I apologize for taking so dreadfully long to update; I ended up working part time during tax seasons and managing the house for the rest of it, and well, stuff happens.
Chapter 3
Molly Weasley sat back one afternoon with a cup of tea to listen to the wireless after lunch. It had been a bit lonely lately. Arthur hadn't been able to make it home to eat with her today, though to make up for it he had owled her that he'd drop by a take-out place after work and bring home supper. That kind of thing usually led to another, and Molly looked forward to it. The Headmaster had finally relented and let the two have a couple of days to themselves at the Burrow each week; besides, Grimmauld Place was more dangerous than ever these days, and probably would be till Harry was of age.
Molly enjoyed the sort of lunches they'd had when they'd both been younger, of course, especially once Ginny was finally off to Hogwarts; but now both she and Arthur preferred to linger over dessert. Maybe once they'd paid off the mortgage on the house they'd used to finance all the school expenses, they could manage one more child. Sudden warmth flared in her belly just thinking about it. She still could, of course; every witch knew that much about herself no matter what age she was. In fact, she still had to take a potion each day that most witches only needed once a month.
She wondered what it would be like to have a wireless with pictures the way the Muggles did. Something Arthur called a 'telly' sat out in the garage, though to her it looked like a gutted wreck, with only the screen intact. A tattered copy of a magazine called Popular Electronics lay open on its top, though Arthur said it wasn't much help. Fortunately, he'd put a shielding spell against sparks the one time he'd gotten any response from the thing.
Suddenly a chill passed through her, as if someone had opened the window—and in this nasty fall weather, too! Molly took her cup to the kitchen, then poured it out into the sink. Her stomach turned as if she were pregnant again, while she broke out into a cold sweat. She held her hands to the still-warm teapot, but even that brought no comfort.
Then she remembered. This was the way she'd felt when she'd seen the boggart. She would always be grateful to Remus for banishing it. But why was she feeling like that now? This was her home, not that nasty, ramshackle building. She didn't see any bodies here. Thank Bridget for that.
Molly sat down at the kitchen table, her face in her hands. Arthur had been hurt not long after. Maybe it hadn't been the boggart that had made her feel so bad last year, though seeing the dead bodies of her family would give anyone a turn. Maybe she needed to summon enough courage to look at the clock. One of its hands had just moved with its characteristic tock.
A chime sounded as someone woke up her Floo. Arthur had set the spell, saying that if Muggles could figure out how to let others know they were calling, wizards certainly ought to be able to.
She went to fireplace. Molly's face opened to a wide smile when she saw Percy in the middle of the flames.
"Mum?" he said softly. "Can I come home for a bit?"
"Of course!" she said. It didn't matter what he'd done. A mother's heart was made to be trampled on, and hers was no exception. "This will always be your home."
Percy came through the fire, followed by Alastor Moody. She rather liked the gruff old man. His bark was worse than his bite, and both of them knew it.
Molly sat them both on the couch, and started a fresh pot going. Once the tea was done, she served them both, and poured herself a new cup as well.
"I'm so glad you came back," she said to Percy. She didn't mind Moody listening in. Maybe it had been the old man who had finally made her son see that the Ministry had its collective head up a spout, and that he was better off working somewhere else.
Percy sipped his tea. Oh, he looked so thin and worn! Dolly must be running him ragged when he was stuck in her office. "Let me find you both something to eat," she said, and rose to go back to the kitchen.
"We won't be here long, Mum." Her son put down the cup and stretched a little, but he still looked tense. "I have to tell you a few things, and then you have to come with us."
Fresh horror struck her. She put her cup down quickly, before her trembling hand could drop it. "You're not sick, are you?"
"No, Mum, I'm all right. You see—last year I was asked to work with that, that Madam Umbridge and let some people know what was really going on in her office. She didn't trust me, not until it looked like I wasn't part of the family any more. Oh, Mum, it nearly killed me to send your jumper back! But I had to get you mad at me, or she never would have told me anything. It sickened me the way she pretended to sympathize with me." Percy's skin flushed red. "But that's not important now. You've got to come with us to St. Mungo's."
"Who's hurt?" Molly said, still not looking at her clock.
"Dad."
"Why didn't you say so right away?" She got up to fetch her purse.
"I just wanted to be home again for a little while," Percy said. "I won't be able to come back much. And we both have to keep pretending that things are wrong for a while longer."
Molly was full of questions. She finally looked at the clock, knowing it would answer at least one of them.
Yes. Arthur's hand had moved to Mortal Danger. "Let's go."
They Floo'd to St. Mungo's. Had the hand on the clock moved again just as she entered the fireplace? She thought so but couldn't bear to look back. She would find out soon enough.
She remembered last year when Arthur had been wounded. At least then she'd known he was alive, and though it took him longer than she liked for him to grow well again, had had no worries that he would die of it. Granted, that poor Auror's death from Devil's Snare had given her a turn; she had made sure somebody had been with her husband day and night after that.
Now they walked through the corridors of the place. She remembered her last lying-in. She normally had had her babies at home, but she hadn't been entirely well with Ginny, and had gone through a bad time of it when the girl came. The midwife had tut-tutted over her, and said, "Now you finally have your girl, you might give it a rest."
Molly had silently agreed. But now all her babies were growing up away from her. Ronald was in his sixth year at Hogwarts, and Ginny in her fifth. Fred and George had left school last year, while Bill and Charlie were grown men now. And Percy—she'd made him grow up too fast, but with the twins, what else was she to do? She recognized now that she'd never really let him be a child.
But her heart was much lighter than before, when she'd believed he'd left the family for good. His story made a lot of sense, and with Moody there to back it up, it was probably true. Besides, Percy was terrible at lying. He always went all cold and white whenever he tried it. No doubt he could convince some people, but never her.
Maybe that was why he'd refused to talk to her at all for most of last year. There were no flies on Percy, or he never would have been made Head Boy. He probably knew he couldn't lie to her, at least not for more than five minutes at a time.
The three of them turned a corner, Moody's wooden leg going ka-thump as they went. A Healer, not the nice fellow who'd watched Arthur last year, but someone she knew from another department, stopped them. "Please come with me. You'll have to wait a little bit before you can see him."
She didn't like the way he said that. "Why can't I see him now?" she said, raising her voice just a trifle. "I know enough about healing magic to stay out of the way, if nothing else." In fact, Madam Pomfrey had tried hard to get her to put off marriage to Arthur and take the course.
"I'm sorry," Healer Williams repeated, though his voice was softer this time. "There are some Dark curses on him that might endanger anyone in the room."
"Oh." There had been others like that this last year. Molly knew that Madam Pomfrey had spent a few days in St. Mungo's herself from one of her patients with the same problem. It was truly horrible to target a mediwitch that way, though in a way she was surprised that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named hadn't thought of it before.
"What happened to him?" Had he ended up caught in the Department of Mysteries again?
"He was in Knockturn Alley," Moody said, "chasing rumors of illegally imported goods that Malfoy might have been importing. like the one he got last year. But he ran into a cauldron full of dragonbane that exploded the moment he entered the back room of Nora's. But someone was there waiting for him, who must have laid the curses that nearly killed the first mediwitch to touch him."
Molly gritted her teeth. It didn't matter how scarred Arthur got from the dragonbane, if only he got through this alive!
"He's in little pain, Mrs. Weasley, and it didn't catch him in the face," the Healer said. "But…just come with me, please."
The three of them followed the Healer to a waiting room and sat down once the man left. "Now that we have a few moments, Percy, you can tell me what you're doing this year," she said. "Why do we still have to keep pretending? Dolly should have been pleased with you, the way you spoke at the guardianship hearing."
Percy turned pale and looked to Moody for guidance. The old Auror shook his head.
Molly stared at Alastor, then quickly cast Silencio around them. "None of that, now. All my children are at risk, not just Percy. If I have to treat one of them like dirt, I need to know why."
"I have to tell her, Moody. I'm not like Snape. Maybe he can stand to have everyone hate him, but I can't. It's bad enough that my brothers and Ginny think I'm a traitor. Even Dad didn't know till a few months ago. You don't know Mum like I do. Wild horses couldn't drag something out of her if she didn't want to tell."
The Auror sighed. "Now that you've made it obvious that there's something up with both you and Snape to any intelligent listener, you might as well. But if you spill too much, I'll Obliviate both of you."
"You and what army, Mr. Moody?" Molly said harshly. "Remember, I was at 12 Grimmauld Place all last year off and on, and I drew my own conclusions about Professor Snape. You'd have to erase over a year, and that's not going to happen. If I am not to be trusted, I should have not gone there in the first place."
"A good point, ma'am."
"Now that nonsense is taken care of, you've avoided my questions long enough, Percival Ignatius Weasley. What are you doing this year?"
Percy gulped, and turned even whiter. "My Ministry job is supposedly cataloging violations of juvenile magic for Madam Umbridge. I'm to keep a special watch on Harry and his friends. I'm supposed to be able to betray Ron, too. But my real job is as sort of a personal assistant to a, a Mr. Pettigrew." He rubbed his left shoulder.
"Oh, dear Merlin," Molly said as what he said sunk in. Her boy was not even twenty, and already he was so deep in danger she could not begin to express her terror for him. She leaned over in her seat, hugged him, and whispered in his ear. "Take my blessing with you. If a mother's love could save Harry, then know that you have mine, no matter what's on your arm or shoulder or wherever right now."
She released him and sat back. "And dare I ask what you are really doing?"
"Well, Wormtail likes having another Gryff there among all the Snakes," Percy said, obviously trying to make a joke of it. "But aside from information, I'm there to fetch Snape out if he's ever too hurt to move himself. So far I haven't had to, and that's good, because once I have to use the Portkey Moody gave me, the show's over for me too unless I'm very lucky. Oh, Mum, none of us have ever thought well of Slytherins, but what Snape has to do…I don't think anyone else could bear it."
Alastor cleared his throat. "That's enough, Weasley. Snape can take care of himself."
"You wouldn't have given me the Portkey if that's what you really thought," Percy replied with spirit.
"Never mind that for now," said Molly. No wonder her boy looked so worn out. "If you need that Portkey for yourself, son, you use it," she added sharply. "If Moody thinks Snape can manage, then he's probably right." Although after seeing the man half-dead on her doorstep, she didn't know what to think.
Percy smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, eyes which had clearly seen too much. She knew that sort of look; it meant that he would agree with anything she said and do what he pleased when the time came. Arthur often gave her that look when she pled with him to leave the raids for Dark artifacts to others and keep himself safe.
She got up and paced a little bit, now consumed with worry. Why were they taking so long? Surely they had gone past any boobytraps by now, and had been able to take care of her husband's injuries.
For a moment, she stopped and put a hand over her heart as the same chill that swept over her earlier today now seized her again. "Arthur, Arthur," she moaned softly to herself.
The Healer—she remembered how he'd tried to help Narcissa with her infertility-came through the door of the waiting room. She remembered about the Silencio when she saw his lips moving but couldn't hear him, and quickly said, "Finite Incantatem."
"Come with me now," he said, looking solemn. All three of them followed.
Molly entered the hospital room first. Arthur was there all by himself, eyes closed. She rushed to his side and picked up his right hand in both of hers. Merlin, it was so cold! She held it to her chest to warm it.
He smiled just a tiny bit and struggled to open his eyes. "My best girl…" he said softly, though his voice had no strength in it.
"My favorite lad," she said right back, her heart in her throat. Hope began to fail within her. He was so quiet, so still. Even when he had been poisoned last year he hadn't been like this. She bent down by the bed so her and his head were close together. "You've got to come back to me, love. What would I do without you?"
Arthur sighed. "I don't want to leave you, lass."
If she could open a vein and bleed for him, she would. Wait. If she remembered the right spell, perhaps she could. "Arthur, where's your wand?" It would work better if both their wands were linked.
"Don't know…"
Molly glanced around. Both the Healer and Moody shook their heads. Percy took out his, but that wouldn't do at all.
"Well, then, we'll have to make do without," she said.
"Mrs. Weasley, you shouldn't—" said the Healer.
"But I'm going to anyway." Molly held both of Arthur's cold hands in hers and began to chant. "Warm be heart and hand and bone, giving life to soften stone; I offer love to your sweet breath, oh live my dear and fight off death!" She could never remember the Latin for this one, but it didn't matter. Intent counted for much, much more.
She felt her vitality leaving her and pouring into Arthur. For a few moments, she thought it might work. Her husband's eyes opened all the way and he looked at her as if he intended to bed her right then and there. That look made her tingle all the way down.
Then his face turned grey anyway as he grimaced in pain. It didn't matter. She continued to hold his hands anyway, even as shadows crossed her own vision.
Someone knocked her away. "Mum, Mum, I can't lose both of you!" Percy said, holding her. She was so weak she could barely stand.
"Why did you stop me?" she said. "Why aren't you doing anything?" She glared at the Healer.
"Because he accidentally swallowed some of the dragonbane during the explosion," the man said. "It was all we could do to keep him out of pain."
Arthur's eyes were closed now. "Let me go, Percy," she said.
This time when she touched him, she felt nothing at all. His cheek was cold when she stroked his cheek, and his sparse red hair had no life to it. She rocked back on her heels and screamed. It was true. It was true. Arthur was dead, he was dead, and the light was gone from her life forever.
She was caught up in her keening. All her soul was going out her mouth and into her grief. At last she gasped for breath and began weeping. She held Arthur in her arms as if he were still alive, but it was no good, he was dead, and he would never stir in her embrace or respond to her again.
Molly looked up at Percy for a moment, then at Moody. Her heart was torn to pieces, but she had to help protect the family she had left. "How could you betray your own father like that, Percy Weasley? How?" she wailed. "I could have saved him! Get out of here! I never want to see you again!"
His mouth dropped open for a second, then his eyes showed comprehension. Moody gave her a grim nod as he left, clearly understanding what she had done.
"And you!" she said, glaring at the Healer. "You should have let me in sooner!" It was not difficult to be irrational right now. In fact, it was all she could manage to not claw the man's face into tatters.
"We need to…" the Healer said, looking apologetic.
"You have done quite enough," Molly said, rising to her feet and pulling out her wand. "I will take him home. He is no longer your concern."
"But, madam…"
"Enough, I say! He will be mourned in his own home." Molly felt shaky, but knew she dare not show it.
"Shouldn't you call a friend? There are some unpleasant parts of death that we here at St. Mungo's are a bit more qualified…"
"I can lay out my own husband, thank you very much. But that is an excellent suggestion. As soon as I bring Arthur home I will certainly call everyone I can think of."
He finally left the room. Molly wrapped Arthur's body tightly in the sheet, which she would clean and send back later, and charmed him to follow along beside her. Nobody was going to interfere with her last duties. She had to present a belligerent front, or someone was going to try to take him from her. She had to bring Arthur home.
A few people tried to stop her as she levitated her husband along with her towards the main Floo, but she only had to cast Incendio once and after that they left her alone. Now she wished she hadn't dismissed either Percy or Moody. She gritted her teeth and kept on. She was numb right now, but knew it wouldn't last, and she had best be beside her own hearth when she couldn't bear it any more.
At the last moment, she saw Madam Pomfrey at the entrance to the main hospital reception room. "Oh, my dear," the older woman said. "It wouldn't be right to bring him through here. That Floo is really for emergencies, you know."
"But what am I to do?" Molly said. "I have to take him home."
"There's another Floo that most people don't know about," Poppy said. "Just follow me."
The mediwitch took her by the morgue, a deathly quiet place, and Molly understood. It was only right that Arthur should leave here by the portals for the dead, not for the living. The hearth in the back room burned sullenly, as if grudging anyone who escaped it.
Poppy threw the Floo powder, told it "The Burrow," and went through. Molly sent Arthur through next, then followed.
Once in her own parlor, she looked dully at the clock. Arthur's hand had moved to Dead. She took her husband back to the bedroom, and gently let him settle down on the bed where they had made their marriage and all but one of their children. Poppy was by her side and guided her to a chair. "He won't mind if we wait a bit, you know," she said gently.
"How did you know?"
"The Headmaster told me that Mr. Weasley was hurt. I knew you'd be there. Funny thing, though, I saw your son Percy talking with Auror Moody."
Oh, Bridget, why did she have to think of things now? But if she didn't, her son could be in even more danger than he was already. "Moody doesn't trust him," Molly said. "He asked me some questions, too. But how would I know what the boy is up to these days? Percy's left us, Poppy, and I don't know what to do." It wasn't hard to let the tears fall. Percy could be lying on this bed waiting for someone to take care of him out if she failed him now.
"Oh, my dear. And now this. You just sit right there while I make a fresh pot of tea."
"Don't put anything in it, Poppy. I have to tell the children," Molly said dully. "I can't leave that to anyone else."
"Call some friends, too," Pomfrey said from the kitchen.
"I will." But first thing she would call her own family. She fumbled in the closet for the special Floo powder, then went to the hearth. If only her Nanny was home!
Molly tossed the powder in and called. The dear, wrinkled face quickly showed up. "What wrong, girl?" asked the old woman.
"Arthur's dead." Molly took a deep breath. "I brought him home. Oh, Nanny, can you help me?"
"Of course. I've got to tell the other two I'll be gone for a bit, but I'll stay there as long as you need me." The old woman disappeared.
Poppy walked by and asked, "What kind of powder is that? I've never seen any that color before."
"Oh. My family lives far away," Molly said, glad to talk of something so ordinary. "Lancre is a bit different, see. In fact, when I got my letter it took Nanny and her friends a week to figure out where Hogwarts actually was, and then it was another week before they decided it'd be safe for me to go off to foreign parts like that. And it was half a year before I got used to a place having so many indoor privies. I was supposed to come back and apprentice to Nanny when I was done, but I married Arthur instead."
"My dear, you would have been welcomed anywhere you wished," Poppy said. "You know what I wanted for you."
Molly tried to smile. "I wanted Arthur," she said, and began to weep. "And now I've lost him!" Poppy handed her a handkerchief, then sat down and held her.
The keening took her again for a little while. But in the back of her mind, she couldn't forget her duty to her children. Once she had calmed down, she drank some tea and picked up the can of regular Floo powder.
The first call she made was to Gringott's. They would know where Bill was, if he wasn't actually there. The goblin she got was a nice one she remembered from when she and Arthur had signed the mortgage on the Burrow and found Bill for her.
Her oldest son was glorious beyond anything she could have imagined when he was only a baby. What a man he'd grown into! And now she was going to make him older. "Mum?" he said cheerfully. Then his smile faded. "Are you all right, Mum?"
"No. Your father died this afternoon. I brought him home. I need you, Bill. Can you get away soon?" She didn't want him to risk his job, no matter how badly she wanted him here.
"Yes," he said. "They were going to send me to Egypt again, but that wouldn't be till next week. I'll be there in an hour." His face turned grim as he broke the connection.
Charlie would be harder to find, but she contacted a friend of hers in Romania who promised to have Charlie find a proper fireplace and some Floo powder as soon as possible.
That was two of them. Percy already knew. The twins had to be next. She Floo'd their little shop on Diagon Alley. George answered. "Halloo, Mum! I hoped you'd call or owl—I heard there was an explosion on Knockturn Alley, and that Dad might have been there. I couldn't find anyone at the Ministry to answer me, and nobody at Hogwarts knows anything for sure, or is saying anything."
"He was there," Molly said faintly. "He didn't…he didn't make it, love. I brought him home from St. Mungo's not long ago. When can you come home?"
"As soon as I find Fred and we close the shop," George said, his lower lip trembling. "Oh, Mum! It can't be true!"
Molly swallowed hard. "It is." This was the hardest thing she'd ever done in her life.
"Will Percy be coming home, do you think?"
The twins had taken their older brother's desertion from the family harder than anybody else. "I don't know, love," Molly said, trying to make her face harden instead of dissolving into tears at the terrible road her third boy was traveling now. "I hope so."
George looked away for a moment. "Both of us will be good if he does, Mum. We owe you that much."
"Thank you," Molly said. Now came the last call. She soon reached the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts. Dumbledore was there, looking sad. "I know, Mrs. Weasley," he said softly. "I know."
"I have to tell my children," Molly said.
"I've already had them called. They will be here in just a moment. Your husband will be sorely missed by all of us, you know."
"Yes," she said numbly. I wonder how many he's seen die over the years? Does it still hurt him, or are we just numbers in his game?
She waited at the Floo, silently, until her children came in sight. Oh, yes, Albus had remember all three of them. Their faces told her that they expected bad news—no doubt rumors had been flying already. Well.
"Your father is dead," she said. Best to get that out first. "He was going after some illegal imports in Knockturn Alley, and whatever it was blew up in his face. Something to do with dragonbane, Healer Williams said. Arthur…he died, oh, not long ago." She bit her lip to keep from weeping. She had to be strong for the children—it wasn't fair to Harry, who had only gained a father less than a month ago. It wasn't fair…not to any of us! Her heart kept breaking at the worst moments. But there weren't any good moments now, not with Arthur dead.
"I want you home till he's been put where he needs to be." She was tempted in some ways to lay his body to rest near the shed where he'd spent so many happy hours puttering with his Muggle gear, but no, he would rest with so many other Weasleys at the back of the garden. That part was so heavily warded that no one so far had been made Inferi or otherwise interfered with them for over a century. "The others are coming home for this, too, of course. But I need you now." Yes. She needed all her children around her today and would hate it when it was time for them to depart and leave her in an empty home. Whatever would she do then? Even preparing food for the Order at Grimmauld Place would be preferable to that, though she didn't know if the place would be open for them. That would be another thing she would have to do on her own—take Harry there with Sirius Black's will and see if the house accepted them. It was dangerous there now, or so she'd been told. Maybe she should do it sooner than next summer, even with Harry underage.
"Just come home," she whispered, and held out a hand to them to take them through the Floo. She gathered all three of them into a big hug, more for herself than them, though she expected they needed it too. Their gear could always come later.
Hermione knew something was wrong the moment Ron and Harry left the common room with an overnight case. Everyone had had a decent time in Hogsmeade, even with Snape glooming about looking ready to take points for breathing too loudly again. But as soon as they had returned, McGonagall had summoned the two boys and told them to bring some extra clothing and their good robes. She didn't know what had been said, but the looks on their faces said it was bad. And she wasn't really part of the family. Not yet. And she didn't know if she ever would be…Ron seemed certain of it, but some days her heart simply wasn't up to returning the love that she knew he felt for her. Oh, she knew what—or rather, who—was in the way of the Perfect Weasley Family in her future. But some days she wanted Molly for an extra mum enough to disregard what she really wanted. Especially since it was clearly impossible anyway. She was lucky that nobody but she knew where her heart truly lay—except maybe Winky—so she didn't make a fool of herself.
She went up to her bed, carrying a book for camouflage, and cried her heart out on the pillow. She could be a good wife to Ron, though sometimes she felt like a substitute mother to him instead, and sometimes to Harry, too. Her own parents were so proud of her self-sufficiency, that she didn't know how to appeal to them. And McGonagall was much in the same line—besides, the boys were always more important to the tall Scotswoman than any of the girls, she'd seen that her first year. What a fool I was to think that exceeding expectations would garner me any attention from any of the staff—I just convinced them that I never needed their help that way. Then she sobbed all the harder, thinking that no one would ever support her the way she wanted, because, after all, her job in life was to be the support of others and never need anything for herself. The few times she'd flared up emotionally, she'd been dropped for days afterwards—it hadn't taken her long to figure it out that she'd never have any friends, at least not in Gryffindor, unless she went along as the boys' universal donkey.
And since she was certain the latest news was bad, the boys would need her more than ever. Hermione sighed, wiped her tears, and packed an overnight case—they would remember her eventually, she supposed, and she should be ready.
The next day, McGonagall called her into her office. By that time, the entire school knew that Arthur Weasley had died in an explosion in Knockturn Alley, though there were rumors about a second person caught in it as well that nobody knew the details of but didn't mind making them up. The identity of the man ranged from Mad-Eye Moody, to some anonymous Auror, to Snape, of all people, which was especially silly since everyone had seen him at Hogsmeade at the same time Arthur Weasley was killed.
Then she remembered her third year—and then she remembered her fifth, where they had been told the Time-Turners had all been destroyed. The Ministry always told the truth, as did the Headmaster, of course.
Hermione closed the door behind her as she entered the office with her bag in hand. "Oh, dear, you didn't have to go to that extra effort," McGonagall said. "You will, of course, be released to go to the gathering for him on Tuesday, but you need not go to the Burrow till then."
"Yes, Professor," Hermione said. Then why did you bloody well call me in like this, when a note would have done just as well? She sighed, knowing that what she felt wasn't important.
"I do want to pass along a message from the family, though. Young Ronald misses you and wishes you were there, but you do understand…" The older woman had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.
"Of course I do," Hermione said. "Will I be asked to stay the night, or return to school once the ceremony is over?"
"That will depend on how Mrs. Weasley feels, naturally. I daresay she will be pleased to have you stay, considering how useful I know you will make yourself there. I know that young Mr. Weasley will be delighted. He is not always slighted by his family, but I can see that he does end up lost among them all at times. You are quite a light in his life, as I am sure you know."
And I will solve several problems at once, since Harry will be drawn in, too, and Mrs. Weasley will have more time to spend with the twins or Bill. Hermione was under no illusion about who were the favorites in that family. She supposed she ought to count herself lucky that her parents had not yet become targets, but also realized that it was only a matter of time till they ended up on someone's list.
"I will leave this behind, then. May I send it for it if…?"
"Of course, dear. I know what it's like to be known as the dependable one. Don't worry, the time will come when you will find someone you may lean on as well. Mr. Weasley is not as immature as he seems, and at some other time will likely offer his shoulder instead of you always having to be strong. Not now, obviously…"
Hermione bit her lip and made sure her voice didn't quaver. "I shall be aware of the timetable, Professor."
McGonagall sighed. "I know, it must seem that some of us—many of us, rather—seem to think you erupted at age twelve from the brow of Zeus and fully mature save for body. Trust me, I know the feeling. Although I know this sounds like more of the same, I wish you had a hobby or activity that allowed you some outlet for your emotions. I know someone who finds great relief in blasting things out in the Forbidden Forest, and you have heard about Harry and his boxing classes. I understand Slytherin has a young lady as Beater this year, though obviously I won't ask you to play Quidditch. However, practicing your flying might be helpful once you are past the terrified part. I am not someone who believes all witches should simply sit and embroider things—good, honest physical activity of some kind is often quite helpful to sort things out."
Hermione knew her House Head was right. She was beginning to enjoy flying a little bit, as long as she wasn't too far off the ground and her charmed cassette player had the right music on. She had never been big on choreography—gravity sucked—but she was starting to think it was bit more fun on a broom. "Um…is there such a thing as broom dancing?"
The other woman blinked. "Not for a very long time, though Professor Binns, when he was still alive, of course, was rather good at it with his wife. Professor Lupin brought his Victrola—you could inquire of him about what kind of records it takes."
"Professor Flitwick helped me with a charm for a Muggle cassette player, but it's really only for one listener," Hermione said. "And the songs on it are um, more modern...but I haven't ever heard or read anything about music and brooms here in the Wizarding World."
"It's something that the purebloods used to do, though it seems to have fallen out of fashion. But if you wish to start some sort of club up like the other one you tried to organize, you might have to wait till spring unless we can arrange some flying practice inside. Winter weather has held off rather longer than normal, but I suspect it will begin soon, and be nastier for having waited so long. However, once certain students write home to their families and discover their grandparents are ecstatic to see their progeny take up the old art, and their surprise that a Muggleborn is spearheading it—well. You may find more support than you think. But please, don't feel you have to organize everything once you've started it, and allow yourself to be instructed by others in some things. You deserve to have fun with something for once."
Hermione blinked. McGonagall sounded like she spoke of this kind of thing from experience.
Then her House Head turned practical. "I have a list of work that you may wish to start this weekend, if you have time, so you may depart on Monday with a relatively free mind. Here it is."
Hermione gratefully accepted the list. When she was deep into book-fu, things didn't bother her as much. Yes, it was an escape. But it was hers.