Chapter Eleven

July 1996

"All packed darling?" Helen Granger approached the doorway of her daughter's room, a sad smile growing on her lips. Hermione had been home from Hogwarts for such a short time, and already she was leaving to go off back into the wizarding world. It had become quite routine for Hermione to spend most of the year away at school, but it wasn't until recently that her winter and summer holidays were being taken up by things and people that her parents couldn't understand.

"It's safer there." That's what the Grangers had been told when the Weasley family offered to let Hermione come and stay with them. While Hermione's parents didn't know all of the details of what was happening, they'd learned to trust their daughter and the Wizarding family that they'd come to greatly respect over the past years since their children became friends. Especially after all the unfortunate things that had been happening around the country lately. Murders, bridges collapsing, and the terrible and unprecedented weather conditions. Richard Granger had asked Arthur Weasley on the telephone—which the latter had been thrilled to use—if a proper explanation could be given. Mr. Weasley regrettably could not offer him one, stating that the Grangers being Muggles actually put others at risk—Hermione included—if they knew too much. Richard wasn't thrilled with the idea of Hermione leaving so soon after coming home, especially after he'd overheard his wife giving their daughter "the talk".

"Mum, there's nothing to be worried about," Hermione insisted on the other side of the bedroom door where Richard eavesdropped. "I'm much too busy with school and everything else to even consider such things."

"Darling, we only want what's best, and we're not too old to understand what happens when you're this age. Your father and I were your age when we first began—"

"Mum!"

"It's nothing to be ashamed about," Helen insisted almost irritably. She'd always had an open relationship with her daughter and was finding it frustrating that Hermione was suddenly quiet and reserved about talking to her. Magic was one thing, but romantic involvements were something that Helen felt she should be able to talk to her daughter about. "Look, we don't see you all that often, Hermione—"

"I write to you both every week."

"Yes with updates on the weather, your homework—which is all well and good," her mum said with a sigh. "Hermione, the past year or so your letters have become a bit lacking on your social life. We've heard more about Crookshanks than your friends. And when we do," Helen smiled, "well, I can tell when my daughter is focused on something." Hermione blushed. "The fact remains that your world—this new world—is very different from ours, and you're pulling away from us too soon. Your father and I have made peace with the fact that one day you'll just be gone. You'll be a witch and . . ." she tried to finish, but stopped to dab a tissue at the corner of her eyes.

"I am a witch, already. I can have both worlds," Hermione insisted.

"Then let me have some control of this part of ours," her mother said. "You say it's nothing to worry about, but if you could hear the way you talk about Ronald . . ."

Hermione blushed again and looked away.

Outside the door, Richard braced himself against the wall.

"Mum, I'm not—"

"Let me finish," Helen interrupted her. "You're spending nearly the whole summer with this boy, and then running off to school where you practically live together."

"In separate dormitories! He can't even get up the stairs to my room if he tried!" Hermione attempted to make it as clear as possible. "He actually did try once," she paused to recollect, "not for . . . for anything like that, Mum, anyways . . ." She sighed in frustration. "There are spells that keep the boys out. They can actually get quite injured if they try."

Richard promised himself that he would send a thank you card to whoever was in charge of that bit of magic.

Helen chuckled. "And you think it's only your bedroom that you can get into trouble in?"

"Don't give her any ideas!" Richard said loudly.

"Dad!"

"Richard!"

Hermione and her Mum yelled at the same time. Helen stood up and walked to the door. "Go downstairs, right this minute," she ordered him.

"But . . . Helen, you can't be serious . . . but she's—" he pointed at Hermione with a sad, broken-hearted look on his face.

"She's growing up, and I'm handling this!" Helen pointed down the stairs and watched until Richard was out of sight before closing and locking the door behind her.

She ran a hand down her blouse and moved back toward Hermione's bed where her daughter looked completely scandalised, head in her hands. "Now, where was I?"

"You were in the middle of creating an awkward memory for me to recollect years from now, possible in therapy," Hermione complained, trying to be as respectful as possible while still attempting to avoid the entire conversation. "You know I don't need this, right?" she asked. "I've read all the books."

"Of course you have," her mother laughed, "and you're . . . being safe?" Helen finally came out with it. "Do we need to make you an appointment with a doctor?"

"Mum," Hermione spoke slowly and clearly. "There is no need for any of this," she assured her. "But, since you don't seem to be able to drop the subject, I promise you if a situation were to ever arise in the future—the far future," she added quickly, "I will be safe."

"And the doctor?"

Hermione sighed, ready to be done with the conversation. "There's no need. There are charms I can do, and a potion I believe," she muttered. "It's supposed to be much more effective than Muggle medicine."

Somehow, Hermione's mother looked offended by the statement.

"Mum, I didn't mean . . . it's just . . ."

Helen nodded. "Different worlds, I know dear. Quite all right."

That had been days ago, and Hermione's father had been unable to talk to his daughter much about anything since. He'd asked her about her schoolwork of course, and what she might like to do come Christmas, but the slightest mention of Harry, or especially Ron, caused him to grow immediately silent on the subject, and then excuse himself from the room.

"Where's your car, Arthur?" Richard asked as he held open the door for the balding, red-headed wizard. Hermione could hear the conversation from the hallway upstairs as she pulled her trunk from her room, counting down the days until she could finally use magic outside of Hogwarts.

Mr. Weasley frowned. "No car today I'm afraid. A right shame too. I very much enjoy honking the horn at people to say hello," he said brightly. "No, I'll be Apparating Hermione back to the Burrow. Much faster and less dangerous."

"Apparating?" Richard questioned. "What exactly is that?"

Mr. Weasley paused to explain and then recalled a conversation he'd once had with Hermione's father in which the circumstances were reversed. "It's a bit hard to explain. Do you recall trying to teach me about your . . ." and he tried to remember the word, "pincher net?"

"Internet." Richard nodded slowly, catching the meaning very quickly. He'd remembered quite clearly introducing Arthur Weasley to his computer. He might as well have been speaking a different language entirely. Hermione's father quickly resigned to letting his daughter explain apparating another time. "Say no more, Arthur."

Mr. Weasley grinned. "Good."

"Is travelling by car much of a danger then?" Richard asked curiously.

"Not as such, no." Mr. Weasley shook his head, his ears going a bit pink. If his wife was here, she'd certainly say that cars were a danger when Mr. Weasley was behind the wheel of one. "But the drive back is long, and it's well . . . just less exposure and all," he said and left it at that.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley," Hermione said with a smile from the top of the stairs. "Congratulations on your promotion. Ginny owled me about it a few days ago."

Mr. Weasley smiled brightly. "Thank you, Hermione. It's not quite as exciting as sorting out possessed pocket watches and enchanted toasters, but I go where I'm needed I suppose. Here, let me give you a hand with that." Mr. Weasley flicked his wand. "Locomotor trunk," he said, and Hermione's trunk lifted up and floated down the stairs, landing softly on the ground. "I'll just send this off for you." He reached for the trunk, wand in hand.

"Oh, wait!" Hermione said quickly. "Forgetting something." She turned around and heard a low growling meow. "Someone. Sorry, Crookshanks." She slipped the cat into his small carrier and set it on the top of the trunk and then watched Mr. Weasley vanish everything together.

"Waiting for you at the Burrow along with everyone. All very excited to see you. Lots happening." He grinned. "Oh yes, very exciting!"

Hermione smiled and then walked over, hugging her parents to her tightly. "I promise, I'll write you three times a week."

Richard kissed the top of her head. "Be safe."

"She'll be well looked after," Mr. Weasley promised.

CRACK!

Hermione took in a large lungful of air and coughed it out quickly as they landed outside the Burrow. "So . . . Apparition," she spoke slowly. "I'd like to learn how that's done." It was certainly uncomfortable, but knowing that lessons for it were just in the short future, the idea of learning it became more and more appealing.

"Ron should be just inside." Mr. Weasley gestured. "If you'll excuse me, though, I've got an early morning meeting and need to be heading back to the Ministry." And with another loud CRACK he Disapparated.

Hermione walked the short distance to the Burrow, smiling brightly as she inhaled the scent of freshly mowed grass, though without a proper lawnmower, she couldn't help but wonder how the lawn around the Burrow was cut. She promised herself she'd ask Mrs. Weasley what charm was used to perform the chore. The sight of the house alone made her grin. It was one of her most favourite places in the world. An entire home bursting at the seams with magic. Not only that but some of her favourite people were just inside.

After a lingering hug goodbye at King's Cross Station only a few weeks ago, Hermione felt desperate to see Ron as though she'd already missed so much in the short period of time. She had a great deal to talk with him about, especially after reading the Daily Prophet and what they were saying about Harry, the Department of Mysteries, the captured Death Eaters, and the prophecy. Not only that, she was hoping to see if he was doing much better health wise after the attack in the Brain Room. Hermione still had a large bruise over her rib cage from where Dolohov had cursed her though the potions Madam Pomfrey had sent home with her had taken the pain away completely.

Hermione knocked at the door. "Hello?"

"Hermione?" Ginny's voice came from behind the door, but it didn't open. "Is that you?"

Hermione laughed. "Yes."

"How do I know you're not a Death Eater?" Ginny asked. Hermione could tell there was a chuckle in the tone of her voice.

"Ginny . . ." Hermione groaned.

"You didn't read the security pamphlet?" Ginny asked her. "Hermione, I'm shocked! The Ministry of Magic has worked tirelessly to give us simple guidelines to protect our families and homes from the dark forces," she said sarcastically.

Hermione's voice grew louder. "Ginny, let me in."

"Number four," Ginny said and then cleared her throat. "Agree on security questions with close friends and family so as to detect Death Eaters masquerading as others by use of the Polyjuice Potion. Hermione," she spoke through the door, "if that is your real name, how do I know that you're really Hermione Granger? Tell me your deepest, darkest secret." The littlest Weasley grinned on the other side of the closed door.

Hermione seethed. "My deepest secret is that I'm quite violent toward redheads."

"Oh, now we all know that's not true. But you know what, even if you are a Death Eater dressed up in Hermione's face, I think I'll let you in. Because it would be much more interesting than what's going on in here." Ginny opened the door and smiled cheerfully at Hermione. "Welcome," she said with wide eyes, "to my nightmare."

Hermione scowled at Ginny as she entered the Burrow. "What's wrong with you?"

"I'm so glad you're here," Ginny said, hugging Hermione's side. "You've no idea how bad it's been. It's been twenty-four hours, Hermione. I'm going to snap if it doesn't end soon."

"If what doesn't end soon?" Hermione rose a brow, suddenly growing worried. What could have happened to the Weasley's that Mr. Weasley hadn't told her about? He seemed positively cheerful when he'd left her.

Ginny fake sobbed into Hermione's shoulder. "We've been infiltrated."

"What are you talking abou—" Hermione let out a slight gasp.

"'Ermione?" came a french accent from the doorway of the kitchen and Fleur Delacour entered with a sweet smile. "'Ow lovely, leetle Ginny has someone to play wiz now." Fleur's smile was genuine, which only made Hermione's eyes widen. She heard Ginny quietly growl into her shoulder.

"It's nice to see you Fleur," Hermione said and closed the door behind her. "What are you doing here?" she asked, turning her attention to Ginny who seemed on the verge of a temperamental breakdown.

"Oh, I waz just planning to make breakfast for everyone." Fleur smiled and slipped on a frilly apron that looked nothing like the ones Mrs. Weasley usually wore.

"No, I mean, here at the Burrow," Hermione clarified.

"Oh, Bill has brought me to spend time wiz his dear family. Bill and are I going to be married!" She beamed brightly.

Suddenly the back door opened again and a very tall redhead burst through the door with a basket in his hands. Hermione blinked as she was nearly shoved out of the way. "Ron?" Her eyes widened as she watched him rush over to Fleur's side.

"I've brought you eggs!" he said with such pride and victory in his voice he might as well have been holding the Quidditch Cup he'd won last year. "Are these enough? 'Cause I could go back out."

"No, no, you've done quite enough." Fleur smiled at him and he flushed. "Go and relax now, I'll take care of everything in here."

Ron turned around, a stupid, happy look on his face and he blinked a few times and smiled brightly. "Hey, Hermione!"

Hermione was fuming. She inhaled deeply and crossed her arms over her chest before storming off past him, giving him a good shove first as she made her way through the kitchen and came out the other side before stomping up the stairs in search of her trunk and Crookshanks.

"Hey!" Ron burst into Ginny's room right behind Hermione who'd moved to sit on her trunk and release Crookshanks from his carrier. "What was that about?"

"Seriously, Ronald?" Hermione glared at him. "You nearly knocked me over in there on your desperate way to bow at Fleur's feet." It was disgusting; she felt embarrassed for him.

Ron made a face. "I was just being nice. She's marrying Bill you know. Part of the family now and all." He ran a hand through his hair nervously.

"And your brother lets you gawk at her like that?" she asked, pulling Crookshanks onto her lap who immediately turned and hissed at Ron.

"Yeah, you too." Ron scowled at the cat and then turned his attention back to Hermione. "Like what? Like . . . oh." He flushed and looked down. "Well, you know I can't control it," he said with a frown, clearly embarrassed. "And yeah, he said it's okay. He knows it's not under my control."

She scoffed. "And the other men in this house?"

"Well Charlie and Percy don't live here, George and Fred moved out and they haven't come by yet to see her. There's just me and Dad and, well, even if Fleur wasn't young enough to be his daughter . . . he's got Mum."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, so it's just men who're available and interested that fall for her . . . nonsense? It's embarrassing," she muttered bitterly.

"Yeah, well, she's stuck here until Bill takes her away. And I'm stuck here with the lot of you," he snapped at her. "It's been great fun having Mum and Ginny all mental and angry, now I've got to deal with you, too?!"

Hermione glowered at him. "You don't have to deal with anything, Ronald. Sorry to bother you. I'll just spend the rest of the summer with Ginny and Harry, and you can go and fetch more eggs for your brother's fiancé!"

"This!" Ron yelled, almost directly in her face. "Is officially the dumbest row we've ever had!"

"I agree!" Hermione shouted back.

The two stood for a moment, breathing heavily and glaring at one another.

"Just snog already and get it over with," Fred's called from behind Ron in the hallway.

Both Ron and Hermione snapped out of it, their faces blushing at the suggestion. Ron turned around quickly and glared at his brother. "Oi, where'd you come from? Mum's been waiting for you and George to come over and help deal with Bill's . . . Fleur," he muttered quietly, glancing down the stairs to make sure Fleur wasn't coming up.

"Ickle Ronnie having trouble keeping his eyes off of future sis?" Fred smirked. "Awkward. Glad we don't live here anymore. I hate to think what I might walk in on."

Ron narrowed his eyes at him.

"Why do you think we haven't been here?" George appeared from behind Fred. "We've got a business to run little brother. No time for nonsense like girls."

"Girls we're not allowed to have a bit of nonsense with, at least." Fred winked at Ron.

George gestured to a large cardboard box in his hand. "We're just stopping by to pick up a few things. And if you know what's good for you . . ."

"Don't look in our closet," Fred finished before the two of them rushed down the stairs quietly, slipped silently out the door and then once outside the wards, they vanished with two loud CRACKS.

Ron shook his head. "Can you believe those two?"

"Yes," Hermione admitted with a small chuckle.

"So . . . not mad at me anymore?" he asked with a crooked grin.

"No," she admitted in mild frustration. "I suppose there's not much you can do about her."

"I can try actually." Ron stuck his hands in his pockets, a nervous habit. "Takes some effort is all, but she caught me this morning by surprise," he admitted. "I woke up and ran into her in front of the bathroom. I was barely awake."

"Well, I'll see what I can do about keeping an eye out for you." Hermione smiled at him in a forgiving way, even though there was nothing for her to forgive. Ron owed her no explanation. Bill maybe, but not her. She wasn't even entirely certain why she was so upset.

"Do you want to unpack? Or . . ." he paused. "I umm . . . it's a nice day out. We could go for a swim in the pond?" he suggested and then quickly broke eye contact.

"That actually sounds nice. I think I packed a suit," she replied, flipping open her trunk and digging through it for a few moments until she realised that Ron was peaking over her shoulder expectantly.

"I'll be right down. Just need to get changed."

"Okay, yeah umm . . . see you downstairs then," he muttered quickly before bolting out of the room.