A L'improviste Apology

"So where are you rushing off to so soon?" Hermione's mother asked, helping to fold laundry as her daughter began to pack up her things. Mary Granger had begun to feel that her daughter came and went as the wind on a spring day - energizing but brief. "Things are alright, aren't they?"

Hermione found herself glad her face was turned away from her mother, because she had made a sour face. She had tried to keep her parents aware of the situation in the magical world, but she didn't want them to worry. So she kept her involvement to a minimum. However, Mary Granger was no fool. She had noticed the uptick of strange things on the news. She also knew that the quieter her daughter was, the more she was hiding.

"Things are alright, mum. School is busy, and I've been helping my friend Harry with a bit of an independent project, so that keeps us going a bit more than most. I need to get back early, because the project needs some work over the break. So I'll be staying with Ginny again, over at the Weasley's," She chanced a look at her mother. Brown eyes, so similar to her own, stared back with disbelief. She didn't dare say she was going to go stay with a boy. However, she did the next best thing for honesty, and confessed, "I do have some exciting news, though. I'm dating someone."

If her mother had been any more shocked, Hermione would have felt insulted. Mary Granger threw her arms around the girl and squeezed her tightly.

"Is it anyone I might know? That Weasley boy, perhaps?" Mary asked.

"Uhm… well, actually it's his older brother Fred. Only a bit older, really. Ron and I work much better as friends. We're both too stubborn, you know?" Hermione explained, and Mary nodded gravely.

"I understand stubborn men perfectly well! That's wonderful, though, honey! I am super excited for you. He must be very special indeed, to attract the attentions of my wonderful girl." Mary gushed, returning to the folding of her clothes.

Hermione was glad to leave for the joke shop. She felt like every time she went home lately, she might bring trouble back for her mother and father. Word of attacks on muggles, and especially the parents of muggleborns, had been on the rise. She didn't want to cause them any pain. But she couldn't bring herself to cause them worry by giving them a warning or asking them to leave. So she often felt it was better if she didn't stay there for long.

Her father drove her into London, because Fred was going to meet up with her at the Leaky Cauldron. She wondered if she should tell her dad about Fred, but she had a feeling her father would be far less excited than her mother. He was happy to chat about a dental procedure that was coming up in the next week. A man hadn't been cleaning his teeth for the past ten years, so he had a major cleaning and probably about a half dozen cavities that would need filling. Hermione found herself thinking about the odd duality of her life, so caught between her two worlds, even as she listened to his safe and ordinary story.

This thought followed her into the Leaky Cauldron. Her parents were so happy, and their life was so ordinary. Sometimes Hermione found it a bit dull. But she couldn't deny that she was jealous of them. They were happy, and they weren't nearly as stressed. The world, at least as far as they knew, wasn't ending. Hermione hoped that Harry would be able to help keep that true.

A buzzing sound brought Hermione from her thoughts. A tiny flying car whizzed past her face, causing her to leap out of her chair. The sound that escaped her lips was more than a little embarrassing, and it was only made worse by the fact that a laugh barked out from behind her.

"An Aviatomobile. I had been talking to Tom about them a few days ago, and I promised I'd bring one by the next time I visited. He's quite the car expert, actually. Says he likes to watch cars out the window during his free time." Fred explained, retrieving the little flying automobile. It was green and shiny, very similar to a car owned by one of her well-to-do uncles. He handed it to her, and she held it gently and looked at it carefully. It was a good charm, and a cute little product.

"These are nice. Have you given one to your dad?" Hermione asked, gathering her bag. Fred cast a hovering charm on her trunk, and they began to walk toward the Wheezes.

"In fact I have, though he keeps it where mum won't see it. She still gets a bit hot when the topic of that old car comes up. I gave him a little blue one, and he likes to let it fly around his workspace." Fred laughed as he explained.

"I'm sure it's a great reminder of how smart and wonderful his sons are, too," Hermione told him with a small smile.

"He needs more fun in his life these days. He works so hard. There are raids every few days. More people are trying to sell anti-bad luck charms, most of them completely bogus. Others are starting to be bold enough to claim they have serious dark magic artifacts. Most of them are also bogus. But it means dad gets no breaks. Last Sunday we went to visit mum, she said he hadn't been home in a few days. Been napping in his office between raids, trying to keep up with the insane amounts of paperwork." There was a line of worry creased into Fred's forehead, and it reminded Hermione of the worry he had once expressed over them all.

"Will he be home for Christmas?"

"I really hope so. He deserves a nice break." Fred replied seriously.

Their conversation faded after that, and they spent the rest of their walk in silence. It was nice, but also strange. Hermione had never seen Diagon Alley so empty. There was a hush over the street, part snow muffle, part abandonment. Window blinds were drawn along the street. Very few people were out on the cold street, and those who were hurried along with purpose in groups of two or three.

"There was an attack a few evenings ago. Not here in the Alley, but nearby. It's got people a bit freaked." Fred explained as they stepped through the door of the joke shop. The room was dimly lit and empty, as it was closed for the holiday. They moved quickly to the back of the store, following the floating trunk, and walked up the stairs to the flat shared by Fred and George.

"Home sweet home!" Fred exclaimed as he opened the door at the top of the steps, "And it's even clean. Well, mostly. There are some test products on the kitchen table, and my plans are still scattered across my desk…"

"It's lovely Fred. Very homey. Very warm." She told him reassuringly. She took in the sight of their bachelor pad. The main room held both their kitchen and living area, but it seemed spacious enough. Another staircase led, Hermione was sure, toward the rooms that the twins slept in.

"I've got the room upstairs set up for you," Fred told her, and put a hand out to stop her argument. "I don't mind taking the couch, and I'd never be able to sleep if I took the bed instead of you." As if to underline his point, he continued to lead the trunk up the steps. Hermione followed after him, figuring she might as well see where she'd be spending the night.

Hermione hadn't given Fred's room much thought, but even if she had, she would have been wrong. Where she might have expected the heavy orange Quidditch decorations of a room like Ron's, instead Fred's room was decorated in blues and greens. A vast forest was painted across the walls, sleeping under a deep blue sky filled with stars and planets. His bed was covered in pillows and draped with a warm fluffy blanket. It was a place of calm. It reminded her of the camping trips she used to take with her parents when she was young. It reminded her of safe and fun times with her parents.

Her face must have reflected her thoughtful musings, because Fred's face pinked, almost indignantly. He gestured to the room, but his voice caught in his throat and he began to cough.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked once Fred had caught his breath.

"Yeah, fine," he said shortly. He situated her trunk at the foot of his bed, then turned and walked out abruptly.

Hermione watched his retreating figure, stunned. She felt confused, and the sudden emotional shift felt creepingly familiar. Why in the world was she so good at pissing off the men of the Weasley family without even trying? As she took off her coat, she ran through the moment in her head. What had she done?

When she felt she had given him time to cool off, she walked carefully down to the main level. Fred had things zipping around the room, putting themselves away. His desk was clear, the dishes were dancing themselves clean in the sink, and the pillows on the couch were fluffing themselves. Hermione could see Fred scowling, even in profile, as she descended the final step.

"I give up, Fredrick Weasley! What did I do?" She said it in a playful tone, hoping to budge his temper.

It didn't work. In the most spectacular showing of how much he was truly Molly Weasley's son, he ignored her and the cleaning intensified. The dishes flew violently to the cupboard, a fork and several spoons darted menacingly into a drawer. Even the papers from his work space shuddered angrily as they folded themselves away.

"You know," she muttered, "I'm really glad I dodged the bullet of your brother's temper."

"My apologies, Princess! I am sorry things aren't up to your lofty standards!" Fred exploded, rounding on her with a red face and a look of anger she didn't know that either of the twins was capable of.

"What are you on about? Everything is fine. At least, I thought everything was fine. You're acting like an absolute nutter!" Hermione raised her voice only slightly, and she felt a wash of heat rush through her.

"Oh yeah, that face you made certainly said 'fine'," he replied, though his anger seemed to be faltering.

"Face? What face did I make? When?" Hermione asked, now thoroughly confused.

"The sour look you had in my room. I'm sorry it's not fancy enough for you," he spat.

Hermione could have laughed from the absurdity. "Sour? I certainly don't think so. I was surprised, actually. I was expecting bright colors, or Canon's logos. It had nothing to do with the room, or even a judgement of your flat." She explained.

He processed this silently, but she could see his face beginning to soften.

"After all these years," she approached him slowly, taking his hands into her own, "you really think I care about the things you own?"

"Woof," he breathed out, his anger dissipating, "I'm sorry Hermione. I dunno what it was...I just, I built your visit up in my head, and then I thought…" he trailed off.

"A familial trait, for sure," she ribbed gently.

"Yeah, I guess so."

She stretched up and kissed him gently on the cheek, all forgiven. She knew money was a pervasive Weasley sore spot, and she couldn't hold a grudge over a flare of temper over the subject.

"Actually, your room is very nice. It reminds me of camping with my parents." She told him. Her voice caught strangely on the last word.

"That face," Fred pointed out. She had done it again without realizing.

"Oh…" she laughed uncomfortably.

"Hermione, what's wrong?"

"Nervous about my parents, you know?" The words were out of her mouth before her brain had really processed them, and yet she knew it was true. "I'm not exactly invisible to the Death Eaters. Friends with Harry Potter, and a mudblood, and all that nonsense. Thinking about old times… it just makes me wish things were still simple. Still safe."

"Yeah, I understand that," Fred told her. He pulled her into a comforting hug. Hermione held back tears of worry and frustration that threatened to overwhelm her.