Chapter Two
Professor McGonagall's tent was, as most wizard tents are, larger on the inside than an outsider would guess. Despite this, hers was surprisingly very modest. With just one room, a large desk taking up most of the space in the center of it and a heavily quilted bed in the corner, it gave off a very cozy feeling. When Hermione entered, she felt nearly the same comfortable feeling the Gryffindor Common Room gave off, as if she were home. It made her wonder if her Head of House had anything to do with the décor of the tower.
Her Professor was sitting at the dark wood desk, and when Hermione entered she looked up and smiled. "Miss Granger, I'm glad you're here," she welcomed, gesturing to the plush red chair across from her. "Would you like some tea, biscuits?"
At the suggestion of a meal, Hermione's gut clenched. Placing a hand on her stomach, she replied, "Thank you, ma'am. Just tea, please. Tea sounds great."
A knowing look crossed Professor McGonagall's face and she made a slight "hmm" of acknowledgement as she summoned a plate of tea and biscuits. She poured Hermione a cup and with a side glance slipped a biscuit on her plate anyway. "Humor me, please, Miss Granger," she said as she passed the dish across the desk.
Inwardly cringing, she nodded and took a sip of the tea. Thankfully, liquids didn't turn her stomach the way solid food had come to do. Its heavy aroma and peaceful chamomile undertones soothed her and as it made its way down her throat it warmed her pleasantly from the core. She let out a tiny sigh of contentment. Professor McGonagall watched her a moment and then cleared her throat.
"Miss Granger, how are you?"
Hermione set her teacup softly onto its dish. She knew her professor was not making small talk. Her eyes were staring as though through her, evaluating her state from the bags she knew rested under her eyes to the way her body held itself with a lack of strength. Who knew what her hair was doing at this point, either. She knew she looked a wreck, there was no point in hiding it. Sighing, she resigned to tell the truth.
"I'm not sleeping," she started, uneasy. Professor McGonagall, seemingly satisfied that she was not dodging the question, sat back slightly and nodded. Hermione had a quick mental image of her professor as a muggle therapist, writing on a clipboard while saying, "Continue." She did so, looking just past her professor as she did so.
"I'm tense all the time. My stomach hurts, I can't eat. I am trying to keep myself busy because if I don't I won't stop- I can't stop- the thoughts from coming back to me. Everything we had to do, every time Harry and Ron and everyone I love had to put themselves in danger, every person that lost their lives fighting hurts me to think about. Every time I hear a shout, or a bang, or a- anything, it makes me jump, makes my heart race, I can't breathe. If I don't keep doing something, if I close my eyes for even a second I see it all over again; the fighting, the Death Eaters, the dead-"
"That's enough," Professor McGonagall cut her off. Hermione blinked. She could hear a clinking sound. She looked down, and saw the teacup she was holding was shaking on its dish. Or, rather, it was her hand that was shaking. She set the dish and cup down onto the desk and rubbed her hands together, embarrassed.
Her professor leaned forward, resting her arms on the desk. "Listen to me, Hermione." It was one of the few times her professor had used her first name, and it helped her focus on what was being said. She looked into her professor's eyes. "War… it isn't over when the enemy is gone. It lives on inside us. What you're experiencing now, it's normal. You'll remember what happened during this fight. The loss, the fear, it's all a part of you." She reached over and took one of Hermione's hands in her own. "What's important now is to learn how you can live with it. How will it shape you? Who can you lean on?"
Professor McGonagall let go of her hand and gave her a minute to digest this before asking, "When are you going to find your parents?"
Hermione blinked; swallowed; held back sudden tears. She had been trying not to think of her parents. They were still in Australia, far away from the chaos. She desperately wanted to run to them, to get them back home, but she couldn't. Not yet. "Professor," she whispered, "I can't bring them back yet. It's still not safe. I can't risk them getting hurt because of me. We still have enemies out there. They'll be looking for every opportunity to get revenge. If they… if they…" her words grew thick until she couldn't speak.
Her professor stood and walked around the desk. Hermione, standing, was pulled into a sudden embrace, and the tears started flowing. How she desperately wanted this to be her Mum. How she wished beyond belief that she could go across the world this instant and repair her parents' memories! To have her Dad read to her again, to play Scrabble around the coffee table, to enjoy a cup of tea around the fire. No place to her would be more comforting to her at this moment, and it was so far from her reach. She clung to her professor until, exhausted, her tears ran dry.
Professor McGonagall pulled back slightly, still holding onto Hermione's shoulders. "Listen to me, Hermione." Her name did wonders to help her focus, she noticed. "Mister Weasley has his family, as broken as it is at the moment. Between that and his friends, he will have no lack of support to help him through anything he needs. Mister Potter is no stranger to dealing with difficult times but even he will struggle and will need to rely on others. I trust him to find it. He's always managed, before. I ask you, young lady, to do the same. And if you have trouble finding it, please know you can always come to me." She hugged her one last time before letting go. "And Hermione," she added, "Do not take long to retrieve your parents. You know that they will be protected to the best of the Ministry's abilities."
Hermione smiled gratefully at her professor. "I will remember that, Professor," she responded hoarsely. She took another sip of her tea to soothe her throat and relaxed into her chair, feeling more calm than she had in longer than she could remember.
When Hermione arrived at the Weasley's Burrow a few hours later, she was stunned.
The chaotically wonderful house-upon-house she had grown to love was now just simply chaos. Shingles dotted the small front yard and windows were shattered. Scorch marks covered the exterior, bits of the home burned away all together and covered with tarps or blankets. What she could see of the garden wall was crumbled apart and two of the five chimneys on the roof had been demolished. In everything else that had happened, Hermione forgot that The Burrow had been a target of the Death Eaters. She had a hard time swallowing past a lump in her throat.
The door was thrown open with a bang and Ron threw himself down the steps towards Hermione. With a whoop he lifted her from the ground, holding her so tightly her eyes went wide. "Ron! I can't breathe!" She wheezed. For a moment he did nothing but hold her even tighter, before he set her back on her feet once again. Giving her no time to catch her breath, his lips were on hers.
Fire exploded in her stomach as she clutched to Ron's shirt, pushing herself into the kiss. Oh I needed this, she thought to herself as she realized how much she had ached for his physical touch, his mere presence. Heat spread from her cheeks down to her toes. He pulled away too soon.
"Well…" she smiled, "that didn't exactly help me breathe, Ronald." She kissed his cheek as he laughed. "But I would hold my breath every time we said hello if that's how you're going to do it."
Ron blushed. "Is that a promise? Because I don't plan on greeting you any other way from now on." He pulled her close to him once more and she rested her head against his shoulder. "I need you with me, 'Mione. Will you stay?" He looked down at her. "We can go up to Hogwarts together, the three of us. Well," he admitted, "the four of us. I don't think Ginny is going to let Harry out of her sight now that she has him in it. But the four of us, we can go up to Hogwarts and help out whenever we feel like it, just as long as we go together."
Hermione smiled and pulled away from him, as hard as it was. "Ron, that sounds great. Thank you. Now let me inside so I can say hi to everyone!" She pushed him from her gently and grabbed his hand.
Ron led her up the steps inside the house and Hermione's smile faded.
The first thing she noticed- because honestly, who wouldn't? - was the massive pile of busted up furniture to her right. The large table that had for so many years fed the family of nine was smashed in two, the legs broken off. There were couches and mattresses that had been torn and rid of their stuffing, shattered mirrors, a busted up shelving unit, burnt bedposts and clay bits littering the floor. To the left of her, in lieu of the large wooden kitchen table, was a smaller, shabby replacement surrounded by a mess of stools and patched together chairs. Resting on top of the table was the famous Weasley family clock, the glass smashed and a number of the dials bent. She could see Ron's face on his dial staring at her from across the room. She slowly approached it, saddened that such a beautiful magical item could fall to such a state, and let out a tiny gasp when she took a closer look.
One of the unbent hands, the one pointing towards the word "Lost," had turned a solid black.
"Oh, Fred," Hermione sighed. The lump in her throat returned and her breath hitched.
Ron came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Dad tried to take it off to polish it," he said quietly. "He couldn't remove it, so I guess it's… just like that now."
They stared at the clock for a few moments. Hermione reached out and lovingly touched Ron's bent dial. When she turned to look at the Ron behind her, his face was white.
"I'm so sorry…" Hermione started, but behind him someone shouted, "Hermione!"
And then she was being pulled into another tight hug, and another, and another. The Weasleys, who had just come into the kitchen from out back, surrounded her until all she could see was red and freckles.
"So glad to see you, Hermione!"
"What took you so long?"
"Let me put on a spot of tea. Are you hungry? Lunch is nearly ready."
As the table was being cleared and a seat pulled out for her, Hermione felt a surge of peace. She may not have her parents, but at least she could always count on the Weasleys to show her a family's love.
Lunch at the Weasley's was an unnaturally quiet affair until Harry walked in. The same hugs given to Hermione were thrown upon him, who smiled and returned them gladly. He took a seat next to Ginny once everyone had settled and accepted the plate Molly was already filling with food. Hermione caught his eye, and they both smiled tiredly at each other.
"Hey 'Mione, how is Snape?"
Nothing beats being greeted with a question that causes everyone to stop instantly and stare. Hermione blushed and replied, "He was stable when I left him. I hope he still is. If he stays stable today, they can move him to St Mungo's. At least, that's what Miss Clarence says." Still being the center of attention, she looked back down at her plate.
"You're watching over Professor Snape?" asked Arthur quietly, looking at her with much-too-tired eyes, as Molly started to take the used dishes to the sink.
"I sit with him when I can't sleep," she answered to her plate. "I went to the infirmary tent that first night and the healers said they could use someone to watch over him while they were busy, someone who could call them over if he started to... well, get worse."
"I'm sure that's exciting," said Charlie, standing to get more plates. "Mum, I can do the dishes; you've been going nonstop today. You should sit, eat something."
"Don't you dare insinuate I need a break, Charlie; I am perfectly capable of caring for my own family!" Mrs Weasley huffed as she took the dishes out of her son's hand. With raised eyebrows and palms held up in surrender, Charlie returned to his seat.
"Mum's been like this since we got back," muttered Ron under his breath to Hermione. "She stays busy until she can't go anymore. Last night she fell asleep while mending our clothes, and Dad had to carry her to bed."
"Hermione Granger, you barely ate a thing!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed as she came back for the rest of the lunch plates. "Should I make you something else? Soup, perhaps?"
Hermione's stomach lurched and her face blushed at being called out again. "I'm sorry Mrs Weasley," she lied, clenching her fists under the table. "I ate a late breakfast before I came. I guess I'm not that hungry."
"It's okay, Mum," Ron said, taking the plate from Hermione. "I'll eat it." Thank you, Hermione mouthed when he caught her eye. He grinned and started eating.
Harry rose and touched Ginny on the shoulder. He caught Hermione and Ron's eyes and nodded towards the door. Quietly, they stood and walked outside, Ron grabbing a sandwich half as he did so.
Harry turned towards them with a small smile. "I figured we could use a walk," he explained as he led them down a well-beaten path away from the house.
The four of them walked down the dirt path to the field nearby. Tall grass and wildflowers danced in the breeze as the sun warmed their skin. Harry leaned against an old wooden fence, his forearms resting on the top plank. The others joined him, Ginny jumping up to sit atop the fence. Their faces turned towards the sun as the serene nature around them filled them with peace.
Ron broke the silence. "Remember when we were camping, and we saw that deer family?"
"Yeah," Harry smiled. "They were drinking from that creek." He looked up at Ginny. "We were all outside. It was Ron's turn to wear the locket, and I was trying to distract him by quizzing him on spells. Hermione was in the doorway of the tent, reading."
"As she always was," joked Ron.
"Well one of us had to do some damn research," she scoffed, eliciting a chuckle from the group.
"What happened with the deer family?" asked Ginny, rubbing Harry's back.
"Not much. But the mother led the two fauns out by the creek and they spent a while there, drinking. After a while the fauns curled down and rested. The mother wandered away for a while."
"I remember how bad that necklace was making me feel that day." Ron shuddered. "And then those deer walked by. Watching them... made the bad feeling go away for a while."
Hermione leaned against him and closed her eyes. She remembered that day, too. "We all watched over the fauns together. We talked to them. They couldn't hear us, but it helped."
"Didn't we name them?" asked Harry.
"Chester and Boing Boing," Ron answered fondly.
"Boing Boing?" asked Ginny, laughing.
"Aren't you the one who named Pigwidgeon?" Ron shot back with a glare.
Ginny reached over and smacked the back of her brother's head. "Pig is honored to have such a glorious name!"
"Well Boing Boing bounced when he walked!"
"Wait a minute," Hermione interrupted. "What's that noise?"
"And what's that coming at us?" said Harry, reaching for his wand.
Across the field streaked a small orange animal, yowling over and over again.
"Wait!" Hermione yelled, jumping the fence and running towards the creature, the other three following quickly. She knew what that yowl meant and her heart soared. Falling to the ground, she braced herself as Crookshanks threw his mass into her arms, nuzzling his head against her chin and purring so loud she felt it in her chest. Tears formed in her eyes as she crooned to the pet she missed so much over the past year. Her friends clamored around her, exclaiming, but she didn't hear them. She had a piece of her family back, and that was all that mattered.
"I'm so glad that cat made his way back to you, Hermione," remarked Mrs Weasley as the family gathered around the living room. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were sitting around the fireplace on enlarged cushions, Hermione going through Crookshanks' fur and dislodging mats and burrs. "I was just so upset that we had to leave without him. I knew how much he meant to you. We had no idea where he could have gone!"
Hermione scratched her cat's ear lovingly as she replied, "He takes care of himself very well. Don't you, Crooks? You're such a brave boy for surviving by yourself all this time!"
"That he is," crooned Ron, mimicking her loving tone. He sat directly behind her, hands on her shoulders and when she turned to reprimand her he planted a quick kiss upon her lips. She blushed, mollified, and turned back to her cat.
Crookshanks soon decided he'd had enough of Hermione's tugging and grooming and stood to saunter off to the kitchen. Throwing the burrs and mats she had collected from him into the fire, she leaned against Ron's chest and looked around her.
Across from her, Harry sat with Ginny's head in his lap, fingers running through her hair. Her eyes were closed, seemingly asleep, but Hermione saw the way her hand clasped his leg as if she were afraid he would leave her side. Bill and Charlie had returned home, and Hermione still had not seen George, but Percy sat in the corner in a repaired armchair with a book in his lap, staring at the pages but not reading it. She noticed how tired he looked, and how his freckles stood out on his pale skin.
Mr and Mrs Weasley sat on a patched up couch, looking through an old photo album that had been ripped apart. Mrs Weasley's eyes swam with tears as she held a black and white photo in her fingers. As Hermione watched, Mr Weasley slowly removed the photo from her fingers and whispered something in her ear. She nodded, stood, and walked off.
Mr Weasley sighed and placed the photo lovingly back onto its page. Hermione noticed how worn he looked. His eyes had dark bags under them and his clothes were wrinkled, as if he had slept in them.
Without a word he stood and left the room, following his wife.
"What-" Ron turned, his head following his father.
Ginny's eyes opened softly and she muttered, "They're probably going to check on George. They do that whenever they start thinking too much about Fred."
Percy started and dropped his book. The four of them turned to look at him. His eyes were wide.
"Hey Perce," said Ron, "Are you doing okay?"
Percy adjusted his glasses and bent to pick up the book from the ground. Standing, he cleared his throat and muttered, "No need to worry, I just fell asleep, is all." Walking towards the stairs he called back, "I'm tired. Good night."
The group looked at each other, eyes wide. Harry looked at Ron and asked, "Is he okay?"
Ron shook his head. "He hasn't said much, but you can tell he is taking Fred's death really hard. I mean," he added, scratching his neck. "We were all there- sorry, Ginny- but Percy was the one right next to him when he- when it happened."
"And Percy already has a lot of guilt for abandoning the family in the first place," Ginny whispered. Harry rubbed her shoulder and she turned her face towards him gratefully, tears threatening to spill over. Talking about Fred was hard for them all.
"Let's go to bed," he suggested to her, and she nodded. They rose, leaving Hermione and Ron alone.
Ron tried to stifle a yawn but Hermione said, "Why don't you go lay down, too? You look exhausted."
He pulled a spiral curl from her head and let it bounce. "Only if you come with me," he mumbled through another yawn.
She shook her head and summoned her handbag to her. "I want to get some reading done, now that it's quiet," she said. "I won't be long. I'll come up in a bit." If I'm lucky, she added to herself.
Nodding, he kissed her again, and then stood. "I'll miss you," he whined as he left the room.
She smiled after him. Being with Ron and Harry had seemed so familiar and even Ginny fit in quite well. But after so many months of it being just the three of them, it was tolling on her to be around so many people now. She needed some time to herself to recharge.
She had her opportunity. She knew she should try to sleep. Being with Ron, it might be easy now. But she couldn't bring herself to waste this precious quiet time. Crookshanks came sauntering back into the room and threw himself across her feet. She wiggled her toes slightly, smiling, and then settled back into the cushions to read.
A few hours later the fire had died down enough that Hermione resorted to wandlight to read. She had pulled a second book out of her bag and was a few chapters in. Her eyes kept going out of focus, but she blinked until they cleared and she was able to continue. She yawned, and grudgingly decided that bed might be a good idea.
As she was putting her things away, she heard footsteps descending the staircase. Book in one hand and wand in the other, she aimed the beam of light to the doorway as Mrs Weasley stepped into the room, robe tightly clasped around her body.
"Hermione?" she squinted at the light facing her, and Hermione quickly diverted her wand to the side. "It's 3 in the morning, what are you still doing down here?" Her eyes drifted to the book being clasped to Hermione's chest, and her face turned frosty.
"Why are you reading that book?" Mrs Weasley asked warily.
Hermione looked down at the offending book in her hands. Twin children held their hands together, one solid and one vaporous. The title, Struggling Through a Child's Death, gave more away than Hermione had hoped. She cringed.
"Mrs Weasley," she explained, "I'm just trying to find out-"
"Why Fred hasn't appeared yet," finished Mrs Weasley roughly. Hermione frowned. "You don't think I haven't been wondering that too?"
"Er- do you…" Hermione started.
"Sit down."
Surprised, Hermione sat on the couch. Mrs Weasley summoned a kitchen chair, sat in front of her, and said, "As you are muggle born you aren't familiar with many things that are common knowledge to the rest of us, so let me catch you up." Hermione's stomach knotted uncomfortably. "When Fred…" she started with a sigh, before shaking her head and restarting. "When a twin dies, he should have the opportunity to reveal himself to the living sibling immediately. But sometimes- and there could be many reasons-the twin soul takes a while to show. Some believe it is the soul's choice to wait, some believe other factors are involved, but not enough research has been done to say one way or the other. Either way, we living are forced to wait until it happens."
"But," Hermione interrupted, "Why not just ask the souls when they appear?"
"Once they do appear, the souls remember nothing about the time between their passing and their arrival. Some speculate that they're in a state we know nothing about, where they at the same time exist and don't exist."
"The muggles have something like that," Hermione said. "Schrödinger's cat. Neither alive nor dead until you open the box to see." She rubbed her lip in thought as she took this all in. "Do you have any idea what could be keeping Fred away?" she asked, looking up into Mrs Weasley's saddened eyes. Cringing at her insensitivity, she added, "I'm sorry, I have no right to ask you these questions."
Shaking her head, Mrs Weasley just said, "It could be anything, Hermione. I fear- ah, but that doesn't matter." She looked into Hermione's eyes sternly. "You won't find your answer in a book this time, dear. I ask that you leave it alone. For my family's sake."
"But Mrs Weasley," she argued, "aren't you anxious to see him again?"
Hermione knew she said something she shouldn't when Mrs Weasley stood abruptly and glowered down at her. "Of course I want to see him again, you silly girl!" she huffed. "But don't you understand? He's still going to be dead!"
Hermione winced and stood as well. "I know, I'm sorry, Mrs Weasley," she apologized quickly. "I only thought-"
"You didn't think." Mrs Weasley sighed. "But then again, you aren't a mother. You're just a child." Her eyes took a softer tone when she looked at Hermione's face again. "One day, my dear, you will understand that the greatest sadness a mother can bear is being cut from their child too soon. Yes, I want to see my son again. But it doesn't change the fact that he will never find a wife, never bear children. He will never grow old." She took a deep breath, her voice beginning to shake. "And that breaks my heart." Hermione felt terrible sadness fill the room and choked on her regret.
"Mum."
The women jumped at the voice from the hall. Neither of them had heard anyone else out of bed, but when they looked, they saw George, wrapped in an orange blanket that clashed with his hair, leaning against the doorway.
Hermione had not seen George since the battle, and he had changed so much already. It was obvious he had been crying, judging from the red puffiness around his eyes. His hair was tousled and clothes wrinkled as if he had been laying in them for quite a while. If Percy was white, George was transparent, his freckles garish blots across his face. Worse was the way he held himself, in such a way that it looked as if a gentle breeze could shatter him to pieces. Hermione's heart hurt at how broken this man looked.
Mrs Weasley rushed over to her grieving son and asked, "George, dear, what is it? What is the matter?"
George's eyes emitted such a profound pain as he looked at his mother, and whispered, "I can't- the room- I can't stay in that room any longer." Shuddering, he added, "Every time I wake up I think… that he's just in the loo and he'll be walking in, or-"
Mrs Weasley grabbed him in her arms with a teary hush. Hermione grabbed her things quietly and made to leave the room. This didn't feel like a moment she needed to be partial to. She wasn't in much mood to continue putting her foot in her mouth in the worst of ways, either.
As she walked up the stairs to Ron's room, she heard something that broke her heart even more and assured her that sleep would not be in her sights tonight. George, his voice shaking, asked, "Why hasn't he come back yet?"
A/N: So that last scene was a real piece of work to get out. I rewrote it three or four times. I apologize if it doesn't flow that well. And don't worry, we'll be getting back to Snape soon!
A/N 2: Fixing scene break.
