Part Eight: Hermione's Secret
"Fred..." Hermione's voice was suddenly quiet, sounding meek and child-like against Fred's rage. Jerking at his sleeve, she began to nudge him toward the hall. "Fred, I think we should talk in private for...for just a moment, Fred, please..."
Still fuming, Fred allowed himself to be steered out of the kitchen, his eyes locked on Lily, who was trailing close behind, protesting. "Mum!" she shouted. "Mum, stop it! You can't go in there and talk about me like I'm not here! You're talking about my father!!!"
But Hermione continued moving, down the hallway to the back of the Granger's household and into her bedroom, where she shut the door just before Lily could follow them in. Once the raving outside the door had subsided and Lily's footsteps could be heard plodding down the hall, Hermione collapsed on to her rumpled bedcovers, her head in her hands.
"So just what are you playing at, Hermione? ...Hiding the truth from your daughter like you were a good-for-nothing Petunia Dursley? A lawyer's daughter, pfft! One look at her and you can tell that she's magic!!! Just what were you planning to do when her Hogwarts letter came, eh? Throw it out with the trash?"
"I...I don't know." Hermione's shoulders shook lightly as tears leaked through her fingers. Nine years of pretending, of trying so hard to block it out, and this is what it had come down to. Lily would hate her, of course, for what she had done; she'd never understand that she had been trying to protect her, her daughter, her one and only...
"Hermione." Fred's voice close to her ears startled her out of her reverie. Kneeling in front of her, he slowly took her chin into his hand, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. She was lovely, really, and Fred knew that he could no more hold anger towards her than his brother even could. "Look at me. I need you to look at me and tell me if that girl is Ron's daughter." Swallowing the lump that was once again forming in his throat, Fred continued, his voice back to a strained whisper. "That nose, I...I mean, it's just like Ron's! And the freckles-- I don't know why I didn't see it the second I laid eyes on her! Even her hair...well, I mean, it's yours, of course, but the colouring...looks like it could turn at any minute, doesn't it?" A wistful smile appeared on Fred's face, and Hermione knew that he was thinking of his younger brother. She imagined that her face took on a similar expression when he came to mind. "I don't know how, but...but she's Ron's, Hermione. She's got to be. ...Isn't she?"
"I...I don't know, Fred."
"You don't know? Wha--"
Hermione retreated to the top of her bed, seating herself atop a plush pillow and drawing her knees up under her chin. "You know that I was with Harry." she said shortly. She gave a sardonic, mirthless laugh. "We were the quintessential couple: me, the quietly brilliant and compassionate witch and the brave and famous Harry Potter, two-time conquerer of the evil Lord Voldemort. It was like a fairy-tale, don't you think? And I loved him, I really, really did. But Harry had been through so much, and he was so busy...he never had time to deal with any of it. He carried around all this pent-up aggression, and sometimes I couldn't take it. I just wanted to shake him, you know? And tell him that I needed a break from all his...anguish. But of course I could never say that. He was such a fragile man...So I would tell it all to Ron, and he became to me what I was to Harry: a firing wall, a punching bag. But you were right, what you said...Ron was the most loyal friend there ever was. He never once let me down, and I told him everything. He told me things, too, of course, but there was something...something he could never tell me."
"He cared for you." Fred said solemnly, staring at something nonexistant in his hands.
"Right. And he never said a word, until...well, until he did. I was staying late at the Ministry, and he'd come by to see if I was alright, and he-- he just sat down and told me. Said he'd always fancied me, right from the start. Said he used to keep Harry up late talking about me; I guess that's how Harry first came 'round to the idea. He told me that he felt terribly guilty, fantasizing about his best friend's girl, secretly hating him for having me. It shocked me...and I was so angry at Harry that I just didn't think about it, and then--"
"So, you had a go with my brother, then?"
"Oh, Fred, it's not like I was having some kind of a stand with him!! I loved him, too, don't you see? Harry and Ron were like two parts of myself...we were three, but we were one in the same." Hermione paused, taking a breath to survey the damage of her babbling. Fred was staring intently into her eyes. It was now, or never. "I was seeing both of them for about a year. I hated myself for it, really I did, because it was like I was tearing them apart. Ron was barely able to speak to Harry without feeling ashamed and angry all at once. Harry, of course never knew. I tried, but I just couldn't choose. And then...well, I didn't have to, did I?"
Wordlessly, Fred placed a hand on Hermione's back as she crumbled, sobbing, into his neck. His smell was different from Ron's, but the coarsness of the skin on his neck and the soft feeling of one of Mrs. Weasley's home-made sweaters brought him back to her as she cried. Slowly, methodically, she wound her hands through his vibrant red hair, smelling it, feeling it against her face, thinking--
"Fred!" Suddenly, Hermione's head shot up, her face becoming animated once more as Fred turned to her. "I need you to do something for me."
"Fred..." Hermione's voice was suddenly quiet, sounding meek and child-like against Fred's rage. Jerking at his sleeve, she began to nudge him toward the hall. "Fred, I think we should talk in private for...for just a moment, Fred, please..."
Still fuming, Fred allowed himself to be steered out of the kitchen, his eyes locked on Lily, who was trailing close behind, protesting. "Mum!" she shouted. "Mum, stop it! You can't go in there and talk about me like I'm not here! You're talking about my father!!!"
But Hermione continued moving, down the hallway to the back of the Granger's household and into her bedroom, where she shut the door just before Lily could follow them in. Once the raving outside the door had subsided and Lily's footsteps could be heard plodding down the hall, Hermione collapsed on to her rumpled bedcovers, her head in her hands.
"So just what are you playing at, Hermione? ...Hiding the truth from your daughter like you were a good-for-nothing Petunia Dursley? A lawyer's daughter, pfft! One look at her and you can tell that she's magic!!! Just what were you planning to do when her Hogwarts letter came, eh? Throw it out with the trash?"
"I...I don't know." Hermione's shoulders shook lightly as tears leaked through her fingers. Nine years of pretending, of trying so hard to block it out, and this is what it had come down to. Lily would hate her, of course, for what she had done; she'd never understand that she had been trying to protect her, her daughter, her one and only...
"Hermione." Fred's voice close to her ears startled her out of her reverie. Kneeling in front of her, he slowly took her chin into his hand, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. She was lovely, really, and Fred knew that he could no more hold anger towards her than his brother even could. "Look at me. I need you to look at me and tell me if that girl is Ron's daughter." Swallowing the lump that was once again forming in his throat, Fred continued, his voice back to a strained whisper. "That nose, I...I mean, it's just like Ron's! And the freckles-- I don't know why I didn't see it the second I laid eyes on her! Even her hair...well, I mean, it's yours, of course, but the colouring...looks like it could turn at any minute, doesn't it?" A wistful smile appeared on Fred's face, and Hermione knew that he was thinking of his younger brother. She imagined that her face took on a similar expression when he came to mind. "I don't know how, but...but she's Ron's, Hermione. She's got to be. ...Isn't she?"
"I...I don't know, Fred."
"You don't know? Wha--"
Hermione retreated to the top of her bed, seating herself atop a plush pillow and drawing her knees up under her chin. "You know that I was with Harry." she said shortly. She gave a sardonic, mirthless laugh. "We were the quintessential couple: me, the quietly brilliant and compassionate witch and the brave and famous Harry Potter, two-time conquerer of the evil Lord Voldemort. It was like a fairy-tale, don't you think? And I loved him, I really, really did. But Harry had been through so much, and he was so busy...he never had time to deal with any of it. He carried around all this pent-up aggression, and sometimes I couldn't take it. I just wanted to shake him, you know? And tell him that I needed a break from all his...anguish. But of course I could never say that. He was such a fragile man...So I would tell it all to Ron, and he became to me what I was to Harry: a firing wall, a punching bag. But you were right, what you said...Ron was the most loyal friend there ever was. He never once let me down, and I told him everything. He told me things, too, of course, but there was something...something he could never tell me."
"He cared for you." Fred said solemnly, staring at something nonexistant in his hands.
"Right. And he never said a word, until...well, until he did. I was staying late at the Ministry, and he'd come by to see if I was alright, and he-- he just sat down and told me. Said he'd always fancied me, right from the start. Said he used to keep Harry up late talking about me; I guess that's how Harry first came 'round to the idea. He told me that he felt terribly guilty, fantasizing about his best friend's girl, secretly hating him for having me. It shocked me...and I was so angry at Harry that I just didn't think about it, and then--"
"So, you had a go with my brother, then?"
"Oh, Fred, it's not like I was having some kind of a stand with him!! I loved him, too, don't you see? Harry and Ron were like two parts of myself...we were three, but we were one in the same." Hermione paused, taking a breath to survey the damage of her babbling. Fred was staring intently into her eyes. It was now, or never. "I was seeing both of them for about a year. I hated myself for it, really I did, because it was like I was tearing them apart. Ron was barely able to speak to Harry without feeling ashamed and angry all at once. Harry, of course never knew. I tried, but I just couldn't choose. And then...well, I didn't have to, did I?"
Wordlessly, Fred placed a hand on Hermione's back as she crumbled, sobbing, into his neck. His smell was different from Ron's, but the coarsness of the skin on his neck and the soft feeling of one of Mrs. Weasley's home-made sweaters brought him back to her as she cried. Slowly, methodically, she wound her hands through his vibrant red hair, smelling it, feeling it against her face, thinking--
"Fred!" Suddenly, Hermione's head shot up, her face becoming animated once more as Fred turned to her. "I need you to do something for me."