Yikes. This chapter just wouldn't write, but I got it. Finally. Enjoy, my dudes.
"Bag, wand, hair, first edition Hogwarts: A History, pigmy puff, Lavender Brown's first born child, and a small country." George looked between Hermione and Fred expectantly. "That everything?"
"George Fabian Weasley!" Hermoine exclaimed with both hands on her hips doing her best to look intimidating, but really she just looked like a puffed up baby nundu. Probably all the hair. George would never admit this, he didn't truly have a death wish.
"And a bowtruckle in a paired tree!" Added Fred, whose face was turning red with restrained laughter.
"Ah, yes, thank you, Gred." George told him seriously. Fred lost it. A melody of deep, true laughter filled the room.
Hermione just stared at them with a disbelieving look on her face. The sound of Fred's laughter was doing funny things to her stomach and she wanted to blame it on the connection, desperately. She didn't know if she could. Her brows quickly furrowed in confusion and she looked to George.
"Why Lavender Brown's first born?" Her hands fell from her hips.
"Well, she dated Won Won." Everyone looked slightly nauseated.
"Just go, George." Hermione sighed, rubbing her forehead.
"Yes, ma'am!" George gave an exaggerated salute before her turned on the spot and disappeared with a loud crack that echoed through the quiet flat well after he was gone.
It had been a week since her arrival. A week where she alternated between wearing the twin's old clothes and casting freshening charms on the ones she arrived in. Finally, she was able to push George into going to get her things as well as more food because they'd also run out of what little provisions were left.
She tried not to think of the bond between her and Fred. It became an unspoken rule for no one to mention it. Fred and George wouldn't even make jokes about it. They all had a small hope that it was just a temporary thing and would fade over time. After all, how can you fight a battle when you have to be within a certain distance of another person?
She also tried not to think about the battle itself. She doesn't want the responsibility of deciding who to save. She remembers everyone who dies. She went to all the funerals. She wants them to live, but part of her wonders if it was just their time. She knows that there will be death, but she doesn't want to jeopardize the guaranteed victory by saving some and having others die in their place.
So, to stop thinking about things, she does what she does best. She shoves the thoughts to the side and concentrates all her energy on one thing at a time. In this case, it's making products with the twins- an activity she enjoys a lot more than she thought she would. There was something very appealing to her about the level of genius and expertise that goes into each invention. It allowed her to think about the fundamentals of magic itself and the various ways it can be manipulated, something she'd always been intrigued by.
Any time that wasn't spent restocking the twin's inventory was spent planning the break into Gringotts. She reasoned that she could handle this line of thinking as long as she doesn't think about what comes after. She resigned herself to the fact that Thief's Downfall was unavoidable, but that was alright in the grand scheme of things. The noise they would kick up by breaking into the Lestrange vault would be the beginning of the end, which would be fine as long as she stayed on top of things. She would still masquerade as Bellatrix- assuming George comes back with the hair, Harry and Griphook would still be under the invisibility cloak- even though the goblin will still try to backstab them, they would still fly out on the back of the blind dragon- she couldn't leave the poor creature there after all.
The only problem is that the twins would have to come with them this time.
This was the concept she most dreaded thinking about. How were they to get anything done if she and Fred couldn't move from within a set distance away from the other? Not to mention that with her at the center of the fight alongside Harry, Fred would be forced to be right there with her and where one twin is, the other is usually not far behind. She'd never forgive herself if one of them got hurt because of this predicament.
Which is why today, she would be doing some experimentation. She would break the silence on the uncomfortable topic that was their bond.
With a determined look on her face, chin high in the air, and a set jaw, she looked to Fred.
Fred, who still had a smile on his face from his twin's antics, suddenly looked over to Hermione and after seeing the look on her face, gulped audibly. He met her penetrating gaze wearily.
She slowly walked over to him and he watched her with apprehension. He'd seen that look on her face many times at Hogwarts. She was coming over there to lecture him, surly, or hex him for doing something, maybe. He was opening his mouth to apologize for who knows what when she placed her hands on each of his shoulders and began walking him backwards. She steered him around furniture and he was too baffled to do anything but let her lead him. His back hit the wall and she released him. He was utterly confused.
"Stay." She said pointing a finger at his chest. "Right there."
She began backing up and his foot made a stuttering motion forward. "Ah! Don't move."
He crossed his arms and huffed. "Woof." He deadpanned.
She giggled, finally breaking that serious mask on her face, and Fred watched her more amused now than annoyed. He was completely enthralled by the bounciness of her mane of curls as her shoulders shook.
"No, no!" She said finally. Face red from laughter. "I'm testing the distance we can have between us without pain."
He shifted a little at the mention of the bond as a look of understanding passed over his features. He nodded once and stood still against the wall. Across from him was the long expanse of hallway that Hermione was once again backing up towards.
She made it across the living room with no problem. She got to the bathroom door and felt a twinge. It wasn't comfortable by any means, but it was endurable. By the time she got to George's bedroom door, the knot had been formed and twisted painfully. Tears formed in her eyes as she clenched her hands and grit her teeth. She saw Fred move his arms across his body to hold his midsection tightly. She barely made it to Fred's bedroom door when her knees buckled from the fire burning through her nervous system to the farthest reaches of her body.
And then Fred was there, grasping her forearms, pulling her up, and leading her to the couch. They sat there with him leaning against the arm of the couch and her in-between his outstretched legs with her back to his chest and his arms around her.
It was the most content she'd felt in days. The weariness and stress she didn't know she was harboring melted away and she felt her energy stores recharging. Her magic was singing and vibrating under her skin and she could faintly feel Fred's own magic pulsing against hers like lazy waves lapping at the shore of a beach. She could easily sit there with him all day if he let her, and judging by the heavy weight of his relaxed arms and the occasional contented sigh he let out that made her curls sway, she'd say he felt the same.
A week ago that thought would have terrified her, and to some degree it still does, but at that moment in time, she decided to just enjoy these odd feelings as they were and not think too hard about it.
"So what do you say that was?" He said quietly, breaking the comfortable silence. "Four and a half yards? Five?"
She turned her head to look over his shoulder at the distance between the wall and where the bathroom door was. She turned back around and leaned into him once more, her hands coming to rest on his forearms.
"Yes, that sounds accurate." She sighed. She was a little disappointed that in the past week since she arrived and the bond began, the effects hadn't lessened.
"Do you think that we should test the distance every day?" He asked. "Maybe keep a record and write down any changes?"
She turned her head and looked up at him, eyebrows raised slightly. He was staring off in the distance, eyebrows furrowed in thought. His mouth was moving almost imperceptibly forming words she couldn't hear like he was trying to work out a puzzle before him. He looked down at her, misinterpreting the expression on her face.
"Well, it's a brilliant idea don't you think? We test it every day and if there is a change, whether the distance is shorter or longer, we can figure out what made it change. Try different things and see what works and what doesn't, and once we've narrowed it down, we can isolate the probability and use it to fix this connection between us." He reasoned.
His speech became more impassioned as he spoke, as if this was another product to be created and tested rather than themselves and their individual lives. It was oddly endearing, how excited he was at the opportunity to solve a puzzle and fix a problem. Maybe they weren't as different as she initially thought.
"That sounds like a wonderful idea, Fred." She smiled.
"It was bound to happen eventually." He smiled back.
"Oh, honestly, you've had many wonderful ideas. Just look at your shop."
"I dare say that living with us has addled that big brain of yours, Granger." He said with mock seriousness, feeling her forehead for a fever. "I mean, really, why would Perfect Prefect Granger think our joke shop products are wonderful?"
Hermione bristled. "If you truly think of me as a "Perfect Prefect" then you must not know me at all."
"Well, how could I think differently when all I saw was you berating us for our products." Fred frowned.
"You were testing them on first years!" She sat up frowning.
"They signed consent forms and were being paid a small profit." He argued. "Still, my point stands, you never liked our products."
She deflated. "I loved your products, the magic behind them was amazing. I just never liked cleaning up after them." She told him sincerely.
He was quiet for a moment, thinking over her words.
"Do you really only think of me as a "Perfect Prefect"?" She asked quietly, fiddling with the hem of her jumper she borrowed. It was colder today. Coincidentally, this was one of Fred's old Molly Weasley sweaters. Blue with a yellow 'F', fraying at the ends.
It had always been an insecurity of hers. Even after becoming a beloved War Hero, she never outgrew the thought that everyone around her only saw her as a stick in the mud, by the books, know it all, swot. She was teased relentlessly as a child for preferring books to dolls, for reading at recess rather than playing in the sand, for following the rules rather than breaking them. Her first instance of accidental magic was before primary school when neighborhood girl a year older than her took her favorite picture book away from her. Nothing changed at Hogwarts, Ron's cruel words when they were eleven often returned to taunt her, among others. Even light, friendly taunts about her bookish nature and rule abiding tendencies made her grit her teeth through her smile and her bell-like laugh take on a bitter timbre.
He pulled her back against his chest and wrapped his arms around her again.
"Maybe when we first met you. You reminded us a bit of Percy to be completely honest." The corners of his mouth turned down at the thought of his brother and she desperately wanted to tell him about his change of heart right before the battle, but she thought better of it. "But after Dumledore's Army, there was no way we could think that about you. Prefect? Of course, couldn't choose anyone better, you're quite smart you know." He squeezed her a bit tighter. "Perfect, however, never. With as many rules as you three have broken, it's a wonder you were never expelled." He finished with pride in his voice.
"Thank you, Fred." She whispered with a smile spreading across her face.
"Anything to get a smile on your face, Hermione."
He meant it. The entire week she'd been here, he'd hardly recognized her. Melancholy followed her like a cloud over her head. As someone who loved jokes and laughter, he couldn't stand to see her expression so down. He and his twin made it their mission to rectify that. Even if it was just goading her into a fight or heated argument, it still stoked that fiery passion in her and put a spark in her eye that had been missing.
"What are we doing, Fred?" She whispered.
He looked down at her, startled.
He wasn't sure what she was asking. His first thought was that they were talking, but that didn't seem like what she was referring to. He thought of the war. He wondered how often she thought of what was to come. He couldn't imagine the amount of stress knowing what's going to happen would have. He knew people would die. He knew he would die. They both agreed it was best not to tell George. Hermione never talked much about the battle that was to come. In a way, he felt it was for the best. He didn't want to know ahead of time who was to die or what parts of the castle would be destroyed. She told them about the horcuxes. What they were, where they were, what order they will need to be destroyed. He couldn't help but feel she was leaving something out, but he didn't think he'd like to know.
He then wondered if her question was referring to their connection and the way they were currently sitting. Everything was fine when they were within range. When they exceeded the four and a half yards, it was unbearable. When they were together like they were at that moment, everything made sense. Like going your whole life watching the world in black and white and suddenly you're seeing color. Like living in a world of radio static and someone nudges the dial and a beautiful symphony moves through you. His worries about his family went away, the stress from creating a mass order of products dissipated, the negative energy that had been surrounding him since Voldemort's return was nonexistent. What's more is he could feel her magic. It was intoxicating.
From a small age, he'd always been in tune with his own magic. At times he could even feel his twin's. He could always feel the energy flowing under his skin. At times he thought he could physically hold it in the palm of his hand. The first time he held his wand, his magic rushed through him like a river. At the time it was the best thing he'd ever felt. Sitting with Hermione was like a dam bursting. His magic raved and raced to meet hers. And he could feel hers. It was like a storm raging and lightning crackling, thunder rumbling. It was rolling over him and he wanted to get lost in it.
He must have been lost in thought longer than he realized because Hermione was now reading a book he assumed she summoned from their shelves. He sat and watched her for a moment. He watched how her perfect teeth bit into her bottom lip and how her pink tongue moved to smooth over the ache. He watched how her delicate finger wrapped one of her curls around itself before releasing it and letting it bounce back to shape before doing it again.
He summoned a blanket from his room and wrapped it around both of them. She barely moved so he doubted she even realized. He figured while they were there, they might as well indulge in the contented feeling while it wasn't awkward.
He sighed and wrapped his arms tighter around her. He still can't figure out what magic wanted from them, but he wasn't going to analyze it right now. He laid his head on her shoulder and tried to read with her. He quickly fell asleep and she followed not too long after.
George Weasley supposed, if he really thought about it, he was the thinker between the two of them. That's not to say his twin doesn't think at all or that George is solely responsible for all of their ideas. No, it's just that if George really sat down and analyzed it, he was the one who thought things through to their fullest extent. Fred was the instigator, the catalyst, the one who put things into motion. He always made the first move and it was up to George to think through that move beforehand.
And thinking was all he'd done in the past week.
In his experience and with what little knowledge he had, he'd come to the conclusion that bonds were dangerous. Half of the time. He'd never heard of the type of bond that connected his brother and their friend, but he can't help but feel uneasy about it. There were all types of bonds: marital, familial, mental, wizard oaths, life debts, unbreakable vows, there was also the occasional soul bond. Any physical bond usually resulted from an outside force: a potion gone wrong, a dark object wreaking havoc. They even made a prototype candy for the shop that stuck people's hands together for a laugh.
But George wasn't laughing. Whatever this was, he felt it was more than just a simple bond, and with the state of the wizarding world at the time…
He needed to research.
Despite popular opinion, he and his brother loved books. Occasionally. They'd never be caught in the library- and never were- but that didn't stop them from getting the research done that they needed. And the research George needed now was on bonds- specifically Fred and Hermione's. But they didn't have any books on the subject at their flat. Hermione had already lamented this fact. And there's no way they could get to the Hogwarts library. Or any library, bookstore, friend's bookshelf.
So here he was in the middle of Bill's study at Shell Cottage under a disillusionment charm looking for any books that could be of use. After all, if anyone had information on them and how to break them, it would be a curse breaker wouldn't it?
George was met with disappointment.
There were only books on wards, goblins, marital ceremonies, veela, French dictionaries, but not physical bonds. Or even time turners.
He heard footsteps down the hall and he quickly pressed himself against the wall and held still so he wouldn't be seen. He was quite confident in his charm- after all they managed to roam around the castle for years without being caught- but still disillusionment charms weren't perfect and could flicker like a glamour and a trained eye could easily spot it. A trained eye that a certain curse breaker could quite possibly have. He held still.
As the footsteps came closer, they became more delicate and lighter sounding, and he watched through the open door as a feminine shape with flowing blonde hair and bare feet walked past.
He let out a sigh of relief and crept out into the hallway going the opposite direction from the one the blonde was walking in. He and his brother had only been to Shell Cottage a handful of times since Bill and Fleur moved in, and they'd never stayed long enough for a grand tour, just long enough to throw off snatchers tracking Potterwatch or to check in on the married couple. So needless to say, he was lost. Mostly. He just hoped he was going in the right direction for the stairs.
After a near miss with his sister-in-law which resulted in panicked movements that made him bump a set of wind chimes made of seashells, he finally found the stairs. Coincidentally, they were in the direction the blonde- who he found out was actually Lovegood- was going. Making his way up stairs that didn't creak nearly as bad as the rickety ones at the burrow did, he caught a glimpse of the beach outside the window. The sun was hanging low in the sky now, casting orange and pink hues across the white sand and alerting him to how much time he'd spent there.
He saw an orange head of hair attached to gangly limbs staring out toward the horizon. Hermione had not said much about his littlest brother, and George knew Ron had held a candle for her for years despite being a prat about it. He wondered how he would react to the knowledge that Fred and Hermione are bonded and occasionally are forced to have a cuddle. George didn't want to be the one to tell him and he didn't want to be around to hear the hurtful things Ron will say to Hermione when he finds out. He was almost glad that this time, Hermione would have someone to be there to pick up her pieces after another fight with Ron. Even if that someone was his twin.
He sighed and continued up the stairs and started wandering in to all the bedrooms looking for Hermione's things. He found her bag easily enough. As well as the clothes that definitely had Bellatrix's long, curly hair on it. He tried desperately not to think of what she went through to get the clothes looking like that. Even if, for her, it had been a little over a year. He had some trouble locating the wand though. He remembered her mentioning that Harry had a small collection and he continued his search through the bedrooms.
Perhaps he was lost in thought or maybe he was just careless, either way when he opened the next door, he was met with bewildered green eyes and a wand pointed in his direction. He held up his hands in surrender despite him not being able to see it.
"Show yourself." Green eyes hardened instantly.
George cancelled the charm and watched Harry's wand lower slightly.
"Fred? Or are you George?" He shook his head and raised his wand once more. "What did I say to you when I gave you the Triwizard winnings?"
He thought for moment back to that somber day at King's Cross.
"That the world really needs a laugh now." George lowered his hands. "And I'm George."
Harry lowered his wand and sighed. "Where's Fred? Aren't you supposed to be taking care of Hermione?" His voice was strained and tired.
"They're back at the flat." Harry's face fell with disappointment slightly before he looked away. "She's alright. Already back to researching and planning."
Harry cracked a grin.
George looked around the room and assumed it was Harry's. The unmade bed on one side of the room told him that it was shared with Ron. The walls were wooden with large windows letting in the dying light of the sunset. A few tattered pieces of clothing lay on the bed and small moleskin bag sat on the side table.
"Why are you here? And why were you hiding?"
"Do you really want the answer to that?" George asked allowing a mischievous smile to grace his features.
"If Fred were here, I might believe that act."
George sighed. "Hermione sent me to get a few things. She thinks they would help with the plan."
"Has she," Harry started, unsure. "Has she told you about what we're doing?"
"Yes." George aid simply and watched as a flash of anger and betrayal took over Harry's expression. "She had to, mate. You'll understand later."
"It doesn't matter. She never should have told you, no matter the reason." Harry said as his temper got the better of him.
"She had no choice." George said and watched the-boy-who-would-save-them all fume.
George let this go on a minute as he searched the room with his eyes for any sign of the wand Hermione described. The room was bare and hardly looked lived in. The boys had little in the way of possessions. George supposed that living on the run left no room for extra baggage.
"Looking for something?" Harry said with suspicion in his tone. George met his gaze, startled. His arms were crossed and his eyes were narrowed. Still angry, apparently.
"Yes, actually, do you happen to have Bellatrix's wand?"
Surprised, Harry forgot for a moment he was supposed to be mad. "Why do you need it?" He asked slightly horrified.
"Like I said, Hermione thinks it will help with the plan."
"What kind of plan is she thinking?" Harry asked quietly.
"Breaking into Gringotts." He looked on in amusement at Harry's confused face before he understood.
"The next one's in her vault." Harry echoed Hermione's message in a whisper.
Harry turned around and went to the moleskin pouch in the table behind him and dug around for a minute before pulling out a crooked, dark wand. He held it out to George and he took it cringing at the feeling coming from the wand that had done such dark things. He nodded his thanks and pulled out his own wand to cast another disillusionment charm, but before he could cast it, Harry spoke again.
"What reason could she possibly have?" Harry looked conflicted.
"It would be better to hear it from her."
George looked out the window and noticed Ron making his way back toward the cottage. Quickly, he cast the charm and carefully made his way through the house leaving the confused Chosen One behind. He made it to the edge of the wards just as Ron did. He timed it to where they crossed at the same time and finally slowed to catch his breath.
He was about to disapperate when he noticed a grassy hill made of sand that had a stone sticking up on the top of it that wasn't there the last time he visited. Curious, he walked over to it to investigate.
Here Lies Dobby, A Free Elf
He felt the bottom fall out of his stomach. Hermione told them what happened, but he never processed it. He was never close with the elf, only met him a few times. He figured it wasn't so much that it was Dobby's grave, just the grave itself. He wonders how many more graves this war will make.
Not willing to stick around much longer, he disapperated with a loud crack.
When he got home and saw the sleeping pair on the couch, he sighed and went to make supper.
What did you think? I can't promise when the next chapter will be, but I'll try not to wait two months this time.
In other news, I made the President's List for last semester and I've been nominated to be one of the top ten students of the school.
Do well in school, you might get a cool piece of paper.