees up to my chest and buried my face in them, as I sucked in some much needed oxygen. The air caught on the way in.
When my heart rate was back to normal, and my breathing had slowed to an acceptable level, I slipped off the mattress, and crept out of the bedroom. I paused on the stairwell, reflexively looking up- up to Ron's room.
Was he in there? I wondered. Was he in there, and just avoiding me? Hiding from me? Still angry with me?
Well, seeing as he hadn't answered a single one of my letters, I could assume the latter was true. I can't help the long-suffering sigh that escapes my lips, as I think of my red-haired (ex?) best friend. During the Final Battle, he kissed me. Seeing as we might not live through the next few hours, I let him. But afterwards, when he tried to get me to enter a relationship with him?
I was not attracted to males. I'd told him that, over and over, but he just couldn't accept it. I refused to go on a date with him, refused to kiss him and, in his words, refused to give him a chance. A chance? A chance? A small, bitter smile tugs on my lips as I remember my heated response.
"What if Harry wanted to go on a date with you, Ron, huh? Would you 'give him a chance?'" I had demanded. By this point we had been arguing for so long that both our tempers were high and we were face to face shouting at each other.
Ron had screwed his face up in disgust at the thought of him and Harry getting it on. "But that's different!" He'd tried arguing, and at this point I had to physically refrain from trying to strangle him, as if I started, I was fairly certain I wouldn't be able to stop- or actually want to stop, for that matter.
"How Ron? How?" I'd been ready to tear out my own hair in frustration. "I really don't see any difference, so please- enlighten me!"
Ron had just looked back at me, his blue eyes wide and expression incredulous, as if he couldn't understand why I couldn't understand.
"It just is!" he'd said, which had been frustrating but not unexpected at that point, but then he'd made the mistake of adding; "Seriously, Hermione- you're supposed to be the smartest witch of this generation!"
I had proceeded to spend a worryingly long moment debating how best to dispose of a body and who I could enlist to give me an alibi, while simultaneously brainstorming a list of the most painful curses I could send his way in order of lethality, so I'd know which ones to start with.
In the end, though, I'd admitted defeat in trying to make him see things from my perspective and just sighed, running my hands through my hair; something I tended to do whenever I was stressed, exasperated, annoyed, angry, upset... the list went on for a while. Harry had said to me more then once that that was probably why it was so bushy- and so had Bella. The first time Harry said that, back in my first year, the same thing my twin had been telling me since we were eight years old, I'd known we'd be best friends for life.
Ron was still my best friend too, but until he could accept who I was, I couldn't stay and be his friend.
"I can't take this anymore, Ron," I'd told him. "Right now I can't even bear to look at you."
His face had turned an amusing shade of puce as I turned on my foot and stormed out of his room, ignoring all his shouts for me to come back- I had been so done with his bloody attitude. Still was, in fact.
I brought myself back to the present as I made my way down the stairs, through the kitchen, and then out the back door. The Weasleys have a large, overgrown garden, complete with a pond full of frogs. It's the sort of backyard that everyone living in a city wishes for, despite its somewhat wild state. Over in the corner is the broom-shed where the Weasley kids used to keep their broomsticks- I'm pretty sure it used to be a stone outhouse.
For a long time, I just stare out across the garden, mind occupied by vague thoughts, when a movement on the roof grabs to my attention. A sickening mixture of horror, grief and expectancy filled me- standing on the edge, near one of the many chimneys, stood George Weasley.
He was staring up at the sky, arms limp by his sides. His feet were bare, and his toes, tinged blue from cold, were curling over the edge of the tiles. His pajamas hung loosely from his thin, rake-like form, and his once vibrant red-hair seemed limp, dull. Dead- like George was inside. Like he had been since Fred was killed.
I apparate up onto the roof beside George and stand next to him, threading my fingers through his cold, clammy ones. He doesn't even turn to look at me, doesn't move his gaze from the bright stars shining above us, like diamonds. A half moon hangs high in the sky. No werewolves will be roaming tonight, some part of me notes.
"Let's go back inside." I say, making my voice soft. George doesn't respond, of course- he's barely said a word since he buried Fred. But he follows me, as I tug on his hand, trailing after me, obediently, while staring ahead vacantly. His once bright eyes were now unfocused, unseeing- dull. It was heartbreaking.
I took him back to his room, and laid him back down in bed. It used to be Bill's room, I'm told- George didn't want to go back to the room he and Fred shared. I gently pulled the duvet up over his thin, shivering body, before crawling onto the bed beside him, on top of the blankets, wrapping my arms around him.
This wasn't the first time I've found him on the roof. And it probably won't be the last time. The first time I saw him up there, a few weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, I was terrified he was planning on jumping, on killing himself. I think that might have actually been his plan. I had nightmares, for days afterwards, of catching sight of him, as I circled the night sky in eagle form. I'd panicked, going straight to him and practically dragging him back inside. But when he continued appearing, night after night, I realized that all he did was stand there, staring up at the stars. He never tried to jump.
Just looked up at the night sky, at the stars (at the Heaven he desperately wished existed, so that one day he might be reunited with his other half).
I stay by George's side until morning, curled up beside him, misery washing through me, wave after wave, as tears flowed down my cheeks.
When one of the roosters started crowing, I wiped my eyes dry, scourgified my face, and even cast a quick neatening charm on my hair. I deemed my pajamas- simple button-down flannelettes, appropriate for public wear, and left George's room after kissing his forehead, walking downstairs to the kitchen.
Mrs. Weasley is already in the kitchen, and her eyes are red and puffy. I don't comment, and if she sees any signs of my mostly sleepless night, she doesn't comment either. That's the way it had worked, these last three months, since the battle. It almost feels like I never left here. All the progress I've made over the week seems to be unraveling, reverting me back to my previous chaotic, emotional, wrecked self.
Bella emerges down for breakfast at around eight, along with Ginny and Harry. Ginny is still going to Hogwarts this year, but it's been arranged for her to return home over the weekends. It's not an unusual situation- students had been trapped in the castle during Voldemort's reign, and this was a way to assure them they were free, that they were safe and could leave if they needed.
Ginny and Harry say their good mornings to me, and Bella hurries over to my side. She's holding up quite well in this new, amazingly bizarre place- I fully remember the first time I came here- but I can see how her eyes keep locking onto the knitting needles hovering in mid-air in the corner, knitting a bright blue scarf. She also seems entranced by the gnomes scurrying around the backyard, visible from the kitchen window, and even Mrs. Weasley's long robes- slightly on the shabby side, but a nice shade of green, keep catching her attention.
"You're doing well." I tell her, as she slides into place beside me.
"Holy crap, Hermione, this is insane- even for me." She mumbles, and I reach over and squeeze her hand. She gives me a slightly helpless expression. "This is... it's just so unreal!" She whispers, and I nod, my lips twitching.
"I know." I tell her. Mrs. Weasley chooses now to speak up.
"Honestly, it's quite remarkable how alike your appearances are!" she marvels, "Both of you, your faces have such a similar structure, your eyes are the same shape and shade, and your skin is identical! The only real difference is Bella's hair seems so groomed and controlled, while Hermione's is... well, wild and untamable." Bella looks at me, obviously wondering if I'll take offense to Mrs. Weasley's comment, but I just laugh.
"My hair takes after our birth father." I tell her.
"Do you have a picture?" Molly asks, interested.
"I'll bring one next time." I promise.
"So what's the agenda today?" She asks, the Weasley matriarch only slightly disappointed, bustling over and serving Bella up a large helping of scrambled eggs on buttered toast.
"Showing Bella Quidditch!" Harry and Ginny say at the same time and I roll my eyes at them.
"I was thinking more along the lines of Diagon Alley." I interject.
"Let me guess- Flourish and Blotts?" Harry teases. Ginny, seeing Bella's confused look, explains to her that it's a bookshop, and Bella gives me a knowing look, a grin on her face as she relaxes.
"How about you do both," Mrs. Weasley says, looking amused, "Harry and Ginny can take Bella flying, and after lunch we can all pop around to Diagon Alley. I know Percy and Audrey are coming over for lunch- they're quite eager to meet Bella." She adds.
"Fine!" I sigh, throwing my hands in the air, in an overly theatrical manner that makes Harry and Ginny smirk. Bella, on the other hand, has started looking a touch apprehensive- knowing how clumsy she is on the ground, I can only hope she's better in the air.
-
"Okay," Ginny says to Bella, who's gnawing anxiously on the bottom of her lip hard enough that blood is starting to bead along it.
Bella is currently standing with a broom between her legs, her arms wrapped around Ginny's waist. Ginny is also standing over the broom, but she's also grasping onto the handle with a confident grip. "You ready?" She asks.
"As I'll ever be," Bella says, her face a touch on the pale side. I don't think Harry's loop-the-loops in the air above us have been inspiring much confidence in her.
"Let's go!" Ginny laughs, and suddenly the broom is soaring off the ground. Bella lets out a bloodcurdling scream, and I shift into my Animagus form so I can fly up next to her, having no interest in getting on a broom myself.
"HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!" Bella is screaming- I'm not sure if it's because she's flying on the back of a broomstick, or because of the fact she just saw her sister turn into a large bird. I've told her about me being an Animagus, what an Animagus is, and what form I take, but seeing someone turn into an animal is... well, bizarre. Even for the girl who's best friend frequently turns into a giant wolf.
I fly up next to them, enjoying the English countryside below us but Bella looks more woozy then anything. I let out a loud screech that's eagle-speak for 'I think my sister might be about to faint!', but unfortunately neither Harry or Ginny speak eagle. And then seconds later Bella's eyes roll up into her head and she plummets off the back of the broom.
"BELLA!" screams Ginny, diving after my unconscious twin. Harry's faster, managing to reach out and snag one of Bella's arms. The shift in weight causes him to almost turn upside down on the broom, but he manages to hold on and pull up, simultaneously showing off his skills as youngest Seeker of the century, possibly saving my sister's life, and definitely saving her from broken bones, and giving me time to get to the ground, change back and cast a levitation charm.
I lower Bella down onto the ground, kneel beside her, and murmur, "Enervate!" Her eyes flutter open, and seeing my worried look she gives me a weak smile.
"I think I'll keep my feet on the ground," she says, in a voice that's slightly hoarse from her previous screaming.
"I think that's a good idea," I agree with her, "us Swans aren't made for flying. Not on brooms, anyway."
-
Percy and his fiancé Audrey arrive a little after twelve. Percy looks his usual self post-war- no longer so pompous and his expression, the way he holds himself, is filled with a quiet confidence, along with a battle-weariness. The crow's feet around his eyes are from frowning, not smiling. Percy was with Fred when he was killed- he was the last one to ever speak to him. And now he suffers from intense survivor's guilt.
Audrey, his fiancé, is beautiful, but in a simple way. Her hair is a light blond-brown, and consists mostly of messy waves. Her eyes are light blue, her lips soft pink, and her skin a light shade of cream, with an odd scattering of freckles. She's wearing a simple white button-up dress that seems very reminiscent of the 1900's, and seems to suit both her, and suit Percy- she's old fashioned, like him, both in her dress sense, and her manner. She's quiet, happy to let him talk, yet with every word she says, every look she shares with him, every touch, it shows that she loves him with all her heart. She's gentle and quiet, but she's by no means a pushover I can see it in the way she moves, in the shadows in her eyes. She's a fighter, a survivor, like all of us involved in the War are.
"Hello Hermione." She greets me, voice quiet, as Percy disappears up the stairs- off to get George. Percy has made himself responsible for George, in a way. He visits every day and just sits and talks with the catatonic red head for hours, even though George rarely answers. It's Percy who argues with Mrs. Weasley that George needs to go into St. Mungos for a little while- Mrs. Weasley wants to keep him at home, but Percy's persistence is wearing her down.
Percy leads George down to the kitchen table. George is now dressed in a simple pair of grey robes, and he sits down on one of the empty seats. His eyes focus momentarily on Bella and, for a second, a flicker of curiosity shows in those once laughing eyes, but then they just fade back to vacant. Empty. My heart breaks just that little bit more at the sight.
"It's a pleasure to meet you Bella." Audrey tells my sister, quietly.
"Um, it's nice to meet you too." Bella offers, her cheeks a brilliant shade of red, even as her gaze drifts over to George. It's the first time she's seen him in person, I realize, and I reach out and grab her hand, wanting to offer her support.
"So, what made you two decide to pop over for lunch?" Mrs. Weasley asks them, a bright smile on her face, that's only slightly fake. Molly adores Percy and Audrey, of course, and she's glad about how much Percy tries to support George, taking care of the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes store, for one, but it's painful for her, seeing that no matter how hard Percy tries, George stays the same.
"Well, as you know our wedding's coming up," Percy says, and a shy smile crosses Audrey's face. Mrs. Weasley noticeably brightens at this- she's very excited about the wedding. All she wants now, I think, is for her children to be happily married and producing lots of grandchildren for her to spoil. "I wanted to come and ask George to be my best man." Percy announces, and the table falls silent, as all eyes turn to George. George's eyes flicker, slightly, and his head turns towards Percy.
"Thank you." He says, voice hoarse from disuse. Percy appears both relieved and pleased, and he gently clasps George's forearm. "Thanks mate." He says, grateful. George doesn't answer again, but Percy's smile remains.
"I wanted to know if Ginny would be my maid of honor." Audrey speaks up, in her soft, shy voice. Ginny looks surprised.
"Are you sure?" She asks Audrey, who blushes and nods. Audrey lost her family to Death Eaters, and as far as I know, she never had many close friends. Her whole life is her job as clerk in the Wizengamot, a silent presence who writes the minutes for the hearings, court sessions, etc. When the Ministry was taken over, she was forced to take minutes in the faux-trials of the muggleborns rounded up. I don't know how many executions of innocents she witnessed, how many muggleborns were sentenced to the Dementors- and how many of them were under the age of seventeen- but I couldn't even imagine how awful, how scarring that had been.
When I was disguised as Mafalda Hopkirk to infiltrate the Ministry I'd witnessed one trial, and that was one of my top ten worst memories of the War. I couldn't even imagine the nightmares Audrey must be going through, what she'd seen...
She and Percy had met while both of them were working in Voldemort's Ministry, had leaned on each other, and held the other up. They fell in love, and their love was beautiful. It was proof of the strength and resilience of the human spirit, that even when under the most horrific of circumstances, even when it seems like the entire world is trying to snuff it out, love can still exist.
"Thank you, Audrey." Ginny smiled at the quiet woman with eyes too old and sad for her young face, yet with a spine of steel that had refused to bend.
"And you're invited too, Bella." Percy speaks up, as he tucks into his meatloaf. Bella gets a deer in headlights expression on her face.
"What? Me?" She asks, surprised, before blushing a brilliant red.
"Of course, you're family." Percy says, with a smile.
"You are." Mrs. Weasley nods, giving Bella a warm look. "After all, you're Hermione's sister, and Hermione is my daughter." This time it's me who has to fight off my blush.
-
After lunch, I lead Bella over to the Floo. She eyed the green flames with distrust, her hesitancy clear on her expression. I didn't exactly blame her.
"The flames aren't hot, they won't burn your clothes," I promise her, "all you have to do is clearly state Diagon Alley, step into the flames, and keep your elbows tucked in close to your body. You'll see lots of fireplaces and hearths as you're going past, but just stay put until the Floo sends you out at the right stop, okay?"
"Okay." Bella says, still looking pale.
"I'll go and meet you at the other side, okay?" I tell her, and she nods, still looking nervous. I sprinkle a handful of the glittery silver Floo powder into the emerald flames and step in, clearly stating, "Diagon Alley!"
The trip is as nauseating as most means of magical travel, and I'm as relieved as always when I'm spat out of one of the fireplaces in the Leakey Cauldron that it's over. Thanks to years of practice, I manage to land on my feet. Bella, on the other hand, stumbles out of the fireplace and falls onto the ground, seconds after I scourgify my jeans and sweater.
I try not to laugh as she glares at me. "That was just plain evil of you!" She grumbles, and I flick my wand at her, vanishing the soot that's covering her from head to toe.
Harry and Ginny emerge next, one after the other, each one managing to gracefully exit the fireplace, without falling onto their hands and knees. "Shall we get going?" Harry smiles wide.
Bella perks up, looking excited. "Let's go!" She grins.