Hello! This is my first drabble with HP, so be gentle with the criticisms, please. I chose an unlikely pairing to start off with. I think this will be a three part story with an epilogue.
It will be updated weekly!
I'm super nervous about posting this, but I hope you all enjoy.
I have no beta, so I hope there's no glaring errors. (You a beta? You wanna edit? PM me!)
(Fred lived, Percy died. Just so ya know)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except, perhaps, a dog. And cake.
Part I
Hermione Granger idly washed the glass in her hand. She had always enjoyed doing things the muggle way, even if it did give her too much time to think. She couldn't help that her mind always went back to the war when things were quiet.
It had been devastating.
They had lost so much, yet with every loss, it showed the survivors how to cherish every moment.
It was coming close to two years since the Golden Trio had managed to outsmart the so-called Darkest-Wizard-Of-All-Time, yet in never managed to get any easier. Harry and Ron had decided to go through with Auror training and Hermione had managed to procure a good job at the Ministry; not too cushy, yet not to hard either. The Weasleys were perfectly happy despite losing Percy in the final battle; Molly had been beside herself when she realized that her prim and proper son was willing to go against the Ministry to fight for what he believed in only to be struck down halfway through the fight.
Harry and Ginny had married almost immediately after the war ended and, when Ginny wasn't away playing with the Holyhead Harpies, she and Harry lived comfortably in Godric's Hollow down the street from Hermione and Ron's home.
Ron and Hermione had gotten married merely six months earlier, eager to start their lives together when they had missed out on so much of their childhoods. It was hard for Hermione not to be able to restore her parents' memories, but, in time, she had decided to sever all ties from the muggle world and try to move on.
She sighed, looking down at the clean dishes in the drying rack. She hated when Ron and Harry went on missions. She hated not having contact with either of them. She needed to talk to Ron; she had news that, hopefully, would make him as ecstatic as she was.
Her heart leapt in her chest when she heard the floo roar to life in the living room. Grabbing a hand towel, she dried her hands before making her to the noise, stopping when she saw Harry standing just outside of the fireplace looking lost.
"Harry?" She asked softly, slowly inching closer to him. Upon further inspection his robes were singed and he had a cut running along his forehead. His hands were shaking slightly as he lifted his gaze to meet hers, emerald to amber.
"Hermione," he rasped, his voice broken with something she couldn't identify, "I'm…I'm so sorry…there was nothing I could do. They…they came out of nowhere…"
"What happened, Harry?" She asked sharply. She hated when he beat around the bush.
He swallowed harshly, "We were waiting…and they appeared out of nowhere. They took us by surprise and Ron…Ron was hit."
Hermione bristled. She wasn't unfamiliar with her husband getting wounded on the job. On the contrary, most of the time he'd go into a situation hotheaded and end up getting a curse or two that would land him in St. Mungo's for a few days. She sighed, "All right. Is he at St. Mungo's yet? Have you told Molly and Arthur?"
"'Mione…he's not going to St. Mungo's…"
"Well, why the bloody hell not? If he was hurt-"
"He's dead," Harry said quickly, looking down as his eyes filled with tears.
Dead?
Hermione felt as if the world was crashing down around her. How could the love of her life be gone? How could she lose him so quickly?
"No…" she mumbled, nearly collapsing onto the couch behind her, "He…Harry, tell me you're joking!"
Harry shuffled over to her, kneeling in front of her and taking her small hands in his, "I wish I was, 'Mione…I-I don't know what to say. I feel like…"
"We survived a war!" She screeched, standing up and nearly pushing Harry over, "We survived a bloody war, just to have some idiot take him away from me?" Her eyes blazed angrily as she began pacing, "Who was he, Harry? Who killed him?"
Harry shook his head, "We don't know who they were. They were all killed in the fight. They weren't even who we were after."
Hermione sank down to the couch again, tears filling her eyes, "It's not fair, Harry. We only got two years of peace…"
He stood and sat beside her, wrapping his arms around her shaking form, "I know…He loved you so much…"
She hiccupped, "I loved him, too."
Fred Weasley sat above his shop in Diagon Alley, a bottle of Ogden's Firewhisky in hand as he thought about the latest death to rock his family.
It had been a shock when Percy died, but he never thought that Ron would be next. Maybe Charlie, with all the dragons he managed to surround himself with, or Bill, seeing as his eldest brother's wife had the temper of a true Veela, even though she was only a quarter.
But his baby brother?
No.
That wasn't supposed to happen.
He sighed and stood up, albeit a bit wobbly from drinking, and looked out the balcony of his and George's flat. George had went to Angelina for comfort as soon as he saw that Fred was heading to the bottle again and Fred couldn't blame him.
Since his near-death in the war, he had been a bit of a recluse. He still worked on his jokes and merchandise, but he remained upstairs at almost all costs. Verity, the girl they hired to assist in the shop, was practically running it now with George out so often meeting with potential investors and Fred locked away. He hardly even went to the Burrow for meals anymore.
Fred didn't want this kind of life, but he couldn't seem to shake it. Every time he walked outside of his flat, something would happen to remind him of the war. He couldn't handle being around loud noises outside of his shop since the explosion took Percy during the battle.
"Fred!"
He cringed at the sound of his father's voice drifting through the front door. Waving his hand, he banished the bottle he had been holding and made his way to open the door.
"About time," Arthur said with a nod as he walked into the small flat. Looking around, he noticed that the only light coming in was from the balcony and he sighed, "You can't keep locking yourself up like this, Freddie. Ron's…well, you're not the only one mourning. I can hardly get your mother out of the house and Hermione hasn't been in contact with any of us."
Fred sighed. He knew Ron's death was hard on his mother, but he had completely forgotten about Hermione. He had assumed that she would've went to the Burrow and not left.
"It's been almost two months," Fred said quietly, taking out his wand and flicking the shutters of the windows open and allowing light to illuminate the flat. Crinkling his nose, he looked at the dust-covered surfaces and was glad that George was staying with Angelina.
His father gave a small smile, "Harry tries to keep us informed, but she hasn't been speaking to him except through Pig and the letters are coming less and less."
"Ginny-"
"Is still playing this season. She couldn't get the time off with the end of the season so close."
Fred's anger bubbled up suddenly, "So you've let Hermione go through this on her own? She lost her husband, Dad! I can't…I can't even imagine what she's going through right now." He stopped and ran his hand through his hair, surprised at how long it had gotten since the last time he cut it. Hermione shouldn't have been alone at all given the circumstances.
"I've tried to floo her," Arthur admitted, looking anywhere but his son's face, "But she seems to have closed off the connection for now. She wouldn't even answer the door when I came calling."
Fred pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled deeply, "Has anyone else tried to see her?"
"Fleur and Bill tried a few times," Arthur said, thinking back, "Charlie, too. George has been so busy with Angelina that I think he might've forgotten-"
"Git-"
"But that's to be expected when a relationship is as new as theirs," he finished, giving him a stern look, "All that's left is you. Maybe you can get through to her."
Fred leveled his stare at the older man, "Hermione doesn't even like me!"
"You're the one that least reminds her of Ron," he said quietly, "You're also not attached in a relationship to remind her of what she's missing." Arthur placed his hand on Fred's shoulder, beseeching him to see reason, "She needs someone and so do you. Perhaps, you can help each other."
Fred looked up at the small cottage in front of him. He had no idea how his father had talked him into showing up at Hermione's home, but, alas, he did. Before he left, he had made sure to shower and shave, deciding to leave his hair the length that it was.
Maybe now Mom can tell me and Georgie apart, he thought wryly.
The cottage looked a little rough from the outside. The garden was in need of a good plucking and the weeds desperately needed to be cut, but, all in all, it seemed to be functioning just fine. There was a pile of the Daily Prophets sitting on the stoop that he quickly banished, sure that they were filled with the news of the death she'd rather not think more about.
He gathered his courage – why on earth he was scared of a five foot two witch he had no idea – and he walked to the door, only hesitating slightly before he knocked. He waited for her to answer, but started to worry when the door remained shut.
Fred looked up at the sky, noting that it must be about noon and that she should be up by now. He grimaced, knocking once more.
When she didn't answer, he pointed his wand at the door and muttered, "Alohomora!"
The door creaked open, revealing the living room of the cottage.
"Hello?" George called, walking in hesitantly and looking around.
The living room looked fairly normal, despite blankets and pillows sprawled all over the couch and a fire going in the fireplace even though it was mid-July. A few empty cartons of ice cream littered the floor as well as candy wrappers, but when had she had the time to clean?
He wandered to the bedroom that he knew the married couple had shared and peeked inside, his brows creasing when Hermione wasn't in there either. He pursed his lips and thought for a moment. The cottage didn't have a library, so that ruled out his first thought, and the spare room had been converted into a home office for Ron when he wasn't at work.
A low groan caught his attention and he walked towards it, his hand on his wand just in case. The sound had come from the bathroom in the hallway and he nudged the door open, stopping when his eyes fell on the petite brunette hunched over the toilet.
Fred dropped to his knees beside her and gathered her riotous curls in one hand and rubbed her back with the other.
"Hey, you're okay," he murmured, not sure where it was coming from. He shouldn't be comforting his little brother's widow. "I've got you."
Hermione wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before she turned her head and stared at Fred. Tears were leaking down her face as she struggled to get air back into her lungs. He stared at her and reached out to wipe her tears from her cheek.
"What're you doing here?" She asked, her voice hoarse.
She looked horrible. There were dark circles under her eyes and her skin was paler than he was used to seeing. Her hair was tangled and matted in his fingers, but what caught his attention the most was how dead her eyes looked. The warm amber he was so used to seeing looked empty and glazed, as if she was just going through the motions.
"No one could get in touch with you," he said softly, taking his hand away from her cheek, "We were worried."
"I haven't been up for company," she chuckled hollowly. Struggling to her feet, she took Fred's arm when he offered and slowly padded to the living room before collapsing onto the makeshift bed she had made on the couch.
"How long have you been sick?" Fred asked, sitting near her feet on the couch when she curled them up to make room for him.
She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling as her hands went to her stomach protectively. "I don't know," she answered in a small voice, "A couple months, I guess…"
His eyes snapped to her stomach, a very small, but still defined, little bump was nestled perfectly between her hips. His mind worked overtime as he tried to put a timeline together of when she could've conceived.
"He didn't know," Hermione murmured, somehow reading his thoughts, "I was going to tell him the night he came back from his mission…but he didn't…"
Fred nodded, his eyes still focused on her stomach. He never thought that Hermione would end up a young mother, let alone a widow. How was she going to raise a child on her own?
"Who else knows?" He asked, dropping his eyes and fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.
She sat up next to him and sighed, "I haven't told anyone yet. I…I stopped seeing Harry when I thought he'd notice. I don't know how they'd handle it…especially because he didn't know."
"Mum would be thrilled," Fred laughed, the first real laugh since he could remember, "She's always bugging Bill and Fleur for kids."
She gave him a small smile before her face turned grim. "I don't know how I'm supposed to do it without him, Fred." She noticed that he started at his name and she cocked her head, "What?"
He shrugged, "I'm just surprised you got it right on the first try. My name, I mean."
"I've always been able to tell you and George apart. Even before George lost his ear."
He hummed in agreement. He didn't know how he'd never noticed it before, but she had. Even his own mother had a problem telling them apart, but Hermione had always gotten in right.
"You don't have to do it alone, you know," Fred blurted, looking keenly at the petite witch next to him, "I could help. George and Verity have everything under control at the shop and I mainly just do testing…I could do that wherever, though-"
"Fred, I can't impose on you," she said, looking away, "I can do this by myself. It'll just be hard without…Ron…but I've been okay."
"And what happens when you go into labor?" He asked sharply, "Will you have time to disable the blocks on the floo? Will you be able to make it to St. Mungo's in time? Who's going to be there in the delivery room with you? Dammit, Hermione, you need someone supporting you!"
"Well, excuse me, but the only man I ever loved bloody died!" She screeched back at him, jumping to her feet and pacing in front of the fireplace as she pulled at her curls distractedly, "Your parents don't need to know yet. Merlin, they're going to be so angry that I kept this from them…but I didn't have a choice! How was I supposed to tell them that I'm pregnant with their dead son's child?" She turned to him and her doe eyes were wide with fear while her slight frame was shaking, "I can't do this. I can't tell them."
Fred stood and walked over to her, gently taking her in his arms and holding her close as he murmured, "All this stress isn't good for the baby. You don't have to tell Mum and Dad just yet, but I can be there with you when you do. Or I can tell them for you. They aren't going to be mad, Hermione. They just want what's best for you. And they'll want to be part of the little one's life."
Hermione's arms wrapped around Fred's waist and she sobbed into the plaid button down he was wearing with earnest. She had missed the touch, the comfort, of another human. She had isolated herself for so long that she was sure to crumble when the offer presented itself.
He smiled slightly and hugged her closer to him, his eyes widening when he could feel her bump nudging against his flat abdomen. He didn't have much experience with pregnant witches with the exception being his mother, but he knew that he couldn't turn Hermione away and allow her to go through this by herself. She was strong, he knew that well, but the war had changed everyone in some way or another. He refused to leave her alone while she was still mourning.
"It'll be all right, Hermione," he said, resting his chin on her head, "We'll get through this."
Hermione sniffled and pulled back slightly to stare into the chocolate eyes that were so different from the blue she was used to. She gave him a small smile, "Thank you, Fred."
It took more time than Fred cared to admit to get Hermione ready to go to the Burrow. After he had helped her into the shower and made sure that she was dressed appropriately and groomed, he had talked her into visiting his parents. Her hair had been a mess, which he ended up charming into being more manageable and the circles under her eyes blatantly refused to go anywhere. She didn't have much in way of maternity clothes and she simply used a small extension charm to ensure a proper fit.
"We'll go to Diagon Alley later this week and pick up some clothes for you," Fred said when she walked into the living room. Her bump was still slightly visible because of her tighter clothes, but he thought it was becoming to show off her pregnancy instead of hiding it.
Hermione nodded slightly, keeping her head down as her hands shook a little. She was scared to be heading to her husband's childhood home, even if she had been there a million times before. It was different because he wasn't with her. And he'd never be with her again.
"Hey," he said quietly, running his hands down her arms slowly, "Everything will be fine. Mum and Dad will be thrilled, I'm sure of it."
She sniffed, "But what if they're not?"
"Then they can stuff it," he said with a smirk, "You're creating a life. You've got too much to worry about as it is, nevermind them being upset."
"Mum?" Fred called as he stepped out of the fireplace, followed by Hermione, "Dad?"
"We're in the kitchen, love!" Molly called back.
Fred nodded to himself and turned around to look at Hermione, "Why don't you wait here? I'll go break the news to them and then I'll let them know you're here. I don't want you getting upset…"
She thanked him before taking a seat on the couch, careful to steer clear of the knitting that was currently knitting itself. He made sure she was comfortable before going into the kitchen and smiling at his mother.
"Fred!" Molly gasped, nearly running to her son to wrap him in her arms, "I haven't seen you…in too long! You never come 'round for dinner anymore!" She pulled back and looked at him critically, "You need a haircut and you look a bit peaky. When was the last time you ate? Is George with you? What about Angelina-"
"Mum, one thing at a time," he said in exasperation, shooting his father a pleading look.
"Let him breathe, Mollywobbles," Arthur said, imploring his wife to give him space, "I'm sure Fred is here for a reason. Right, son?"
Molly sighed, "Yes, yes." She took a seat next to her husband at the table, both of them looking at their son expectantly. "Well?"
"It's about Hermione-" he started.
"Have you heard from her?" Molly interjected, her face alight with concern, "We've been so worried!"
Arthur warned, "Molly."
He shot his father a thankful look before continuing, "She hasn't wanted to be around the family because…well…she's pregnant. And she was scared to say anything because…Ron's not here anymore."
The silence in the kitchen was nearly deafening. Arthur had a smile pulling at his lips and Molly had gone pale. Fred stood awkwardly, not sure how his mother was going to react, but altogether certain that if it was negative he'd swoop into the living room and protect Hermione at all costs.
"Pregnant?" Molly repeated breathlessly. "But…Ron's been-"
"The child is Ron's, Mum. She was planning on telling him when he got back, but, well," Fred shut his mouth, positive that he was just making a mess of things. He was never good at being serious. He wasn't much good at anything besides Quidditch and jokes if he was being honest.
Arthur shook his head, "He never knew he was going to be a father, did he?"
"She didn't get a chance to tell him," Fred confirmed. Shuffling his feet slightly before glancing at his parents, "So…you aren't mad at her or anything, right?"
"Of course not!" Molly instantly protested, "Fred Gideon Weasley! What kind of people do you think we are? We could never be mad at Hermione. Especially when she's carrying my grandchild! Arthur!" She gasped, looking at her husband, "We're going to be grandparents!"
Arthur chuckled and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, "Of course we are, love. I have ears, too."
Fred smiled at their banter before remembering, "You know, Hermione's in the living room. She wasn't sure how you two were going to take it…"
"You let a pregnant woman sit alone without tea?" Molly asked, her eyebrows creased, "And here I thought we'd taught you better than that!"
Having Molly fawn over her after being alone for nearly two months was a bit uncomfortable for Hermione to get used to. It hadn't been decided how the child was going to be raised yet, but Molly seemed convinced that she knew best.
"I raised seven children, dear," Molly had said, patting Hermione's knee in an almost patronizing way, "I know all the tips and tricks that can help make your pregnancy a breeze."
The young witch smiled indulgently, "I'm sure, Mrs. Weasley, thank you."
"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Molly, love," she smiled, "So, how's the morning sickness? It was horrendous with…Ron…for me and I can only imagine how it would be for you. Now, I can brew a tea for you that should zap it in a second-"
"It hasn't been too bad," Hermione said, fidgeting as her eyes kept darting to the kitchen where Fred and Arthur were, "I've been fine."
"She's lying," Fred said, traipsing into the room with a mug of tea in his hands and his father following behind him. Handing Hermione the cup, he sat next to her and turned to his mum, "I found her retching her guts up this afternoon."
Molly gave her a sharp look, "There's no sense in going through this by yourself. I know you're grieving – we all are – but he would've wanted you to take better care of yourself. That's his child, too."
Hermione looked down and nodded. Being reminded that she had Ron's child inside of her was rough. She knew she should be taking better care of herself than what she was, but it was difficult to care for a child when she could hardly care for herself. If Fred hadn't found her when he did, she would probably still be hunched over the toilet, begging for the nausea to pass.
"Now, I insist that you move in with us while you're pregnant," Molly said, "There's no use for you being alone in that house when you can be here surrounded by people who love you. Especially if something happens – first pregnancies can be rough for young mothers." She paused and looked around the room appraisingly before she brightened, "We can move you into the twins' old room since it's the biggest and-"
"Will all due respect, I'd much rather stay in my home," Hermione interjected, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, "I feel the most comfortable there and I'm close to Harry and Ginny-"
"Nonsense! You'll stay here and you'll be well cared for, of course."
"Mrs. Weasley-"
"Mum," Fred sighed, "Hermione should stay where she feels comfortable. The Burrow is great and all, but it's not her home."
Molly huffed, "She can't very well be alone-"
"Then I'll stay with her," Fred growled out in frustration, practically missing the sharp intake of breath from the females in the room.
His mother paled. "That's hardly acceptable. You can't stay alone in a house with your brother's widow. People will talk!"
"Molly," Arthur spoke quietly, but firmly as he set his hand on her shoulder, "They're both adults. Nothing either of us can say will change their minds. If Hermione and Fred are comfortable with the arrangement then I see no issue."
Fred looked at Hermione with a look similar to hope and she sighed and nodded, knowing that it came down to having Fred stay with her or living at the Burrow for the next seven months.
She smiled slightly, "Okay."
After Fred dropped Hermione off at her house, he Apparated to his and George's flat in Diagon Alley. The flat was no longer dark, however, and it looked as if someone was home. He pursed his lips, upset that he couldn't get in and out without talking to someone.
"Freddie, that you?"
Fred rolled his eyes and plastered on a fake smile as he turned to greet Angelina standing in the kitchen. Her black hair was pulled back into a tight braid and she had an apron slung over her clothes with a large smile on her face.
"Yeah, sorry," he apologized, turning towards his bedroom, "I promise I'll be out of here quickly." He looked around and noticed that the flat had been cleaned from top to bottom and it actually looked inviting. His brows creased as he turned back to Angelina, "What happened to the flat?"
She laughed, "I cleaned it. You can't have a dinner party in a dirty flat."
"I've been meaning to get around to it-"
She waved off his apologies, "It's fine. George has been busy with investors and you've been swamped with experimenting. It's the least I could do with everything going on." Her reference to Ron's death hung in the air as they both fidgeted uncomfortably. She stopped and looked up at him, "So, I invited Katie over. She's been talking about you."
Fred groaned internally. Katie Bell had been nothing but a distraction when he was still at Hogwarts. She was something to pass the time while he and George were struggling with their business and he hadn't thought any more of her since they opened their shop. Every few weeks, Angelina would try to set him up with someone and it never ended well.
"Look, Angie, that's great, but I'm not really interested," Fred said, squirming under Angelina's glare, "I actually have somewhere to be tonight and-"
"Fred Weasley, you are not getting out of this just to go to some pub and get pissed!" She yelled, waving the spatula in her hand threateningly, "This is the first day that you went outside in I don't even know how long! It's something to celebrate and not with a drink."
He bristled, angry at her insinuations even though they rang with truth. The bottle had been his friend for far too long and it took finding out that Hermione was pregnant to help him see that.
He took a deep breath and spoke calmly, "I'm not going to a pub-"
"Then were are you going?"
"I'm moving out," he growled, fed up with being interrupted, "Not that it's any of your business, but-"
"Moving out?"
Fred turned around and was met by George staring at him as he stood in the doorway of his bedroom. He sighed, not wanting to get into the fight that he knew was going to happen as soon as George knew the situation.
"Yeah," Fred said lamely, looking away from his twin, "It's been a long time coming anyway and with Angie going to be moving in-"
George shook his head, "That's no reason to move out. Angie's here most of the time and it never seemed to bother you before."
"Why? Because I was drowning myself in a bottle?" Fred snarled before running his hand through his hair in frustration. This didn't need to happen when Hermione was waiting for him. He shook his head, trying to clear away his anger, "Look, it's better for everyone this way. You and Angie need the space and I'm just taking up room. I can work from somewhere else and-"
"Where is this coming from?" George asked, hurt reflecting in his eyes, "I've tried to be there for you. I've tried to help you as best as I can."
Angelina quietly slipped away, leaving the twins to it. She thought about flooing Katie to let her know that dinner would be a bit later than planned.
"It's been coming for awhile, Georgie," he sighed, walking towards his bedroom once more, "I can't stay here. I'm not the same person I was before the war and living here reminds me of that."
George followed him into the room, watching as his brother flicked his wand around the room and clothes started filling the suitcase he had pulled out. The war hadn't been easy on either brother, but George had handled it better than Fred. George had thrown himself into his work and his relationship, sure that he had survived for a reason. He was desperate every single day to prove that fact, too.
"Where will you go?" George finally asked quietly, disturbing the silence that had descended upon the room.
Fred closed the latch on his suitcase and shrunk it before turning towards George with a half smile on his face, "I'm moving in with Hermione for the next few months-"
"Hermione?" George asked bewildered, his mouth dropping open, "Hermione as in Ron's wife?"
Fred rolled his eyes, "Do we know any other Hermiones?"
"But…why are you moving in with her?"
"Have you even seen her since Ron died?" Fred asked, satisfied when George looked away guiltily, "She's been holed up in that cottage for the past couple months and Dad stopped by earlier to see if I could stop over and see her. I found her puking her guts up and she was a right mess. She's…shite, Georgie, she's pregnant. And she was too scared to tell anyone."
George stumbled slightly, leaning up against the doorframe for Fred's room heavily. The thought of a baby coming into the family so soon after they lost someone was hard to swallow.
"Pregnant?" George rasped out, his eyes seeking his twin's, "And she's sure?"
Fred shrugged, tucking his shrunken suitcase into his pocket, "She's showing already. Mum almost went spare when 'Mione said she didn't want to stay at the Burrow. But I volunteered to stay with her while she's pregnant…she shouldn't be alone right now. And you and Angie need your space, too. It's a good thing."
"You can take the master room," Hermione said when Fred resized his suitcase.
Fred had made sure that George was all right with the move before flooing back to the cottage. He had been hesitant to be away from Hermione for that long given the stressful day they'd both had. He inwardly chuckled when he thought about how he had started the day with a bottle and now it was ending with living with his brother's pregnant widow.
He shook his head, pointing to the office, "I can take this room. A few waves of the ol' wand will set her right in a jiffy." His attempt at humor was missed.
She swallowed loudly, "I…I actually want to clean that by hand if you don't mind. I'll work on it later this week-"
"Wait," Fred stopped and scratched his chin, "If I take the master, and I'm not saying I will, where will you sleep?"
"I've been sleeping on the couch since…well, for awhile now. I'm just not comfortable in that room yet because he's gone…" she trailed off and looked longingly at the closed door before she shook herself from her thoughts, "But I've kept it clean, you know, fresh sheets and all. If you have anything you need, you can just ask. I've tried to keep everything stocked pretty well."
"It's not good for you to be sleeping on the couch," he reprimanded softly, "At least let me transform it into a bed-"
"Fred, I'm a witch, too," she huffed, turning back towards the living room and throwing over her shoulder, "If I want to transform it into a couch, then I'll bloody well do it."
Fred shook his head and chuckled, muttering, "Minx."
He made his way to the closed door at the end of the hall and opened it, noting that the room seemed harmless enough. It was decorated in a pale blue, almost periwinkle, and it seemed inviting. The bed dominated the center with a nightstand on each side and a closet off to the left of the room. Setting his suitcase on the bed, he waved his wand over it and his clothes began floating to the closet and hanging themselves.
This new house would take some adjusting for Fred to be comfortable, but he didn't have a choice. There was absolutely no way that he would leave Hermione to the mercies of his mother while she was pregnant.
Maybe she was just as broken as he was.
Hermione awoke to the same thing she always awoke to lately: silence. The curtains were pulled tightly on the windows and the living room was dark, but she knew it had to be late enough for the sun to be out. She wondered if Fred was still sleeping or if he had made his way to work already and was careful enough not to wake her – a feat that Ron had always failed at.
Wiggling onto her side, she sighed. Soon enough she wouldn't be able to sleep on her back anymore and, quite possibly, no longer the couch. Going through Ron's office had its pros and cons, but she wasn't ready to tackle that list today, or perhaps in the next month. What she needed was her best friend, however, Harry had been working overtime to make up for Ron's absence until the Auror Department found a replacement.
She pursed her lips and thought about Fred. Why was he here? Did he really think she couldn't take care of herself? She rolled her eyes. Perhaps he forgot that she'd fought a war and won.
Hermione rolled off of the couch and got to her feet shakily. Her nausea had started to dwindle somewhat – it was no longer like the first month of her pregnancy when she couldn't even keep water down. Her stomach growled slightly and that made her smile.
Walking into the kitchen, her eyes fell to a note on the kitchen table. Creasing her eyebrows, she picked it up and read it.
Hermione,
Breakfast is on the stove with a stasis charm. I made an appointment at St. Mungo's with a healer for your pregnancy checkup. It's at noon and George will cover for me so I can go with you. If you're up for it, we can go to lunch in Diagon Alley after.
Enjoy,
Fred
She shook her head and wandered over to the stove. None of the Weasley children – including Ginny – could cook to save their own lives. Or so she thought. Lifting up the paper towel on top of the plate, she was pleasantly surprised to find an assortment of eggs, bacon, fruits, and toast. She smiled.
Bacon.
"Bless my eyes, am I deceived?" George asked loudly as he walked into the shop, noticing Fred behind the counter, "It's a miracle. Or perhaps a trick? Verity! Check my replacement eye!"
Fred smiled and rolled his eyes as the blonde next to him looked at his brother like he'd grown a third head, "You lost an ear, Georgie, not an eye."
Verity smiled at their banter before diverting her attention back to the register, helping a first year with a purchase. Never a dull workplace.
"Eye, ear, same three letter word beginning with E," George shrugged, watching as Fred put the Pygmy Puffs on the shelf and began charming them green.
"Why're they green?" Verity asked, eyeing the Puffs as the first year toddled off with his purchases and a very smug smile on his face.
George turned to her and smirked, "Honestly woman, you'd think that you-"
"Don't work with an Irish family or something, right, Gred-"
"And it is March, Forge. St. Paddy's day is-"
"Right around the corner and we have to make sure the-"
"Ickle firsties don't get pinched too hard for their first-"
"Irish holiday at Hogwarts," Fred finished with a flourish of his wand, all the Pygmy Puffs turning emerald. He turned to his twin and smiled, "I need the afternoon off. Maybe just a few hours. 'Mione's got an appointment at St. Mungo's-"
George waved off his explanation, "Say no more, twin o' mine. Pregnant women come first."
"Hermione?" Verity blurted, unaware of how the shop was filled with people, "Hermione Granger's pregnant?"
The shop seemed to get collectively quieter and Fred was close to strangling the blonde. They could always get another employer, but once Hermione's secret was out, there was no going back.
George, sensing his brother's distress, looked at the blonde and gave her a tight smile, "Verity, can I see you in the backroom, please? It'll only take a moment."
Hermione flooed to St. Mungo's at 11:45, wanting to be there early enough to fill out paperwork. The nurse at the station nearly tripped over herself to be able to assist Hermione, a war heroine, and personally helped her fill out all the forms with the proper information.
"Are you ready to go up or are you waiting for someone?" The nurse asked, looking at Hermione's wedding ring with a sad smile.
"Hm? Oh!" She followed the woman's gaze and pursed her lips, "I am waiting for someone. He should be here soon." She looked down at her muggle watch and noticed that she still had five minutes to wait before she could call Fred late.
Before she could tell the nurse that she'd go back alone, the waiting room door burst open and Fred came hurrying through hopping on one foot.
"I'm here! I'm here," he repeated, fixing his shoe and standing up to his full height. His robes were singed slightly, his hair was rumpled, and there was soot on his cheeks. Not to mention he was wearing two different shoes.
The nurse gave him an unimpressed glance before looking back to Hermione, "This is who you're waiting for?"
Hermione nodded, hoping the ground would swallow her whole as she looked over at the goofy grin plastered on Fred's face. Begrudgingly, she gave him a small smile of her own, glad that she didn't have to be alone.
"Sorry I'm late," Fred muttered as they followed the nurse back to the exam room, "George and I were working on this new candy that causes you to change your appearance. There's two candies in each pack and when they're eaten at the same time by two different people, you both change into each other – clothes and all!"
"Healer Jordan will be in to see you soon," the nurse said as she motioned to the open door and allowed the two inside.
Hermione sat on the examination bed and looked over at Fred who had sat down next to her. She quirked her eyebrow as she thought back to the candy, "So, it's sort of like the Polyjuice Potion?"
"Exactly!" Fred said, excited that she was taking an interest, "That way, kids won't get in trouble for using it-"
She snickered, "Well, if it's still being tested, wouldn't it be logical for you and George to test it on others instead of yourselves?" Seeing Fred's blank look, she elaborated, "Since, I don't know, you're twins? It could be only changing your clothes, but not your appearance."
His face filled with understanding, "Ah! Well, we're still different. For example, in the trials, I lost an ear and he grew one!"
Her retort died on her lips when the door opened and revealed an older woman with graying hair and pointed spectacles.
"Ah, Mrs. Weasley, is it?" Healer Jordan said, looking at the petite brunette on the bed with a piercing stare, "I'm Healer Jordan, and you are?" She looked over to Fred with a tired look.
"Fred Weasley," he said, standing and shaking the woman's hand politely.
"Weasley?" The healer looked down at her chart and clicked her tongue, "But it says here that the husband is deceased."
Hermione fidgeted uncomfortably, her gaze traveling elsewhere as she answered, "My husband passed away about two months ago, however, Fred's been helping me get by. I just really didn't want to come alone."
The healer looked over and noticed Fred's smile, "Well, normally only the husband is allowed when we do the exam, but I'll make an exception given your situation." She looked at Hermione and motioned for her to lie down, "Get comfortable, I need to run a few diagnostics and make sure everything is all right. Now, how far along are you?"
She watched as the healer waved her wand over Hermione's stomach, "Almost three months, give or take. I used a muggle pregnancy test when I found out and they're not too accurate for the date of conception."
"Almost in your second trimester," Healer Jordan nodded to herself, "The morning sickness should be getting better soon. Have you been taking any vitamin potions?"
"This is my first appointment…" Hermione trailed off, angry at herself for not thinking about it, "But no, I haven't."
"I'll get you a prescription and you can go to an apothecary and get it filled when you can. It's important not to miss doses once you've started, mind you."
"When can we know the sex?" Fred piped up, looking between the two witches with a hopeful smile on his face.
"So, how'd it go?" George asked as soon as Hermione and Fred walked into the shop.
Fred grumbled as he walked to the storeroom, leaving George and Hermione near the register. George gave her a weird look and she shook her head with a smile.
"He wanted to know the sex of the baby, but it's still too early," she giggled, but caught herself. She hadn't felt this at ease in months and it caught her off guard.
"Hey," George said softly, his brows creasing as he watched her slowly retreat into herself. He had watched Fred do it too many times to count. "It's okay to be happy sometimes, too. You've got a lot to look forward to."
She sighed and glanced around, her voice small when she spoke, "I'm not sure how to move forward. I've had my entire life planned for so long and I'm not sure how I can go on without such a crucial part of my plan." She looked up at him, amber eyes shining with unshed tears.
Fred popped out of the storeroom, Pygmy Puffs filling his arms and his eyes snapped to Hermione. It was ridiculous how fast he had become accustomed to her emotions and what set her off. They were relying on each other to keep one another afloat in midst of grief.
"'Mione? What's the matter?" Fred asked, dropping the Puffs on the counter. He saw that George was floundering slightly with the petite witch in front of him.
Hermione shook her head, her hands wiping under her eyes as she forced a smile onto her face, "Nothing, Fred. Everything's fine. What're you doing to the Pygmy Puffs?" She looked at the puffs curiously, glad that she could change the subject so easily.
"Our dear Freddie here came up with the idea of changing them green for St. Patrick's day!" George cut in, shooting a glance towards his twin. He didn't want Fred to force Hermione to talk about things when she clearly wasn't ready. "He's a smart one, he is."
Fred looked at her critically, but chose to let it go for the moment. He puffed out his chest and grinned, "Of course, Gred! Who else could be so marvelously intelligent as me?"
Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes; her earlier upsets forgotten as she listened to the twins. She had forgotten what it was like to be around them both when they were in a good mood. Even she had noticed how Fred had been withdrawn for the past couple years and she was happy to see that he was beginning to get back to his jokester self.
"So, this candy that Forge thought up-"
"Magnificent piece of magic, it is-"
"Essentially allows two people to swap their appearances!" George exclaimed, excitement written all over his face, "It can help with so much more than just pranks-"
"I mean, both users would have to be in on it-"
"Otherwise it could be a right scare-"
"But, Gred, once we figure out the longevity of the candy, then we can bring it to market!"
Hermione looked between them for a moment, "How can you not know the longevity? You tested it earlier, yeah?"
Fred's hand went up to his ear, surprised that his ear had grown back, "Apparently it lasts somewhere between one and five hours. I didn't even notice that my ear was back."
"Wish I could say that," George said, noticing that his ear was missing once more. He sighed, "We'll do further testing tomorrow, though. I feel like closing a bit early tonight."
Fred leaned over the counter and yelled, "Oi! Verity! We're closing up shop!"
Not even a second later, the blonde came out from the storeroom looking a little disgruntled. She had been out of sorts since George had talked to her earlier about the importance of silence.
"Yeah, I heard you," she mumbled, waving her wand towards the windows to draw the curtains, "I'll finish closing."
Hermione took in the blonde's demeanor and grimaced slightly. "How about Fred and I stay and close up?" She asked, looking between Verity and George, "It'll give you guys time to get home early and we don't mind, really."
"Fred," Hermione whispered, looking down at the redhead who was sprawled across the floor in front of the couch. He looked so at ease in her home and it made her stomach feel weird.
After closing up shop, Fred had Apparated them back to the cottage and Hermione had insisted on cooking dinner. Nothing too fancy, just a simple dinner of noodles and sausage, but Fred had devoured it as if he was starving. She couldn't help but smile that he did; all the Weasleys had ferocious appetites.
He looked up at her, noticing the way she was holding herself sideways on the couch as if she was afraid she'd squish her little bump. He smirked, "Yeah, 'Mione?"
"Have these two days been real?"
Pausing, he thought about her question. Two days ago they were both completely different people, still wallowing in misery and despair, yet, today, they were simply two people relying on each other and seemingly…happy.
He stared at the ceiling, his eyebrow quirked as he answered, "They've been real. Why?" He turned his head and looked at her, "Are you unhappy?"
"No," she said softly, shaking her head, "This is the happiest I've been in a long time. Even before Ron…died, we were spending less and less time together. That's one of the reasons we converted the guest room into an office…he was always so busy, but he loved me. I know he did."
Fred reached out and took her small hand in his, resting his arm at an odd angle to keep hers comfortable. He sighed, "He loved you a lot, but sometimes I think he felt like you were too smart for him. He wanted to prove himself, too. But you're allowed to be happy now. It's going to be the two of us for about six more months anyway." He grinned impishly and his eyes danced with mirth when he looked up at her, "Better get used to me, Granger."
Please let me know what you think by leaving a review!
~Grace
