Author Note: My deepest apologies for the ridiculously long time between chapter ten and eleven. Please check out my bio for why it's taken me so long. I appreciate more than words can express those who've PM'd me messages, favorited, followed, or reviewed this story while it was lounging in the dusty corners of my mind while I dealt with Life. Your support has blown me away. Thank you! Much love and hope you enjoy the chapter below.
Legal: I am not J.K. Rowling, and therefore do not make any money from this story. I own nothing but the plot of this story.
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Chapter 11
The following day saw Katie transferred to St. Mungos hospital after Madam Pomfrey gravely declared that Katie's injuries had surpassed even her own healing capabilities. When word from Leanne's lips met Hermione ears, she sent the twins a message through their coins as she'd promised. Immediately, she felt her coin burn in reply, and felt incredible satisfaction and comfort knowing they could communicate instantly in this time of burgeoning war.
"Thank you our darling." Read George's message.
"On our way there now." Read Fred's.
Both sides alternated between green and purple, their respective fears and sorrows for Katie making her heart ache. She wished she could physically comfort them, but contented herself with being able to at least converse with them through their coins, instead of an impersonal and delayed owl delivery.
That evening, as Hermione, Ron and Harry made their way through their common room on their way to dinner, Hermione was dismayed but not shocked to notice a teary eyed Leanne seated upon the window ledge overlooking the grounds below. Her heart squeezed at the possibility that one day it might be her seated there — arms wrapped around her legs, tears riveting down her cheeks — with one or both of her wizards housed at St. Mungos.
Or worse.
"Reckon she'll be alright?" Ron murmured, nodding toward Leanne's silhouette as they walked through the corridor. Hermione was pleased that instead of taking the piss — as he was wont to do when faced with the outpouring of emotions — he was employing empathy.
"If Katie pulls through…" replied Hermione softly. Harry and Ron exchanged somber looks as they passed through the portrait of the Fat Lady and the subject was dropped.
Life continued at a steady pace following Katie's attack, with the leaves developing hues of cardamom, golds and tawny browns, and the air grew a crisp bite signaling the approaching winter winds. Hermione found her days fuller than ever before. Instead of how she typically spent the times Ron and Harry were otherwise preoccupied practicing quidditch or playing wizard's chess — namely, she'd spend it alone — Hermione could now be found those various evenings studying with Leanne in the library or relaxing in the common room with Ginny.
Despite Hermione's tendencies to inadvertently rub the females her age the wrong way with her somewhat abrasive nature and dismissive tendencies — save for Ginny — she was delighted to find that relating to Leanne was in fact quite effortless. She cherished the true friendship that was developing.
"Have you received any news about Katie?" Hermione asked one evening as the two sat reviewing their respective course work. Seeing as Leanne was a year ahead, Hermione delighted in picking Leanne's brain for advanced wand work and spells, and was grateful the other witch wasn't put out by her intellectual sponging. It saddened her to realize she'd surpassed learning for the sake of knowledge alone; that instead, she was building her magical arsenal in order to aid in the ultimate defeat of Voldemort and hopefully ensure those she loved survived.
She'd intellectually sponge off whomever she could — within reason — if it helped her prepare for what was to come.
Leanne sighed. "Fred owled me yesterday, apparently there's no change either way. Whatever the curse was, it damaged her magical core greatly. According to the senior mediwitch in charge of her care, the resulting magical coma is a positive thing. It's protecting her and allowing her core the chance to regenerate itself… I'm just so thankful Fred and George can send me news… I couldn't even imagine how terrible it'd be without knowing anything…to be just left wanting and waiting."
Her eyes glistened and her bottom lip trembled slightly as she spoke, but Leanne drew in a breath when she finished and shored up her defenses.
Hermione reached across and placed her hand atop Leanne's.
"I'm really glad you have them too. They care deeply for you both, and almost losing Katie has hit them harder than I believe even they realize. I'm glad you have each other to lean on and draw strength from."
Leanne smiled. "I think you, Hermione, are the one giving them strength. I've never seen them as… grounded… as they currently are, nor as happy despite the current cultural climate. They've always been decent blokes and right fantastic friends, but they've also been at loose ends for years."
Hermione ducked her head slightly, a blush of pleasure dusting her cheeks.
"I'm glad," she said softly. "I'm… I'm utterly besotted Leanne. As their friend, your affirmation of our relationship means a great deal to me, as I truly do adore them for their own uniqueness's."
Hermione paused, drawing back her hand and scratching her nail along a jagged etching in the wood someone had carved with a quill tip. "I'll admit though, it's starting to chafe that only Ginny, their brother Bill and you know that we're together…"
Leanne sent Hermione a commiserating look, "I know all too well how hiding who you're with can chafe."
Hermione flushed, embarrassed. She made to stutter out an apology at her lack of tact but Leanne waved her off.
"Welcome aboard the boat that sails the seas without public acknowledgment, lest delicate sensibilities are disturbed by our mere presence. Although, I'm not sure which is more scandalous at present, two females together or a triad… with twins no less. And prolific businessmen at that…" she gave a snort. "Either one would send an old bitty to an early grave."
Hermione nodded, though thought it likely her relationship with the twins would be apt to cause a greater stir, simply for the reason that they were indeed prolific businessmen and of her friendly proximity to Harry Potter and her own semi-notoriety thanks to Rita Skeeter.
Eventually the truth would come out, but Hermione hoped they'd have their friends at their backs and in their corner when it did.
It baffled her slightly that neither Ron nor Harry appeared the least bit cognizant to her budding camaraderie with Leanne, despite it developing almost right under their noses.
'Silly, obtuse boys,' Hermione muttered to herself, hauling her book sac onto her shoulder as she made her way back from their latest study session.
On the occasional nights her dorm mates joined her and Ginny in front of the Gryffindor common room's fire, Lavender and Pavarti took exceptional delight in peppering Hermione with questions about whom she was dating, with Hermione remaining tight lipped and Ginny smirking coyly; like the cat who ate the cream.
"Come on, Hermione, give us something!" Pestered Lavender the Thursday evening following their Hogsmede visit.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Fine… we met at Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts!" Squealed Lavender, clapping her hands in delight at having finally pried loose a detail from Hermione's lid-tight relationship. "They must have graduated, or you'd be spending loads of time together and we'd have seen you." She nodded authoritatively and Ginny chocked on the water she was drinking, convulsing into a coughing fit while her eyes watered.
"You alright there Gin," asked Hermione, brow furrowed in silent warning. She gripped her wand in case Ginny needed a helping hand.
"F-fine…f-fine…" sputtered Ginny, hitting her chest and drawing in a large gulp of air. "Apologies. I'm alright. Wrong tube and all that." She said, shooting a grin at Hermione that went unnoticed by the other two.
"So they're magical?" Asked Pavarti.
"Of course," interjected Ginny, definitively. "Like Hermione could hide being a witch for the remainder of her days. Her magic is ingrained in everything she does, it'd be downright cruel…"
"I do live as a muggle during the majority of summer, Gin," Hermione gently reminded her.
"But you know it's temporary. That you'll be able to use magic soon enough. That you'll be back amongst those who know and understand you and your abilities, even the prats who pretend otherwise."
"Slytherins," coughed Lavender.
"True," Hermione nodded, realizing as she did that the divide between her worlds was a further chasm every year, and at some point the distance might be insurmountable. It saddened her. "I really haven't felt myself pulled toward any muggle boy since I entered this world. I think my subconscious is protecting me from following in Professor McGonagall's footsteps."
"What about Professor McGonagall?" Lavender and Pavarti said simultaneously, leaning forward, eyes alight with the potential receipt of juicy gossip.
"Oh, it's a terribly sad story! I overheard her and Mrs. Weasley last year…" Hermione relayed to the girls the bits that she knew, from a discussion she'd inadvertently eavesdropped on between her favorite professor and Mrs. Weasley over Christmas the previous year at Grimmauld Place.
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"What is Dumbledore playing at?" Asked Fred, pacing around the room.
"I'm not certain," sighed Hermione, seated upon the sofa with her legs tucked up beside her. "He seems to think informing Harry of these snippets of Riddle's past will somehow assist Harry in defeating him. Though I fail to see how, at this point… a reincarnated seventy-five year old wizard is not going to be the same as his twelve year old self. Or at least, I should hope not…"
She hadn't informed the twins of what Harry was being shown, just that Professor Dumbledore was giving him private lessons revolving around Tom Riddle's past. Technically speaking, she shouldn't have even told George and Fred this much. It went against Dumbledore's instructions that Harry only involve her and Ron in the knowledge of these clandestine meetings and their contents.
However, being both order members, modestly brilliant wizards and inventive pranksters who could evaluate a situation from angles otherwise left unexplored, she didn't regret in the least bringing them slightly into the fold.
She also knew they were very talented in the art of discretion and diversion, and would employ both with whatever she divulged.
"I bet Ol' Tweedlebore is regretting not informing Harry of everything last year with the prophecy and all that. His secrets ended up ultimately getting Sirius killed." Mused Fred, plopping down beside Hermione on the sofa and slinging an arm loosely around her shoulders.
Hermione snorted at the nickname he'd given their headmaster. George and Fred had confided in her their personal views on the Headmaster and his management of Harry, predominantly their witnessed treatment of Harry by his muggle relatives, as well as their observations on Professor Dumbledore's subtle machinations throughout the years. They were hesitant to put all their eggs of trust in the old man's basket, and had warned her to keep her council around him, for they suspected he was a proficient legillimens.
"Bet his guilt is what spurred on the sharing sessions." Nodded George. He was lounging in one of the chairs, and was fiddling with a wooden tube of some sort. Hermione couldn't tell what it was exactly, other than it was wood, it was cylindrical, and in some capacity, was destined for their store shelves as a new product.
Hermione pushed the hair out of her face that had fallen when Fred'd sat down beside her and closed the book she'd been perusing earlier before the twins had arrived. It had lain open upon her lap, all but forgotten, as she'd informed them of the previous evening's revelations.
She'd managed to find an actually legible tome in the bookshelf about the combined forces of herbology and alchemy in the late sixteenth century and how it was utilized to purify various flora and elevate the medicinal properties through spagyrics. Any potions derived from these purified ingredients would be exponentially more powerful and transformative.
It was fascinating reading, if a bit tedious, and she looked forward to delving further into its study. As captivating a subject though it was, however; it couldn't hold a candle to the wizards beside and in front of her.
Levitating the book back toward its vacant space in the bookshelf, Hermione snuggled into Fred's side.
"We know you're privy to the actual intricacies of the memories Hermione," said Fred, twisting a curl around his finger, the tip brushing against her shoulder slightly as he flicked the strands. She shivered.
"If it gets to be too great a burden — the knowledge revealed, the danger, anything really — please, we beseech you confide in us, so that we can help share the strain." George said earnestly.
"You know Granger, we've been privy to observing the mechanisms of your dynamic — yours, Ron's and Harry's — for years, and know that for all that Ron and Harry shoulder their share, you, our darling —"
"Take the lion's worth." Finished George, for once his eyes intense with a somber steadiness.
"Ron is an incredibly logical tactician…" Hermione said loyally, for it was the truth. "And for all his rashness, Harry's heart and bravery are his biggest strengths. Each come with their own responsibilities and burdens."
"Your ability to retain knowledge, apply it skillfully under intense pressure while maintaining a clear and cool head, not being afraid to dip a toe past the line and into the black if warranted, never wavering in your assistance to a best mate with a target literally tattooed upon his forehead…" said Fred, ticking off each point on his fingers.
"We just…" George extricated himself from the chair and began pacing the same path Fred had moments before. "We just… we want to be your home base Hermione… your place where you can come, to regroup, to be safe, to let down your guard. We don't need to know everything — or anything, rather, other than that you need us — we just desire to know you'll allow us to help keep you from burning yourself out."
Hermione felt her eyes tear up as her throat constructed around a sudden lump at the base of her tongue. For so long she'd kept herself together with invisible threads of defiance, pride, desperation to succeed and fear. Fear of failure, fear of losing those she loved, fear of returning to the aching loneliness she'd experienced the beginning of her first year…. She knew Ron and Harry cared for her, and they all relied on each other to continually get through the surprises and rigors each school year tossed their way.
But to have blind, unconditional, unwavering support offered solely for her and her alone… to matter that much to them…
Hermione felt her chest tighten as a multitude of emotions flooded her system.
Harry had been born under the cloud of trepidation, fear and, from his first birthday onward, heady expectations unbeknownst to him. Since re-entering their world at age eleven, he had shouldered more than was humanly fair to demand of anyone — child or otherwise — let alone a boy who'd suffered as he had at the hands of his relatives.
Ron and Hermione were the pillars he drew strength from; their support and loyalty bolstering his endurance and focus. They weren't destined by a prophecy to stand with him, they did so out of love, knowing all of them had stakes in the war. That said, there was no one, save for themselves, to ensure they too remained strong, that they were also supported… that they could break apart and it'd be ok, there would be someone to catch them.
Before Fred and George, she'd had no one to catch her, not even a possibility of someone.
George and Fred were staring at Hermione, their gazes anxious.
"You…" Hermione whispered, her words catching on her suddenly thickened throat as she struggled to maintain her decorum. "You have no idea… what your words… your presence, support, strength… means."
She buried her face into Fred's chest and threaded her arms around his toned chest. Fred's arms enveloped her, pulling her close as he tucked his chin atop her head.
"We've waited years for the chance to court you, Hermione. To be yours…" he murmured, one of his hands stroking her spine soothingly. "We'll do whatever we can —"
"However we can," agreed George, sitting down beside them on the sofa and placing his hand on her knee, "to ensure we have years after this bloody war is won as your wizards as well. We meant it when we said we'd be your safe place to land… and know we don't scare easily love."
She turned from Fred's embrace and folded herself into George's.
"And I'm yours in turn. We are each other's…" she murmured, reaching up to cup George's face and kissing his lips lightly.
"I plan on enjoying these…" she said, tracing his bottom lip with her finger. "For a very long while yet…"
George gave her finger a nip, extracting a surprised squeal from Hermione that dissolved into tinkling laughter. Nestling back into the crook of Fred's arm, she crossed her leg over her knee and took George's hand within her own.
"I want to run something by you two." Said Hermione, "Ron's getting titchier about Slughorn's supper club, and his constant exclusion. I know it irks him no end to not be considered worthy enough for Slughorn's attention despite having done all the same stuff Harry and I have…for the most part, save for third year…"
She saw George lift his eyebrows toward Fred and felt Fred give a slight shrug behind her.
"Anyway…" she continued. "The professor will be hosting a Christmas party right before the holidays in December, and Harry, Ginny and I are all invited. I was thinking I'd invite Ron as my date for the party, so that he'd be included in an event he should by all rights be already invited to."
She pulled back from where she'd snuggled into Fred's side, and linked her other hand's fingers with his.
"Would you be opposed to me inviting him? I know I don't need your permission — he's one of my best friends and you're no longer students, so couldn't be my dates anyway — but I respect you, respect us… I just want to ensure full communication of intent. He knows where I stand, and I'll be clear this is a date in name only."
"Hermione. Our girl… breathe." Chuckled George.
Lifting her hand to his mouth and turning her palm face up, he slowly traced his tongue down each of her fingers, ending with a bite as he reached each tip. He punctuated each digit's caress with words of endearment.
Hermione could feel her knickers dampen, and she squeezed her thighs together in pleasure at the sensations George was eliciting.
"What George is too distracted to fully articulate," said Fred, rolling his eyes in apparent bemusement as her eyes became heavy with desire, "is that we appreciate your thoughtfulness in informing us of your intent, though you didn't have to tell us anything about your plans for the party, Hermione. We trust you implicitly. You've made it quite clear he's solely a mate and I agree, it's pants that Slughorn's biased against our brother for not being wealthy or prestigious enough… We heartily approve you taking ickle Ronniekins to the Christmas shindig…"
George finished his ministrations upon her hand and said, "Though we demand dibs on your time after the party." He flashed a roguish smile that had her stomach summersaulting in anticipation.
"You demand?" Hermione asked, breathless, raising an eyebrow
"We'd love the opportunity to… unwrap you, to divest you of your Christmas finery," said Fred, licking his lips before capturing hers in a passionately sweet kiss.
"Deal!" Hermione breathed, the word swallowed up by the heat of Fred's next kiss.
Over the next few hours, Hermione immersed herself in both physical and intellectual pleasures at the hands of her wizards, before the imminent hour of curfew made leaving them a necessity.
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"Have you noticed Lavender today? She looks… different, somehow..." Ron asked, scowling slightly with his brow furrowed in puzzlement as he pushed his cereal around in his bowl one Tuesday morning. He'd yet to put his spoon to mouth, and Hermione raised the back of her palm to his head to see if he felt warm. Apart from a slight clamminess, he felt normal temperature to her.
"Good different," he hastened to clarify, and Hermione rolled her eyes at his blundering observations.
The boys had quidditch practice that evening, and Hermione had made plans to meet George and Fred at the shack. It'd been three days since she'd seen them, since they'd yet again declared themselves her proverbial shields from the approaching storm.
"Hmff." Replied Harry, nose in the prince's book. His eyes had the glazed look of the scholastic, and Hermione grudgingly admitted that having Harry interested in and actually learning Potions, albeit from a book, wasn't the worst thing to happen. She'd promised both Ron, Ginny and her two wizard's she'd lay off Harry, so she bit her tongue at his preoccupation and answered Ron instead.
Hermione knew Lavender had utilized the new curling spell that witch weekly had featured in their latest issue, and the soft ringlets instead of her customary straightened locks did frame her friend's face enticingly.
'I wonder if she purposefully sat with her back to the windows, so that the morning sun would filter in and give her the appearance of wearing an ethereal halo?' Hermione mused.
"Why don't you go talk to her?" Hermione nudged his shoulder and angled her head in her dorm mate's direction. As she did, she caught Lavender glance in their direction, a bright flush flitting across her cheeks as she caught Ron and Hermione staring.
"She's busy." Said Ron, somewhat glumly, nodding toward where she sat eating and chatting with Pavarti. "Sides, not like I'm much to talk to these days. If Harry wasn't being so bloody loyal, he'd let me—"
"Oh for Merlin's sake, Ron!" said Hermione, losing patience with his currently stropy mood. "Just buck up, stop the pity party and go chat with her… Are you a lion or not?"
"And you are not quitting the team!" Said Harry pointedly, momentarily joining the conversation before returning his gaze once more to his book.
"He resurfaces," huffed Hermione. She was trying, really, she was. But she was loathe to give him a completely free pass, and she was feeling especially tetchy that morning.
She crossed her arms atop the table and watched in exasperated amusement as Ron loped off toward where Pavarti and Lavender were sitting a ways down.
'Cor, but I miss my wizards'. She thought, watching Ron and Lavender interact, both of their faces a study in shy, budding, infatuation. 'I miss conversing with wizards who treat me as an equal, not their mother!'
She missed the breathlessness of their kisses, the tingle of desire and the sense of 'home' that traveled down her spine with every caress. She missed the challenges they brought, the fire they stoked in both her body and mind.
She just missed… them.
She was tetchy with want.
'We mentioned courting,' George had written the night before.
'And we've been amiss,' Fred's side had gleaned.
'Tomorrow night we rectify,' wrote George.
'A true date for our miss,' Fred had finished.
The coins truly didn't lend themselvesas to the proper vessel for poetry, but their intent was clear.
They were taking her on a date.
Hermione was vibrating with excitement and anticipation.
'Only a few more hours…' she thought, trying desperately to hold on until then. She fingered the coin hanging on the silver chain around her neck — she had moved it there following the incident, as she didn't want to risk it ever falling out or being misplaced — and wished that six-o-clock would bloody well hurry up.