Disclaimer: The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.
That awkward moment when you get sex advice from the ex-wife.
CHAPTER THREE
They sat curled together for a few minutes before Hermione's dread returned. One perfect match. The rest ranged from acceptable to terrifying and she only had a few days to get them all coordinated for a binding ceremony.
"Where do we start?" Hermione asked.
"Well, the law appoints the eldest spouse as the head of the house, which means Mr. Weasley. We should start there."
"You mean to go to the Burrow?"
"We can't avoid them forever."
An hour later, after some dithering and procrastination, the pair apparated to the end of the dusty lane that led to the crooked house, a house that had always been a welcoming place, made that way largely by Molly Weasley's warm, maternal manner. The house wouldn't be the same without her cooking in the kitchen or barking orders to children and guests alike.
It was with heavy hearts that they walked, close enough that their arms brushed against each other. Hermione wanted to reach out and grab Harry's hand, if only because she needed the reassurance, but she didn't. She wasn't certain what was going on between them. It was as if a line that kept them in the platonic-friends zone had suddenly been erased. Like magic. She was giddy and nervous and unsettled in a way she'd never been with him before. She felt fluttery.
Hermione shot him a shy smile as they walked up the porch steps, and he gave her a lopsided grin, shoved his messy hair back and knocked on the door.
It was answered a few moments later by an uncharacteristically subdued Molly Weasley who simply held her arms out and let them step into one of her amazing hugs. She smelled like cinnamon and laundry soap and sunshine.
After a few moments, Harry pulled away, but Hermione clung to the older woman, sobbing into her shoulder. "I'm so sorry. I would never want to take him from you. I wish I didn't have to. I'm so, so sorry."
Mrs. Weasley just held her, calming Hermione with soft shushing sounds like she probably had for all of her children over the years. When the wave of weeping subsided, the redhead pulled back, her own eyes damp, and gave Hermione an encouraging smile. "Enough with the apologies for things you can't control."
"I was so worried you were going to hate me." A few more tears escaped and Hermione had to take a few deep breaths to get them in check.
"I love you like one of my own, Hermione. And this isn't going to change that. Besides, I trust you to take good care of Arthur now that I won't be able to." The older woman nodded and sniffed, brushing the tears from the corners of her eyes before they could fall.
"I'll do my best."
"Good. Now I imagine you've come to speak with Arthur. He's in the kitchen with the boys. So let's dry our tears. If we women don't stay strong through this, the world will fall to pieces."
Hermione took a moment to clean up her face, feeling a bit better. If anyone had a reason hate her, it was Mrs. Weasley. The fact she wasn't even angry eased some of the heaviness in her heart.
Once they were composed, the women walked arm-in-arm into the kitchen.
They were greeted by a table of redheaded men with long faces.
"Where did Harry and Ron get off to?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she fell into her typical role in the kitchen, bustling about to fix Hermione a cup of tea.
"The boys stepped outside to discuss some things. Good morning, Hermione," Mr. Weasley said, rising from the table to pull out a chair for her.
She thanked him quietly as she settled, feeling the weight of stares from eyes she couldn't quite meet.
The silence was unnatural, especially in the normally raucous Weasley household.
Relief finally came from George, of course. "You're not going to make us call you Mum, are you?"
This comment was greeted with laughter that managed to break the tense atmosphere of the room. George had recovered some of his irreverent humor despite losing his other half in the final battle. Since then, he also fell into dark funks on occasion where he wouldn't speak with anyone.
Hermione blushed as she chuckled, but she managed to retort with a mock glare, "That'll be Stepmum to the likes of you."
It felt good to laugh with these people who had been a second family to her. Once the ice was broken, conversation flowed, Weasley-style, meaning that there were a minimum of three topics under discussion simultaneously, voices vying for attention by increasing volume and repetition. It took some getting used to for an outsider, but for Hermione it was a comfort.
Mr. Weasley used the cover of the boisterous chatter to quietly say, "I understand from Harry that I'm to be your head of household."
She nodded. "I'm afraid it won't be an easy task." He raised a questioning brow. She continued, "Well for starters there are five Slytherins, four are marked Death Eaters, one was a junior Death Eater-in-waiting."
His brow furrowed. "How did they manage that? I thought there were supposed to be safeguards in the process to ensure witches were matched to no more than one Azkaban inmate."
"Only one of them was a prisoner. Lestrange." Hermione sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. "The others are both Malfoys and Professor Snape."
That name seemed to penetrate the layers of conversation around them.
"You got stuck with the greasy git?" George asked, wincing as Mrs. Weasley rapped his knuckles with her teaspoon.
Hermione narrowed her eyes, annoyed at the insult to her intended. "I've been matched to Professor Snape and I'm quite honored by it. He's a brave, intelligent man." She turned back to Mr. Weasley, saying quietly, "Though I doubt he'll be thrilled at the prospect. I imagine that may make your role more difficult."
He reached out as if to pat her hand, but retracted it at the last moment. "I'm certain we'll manage. So what other challenges do your husbands present?"
"Well there's Neville Longbottom, who's a nice guy and Cormac McLaggen, who's an arrogant prat. But I've also got Kingsley and Harry."
Mr. Weasley nodded, considering. "So this union will be high profile."
"I imagine we'll have to set an example," Hermione added glumly. "And even then I'm certain the papers will find something scandalous to print. They always have before where I'm involved. Even if they have to make it up."
This time Mr. Weasley did pat her hand, unable to deny the truth of her statement, but offering some encouragement. "We'll all work to protect you, and whether good or evil, you do have some rather powerful husbands."
It was at that moment that the backdoor opened. Ron took two steps into the kitchen, his lip cracked and bleeding, his knuckles scraped. He paused when he spotted Hermione sitting at the table with his father's hand covering hers.
The way his eyes bugged out would have been comical if it hadn't been followed by an angry diatribe.
"How dare you!" he screamed. "How dare you come in here and flaunt your relationship in front of us. In front of my mother. She's been crying for days and you just swoop in here like you belong. You're nothing more than homewrecking, mudblood whore."
There was a collective intake of breath and the scraping of chairs as all of the Weasleys got to their feet, leaving Hermione to hunch forward at the table and bury her face in her folded arms. Seven voices argued, all but one defending Hermione and castigating Ron for his words.
Sometime during the melee, Harry must have snuck back into the room. Instead of entering the fray, he came to Hermione. It was a small thing, his hand on her back, rubbing in gentle circles, but it was a true balm. Around them, the noise escalated until Mrs. Weasley banged her wooden spoon on a hanging pot.
"Enough!" she shouted. "Ronald Bilius Weasley, you will shut your mouth right now." She sounded like her howler come to life. "I have never been more embarrassed to call myself your mother. We did not raise you to think that way, or to speak like that. Hermione is your friend and she's as much a victim of this as anyone."
"She was on the team that came up with this bloody plan!"
Another argument broke out between the brothers, but it was quickly put down, this time by their patriarch.
"Silence!" Arthur Weasley immediately caught the attention of everyone in the room. This was not the mild mannered wizard Hermione had come to know. The wizard, who had only lost his cool once in Hermione's presence during a confrontation with the elder Malfoy, was fuming. His wand was in his hand, magenta sparks shooting from the tip.
"I will tell all of you this only once. If you wish to blame anyone for this situation, then blame Voldemort and his supporters. Blame the old leadership that allowed him to rise to power, not once, but twice. Blame the people who judge based on blood status and not merit." At this he glared at Ron. "But for all the blame you assign for creating this situation, you have to blame the Wizengamot for approving this law. I am one of those people on the Wizengamot and I am one who approved this, even these conditions that are difficult for our family to face.
"All of us are being called to make sacrifices for our society. I know we've already sacrificed too much and this is not fair. Your mother and I lost two of our children, you each lost two siblings, and Bill lost his lovely wife and a child he never even got to hold. Some of you, Charlie, will have to abandon the work you love, or perhaps you will not be able to pursue a career at all for a time." He glanced at her then. "And now you're being asked to forsake a future with the mate of your choice, at least for several years.
"But the facts are that with the number of witches remaining, the oldest wizarding community in the world would be decimated in three generations. There would be too few children and their lines would be too closely related. Children would be born Squibs or with other defects.
"This is the solution that we adopted. It wasn't the only solution. Hermione herself attended the hearings and tried to forward other suggestions, but this was the one that the majority approved." Many of the council members wouldn't even entertain her idea to introduce a few Muggle bloodlines into the society. Nor were they interested in offering incentives to financially struggling magical communities outside of Great Britain in exchange for encouraging some of their subjects to immigrate. The objection was that we would lose the identity of their community, lose their traditions, and in that case they might as well all pack up and move somewhere else.
"We are all making sacrifices, Ronald. It's time to grow up and accept them like the man your mother and I raised you to be. And you will never again speak that way about Hermione if you wish me to continue to acknowledge you as my son."
Ron went pale with shock except for two red flags of embarrassment high on his cheeks. "I apologize, Dad. I wasn't thinking straight." The words were choked and automatic, but not especially heartfelt.
"I'm not the one who's owed an apology."
Attention shifted back to her, but she kept her eyes on the table.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." This apology sounded even more forced than his first. Hermione wasn't the only one that noticed it.
"You shouldn't have said it. You shouldn't have even thought it." It was Harry who spoke in her defense, his hand resting on her shoulder.
"Stay out of it, Harry. You two probably have been shagging each other for years behind my back. Behind Ginny's back. Doesn't it even bother you that Ginny's gone? Hermione was supposed to be mine, Harry. Mine. But you always get everything."
She'd had enough. Rising with her wand drawn, she said, "Harry and I have never been more than friends until now. I will admit I once thought you and I could be something more, but after your display today, I'm quite certain that it would never have worked out. I will accept your apology in the spirit in which it was issued – with reluctance."
Hermione looked from Mr. Weasley to Mrs. Weasley. "Perhaps it would be best if I leave—"
"No," Mr. Weasley said with finality. "Ron, I believe you have a meeting with your intended soon. It would be best if you clean yourself up before you go. Your brothers can help you."
It was an obvious dismissal and none of the boys disputed it. Once the room emptied of the younger Weasleys, Hermione slumped back in her chair.
"I apologize for Ronald's behavior," Mr. Weasley said as he resumed his seat. "I would say that he's under a lot of emotional stress, but it's no excuse. We're all under stress and managing the best we can."
"I'm quite familiar with his temper." She smiled wryly, but it was tinged with sadness. "I expected his anger, but that doesn't make it less painful. Still, you needn't apologize for him, Mr. Weasley."
"I think under the circumstances you should call me Arthur."
"All right…Arthur," she said, blushing lightly.
"I take it you boys fought," Arthur said to Harry, who took a seat on the other side of Hermione. She could see where his cheek was red and beginning to swell. And his glasses were broken. Again.
"Sorry, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, he didn't react well to the news that I was one of Hermione's husbands. I'd hoped he'd gotten it all out of his system though."
As the older couple dismissed his apology, Hermione took a moment to fix up Harry. She knew enough first aid to reduce the swelling and prevent further bruising, but he'd still have a red mark for a while. A quick Occulus Reparo fixed his glasses right up and she was reminded of the first day she met Harry Potter.
She couldn't help but smile at the memory.
He grinned at her knowingly. "Thanks, Mione."
Arthur and Harry moved into the sitting room to discuss how they should proceed to gather everyone for the binding and what to do next. Hermione decided she'd had enough binding talk for the moment and decided to stay in the kitchen to help Mrs. Weasley with lunch preparations.
When the meat-filled pasties were in the oven, the women sat down at the table.
After insisting that Hermione also call her by her given name, Molly said, "I want you to know that I'm here for you to talk to if you need it. Soon you'll be a wife and a mother and I do have some experience in those areas. And wizards can be so clueless sometimes it's nice to be able to talk to another witch."
"I appreciate that, Molly. I'm certain I'll need your help and advice. Perhaps we can try to meet for tea and a weekly chat. At least until we're too pregnant to get about."
"I would like that very much." Molly smiled at her, sipped her tea and then took a deep breath as if preparing for something unpleasant. "Now I know this is a rather delicate topic, and a bit more awkward for the strange situation we're in, but do you have any questions about sex?"
Hermione choked on her tea. After her coughing fit subsided, she stammered, "Well…er…I…um…I think I understand the basics, but I've never actually…. That is to say I've not…. I'm still a…."
"A virgin?"
Hermione sighed in relief at not having to say the word. She nodded. "I've only ever been kissed three times and one of them was Harry only just this morning." She touched her lips, remembering. "It was sweet."
"You've only been kissed three times? Even after spending all that time unchaperoned with two teenage boys?"
She huffed, a little irritated because it had been a common misconception during school that there was more than just friendship amongst the trio. Some of the rumors even paired Harry and Ron as a couple, making her the third wheel. "We were running for our lives and trying to save the world. I had other things on my mind."
"I don't mean to offend you, dear, but not many girls would have resisted the temptation, especially under such dire circumstances. I doubt I would have at your age. You know Bill was born only seven months after Arthur and I married and he was almost a month past his due date."
It always surprised her when she found respectable adults had once been young and rash. Hermione just shook her head and shrugged. "For me, it wasn't the right time. I thought maybe Ron and I would…after the battle…but it just didn't work out. And now I'm going to have ten lovers and I don't have any idea what I'm doing."
"You poor dear, to think how much more trying this whole situation is for you. Your first experience is daunting enough even if you wait for the right time with the right man."
"I'll admit I'm completely terrified. While I understand the mechanics of what goes on between a man and a woman, I have no practical experience. And some of these men are downright scary. Besides that, I don't know how to be a wife. I don't know how to be a mum."
"Hermione, you are a brilliant, caring girl. You'll figure it out, and I'll always be willing to help if you need it. But if one of those men does something you don't like, you don't hesitate to go to Arthur, or Harry if you're more comfortable."
They shared another hug and then Hermione decided it was time to change the subject. "So what are your matches like, Molly?"
She snorted and poured them each a little more tea.
"I don't know what potions they're on over at the Ministry, to think that I should be matched to a boy your age."
"Oh goodness. Who?"
"Seamus Finnegan. The poor dear will probably need me to use Polyjuice to get the deed done." Molly laughed and Hermione couldn't help but join in. "I won't know whether to kiss the boy or change his nappy and send him to his room."
The thought of Seamus in a diaper was enough to push the pair over the edge.
After the two had a good, much needed laugh, Molly shared that the rest of her matches weren't so very bad. She'd been in school with several of them, only one had any known ties to Death Eaters and she'd managed to not to get saddled with one of the Azkaban prisoners. None of them were in their dotage either. Apparently Hermione wasn't the only one glad to avoid saggy, old man balls.
"So is there anything I need to know about Arthur? I mean, I don't even know how he takes his tea."
"Two sugars and just a dollop of cream. Let's see. What else. He snores like a Hungarian Horntail, so unless you use a silencing spell on him, you won't sleep a wink if he's in the room. His neck is quite sensitive. Kissing him there is a sure way to get him going."
Molly smiled faintly, staring into her tea, but seeing a memory, while Hermione blushed like mad.
"You already know he adores all things Muggle. You'll be better suited to that hobby than I ever was." The redhead's smile was a little sad now, and her eyes were misty.
Hermione reached out and squeezed Molly's hand. "I'll never be able to fill your shoes."
The older woman squeezed back. "Just do your best to love him, even if it's only ever the fondness you have for him now. That's all I can hope for."
A/N: Thanks for the time to review! I appreciate your feedback.
Next up: A politician is persuasive...
