Teddy laughs and giggles in uncontained delight as the toy broom swoops around the room, narrowly avoiding people and furniture alike. After a particularly close call with the brightly decorated Christmas tree set up in the corner, he squeals joyfully and loops back towards the centre of the room. His feet brush across the discarded wrapping paper as he zooms through the Burrow's cluttered living room, sending a tremor of flinches through the gathered adults as they brace themselves for the worst.
Fortunately, nothing happens. They would all prefer that he fly only in open spaces until he gets used to turning the broom in tight areas, but none of them want to take the risk of letting him outside with it yet. There be all manner of dangers that he could fall into, after all. If he falls off while playing inside, the most he will get is a bruise. Adding potholes and a frozen lake into the mix isn't anyone's idea of a fun time.
"I'm still not impressed that you've started in on him this young," Hermione chides Harry as they watch Arthur sidestep Teddy at the last minute. "Couldn't you have waited a few more years before teaching him that having people pelt big metal balls at you while you're hundreds of metres off the ground is normal?"
"Come on, Hermione, he's going to think that anyway," Ron replies. "He's seen enough backyard games to want to try it for himself, so you can't put it off forever. 'Sides, he's learning to fly, not play Quidditch."
Harry nods, grateful for the support. He could tell the moment Teddy unwrapped the present that Hermione didn't approve, so he made sure he was always around a Weasley so she wouldn't be able to catch him alone. "It's much safer than waiting until he's old enough to go straight to a real bream. Quidkids is the safest line of brooms on the market; it has built-in speed and height restrictions, and they've even worked a special feature into the latest model so that it will send up flares if the child's weight suddenly disappears while the broom's in the air. He'll be able to learn a lot about handling without any of the risks."
Hermione considers protesting – having the safest model available doesn't mean much when the activity itself is inherently dangerous – but then Teddy's beaming face whizzes past her and she is helpless to resist. It's hard to deny him anything when he's radiating that much happiness. Flying is a useful skill to have, after all, even if he doesn't end up playing Quidditch. The chances of anyone raised amongst the Weasleys hating Quidditch are slim, but maybe she can convince him that it's overrated and to just stick with casual joyrides instead.
"I suppose," is all she says before she abruptly stands up. "I'm going for a walk. My legs are getting cramped."
Harry and Ron nod in silent understanding; they all get nightmares and flashbacks that haunt them like a poltergeist with a grudge, but the lingering effects of her time at Malfoy Manor aren't purely psychological. Every now and again, her body gets inexplicable random aches. Her lower arm is the most frequent offender, but the rest of her body occasionally conspires with it to remind her of the torture.
"I'll come with you," Fred offers from his spot in the middle of the room. Readily discarding the Muggle puzzle box Hermione gave him, which he has been fiddling with all morning, he stands up and heads for the door. "You coming, Georgie?"
His twin looks between the two of them before shaking his head with a smirk. "Nah. Bit too cold out there for me. You two go ahead."
Ignoring the leer he sends their way, Fred and Hermione slip on their winter coats and gloves and make their way outside. The landscape is almost completely monochrome; a thick layer of white snow coats the usually vibrant yard, and only the barest hints of pale, washed-out blue manage to peak out through the otherwise overcast sky. As they step over the threshold, Fred pretends to stumble in the snow, and she reaches out to steady him as they both laugh happily.
"Did you have anywhere in mind?" he asks once they're clear of the house.
"The lake, actually. It's always beautiful in the winter, and I want to see if it'll be solid enough for ice skating tomorrow. Winter's my favourite season, you know. Everything inside always looks so cosy and warm, and no one ever questions me for wanting to stay inside and read."
"It's mine, too," he declares. At her surprised look, he adds, "What? It's a veritable winter wonderland."
Eyeing him sceptically, she drawls out, "That's really why you love winter."
"Okay, so maybe not." Fred's gaze sweeps across the countryside, and she can tell that he is uncomfortable with the topic. Just when she's about to start talking about Teddy instead, he confesses, "No matter where Bill and Charlie are or what they're doing, they try to come home for Christmas. It's… nice, being with them. We all miss them when they're gone."
Knowing how hard it is for him to admit that when the Weasley method of expressing affection usually consists of jinxes and ribbing, she rests her hand on his arm and teasingly asks, "The snowball fights have something to do with it, too, right?"
She's rewarded with a surprised chuckle and a much cheerier walking companion. "Yeah, just a bit. We used to really go at it when we were kids. It'd be George, Percy, Ginny and I against Bill, Charlie and Ron. Even when Perce started shutting himself away in his room to do schoolwork, he'd still come down for the annual Christmas morning snowball fight. We still do, but…"
"But it's still kind of weird after the war," she supplies.
"Exactly. The other thing I love is that everyone's confined indoors a lot of the time. Having everyone cramped together in one small place creates the kind of chaotic environment that is perfect for pranking."
Deciding not to point out that that's probably why Percy spent so much time shut away in his room, Hermione notes, "So today would be the ideal time for a prank. Have you got something planned?"
"Pranksters never reveal their plans. Or, as George and I swore when we went through our alliteration phase, pranksters perpetually protect people's plans."
"Hmm. A bit clunky, but it gets the point across."
"Doesn't it just?"
"Come on, though. Are you going to pull a prank?"
"Why do you want to know?"
She shrugs as she carefully steps around a loose patch of snow. "I'm just interested in hearing about it from you. I don't like when your shenanigans interrupt my work, but you know I think you're both brilliant."
A pleased smile flits across his face. "I do remember you saying something about that once, yes. You know what? I'll do you one better. It's obvious by now that something is indeed going to happen. I'll let you know what it is – if you agree to help."
She stops abruptly, staring at him in shock. "Seriously? Ron said you never let people help."
"We make exceptions on occasion. So what do you say?"
The prospect is exciting. Ever since seeing how the twins' antics cheered everyone up during the war, her opinion of them have softened considerably. The idea of actually getting to discuss ideas with them and see how they come up with things sounds almost too good to be true. "Won't George mind?"
"The chance to work with and corrupt the Hermione Granger? He'd be annoyed if I didn't ask you."
Her cheeks tinge a light pink at the flattery, but her voice is steady when she asks, "Would we be able to finish our walk first?"
"Sure."
"Then I'm in."
"Careful," he warns her. "Pranking is like quicksand; once you're in, it's hard to get back out again."
"I think I can work with that."
He beams in response. "Then welcome aboard."
A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!