Part Three: A Man At The Door
The week that followed the nightmares was relatively uneventful, seeming almost placid in the face of the screaming and the torrential rains of that night. Lily carried on her school duties at Bridgestone Academy while Hermione used her spare time to bury herself in errands she promised to run for the Surrey Women's Auxiliary. Even the idle weekend passed rather smoothly, for it was quite without incident. That is, until there was a knock at the door around 3 P.M. on Sunday.
"Mum?" said Lily, gingerly pushing open the kitchen door where Hermione stood, stiring something thick in the dinner pot. "There's a man at the door...I'm not quite sure who he is, so I thought I'd come and get you before I answered."
"Oh?" Hermione's eyebrows raised from behind the large pot as she turned to look to her daughter. "Well, did he look frightening, Lily?"
"No, ma'am. He looked a bit comical, actually. He's got quite the brightest red hair I think I've ever seen!"
The spoon in Hermione's hand dropped to the floor with a loud thunk as she stared, agape, through the open crack in the kitchen door. Quickly, she turned down the stove she was cooking on and fell into step with Lily, her breath growing shallow as she neared the doorway. Resisting the urge to peek skittishly through the frilled curtains, Hermione placed a shuttering hand on her daughter's shoulder and slowly unlocked and opened the door.
"Hermione." said the figure as his face opened slowly into a pained, almost solemn smile.
Slowly, the hand gripping Lily's shoulder relaxed as Hermione reached up to massage her constricted throat with the other. "Fred."
Whipping her head 'round at the tone of recognition in her mother's voice, Lily asked, "You know this man, Mum?"
"Ah...ah, yes. Yes I do. Fred, this is my daughter, Lily." She shoved Lily slightly forward and the girl nodded at the stranger politely. Hermione then gestured toward him. "Lily, this is Fred Weasley, an old friend of mine from school."
"You mean the one in London?"
Hermione bit her lip and glanced at Fred, praying for silence. When he said nothing, she bent down and turned Lily toward her. "Yes, that's the one. Now why don't you go and finish stiring the dinner for me while I talk with Mr. Weasley, hmm?"
"But the spoon's dirty, Mum, you dropped it all over the floor when I told you that--"
"You can clean it up, can't you?" Hermione interjected, steering the girl in the direction of the kitchen. As Lily walked away, grumbling, Hermione turned her attention back to the man at the door.
"London?" he said quizzically.
"Why don't you come in and sit down? You look-- well...you look ridiculous, really." She cast a surveying eye over the man as she closed the door behind him, taking in his strange selection of clothes. The black sweater he wore was normal enough, but paired with purple pinstriped trousers that were clearly several inches to short and a pair of deep green boots that looked suspiciously like dragon's hide, it was quite a sight! No wonder Lily had been hesitant to open their door to him...Comical, indeed!
Fred seated himself in one of the high-backed chairs in Hermione's sitting room, Hermione herself taking the chair opposite him. He smiled more comfortably as he settled himself into the chair, breathing in deeply the smells of her house that seemed familiar and still so distant. After a moment's silence, he said, "Making dinner with the little one, eh?"
Hermione shook her head and gave a bit of a chuckle. "It's just some canned stew. This is one of the few nights Lily and I are eating at home...I'm not a very good cook, you see?"
Fred laughed shortly and pulled his chair a little closer to Hermione's. He was now directly facing her. "What? Something that Hermione Granger can't do?"
Hermione could feel his eyes penetrating hers, no doubt searching for the know-it-all little girl that she had once been. "You'd be surprised at just how long that list has grown over the years."
"Well," said Fred, leaning even closer to Hermione as he spoke, "I hope that list isn't too long, because then I might have wasted a trip."
The week that followed the nightmares was relatively uneventful, seeming almost placid in the face of the screaming and the torrential rains of that night. Lily carried on her school duties at Bridgestone Academy while Hermione used her spare time to bury herself in errands she promised to run for the Surrey Women's Auxiliary. Even the idle weekend passed rather smoothly, for it was quite without incident. That is, until there was a knock at the door around 3 P.M. on Sunday.
"Mum?" said Lily, gingerly pushing open the kitchen door where Hermione stood, stiring something thick in the dinner pot. "There's a man at the door...I'm not quite sure who he is, so I thought I'd come and get you before I answered."
"Oh?" Hermione's eyebrows raised from behind the large pot as she turned to look to her daughter. "Well, did he look frightening, Lily?"
"No, ma'am. He looked a bit comical, actually. He's got quite the brightest red hair I think I've ever seen!"
The spoon in Hermione's hand dropped to the floor with a loud thunk as she stared, agape, through the open crack in the kitchen door. Quickly, she turned down the stove she was cooking on and fell into step with Lily, her breath growing shallow as she neared the doorway. Resisting the urge to peek skittishly through the frilled curtains, Hermione placed a shuttering hand on her daughter's shoulder and slowly unlocked and opened the door.
"Hermione." said the figure as his face opened slowly into a pained, almost solemn smile.
Slowly, the hand gripping Lily's shoulder relaxed as Hermione reached up to massage her constricted throat with the other. "Fred."
Whipping her head 'round at the tone of recognition in her mother's voice, Lily asked, "You know this man, Mum?"
"Ah...ah, yes. Yes I do. Fred, this is my daughter, Lily." She shoved Lily slightly forward and the girl nodded at the stranger politely. Hermione then gestured toward him. "Lily, this is Fred Weasley, an old friend of mine from school."
"You mean the one in London?"
Hermione bit her lip and glanced at Fred, praying for silence. When he said nothing, she bent down and turned Lily toward her. "Yes, that's the one. Now why don't you go and finish stiring the dinner for me while I talk with Mr. Weasley, hmm?"
"But the spoon's dirty, Mum, you dropped it all over the floor when I told you that--"
"You can clean it up, can't you?" Hermione interjected, steering the girl in the direction of the kitchen. As Lily walked away, grumbling, Hermione turned her attention back to the man at the door.
"London?" he said quizzically.
"Why don't you come in and sit down? You look-- well...you look ridiculous, really." She cast a surveying eye over the man as she closed the door behind him, taking in his strange selection of clothes. The black sweater he wore was normal enough, but paired with purple pinstriped trousers that were clearly several inches to short and a pair of deep green boots that looked suspiciously like dragon's hide, it was quite a sight! No wonder Lily had been hesitant to open their door to him...Comical, indeed!
Fred seated himself in one of the high-backed chairs in Hermione's sitting room, Hermione herself taking the chair opposite him. He smiled more comfortably as he settled himself into the chair, breathing in deeply the smells of her house that seemed familiar and still so distant. After a moment's silence, he said, "Making dinner with the little one, eh?"
Hermione shook her head and gave a bit of a chuckle. "It's just some canned stew. This is one of the few nights Lily and I are eating at home...I'm not a very good cook, you see?"
Fred laughed shortly and pulled his chair a little closer to Hermione's. He was now directly facing her. "What? Something that Hermione Granger can't do?"
Hermione could feel his eyes penetrating hers, no doubt searching for the know-it-all little girl that she had once been. "You'd be surprised at just how long that list has grown over the years."
"Well," said Fred, leaning even closer to Hermione as he spoke, "I hope that list isn't too long, because then I might have wasted a trip."