Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the characters and the world.
Today's chapter is a bit shorter. I'm off to visit a friend for the weekend so no chapter tomorrow (but I am ahead on my NaNoWriMo word count so it's okay!) I will be back with more words on Sunday.
Thanks for reading. Special thanks to ClaraBragge-Ravenclaw and cares 1970 for their kind words about Chapter 10.
Chapter 11 – Hermione
Reading George's letter, Hermione cringed. The thought of the Weasleys discussing Ron standing her up was so embarrassing. She could just imagine them around the dinner table, talking about poor Hermione and how Ron had abandoned her. She imagined the news reaching Bill and Fleur. That was even more embarrassing. She would be willing to bet that no-one had ever ditched Fleur Delacour. Fleur's perfect little nose would probably wrinkle in distaste at the story, she would probably think that Hermione was clearly neither interesting nor beautiful enough to hold even her own boyfriend's attention. Oh, this was awful. She knew Ginny hadn't meant any harm…but the thought of everyone knowing about her humiliation was almost as bad as the act itself. It had been a week since that disastrous date and her anger and sadness had worn down to a kind of bitter disappointment. Ron hadn't written or offered any kind of excuse. She could no longer pretend that things were fine between them, clearly the distance wasn't their only problem. She wished she could be enough for him. She wished that last weekend's plans had never existed, so she wouldn't have to be burdened with this new knowledge. Not only was her boyfriend not here, but he didn't care.
Mostly though, her pride was wounded. Pushing away the embarrassment, she tried to focus on the other parts of the letter instead. It had been kind of George to acknowledge that Ron had treated her poorly, but she didn't want to dwell on the event. She was so worried about their relationship, if they even had one anymore, that what she wanted to do most was think about something else. It had benefitted her studies for sure, this week she had thrown herself into her work as a distraction. She read until she could barely keep her eyes open, then fell into a fitful sleep. She tried not to leave herself any room for thought or worry. But now, with George's letter in her hands, she allowed herself contemplate.
Six months…it was hard to believe. That day seemed long ago and nightmarish. It was the stuff of nightmares now, her sleeping hours were filled with carnage and pain. She wasn't the only one. It was fairly normal now for students to whimper, cry or scream in their sleep. The first year dorms were possibly the only quiet ones, but then few of their families would have been unscathed. In many ways, being here was awful. Trauma was everywhere – in every student, in every part of this castle. She wondered if she would have been better off taking her final year at Beauxbatons. Maybe it would have been easier, healthier. However, Hogwarts had brought her this world of magic and learning, it seemed only right to complete her education here. She wondered if this feeling of being haunted was something George felt too, only for him it must be worse. Fred was half of his whole life, the memories would be everywhere. It must be unbearable.
Six months…it filled her with guilt. Not only survivor's guilt, although she did think of those who they had lost. She thought of Fred Weasley. She thought of poor parentless Teddy Lupin – he should have Remus and Tonks doting over him. She thought of Lavender Brown, who should be back at Hogwarts too. No, the main source of guilt was thinking about her parents. She should have found them as soon as she knew the wizarding world was safe. But she had been injured, mentally and physically, and she simply wasn't able to travel. Ron needed her. It was time to go back to Hogwarts…She knew she had been putting it off, but she was scared. Finding them would be difficult, it was a big journey to make, especially given her anxiety after all she had been through. And then, she had their reaction to worry about. She didn't know how they would take the news that their daughter had performed a memory charm on them and shipped them off to Australia, even if it was for their own protection. There was a part of her that thought maybe they were happier with their new life, maybe they wouldn't want to come back here, to have to deal once more with a magical world that they did not understand, to have to care for a daughter who was damaged. The longer she left it, the more insurmountable the task seemed. Tracking down Wendell and Monica Wilkins in Australia, restoring their memories, bringing them home and helping them rebuild their lives in England, earning their forgiveness…if that last one was even possible. They were safe where they are, and she assumed they were happy too. She hadn't gone into this with George…it was complex, and at heart she knew that avoiding her parents wasn't the right thing to do. Some Gryffindor she was…she was a mouse, not a lion.
It was sad that George felt he couldn't go back to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. That place had been a dream for the twins, one they had worked hard to make a reality. It had been a booming business, a much needed source of joy as darkness loomed over the wizarding world. While Hermione had often disapproved of their pranks (and especially of their testing products on first years) but she had been so impressed by their shop and their products. They really were extraordinarily talented, they may have spent most of their school years messing, but their charms were impressive to say the least. It was sad to see their dream fading away. They had put so much energy and imagination into that venture, and turned it into a success. Their business know-how was as strong as their spellwork. She knew Fred would have wanted George to keep the business going, but at the same time she could understand how he wouldn't want to do it alone. It had been their baby, not just his. It couldn't possibly be the same now, and maybe George needed a new dream.
She could understand that George didn't want to change, but it was unavoidable. They had all been changed so much as it was. The past six months had already altered him so much. She didn't know if she could tell him this, but Fred wouldn't recognise this George either. Hermione didn't. He wasn't himself anymore, there was no escaping it. If Fred were still around, he would have changed too. War or no war, they all would change. But saying all this…it sounded harsh and cold. He was grieving. He wasn't okay, and he wouldn't be for a very long time. No matter what she said, what anyone said, he would heal at his own pace. She would heal in her own time too. It was frustrating, sometimes she felt she should be over it already, that compared to others she had little to complain about. Yet still it was there, even after all this time, that heavy dread in her stomach, that twisting anxiety. She wondered if it would always be like this, if this was the legacy the war had left her with. It had become familiar now, honed by the slow but steady march of darkness, their year of hunting Horcruxes, the torture, the battle, the loss. It was a part of her now, as sure as her heart or her lungs or her liver. The days of easy breathing, of sleeping well, seemed a distant memory. Yet even still, coming back to Hogwarts was a big step and she had settled into it more. Thoughts of the future that had once been hopeful were now just confusing, but she had started to think about the future again, and that was something.
George too was making some progress. She was willing him well with all her heart, and lately she had some cause for hope. Helping out at Mrs Weasley's knitting class was bizarre (a definite sign that he had changed) but it was a step forward. Writing to her was huge, and she was glad to know it was helping. It helped being able to unload to him too. The Muggle saying 'a problem shared is a problem halved' came to mind. It wasn't quite right, but having someone to share your worries with did lift the weight somewhat. George reassured her that it was okay to feel this pressure about coming back to school. Though she didn't believe his insistence that she was well able for the exams, that she had by no means lost her touch and was still the brightest witch of her age…it was still nice for someone to write that.
She slipped his letter into her pocket, carrying the words of kindness and strength with her through the day. She thought about the reply she would write…they had changed, they were changing, they would change. Being a different version of George was okay, he would still be himself at the core, and Fred would still love him anyway.