"Harry Potter..."
There was a collective chuckle about the room as they watched Lawrence stand before Harry with an awestruck expression. The little boy's eyes were round and wide, his jaw slack, and he stared unconsciously. "You're Harry Potter," he breathed.
Harry glanced around for some sort of cue, received none, and then took to a knee, ignoring everyone's stifled laughter. "Hi," he said. "Nice to meet you, Lars."
"You killed the bad guys," Lawrence whispered. His arms reached out and he stepped forward, then paused as he second-guessed himself and shied away.
Harry opened his arms, and Lars walked into them carefully, his arms gradually stretching around his hero. They'd all seen plenty of kids who idolized Harry, who came up to him in Diagon Alley and asked for autographs and photographs, but the expression on Lawrence's face was different. He didn't look at Harry with the incredulity of someone starstruck, but with reverence. He stared at Harry like he was in the presence of an angel.
"You killed the bad guys," Lars repeated, like he was telling Harry a secret he didn't yet know. "You're Harry Potter." He released him and Harry chuckled, finding the child's response endearing.
Lawrence looked to George and Angelina. "Nobody told me Harry Potter was going to be here," he said. He looked around at the faces filling the Burrow, pulling nervously at the hem of his shirt sleeves. He was wearing his blue shirt, but it was left unbuttoned over a green t-shirt, a style to which George had encouraged and coaxed the boy.
"That's Uncle Harry to you," George said. "That's Aunt Ginny's husband."
Lars' attention had gone back Harry. "You were an orphan," he said quietly. "Just like me. Miss Susan said so."
The room went quiet. Looks we're shared uncertainly.
"Yeah," Harry agreed, breaking the silence quickly as Lars seemed to realize he might have said something wrong. "My parents were killed when I was a baby—by Voldemort himself. And I was an orphan just like you."
Lawrence nodded. "I'm sorry your parents died," he said, the sincerity in his young voice overwhelming.
"I'm sorry about your parents, too," Harry replied. His eyes lit. "You know," he said, "the Weasleys kind of adopted me, too. They're the best family I could ever have hoped to be a part of. And I'm lucky I found them." Harry pressed the tip of his finger to the boy's chest. "I'm just like you."
"I'm just like Harry Potter."
"Brunch is on the table," Ginny called.
At the interruption, Lars reverted, shrinking back and falling quiet.
"Why don't you come sit with me?" Harry suggested. He got to his feet and held out a hand, which Lawrence took, and then they walked to the table with everyone following behind them.
"I'm just like Harry Potter," Lawrence continued to murmur. Angelina put eggs and toast on his plate. "He saved the world."
Angie smiled fondly, first at Lars, then at Harry. "He did," she said.
"With all of these people to help me," Harry added, gesturing around the table.
Lawrence looked around the table with wonder. "Thank you," he said.
They all wore smiles between amused and melancholy. Angelina was tearing up, along with a few others, and it was silent, save for Stella and Max, who were giggling, and James, who was banging on his high chair tray. "Thank you," Angelina mouthed to Harry.
He simply shrugged and offered Lars the syrup.
After brunch, they cleared the dishes and helped tidy the kitchen, and then they filled the living room, lounging around as the house grew warmer in the afternoon sun.
Ron was entertaining Stella and Max, making Stella's bear dance in mid air, while Christine held Max in her lap, and Angelina held Stella. Lars sat quietly on the couch next to George, while Mr. Weasley talked about his experience with a muggle disc player. Hermione was on George's other side, Fred cross-legged at her feet and gently holding her ankle, swinging her leg back and forth. She rolled her eyes and kicked lightly at him. She laughed.
"What?" he asked.
Hermione looked down at her tummy. "She kicked at the same time I did," she said. "Oh, that's so cute. Feel this." She reached for his hand and placed it on her bump.
"Come on, sweetheart. Kick for Dad, Aurora," Fred coaxed.
"Aurora?" George repeated. "That's pretty. You've decided then?"
"Maybe?" Fred ventured, glancing up at Hermione.
She hummed it over thoughtfully. "Hm…Aurora Weasley... No, I don't think so."
"I think it sounds nice," Fred volunteered.
George seconded this.
"It's not…right," she said. "Besides, I don't want to name my daughter after some dim-witted princess from a fairytale."
"But you'll name her after a Shakespearean character?" Fred asked.
"Yes!" Hermione exclaimed. "That's completely different! Aurora is from a fairytale."
"She is?" George asked.
"A muggle fairytale," Hermione explained. "Sleeping Beauty. You may not be familiar with it, but I'll tell you now that the original tale is not at all pretty. Shakespeare, on the other hand, is intelligent, beautifully written, and timeless. I was named from Shakespeare."
"Yeah, but your name's Hermione," George said.
She rounded on him. "And?" she asked.
Fred's eyes widened and he made urgent cut-it-out gestures at his twin.
"And I can see why you like Shakespeare," George replied quickly. He changed the subject. "She's kicking?" he asked, motioning at her bump.
Hermione nodded.
"Can I feel?"
"Sure."
George placed a hand on Hermione's stomach and waited patiently. Lars leaned over to see what was going on. "Auntie Hermione is pregnant," George told him.
"You've got a baby in there?"
Hermione nodded with a wide smile. "A baby girl," she said. "She'll be your little cousin. Do you want to feel her kick?"
"She kicks you?" His brown eyes went wide.
"Oh, sweetie, it doesn't hurt," Hermione assured. "Here, you want to feel?"
Lawrence stretched a hand out and George grinned. He lifted the boy onto his lap and put his small hand on Hermione's bump, his own hand resting just beside the boy's.
"Watch this," Fred said. He pressed gently on her belly and then immediately replaced his hand with Lawrence's. The baby pressed back with a quick kick.
Lars gasped. "I felt it!" he exclaimed. "I felt it kick!"
"Her," Angelina corrected gently, watching them from her place on the floor with the twins. "You felt her kick, sweet, not it."
"Sorry," Lars apologized quickly. "Her."
Fred chuckled. "Sometimes if you sing to her, she kicks up a storm."
George readily cleared his throat. "What's she like? Weird Sisters? Tonne Titans?" He laughed. "Celia McNaught?"
"Anything upbeat," Hermione replied. "But…please don't introduce my unborn child to Tonne Titans so soon."
"Why not?" Fred and George asked together.
Hermione frowned. "Because," she said, "they're so…loud. And negative. Have you listened to their lyrics?"
Again, in unison, they laughed incredulously. "No, of course not. No one can understand what they're saying. It's brilliant."
Hermione sighed. "You two are such good men," she said, tucking her curls behind her ears, "but sometimes, I swear there's still skinny, long-haired, teenaged boys trapped inside of you."
"Hermione, dear," Mrs. Weasley stood in the doorway to the kitchen, "could I have a word with you?" She rushed to add, "Nothing bad, of course. Just a chat."
"Sure," Hermione agreed. "I'll be there in just a minute." She turned to Fred and George. "Here." She sang a verse of "Baby Beluga", ignoring the strange looks from Fred and George. Lars began to sing along, just as Miss Weasley began to kick.
"Strong legs," George said, impressed. "That's incredible."
"Isn't it?" Fred asked. "I have to learn that song about the whale."
"And I have to go chat with your mum," Hermione said. She nudged Fred with her foot. "I have to get up." He scooted to give her space and got to his knees to lend her a hand.
She stood from the couch and made her way into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was scrubbing a cauldron at the sink, but she turned the second Hermione entered. The matriarch smiled, dried her hands, and then took a seat at the table and puled out the chair next to her for her daughter-in-law. "So," she said, "how have things been?"
"Great," Hermione replied. "Things are wonderful. Aside from the bizarre cravings and limited amounts of sleep."
Molly laughed. "It's different for each child," she said. "Bill loved chocolate, Charlie strawberries, Percy had me eating asparagus," she listed. "It was sweets, anything sugary, for the twins, Ron liked bread, and Ginny watermelon. Or maybe Ginny wanted bread and Ron, watermelon. It's hard to keep these things straight. Though I do remember eating some stranger things in there as well. Chicken and chocolate. Chips and chocolate. Anything and chocolate."
"Mmm," Hermione agreed. "Chocolate. Always chocolate."
Mrs. Weasley smiled and nodded. "So, Hermione dear," she began, "what about your parents?" she asked. "Fred said Charlie located them."
"Oh. Yes, he did," Hermione said. "Or, indirectly he did. His friend did."
"That's exciting."
"Well, we're still trying to figure out how to get there," Hermione explained. "I'm too far along in my pregnancy to use a portkey, it's too far to apparate, and Fred doesn't have the paperwork for muggle means of flight, if they'd even let me fly this far along." She sighed, her elbow on the table and her chin on her fist. "It's a tricky situation. I don't think Fred wants me going alone."
Mrs. Weasley nodded. "Yes, I've raised some very protective young men," she said. "Don't be too offended, he means well."
"Well, I don't think I'd want to be alone there anyway," Hermione told her, not offended in the least. "Even if this is a lot to spring on my parents."
"I can certainly imagine." Mrs. Weasley smiled. "I just want you to know that we're here for you, dear. You're like a second daughter, and even before it was official you were a part of this family."
Hermione was taken aback. She sat up. "Thank you," she said, her heart warmed by the sentiments.
"We love you, Hermione," Molly continued. "And I know your family hasn't been here lately, but we'll always be here for you."
Hermione fought watering eyes. "You are my family, Mrs. Weasley," she said. "Thank you."
"Mrs. Weasley," the older woman repeated. "I've been your mother-in-law for how many months now? If not Mum, at least call me Molly."
Hermione smiled. "Mum it is then," she decided, because she'd for so long loved the woman like her second mother, and that's what Molly Weasley was. Both in law and in love.
When they returned to the living room, the toddlers were running around and Lars was on the rug, reading a story to James, who lay contentedly on a padded blanket. It was about a boy who befriended a dragon, and while James seemed somewhat engaged in the tale, it was Lars who was most entertaining to watch. He was rather expressive in his reading, and very good at it, too.
Max and Stella were chasing after each other, unsteady on their small legs, but fearlessly fast as they giggled and ran about the room. Christine and Angelina were keeping an eye out for them, covering furniture corners and making sure they ran nowhere near the fireplace.
"Catch me! Catch me!" Stella cried.
Max was stumbling after his sister, arms, hands, and fingers outstretched for her, and then his little toes caught the edge of the rug, and he pitched forward hard onto his hands and knees.
Stella spun around with wide eyes. "Oh no! Ouch!"
Max was stunned a moment, his lower lip trembling, his eyes just beginning to water. But then in a flash, before anyone else could to get to him, Lars was sitting behind Max, his arms wrapped around his brother as he hauled him up and into the space between his legs, wiped at the smaller boy's cheeks, smoothed his sandy hair, and then held his smaller red hands between his own as he hushed him like it was all innate instinct. Max had begun to bawl, cheeks turning red, and though he leaned back into his big brother in comfort, his pain was not lessened and he continued to wail.
Stella had crawled into George's lap, sniffling, her own eyes watering at her brother's upset. George nodded Angelina to Max's aid as he stood, hiking Stella to his hip as she buried her face in his shoulder. Angelina crouched down in front of Max and Lars. She pulled out her wand. "Maxie, can I fix the ouch?" she asked.
Max wasn't listening, still crying his eyes out, clinging to Lawrence's scrawny frame. Angelina sat back on her heels and held out a hand. "Max? Come," she said, "let's fix you up."
Lars looked up at Angelina, a slight smile lifting his mouth. He pried his brother from around him and gave him a gentle nudge towards Angelina. "Maxie," he said kindly, "stop crying. Go to Mum."
And then suddenly Angelina's eyes were misty, too.
Fred looked at the checklist. "Stopwatch, money, slippers…What else?"
Hermione glanced over her parchment to the carpet bag open at the foot of the bed. Molly had given Hermione the bag; she said it would be plenty large enough to fit all that she'd need to bring to the hospital, and it seemed she was right. Though Fred, who insisted on being the one to pack the bag, had only made it a third of the way down the checklist they'd drawn up.
"Homecoming outfit," Hermione reminded.
"Of course!" Fred opened his top drawer and withdrew the purple onesie they'd purchased. He folded it carefully and tucked it in the bag with the dozen or so nappies. "There we go," he said.
"That's great," Hermione laughed, "now how about my homecoming outfit."
"Right!" Fred nearly tripped over the package of nappies, sent them sliding across the room, as he rushed to the closet to go through her clothes. "This?" He lifted a dress from the rod and held it out for her to see.
She looked up, letting out an incredulous scoff. "Fred! I'll have just had a baby!" she exclaimed. "I can't wear that! I'll look terrible."
Fred shrugged, put it back, and then went for her trackies. He presented the grey suit. "These?" he asked.
She rolled her eyes. "Well, I still want to look nice when everyone comes to see me," she said. "Fred, would you just grab my—"
"Wait," he interrupted. "I'm going to pick something out. Don't you worry."
Hermione sighed, shook her head, and then returned to writing her letter as Fred delved back into her clothes.
"How does this sound?" she called, getting ready to read the parchment aloud.
"Dear Charlie,
Thank you for helping Fred track down my parents. It means so much to me. I can't thank you enough.
We have to go to Australia now so I can return their memories, and this is proving a much more difficult situation than expected.
If it isn't too much to ask, do you think it's possible your friend would let us floo to his? Just as a means to get from point A to point B.
Again, thank you so much for all your help.
With love,
Hermione"
"Sounds good," Fred replied.
Hermione set her quill aside and fanned the parchment to dry it, before rolling it and setting it aside to send in the morning. "I'll talk to Louis about taking my leave tomorrow then," she said. "Then two weeks from now we'll be heading off to Australia, and I won't have to go back to work until next year." She smiled in satisfaction.
Fred nodded. "How's this?" He held up comfy black maternity pants and a light purple, loose-fitting t-shirt. "You'll match," he said, motioning to where the onesie was packed away.
Hermione was impressed and endeared by his insistence. "That's fine," she approved.
Fred added the clothes to the bag. "Alright," he said. "Hairbrush," he tossed one in, "toiletries," she'd packed her own kit, "pillows," he shrunk them down, "and nightgowns, robe…anything else?"
Hermione slid down to her pillow and pulled the covers up to her shoulders. "Underwear," she said. "I'll need some of that."
"Can I pick that out, too?" Fred asked.
"Yes," Hermione said, "but I need things that are comfortable, okay? My maternity things."
"Got it." Fred packed away some underthings for her, checked the list once more, and then snapped the bag shut. He tucked it into the closet before crawling into bed with her.
"Okay," he said. "Hospital bag is packed. Letter will be sent in the morning. You've taken your potions." He paused, she nodded to confirm this. "And now," he continued, "we can get to the good stuff." He leaned over, cupped her cheek, and kissed her thoroughly.
She laughed against his lips, and he pulled away. "Hey," he said, "trying to snog my wife here."
Her lips pressed together as she fought to compose her smile. "Okay," she said. "Sorry. Snog away."
"Thank you." Fred leaned in once more and pressed his lips to hers. When she smiled against him, a grin spread across his features as well, and he began to kiss along her jaw and up to just under her ear. She hummed happily, her fingers sliding into his hair.
He kissed her neck, her collarbone, the hollow of her throat. Her hands slid under his shirt and ran the contours of his back. "Take this off," she ordered.
He pulled it over his head by the back of the neck. "Take this off," he returned, tugging at the hem of her nightgown. She slipped her arms through the garment and drew it up until she could toss it aside.
"Take these off," she said with a smile, fingering the waistband of his pants. He kicked them off.
"And these," he told her, hooking her knickers. She laughed as she wriggled out of them.
He pressed against her, skin on skin, deliciously warm, and she sighed with a smile. He cupped her breast and played gently, lips taking to the other. She had one hand in his hair, the other wrapping around his member and stroking slowly. He groaned, long and low, and she grinned.
He glanced up at her. "Are you always going to be so self-satisfied?" he asked.
Hermione pulled him in for a kiss. "We'll just have to keep doing this to find out."
He chuckled. "No complaints here," he told her, kissing the centre of her chest, his hand slipping between her legs.
"Mm." She whimpered as he circled her hypersensitive bud with a single fingertip. "No teasing," she said. "Please." Her grip slackened on him slightly, and then it was a featherlight touch.
Fred smirked, did it again, and revelled in her moan.
She squirmed against his hand as he went on ceaselessly, teasing her entrance, then drawing away. "Please, Fred," she breathed.
"There, love?" He chuckled against her neck and pressed a quick kiss to her skin.
The spring coiling low in her belly began to tighten, she was so incredibly sensitive, and her whole body writhed, trying to reach that blissful release, and then she tensed. "Fred," she moaned.
"Yes, love?"
She all but purred. "Fred, please, I want you in—ah." That spring, so tightly coiled and pressed deep in her belly, finally sprung. It ran through her entire body and left her breathless, a feeling she always expected she'd get used to; she was still taken by surprise. Very, very pleasant surprise.
Fred was propped up over her, smirking. She smirked back as she began to catch her breath, and her hand resumed its pattern up and down his shaft, her grip confident. He groaned. "Hermione. Hermione, stop." He grunted as she swiped the tip. He grabbed her wrist to forcibly stop her.
"What?" she asked, smiling innocently, teasingly. "You don't like to be teased?"
He growled, turned her on her side, and hooked an arm under her leg, spooning in behind her. He hesitated. "Is this ok—?"
"Yes," she sighed out. "Please."
"Sweet Merlin."
Author's Note: Thank you for reading and thank you to everyone who has reviewed. I appreciate them very, very much. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, let me know what you think.
Also, readers have been offering names to be vetoed by Fred and Hermione as of late, and it's making writing those bits just that much easier, so if you have any you'd like to throw in there, feel free.
Thank you to Couer de Danse and Mira SeverusSirius Black-Snape for the last chapter's title.
Anyways,
Scarlett