A/N I apologise in advance for any mistakes I've made. Its been a while
since I've read the books- I'm waiting for #5 before I start reading them
again.
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Hermione Krumm (nee Granger) stood in the centre of the street, oblivious to the men and women running past her. She didn't even react when a fireman stopped and shook her. "Miss, you're going to have to leave the area. Miss? Miss!" Gred and Forge's was burning, and she couldn't take her eyes off it. In her hands she clutched a bag of sandwiches that Fred's girlfriend had sent her to give them, because the shop was too busy for them to go buy lunch. Her nose burned with the stench of smoke, melting rubber and boiling potions. Fireworks exploded inside the shop, lighting it up with green, blue and red flashes. The flames were slowly staining the enormous shop window black, eating away at the curtains and leaping from item to item in the window display. It wasn't until they began to lick at the blue cardboard notice, so joyously placed a few days earlier, that Hermione began to scream.
8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888 888888888 She was still screaming when she woke up more than three decades later. The door flew open and Portia barrelled in, leaping onto the bed to protect Hermione from the bumps in the night. Light flooded the room as Virginia and Cassandra rushed in, each bearing a lamp. "Hermione?" Virginia asked sleepily. "It's a boy," Hermione moaned.
"What?" Portia asked.
"Huh?" Hermione was fully awake now, and staring around at the assembled family as if she'd never seen them before.
"You said-"
"Okay, I think its time for everyone to go back to bed," Ron interrupted.
"No!" Portia yelled.
Ron groaned softly. According to the clock it was five AM, he'd just had a nightmare of his own and Portia was about to throw a tantrum. He wondered if it was too late to become a born again drinker. "How about I make some breakfast, since we're all up?"
Ron moved around the kitchen silently, trying to be quiet out of respect for Titania and Draco, who were still sleeping. He was making pancakes. He was good at two things- chess and blueberry pancakes. Hermione was drifting around in the background, wrapped in her enormous green dressing gown. "Dreaming about the fire again?" he asked, cracking an egg one handed while reaching for the milk.
"Mmm hmmm."
"You know, I saw young Johnathon in the park the other day. Not that he's so young anymore- he's over thirty now, and has a son of his own. His mother has remarried you know, a librarian from some private school in Italy, and they have two children." Ron prattled, beating the mixture with shaking hands.
"Its still not fair," Hermione noted.
"True," Ron agreed, deflating slightly. "Its definitely not fair."
*Ron groaned as he heaved the box off the shelf. How could trick wands be so heavy? "Weasley! What am I paying you for?" George shouted from somewhere in the front of the shop.
"My job description reads 'Official Punching Bag'. I've been meaning to talk to the union about that one," Ron shouted back.
"Just get those wands out here already!"
Ron obeyed, muttering under his breath. He'd thought that working for his brothers would be fun, but they took great joy in torturing him now that their mother couldn't intervene. As his employers it was their right to treat him like dirt in fact. Fred and George were both standing by the counter, looking out the front window with identical grins plastered on their faces. Ron recognised those grins- it was their patented 'we've thought of something new to do to Ron' look.
"Can you put that box in the window please Ron? Beneath the notice," Fred ordered.
Ron dropped the box in the middle of a display of fireworks. The sun was shining through the notice, and he stopped to read the words again. "It's a boy. Johnathon Ray Collins, 6 pounds two ounces." Fred and George's other lackey, Ray, had recently become a father.
Ron was aware of George and Fred watching him very carefully. It was quite unnerving. When he looked up, out the window at the street beyond, he realised what had earned him the close scrutiny. Hermione was walking towards the shop, swinging a sandwich bag.
Ron turned away from the window without saying anything. "What else do you want me to do before my lunch break?"
"We want you to go out and talk to Hermione," Fred said.
Ron shook his head. "She doesn't want to talk to me."
"Then why is she standing there staring at you?" Ron risked a peek out the window. Hermione had indeed stopped walking, and was frozen on the spot, watching him through the window. She appeared to be calculating her chances of getting away without him seeing her.
They hadn't spoken in five months. It had nearly killed him, not writing, not running to Bulgaria after her begging for forgiveness, but it would have hurt him even more to arrive and find her and Krumm living in marital bliss, so soon after Harry's death.
"As your employer, I order you to go talk to her," George tried.
"We'll fire you if you don't," Fred added for good measure.
"I don't like this job anyway," Ron argued.
Fred and George each grabbed and arm and heaved him bodily towards the door. Ron gave up and walked out with the gait of a condemned man. In the doorway a young man in a cowled black robe brushed past him, in a hurry.
He'd forgotten how pretty she'd become. It hit him like a punch in the stomach, leaving him unable to do anything except examine her face, her large sad eyes, the bottom lip that she had been nervously chewing on. She had Harry's Gryffindor scarf wrapped around her neck, and it was tucked into a long, heavy suede jacket that almost but didn't quite conceal her expanding waistline.
"You're." Ron finally managed. Hermione nodded, looking at the ground. "When.?"
"Any day," she said.
"You shouldn't be travelling then."
"I had to see you. I need you to forgive me."
"How's Krumm?"
"I left him. Yesterday."
"I forgive you."
"Thank you," she whispered, beginning to cry. Ron hugged her, and would have started crying also if something hadn't exploded behind them. Fright made him squeeze her so tight she gasped in pain, then he released her and spun on his heel.
"Fred! George!" he screamed, running back to the burning shop.*
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"But I don't understand. Why would one of the remaining Deatheaters decide to set fire to Fred and George's shop?" Portia asked Virginia, coming down the stairs into the kitchen. Ron jumped, spooked by the odd coincidence. They'd been talking about the exact same event he was remembering.
"Well, it wasn't just a joke shop honey. Seriously- four staff just to run a moderately successful shop? Gred and Forges was used as a base for Aurors to meet when You-Know-Who was still alive. There was a tunnel underneath the storeroom floor. That fire killed seven people, most of them Aurors."
"So it was vengeance, for the death of. him?"
"Sort of. But it was also to protect themselves from being hunted down and sent to Azkhaban. They never did find who set the fire. Mmm, pancakes!"
A/N- Tune in next time for the conclusion, and to discover exactly what became of Harry.
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Hermione Krumm (nee Granger) stood in the centre of the street, oblivious to the men and women running past her. She didn't even react when a fireman stopped and shook her. "Miss, you're going to have to leave the area. Miss? Miss!" Gred and Forge's was burning, and she couldn't take her eyes off it. In her hands she clutched a bag of sandwiches that Fred's girlfriend had sent her to give them, because the shop was too busy for them to go buy lunch. Her nose burned with the stench of smoke, melting rubber and boiling potions. Fireworks exploded inside the shop, lighting it up with green, blue and red flashes. The flames were slowly staining the enormous shop window black, eating away at the curtains and leaping from item to item in the window display. It wasn't until they began to lick at the blue cardboard notice, so joyously placed a few days earlier, that Hermione began to scream.
8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888 888888888 She was still screaming when she woke up more than three decades later. The door flew open and Portia barrelled in, leaping onto the bed to protect Hermione from the bumps in the night. Light flooded the room as Virginia and Cassandra rushed in, each bearing a lamp. "Hermione?" Virginia asked sleepily. "It's a boy," Hermione moaned.
"What?" Portia asked.
"Huh?" Hermione was fully awake now, and staring around at the assembled family as if she'd never seen them before.
"You said-"
"Okay, I think its time for everyone to go back to bed," Ron interrupted.
"No!" Portia yelled.
Ron groaned softly. According to the clock it was five AM, he'd just had a nightmare of his own and Portia was about to throw a tantrum. He wondered if it was too late to become a born again drinker. "How about I make some breakfast, since we're all up?"
Ron moved around the kitchen silently, trying to be quiet out of respect for Titania and Draco, who were still sleeping. He was making pancakes. He was good at two things- chess and blueberry pancakes. Hermione was drifting around in the background, wrapped in her enormous green dressing gown. "Dreaming about the fire again?" he asked, cracking an egg one handed while reaching for the milk.
"Mmm hmmm."
"You know, I saw young Johnathon in the park the other day. Not that he's so young anymore- he's over thirty now, and has a son of his own. His mother has remarried you know, a librarian from some private school in Italy, and they have two children." Ron prattled, beating the mixture with shaking hands.
"Its still not fair," Hermione noted.
"True," Ron agreed, deflating slightly. "Its definitely not fair."
*Ron groaned as he heaved the box off the shelf. How could trick wands be so heavy? "Weasley! What am I paying you for?" George shouted from somewhere in the front of the shop.
"My job description reads 'Official Punching Bag'. I've been meaning to talk to the union about that one," Ron shouted back.
"Just get those wands out here already!"
Ron obeyed, muttering under his breath. He'd thought that working for his brothers would be fun, but they took great joy in torturing him now that their mother couldn't intervene. As his employers it was their right to treat him like dirt in fact. Fred and George were both standing by the counter, looking out the front window with identical grins plastered on their faces. Ron recognised those grins- it was their patented 'we've thought of something new to do to Ron' look.
"Can you put that box in the window please Ron? Beneath the notice," Fred ordered.
Ron dropped the box in the middle of a display of fireworks. The sun was shining through the notice, and he stopped to read the words again. "It's a boy. Johnathon Ray Collins, 6 pounds two ounces." Fred and George's other lackey, Ray, had recently become a father.
Ron was aware of George and Fred watching him very carefully. It was quite unnerving. When he looked up, out the window at the street beyond, he realised what had earned him the close scrutiny. Hermione was walking towards the shop, swinging a sandwich bag.
Ron turned away from the window without saying anything. "What else do you want me to do before my lunch break?"
"We want you to go out and talk to Hermione," Fred said.
Ron shook his head. "She doesn't want to talk to me."
"Then why is she standing there staring at you?" Ron risked a peek out the window. Hermione had indeed stopped walking, and was frozen on the spot, watching him through the window. She appeared to be calculating her chances of getting away without him seeing her.
They hadn't spoken in five months. It had nearly killed him, not writing, not running to Bulgaria after her begging for forgiveness, but it would have hurt him even more to arrive and find her and Krumm living in marital bliss, so soon after Harry's death.
"As your employer, I order you to go talk to her," George tried.
"We'll fire you if you don't," Fred added for good measure.
"I don't like this job anyway," Ron argued.
Fred and George each grabbed and arm and heaved him bodily towards the door. Ron gave up and walked out with the gait of a condemned man. In the doorway a young man in a cowled black robe brushed past him, in a hurry.
He'd forgotten how pretty she'd become. It hit him like a punch in the stomach, leaving him unable to do anything except examine her face, her large sad eyes, the bottom lip that she had been nervously chewing on. She had Harry's Gryffindor scarf wrapped around her neck, and it was tucked into a long, heavy suede jacket that almost but didn't quite conceal her expanding waistline.
"You're." Ron finally managed. Hermione nodded, looking at the ground. "When.?"
"Any day," she said.
"You shouldn't be travelling then."
"I had to see you. I need you to forgive me."
"How's Krumm?"
"I left him. Yesterday."
"I forgive you."
"Thank you," she whispered, beginning to cry. Ron hugged her, and would have started crying also if something hadn't exploded behind them. Fright made him squeeze her so tight she gasped in pain, then he released her and spun on his heel.
"Fred! George!" he screamed, running back to the burning shop.*
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"But I don't understand. Why would one of the remaining Deatheaters decide to set fire to Fred and George's shop?" Portia asked Virginia, coming down the stairs into the kitchen. Ron jumped, spooked by the odd coincidence. They'd been talking about the exact same event he was remembering.
"Well, it wasn't just a joke shop honey. Seriously- four staff just to run a moderately successful shop? Gred and Forges was used as a base for Aurors to meet when You-Know-Who was still alive. There was a tunnel underneath the storeroom floor. That fire killed seven people, most of them Aurors."
"So it was vengeance, for the death of. him?"
"Sort of. But it was also to protect themselves from being hunted down and sent to Azkhaban. They never did find who set the fire. Mmm, pancakes!"
A/N- Tune in next time for the conclusion, and to discover exactly what became of Harry.
