A/N: I know I'm suppose to be working on Fan Fiction 100, but this idea just came into my head and I had to write it. Surprisingly, it's about Ron and Hermione! Whaoo! No way right! Angst and fluff :-D
REVIEW! PLZ! PLZ PLZ PLZ!
The Kitchen Table
Even inanimate objects have memories. Even if they cannot speak them. And the Weasley's kitchen table was no exception to that rule.
It's not the Weasley family you're thinking of though. Not Molly, Arthur, or all the other kids. It was Ron Weasley and his wifes' kitchen table.
And it had many memories, but it's last memory goes a bit like this:
Tears fell on the table. "I'm going to miss this place." Said a boy. He was staring out the window.
"What do you mean going to miss this place." The girl croaked. Her face glazed over with tears.
Rose and Hugo Weasley. Their children. Ron and Hermione's children of course. They were quite old by now. They had their own spouse's and own children, but tonight it was just them. Brother and sister.
"What the hell do you think I mean!" He spat at her.
"We're not going to sell it!" Rose cried, standing up now.
"Well what do you want to do with it!" He growled.
"Live in it! I don't know! One of us can take it." She whispered.
"I don't want it. Too many memories." Hugo said.
"What's wrong with you!" She screamed. "Are you just going to sit there and pretend we never had parents! We never grew up in this house!"
"Nothing is wrong. I'll deal with my grief the way I want to. I just don't want this house. I don't need a constant reminder they're gone." He explained. "I'll never forget them. I just don't want this house."
Rose cried harder. She ran into her brother hugging him tightly. Ron and Hermione Weasley had past away.
They had lived long lives, but it was time to go. And just a day after Ron's death his wife followed. It's like that saying. People who truly love each other cannot live with out each other. That's just what happened.
So now their children stood in the middle of the kitchen. Next to the kitchen table.
They stood their for a long time, tightly holding each other. Rose finally sat back down at the table and Hugo joined her.
"Mum would hit you if she heard you say you didn't want our house." Rose sniffed, trying to smile.
"I know she would." He replied.
They sat in silence until Hugo sighed, "I use to hate our red hair."
"Me too." She whispered.
"I hated how bright it was. But then Mum told me it was great. She said it was like the rest of the Weasley's and I should be proud I had Weasley hair. Said she hated her hair anyways."
Rose smiled. "I have her hair." It was not as curly as it use to be. It was now just wavy. "I hated how my hair was so in everyone's face. Bright red and curly. I stood out. Dad told me he liked it because it was like Mum. He said I had a right to stand out because I was just so amazing. They were good parents."
"Yes. We aren't that screwed up." Hugo chuckled, quietly.
"Well Scor' and I can take it. We'll move after the funeral." Rose said.
"Alright, I'll still visit." He said.
"Good. They'll like that."
"Do you hear that? I'm going to visit. So you can stop your yelling from beyond the veil!" Hugo yelled. "This place is always going to be here! Damn it!"
"We'll be okay." Rose said.
"Yeah...we'll be okay." He said.
Tears rolled down his cheeks. The two left the house to be alone with it's memories for awhile. And the kitchen table decided it was time to move on as well. Start a new stack of memories for a new family was moving in. But first it had to recollect everything. Every memory it remembered well.
February 25th, 2001
"Hey! Are you home?" Ron Weasley called out.
"In the kitchen!" Hermione called back
Ron walked into the small kitchen to find her sitting there. Books and papers were scattered across it as she ferociously scribbled on a piece of parchment.
"What are you doing here?" She asked.
"Do I need a reason to come see you?"
"No...I was just asking. It's late though. After midnight."
"Thanks, I know."
She looked up. That was a bad move and the table knew it.
"Is there something wrong Ronald?"
"No."
"Clearly there is."
"I said there isn't."
"Well fine."
He sat down at the table and watched her write. "What are you writing?" He asked.
"Just some papers to free another house elf." She explained, now looking back at him.
He sighed and began to spin the tea cup that was sitting on it's plate. She rolled her eyes.
"You know I'm quite positive there is something wrong." She said, observing him carefully.
"It's nothing, okay?"
"No, it's not okay? What's wrong!"
"You'll laugh."
"No, I won't."
"I would. I'm a twenty year old man and I've had a nightmare so I need to seek comfort in my girlfriend, happy? Laugh. I would laugh if it was me."
"I'm not laughing." She replied. "What happened in this nightmare?" She continued to write because she knew Ron would rather have it that way. She could tell he was nervous to make eye contact.
"Malfoy Manner. Harry dying. Everyone dying." Ron whispered.
She looked up. This wasn't that rare. Everyone including herself were plagued by memories of the war. She couldn't even count all the times Harry, Ron, and Ginny had shown up to talk. Or how many times she needed to be comforted by Harry, Ron, or Ginny. But it really must have been bad tonight.
Ron was just one of those people who liked to deal things himself. He felt spilling his guts about his nightmare made him seem weak.
She got up from the table and hugged him tightly. "I'm sorry you had a nightmare." She whispered.
"It's okay. I just needed to see you were alright." He told her. His eyes were filled with fear.
"Stay tonight." She told him.
"No, I don't want to be in your way more. I should get going. It is late."
"I need you just as much as you need me." She sighed. "Believe that for five seconds."
"Alright. But I'll get along by myself. It's okay. I promise." He said, now trying to smile.
"I'm afraid I'm now going to have to command you to stay tonight." She said.
He grinned. "Fine, but I'm only doing this because no man would ever say no to his girlfriend commanding him to stay the night."
She laughed. "You're a git."
"I love you too." He chuckled, holding her tightly.
"I love you." She said, seriously. "Don't doubt that for a second."
"Fine."
August 17th, 2004
Ron dropped his large box on the table. (The table remembers this moment because that box hurt it...a lot.)
"That's the last one!" He announced.
"I never knew you had so much stuff. You're a pack rat, by the way." Hermione giggled.
"Excuse me for liking my memories, Mrs. Weasley." He teased.
"You brought a Chudley's Cannons poster? We're married now...and we are certainly not eleven years old." She gawked.
"It's not like I want to hang it over our bed." He muttered.
"Good of you."
"I thought we could give it to our kid or something." Ron explained.
"Oh, so we're going to have a kid now?" She smiled.
"Well the way we go at it at night I would say it's a pretty plausible idea."
She laughed. "Fine, then." She rummaged deeper into the box nearest to her. "I like this picture."
Ron examined it. He looked about five or six and he was happily waving at the camera as he held up his small broomstick.
"I look like a little freak. Look how bright my hair is." He said.
"It's cute. You were a little kid. I might just have to put this on my mantle."
"Well it's my mantle now too and I don't think so."
"Is that a challenge?" Hermione smirked.
"Possibly."
Hermione laughed louder. "You're infuriating."
"Not when I do this!" He hissed and he nearly threw her down on the table, kissing her.
And this kitchen table has seen a lot in his time in their kitchen and he decided this last part is a bit graphic for his own memory.
A/N: I hope you've enjoyed so far...I'll probably have two or three little blips in each chapter...I plan to have three chapters...including this one.
