The first thing the two lanky teens saw when they made their way downstairs to the long kitchen table that stretched across the kitchen, to accommodate so many growing boys, was a pale and fatigued Hermione Granger anxiously sipping at a coffee that was rattling around in her shaking hands.
"Hermione? What are you-" Panicked, Hermione turned her giant watery eyes towards the source of the voice: Ron. The look on his face was incredulous, his mouth was wide open, and his eyes were even wider, trying to find any sort of explanation for Hermione's appearance.
"I mean, are you okay?" Her eyes found the floor and her lip quivered, tears threatening to pour over and roll down her pale ashen cheeks. But before any of this could happen, the boy's mother cut in,
"We don't need to be asking questions like that dear, it's rude. Let's just appreciate the fact that Hermione is here with us and be grateful. Okay?" She gave the boy's a stern look that implied that there were to be no more questions and that was final.
The boys sat down tentatively and attempted to make a dent in the feast that Mrs. Weasley had laid out before them. Feeling like he could almost see the distress rolling off of Hermione, Harry tried to reach a hand out, hoping that contact would help to comfort her, but instead, she jerkily pulled her shoulder away, almost like she was scared of being touched by anyone. Hurt flashed behind Harry's striking green eyes and he quickly withdrew his hand, turning away from Hermione.
"I think- I think that I'm gonna rest a bit." Hermione quickly rushed upstairs and Harry could have sworn he caught a glimpse of tears before she hid her face, narrowly missing Fred and George on their way down to breakfast.
"Oi, was that Hermione?" Fred asked sounding understandably confused.
"Yes sir, it was and you two are not to ask any questions about why she's here, you understand?" They both nodded and grabbed fistfuls of food, making their way outside, probably to practice Quidditch. Mrs. Weasley left the room, possibly to go wake Ginny, and in one swift motion, Ron pivoted his head towards Harry and barraged him with a series of different questions about Hermione, none of which Harry had the answer to. The main question, however, well at least the one that interested Harry the most, was "What do you think happened?".
"I swear we locked them up," Fred said, his voice muffled by the bush his head was currently in.
"Ginny might have gotten in there, messed with some stuff." Fred, pulling his head out of the bush, raised an eyebrow in suspicion.
"Why would Ginny want them? What I think is that you're trying to cover your tracks and you were the one that let these guys out." George reddened a bit and shoved Fred, a smirk playing at his lips. Fred went to shove him back when something caused him to freeze entirely, tilt his head and squint his eyes; listening to something only he could hear.
"I think I hear one of 'em" Fred lead George through the forest surrounding the Burrow and the sounds of sobs echoed off the trees.
"Should be right through here," George said, bushing a few branches aside, Fred following him a grin pulling at the sides of his mouth.
When the two boys made it into the clearing in which the melancholy wails were originating from they did not find whatever creature they were looking for but found despair ridden Hermione Granger seated under one of the many trees towering over them all, her hands trying to cover her face and her tears.
"Hermione!" George cried, causing Hermione to jerk her head up, visibly startled. She frantically tried to wipe her tears away in a vain attempt to try to hide the fact that she was crying and turned her face away from the twins.
"Hermione, are you okay? What's wrong?" Her eyes were red and swollen and her hands were shaking so badly she clasped them together in a vain attempt to make them stop.
"It's nothing. I-I'm fine." She started to get up and briskly made her way past George but knowing that they needed to find out what was wrong, George reached out and grabbed her arm.
"Hermione. Please just tell us. We want to help." She took a long look at George and tried to weigh her pride against Fred and George's compassion.
"This isn't really something you can help with," Hermione concluded with a woeful sigh. Her vision started to blur as her eyes glazed over with tears and she desperately tried to wipe them away.
"That doesn't matter. It's better to tell someone than to keep it bottled up inside." Hermione's once pathetic demeanor turned fiery in an instant as she wheeled around and faced George head on,
"Yes. That's some great advice! I honestly have never heard that bit of information before. I didn't hear it when your mother was trying to coax why I was here out of me, or when Ginny asked me why I wouldn't use magic, or when Ron screamed them at me only a few hours ago." Hermione had turned on George and now had her finger planted firmly on his chest.
"Hermione we-" Fred stopped and appeared to be grappling with what to say next.
"I understand if you don't want to tell us what's going on. But you showed up unexpectedly at our house in an obvious state of distress, causing our mother to become more anxious than she already is. You have Ron pulling his hair out, racking his brain for what's wrong with you and you expect us to just turn a blind eye and accept this whole ordeal? There's really only so much you can force on us before we start getting really concerned, Hermione." Hermione had withdrawn her hand from George's chest and was staring shocked at Fred, who was looking at her with his eyes filled with concern.
Not seeing any other option, Hermione's body slumped and she gave up. Not being able to find a way to explain her situation with words, she reluctantly rolled up her sleeves and despite Fred and George's gasps, she refused to meet their eyes.
Her arms were covered in bruises and cuts that were cleaned but not healed. Fred shuddered thinking about what the rest of her body looked like and rage flared up inside of him when he thought about whoever did this to her.
"Hermione, how did this even happen?" She took a deep breath and composed herself before telling Fred and George the story.
"As you know, my mum died last summer. That's why I was here so often." The twins nodded in agreement.
"Well, once my mum died my father became depressed. Never experiencing sadness like this before, he drank to make it go away. When he got drunk, he would scream at me for killing my mum." Hermione took a breath before continuing on, tears visibly sliding down her face.
"It's okay, you can keep going." George encouraged Hermione while Fred paced back and forth, angrily.
"Well, my dad he-he blamed me for her death because I was different. It didn't really make sense but he was drunk. It didn't have to make sense. He just needed someone to blame and I was the closest thing to him. He said that if I was normal if I wasn't away all the time practicing magic, she could have been saved. The drinking got worse and soon he couldn't resist hitting me. At first, it wasn't so bad. Just a slap or a punch; nothing I couldn't fix. But the night I showed up here, he tried to kill me. I don't know how much he had to drink that night but it was the worst I'd ever seen him. He just started punching and kicking me and I tried to get to my wand but it was all the way up the stairs and he was so much bigger than me…"
Hermione cut her story short with a shuddering sob. Tears dripped down her face when she remembered how helpless she had felt that night. How she had just barely made it out the door. How he had thrown beer bottles out after her, some breaking on her skin.
"Bloody Hell, Hermione. I had no idea." George was in visible shock after hearing Hermione's horrifying tale and he still couldn't believe that anyone could do something like that to their own daughter. Fred was furious and was doing a terrible job at hiding it as he paced back and forth, his fists closing and unclosing.
"Who would do that to their own kid?" Fred slammed his fist into the trunk of the tree Hermione had been sitting under.
"Fred just calm down." George pleaded while awkwardly trying to get Hermione to stop sobbing.
"No, I can't calm down, George. Hermione nearly died! And where's she gonna go now? Who's gonna support her?" From the look on his face, Fred could have continued going but Hermione cut him off,
"I'm really alright, Fred. Trust me, you don't need to worry." She stood up, shrugging George's arm off, and quickly wiped away any remnants of the fact she had been crying.
"I am perfectly capable of finding myself a place to live and the bruises and scars, they… well, they will heal in their own time." Fred stopped pacing and grabbed her arm to examine the extent of the injuries.
"Mum can fix these up in a matter of seconds. Why haven't you had her help you?" Hermione lowered her gaze, ignoring the question, but more importantly, embarrassed by the answer.
Fred made a circle around Hermione, lightly grazing his fingers against her skin, noting every time she winced and squirmed. When he got to her back, she swatted his hand away and doubled over in pain. She took some deep breaths and straightened herself up again to her full height. George, always being full of more emotion than Fred, had a hand placed over his mouth and had turned his head away, not wanting to see Hermione writhe under Fred's touch any longer.
"Hermione, please. I can help you. Just let me see what you're dealing with." He fingered the hem of her shirt, wanting so badly to see what her sick father had done to her, so he could match the punishment to the crime.
"I don't know. I really am fine... and seeing it isn't going to make it any better." She sounded doubtful and both Fred and George suspected that deep down, Hermione wanted help. She just didn't know how to do it without feeling like she was causing someone else pain or grief.
"Please. Hermione. Someone needs to see it. It doesn't have to be me, but I doubt you want Ginny or mum bursting into tears at the sight of this and I know you don't want Ron and Harry promising you that your father will pay and making angry vengeful threats, do you?" Fred raised his eyebrows and cocked his head towards Hermione as if to make sure he wasn't assuming too much. She nodded in agreement.
"Okay. So please. Let us see." Since Hermione was never one to deny solid logic, she reluctantly agreed. Fred slowly, as not to hurt her, slid her shirt up her back until most of her back was on display.
"Bloody Hell," Fred whispered when the gash came into view. Hermione brought her eyes to the sky, trying to focus on the trees and not the clear horror the Fred and George were experiencing. She could only imagine the shock and even worse, the pity they were feeling at the sight
"Did you try to stitch it up yourself?" Fred said quietly, obviously scared. Hermione had, in fact, tried to stitch up her back. She was actually quite good at stitching herself up and had been doing so for years, but it is clearly difficult to reach your back and to see what you're doing in order to do it in a clean manner. Hermione had tried anyway, not seeing any other option.
"Yes." She said in a very un-Hermione way. Fred tried, and failed, to muffle a horrified gasp and Hermione could have sworn she saw tears in George's eyes, but only for a second.
"It's not a big deal. I'll get Harry or someone to stitch it up properly in a few days. After this whole issue has blown over."
"Hermione, you can't wait," George said a little shakily, but for the first time, Hermione had seen, completely serious.
"I'm no doctor but I am almost certain that it's already infected. And if you don't have mum treat it or stitch it up correctly, you're going to get really sick." Hermione nodded and rolled her eyes a little; she had heard this all before.
"I will but I really don't want to cause anyone else any more grief, pain, or anger than I need to." Hermione moved away from Fred and pulled her shirt down suddenly as if she had just taken into account that she was causing the twins all of these things.
"I'm really fine. It doesn't matter, I'm not important. What's important is helping Harry and the rest of the wizarding world through the battle with You-Know-Who" She said this without the air of self-pity you would imagine would accompany words such as those. Instead, she said it as if it were a fact she was reciting from a textbook. At this comment, Fred's face seemed to contort into one of pain and grief all at the same time.
"No. No, Hermione, don't say that." He moved his arm up to comfort her but, just like she had done to Harry, she pulled away; her barriers were back up. Whatever sentimental moment that had just ensued was over just as suddenly as it had begun. George quickly wiped at his eyes while Fred had resorted to angrily pacing again, frustrated that his words seemed to be lost on Hermione.
"I'm really fine. There's no need to worry at all." Seeing that this wasn't going to satisfy Fred and George, she sighed and added, "I promise that if the pain gets to terrible, I'll-I'll tell Ron." And with that, she turned around and left as though nothing had happened.