Chapter 10: January 2016 – The Funeral

Those first few days after the accident had been a blur. Looking back later he realized he had probably blocked a lot of it out. Harry, Ginny, Hermione and Rose were all in and out of the house regularly. His mum kept sending food, despite the fact that only Ron and Hugo were there to eat it. He floo called his mum and begged her to hold off on sending more until he asked. Hermione brought more books for both he and Hugo despite the fact that they hadn't read any of the other books she'd brought by. Rose continued to teach Ron how to us his phone. And Hugo kept trying to not laugh as Ron struggled with muggle technology. Those days were sort of like the time in the tent with Harry on the horcrux hunt. It was awful, and it was like being forged in the fire somehow. But like that time, it was transformative for both him and Hugo. Before he knew it, it was the morning of the funeral.

He had talked with Hugo about what to expect at the funeral. And he had asked him multiple times if he was sure he wanted to go, as had Hermione. But, Hugo was adamant that he be there. He did eventually ask if he could give Ron a secret sign or something if he was ready to go. So they had worked that out ahead of time. Ron planned that they would go just at the start of the service, make it through the service and the burial, and then get the hell out of there before the reception time at the church.

The service was surreal. It was like being at the funerals after the war again, as it was the same people. Neville, Luna, the whole DA, the entire Weasley clan, McGonagall and Hagrid were all there. Same people. Same mourning. Except this time they were all older. Hermione's mum had arranged for a nice eulogy. Obviously the speaker didn't know anything about Dennis and Fi's magical life. But they spoke about Fi's commitment to justice, and Dennis' dedication to the family business. Ron and Hugo both cried during the service, but neither lost it completely. Then they had a brief breather before the burial. But the sight of that little boy against the backdrop of those four coffins was heartbreaking. As soon as the last coffin was lowered into the ground, Hugo turned to Ron, and he knew it was time to split.

The two made their way to the back of the crowd, and then they snuck around to the back side of the church. Ron had stashed a change of clothes there in a knapsack, which he picked up as he apparated them away. They landed in the paddock in the back of The Burrow.

"Where are we?" asked Hugo.

"This is The Burrow, where I grew up. It's a great place to go when you want to disappear for a bit. My parents are back at the funeral, so it's just us. I thought we could go for a fly if you want. Have you ever been on a broom before?"

"No. I wanted to, but there was never a good place to go."

"That's what's great about The Burrow. No one around for a long, long way. And – it is January, so we won't stay up for too long because we will freeze our bollocks off, but let's give it a shot, yeah?"

"Yeah."

They both changed out of their muggle suits and put on the jeans, jumpers and trainers and bundled up in their winter coats. Ron got his old broom out of the shed, and the two of them got on it.

"Hold on tight, alright? And just let me know if you want to head down if you get cold or are freaked out a bit, ok?"

Hugo hugged Ron tightly, and Ron kicked off from the ground. He took him up over the quidditch pitch and the paddock, and then around the wonderfully crooked house. He pointed out the window at the top which had been his childhood bedroom. Then he cast an undetectable charm around them and they headed out over the countryside of Devon. Ron looked back and saw a look of relief on Hugo's face that he hadn't seen on him since the accident. And in that moment Ron once again was relieved that something he was doing was the right thing for Hugo.

They flew for almost an hour, and then Ron landed them on a hillside that overlooked the fields below. He pulled out some mustard-free turkey sandwiches he had stashed in his pocket earlier, and the two of them ate in silence.

"Did my parents like flying?"

Ron thought about this for a moment, and then finally said, "Your mum liked what it could do. She liked how you could get somewhere quickly and chase down someone who was getting away. I am not as sure about your Dad. I think he thought it was fun, but never really fell in love with it the way I have. I love how free I feel on a broom. When I had some hard times after my brother died and I lost a lot of friends, I used to come out and fly on my broom for hours. It was the only thing I found that helped me feel like I could get the air all the way into my lungs you know? Sometimes it would feel like the sadness just filled me up so much I couldn't breathe. But then I would come out here and my lungs would just be full of the fresh air, and I would feel ok for a while."

"Yeah – the sadness has been filling me up too, and this helped me breathe some. We should do this more often."

"That can definitely be arranged. Are you frozen yet?"

"Not yet. Let's keep going. Just cast that warming thing you did."

"Alright. I can do that. Do you want to meander through Dartmoor or head out to the seaside? It's pretty there but it will be cold and very windy, so it could be rougher."

"Let's go to the seaside."

Ron nodded, and they climbed back on the broom and set off for the coast. Almost an hour later they landed on the southern beach. It was a cold January day, but it was surprisingly sunny. The two of them sat and watched the waves crash methodically against the sand while the tall brown grasses whipped behind them. Ron dug out a chocolate frog for each of them. Hugo opened it slowly so that the frog couldn't leap into the sand. Flipping over his card he stared at the package.

"Who'd you get?" asked Ron.

Hugo just stared at it. Finally Ron looked over at his card and saw his own face staring back.

"Oh," said Ron sheepishly. "Sorry about that. You can have mine if you want. I got Dumbledore and he is amazing."

"Why are you on a chocolate frog card?"

"Did you really not know about that until right now?"

Hugo just gave him a blank stare.

"OK. I'll take that as a no then. Well, it is probably much too long of a story for the time we have before it gets dark. But, the short version is that there was a very bad wizard when I was about your age. And he wanted to hurt a lot of people, but mostly didn't like wizards who had any muggles in their family. And Harry was the only one who could stop him. But Harry needed a lot of help. A lot of help– trust me on that. So, he and I went on some special missions to help get rid of the bad wizard when we were just teenagers. And, it worked. The bad guy lost. And after that a lot of people thought I was some sort of hero, so they took my picture a lot and put me on a chocolate frog card. But, then other things came along that people found more interesting, but I still have my face on a chocolate frog card."

"So you and Harry are heroes?"

"Well, lots of people are heroes. There are a lot of heroes who never get any recognition, but that doesn't make them any less of a hero, you know? I thought your Uncle Collin and my brother Fred were bigger heroes than Harry and I, but for reasons I still don't totally understand, people thought Harry and I should be on the cards. "

"Huh."

They sat and watched the waves a little longer, until Ron thought they really needed to get going if they were to be back at The Burrow before dark. They flew into the evening sky as they both let the fresh air fill their lungs. Finally the top of The Burrow came into view, and they landed gently in the paddock.

"Do you want to go in and get tea and hot milk, or do you want to head home?"

"I'm cold. Hot milk sounds good."

"Ok. My parents are probably back by now. So, I'll warn you – my mum might smother you with hugs for a minute."

"Will she have biscuits?"

"Without a doubt."

"I can handle smothering for hot milk and biscuits, I think."

"You are my kind of man, Hugo," Ron said as he put the brooms away.

They made their way up to the house, and Ron saw his mum looking out at him from the kitchen door.

"You two must be freezing! Come in out of the cold and let me fix you something warm to drink."

"Hi Mum," Ron said. "This is Hugo. Hugo, this is my mum."

"So lovely to meet you, Dear," Molly said sweetly.

"And this is my Dad. Dad, this is Hugo."

"Hello there," said Arthur.

"Hello," said Hugo. "Ron took me flying."

"I see that," said Arthur. "Weren't you two cold?"

"Wasn't too bad," said Hugo.

"Here, have some nice warm milk. Do you prefer chocolate or sugar biscuits?"

"Could I have one of each?"

"Of course, dear. Here, sit down at the kitchen table and let me find them."

Hugo talked some with Molly about flying while Ron went into the sitting room with his dad.

"How are you doing, son?" Arthur asked.

"He's doing ok. It's been a hard week, but he was amazing today. I mean, really – who can possibly be expected to bury their entire family and stand there to be watched by everyone. And at 8! It's ridiculous. I could tell he needed to get out of there, so I thought going for a fly might be what he needed. Turned out I was right."

"But how about you? How are you doing?"

"I have no idea. Nothing about my life is the same as it was a week ago. But I love him so much, Dad. I would do anything for him, you know?"

"That's what unconditional love is."

"But it's hard figuring out how to be whatever I am to him. I don't want to replace his dad. I don't want to be his uncle or his buddy. So – I don't know – we're still figuring that out I guess."

"That I very much understand. That's how I was with Harry, you know. I didn't meet him until he was twelve and you guys stole the car to break him out that summer. And with Harry he had a father and a godfather, not to mention that horrid uncle, but he and I eventually found our own relationship. It isn't easy when you step into that type of role with a child who is that old. And Hugo is the same. Just trust you two will figure it out."

"You know I'd never thought about that with you and Harry. Huh. I'll have to think about some more – that really is what I am trying to navigate right now."

"You'll figure it out. You are the most loving, dedicated person I know. You will be exactly who Hugo needs. And he will be who you need. But be careful to take care of yourself. Parenting – in whatever form – is hard. Especially trying to do it yourself. Let us all help, alright?"

"I will. This week has been such a blur. I think now that the funerals are done we are going to start figuring out a new normal. Or at least I hope so."

"You will. Now, why don't you go get some biscuits before Hugo eats them all."

"Will you stay for dinner dears?"

Ron glanced at Hugo who looked as if he was about to pass out at the table.

"Another night, Mum. We are both pretty knackered from today and I think I need to get him to bed."

"Alright then," she said. She hugged them both very tightly and then they floo'd home.

They stepped into the living room, dusted off the soot, and headed to the kitchen to put away the biscuits Molly had sent home with them. On the counter they found a large tray of cookies, and a note that said I left mustard-free sandwiches in the fridge. Could you PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE text me and let me know you are both ok. I couldn't find you after the funeral and have been terribly worried because YOU HAVEN'T BEEN ANSWERING YOUR PHONE. Just please let me know. Thanks…Hermione

"I think we're in trouble with Hermione for not letting her know we were ok," Ron said sheepishly.

"She could have called," replied Hugo.

"Well – looks like I never took the phone off silent. So, it kept going to voicemail."

"Oops."

"Oops is right. Ok. You eat – I'll text."

Ron started pecking away at the little buttons and was struggling. "These things could not have been made for people with fingers the size of mine."

"Ron – you're on a chocolate frog card! You can handle texting."

"Well – ok. I guess you have a point."

So Ron pecked persistently and eventually had, So very sorry. I had the phone off at the funeral and forgot to turn it back on. Hugo needed to get out of there, so I took him to the country for some fresh air. Then we stopped by my parents' house where Hugo said he was willing to be smothered by my mum's hugs if she had homemade biscuits. We're home now and he is exhausted and I am putting him to bed as soon as he finishes his mustard free sandwich. You did a great job putting everything together today. It was a lovely service that was good for each of them, but short enough to not feel like a death march. I really am sorry to have worried you. I am still getting used to the idea of people wanting to know we are ok. Forgive me?

He hit send, and then scarfed down a sandwich. He decided some Dreamless Sleep potion was in order for Hugo that night. He wished he could take some too, but knew he needed to be able to wake up with Hugo if need be. So he had a shot of firewhisky before he crawled onto his mattress on the floor while Hugo slept in his parents' bed. As he fell asleep, he thanked the universe that they had both survived the day, and prayed he was up to figuring out their new normal.

Hermione breathed a deep sigh of relief when her phone buzzed with the text from Ron. It had been almost 8 hours since they had left the funeral, and she had been going mad with worry wondering where they were. She had to admit that she felt the need to see Hugo and hug him as much for herself as for Hugo. But, that didn't help tame any of the turmoil or angst she had been feeling all day.

She hadn't been surprised when she saw Ron and Hugo sneak around the church at the end of the burial. But, she had been alarmed when she tried to call Ron and then again when she didn't find them at the house later. She had no idea where they could have gone, as the car was still in the garage and it hadn't looked like they'd been home at all. And now she learns they were out getting fresh air. In January. In suits. This is most assuredly something that would never have occurred to her to do with Hugo on the day he had buried his parents and grandparents, but the more she thought about it she realized it was probably perfect for him. Ron could be really good for Hugo, but she was going to die of a stroke if that boy didn't figure out how to use his damn phone.

She was exhausted from the day, and realized she still had on her black dress from the funeral. She'd kicked off the heels hours ago after the reception, but she and her parents had stayed to clean everything up after the guests left the church and to pack the food and flowers up. The volume of flowers was truly overwhelming. Her house smelled like a floral shop. She wanted to take them to patients in hospital or in nursing homes, but she and her mum had run out of energy. They might get distributed tomorrow. The food she had packed up in the freezer, and she figured Ron could make do with that and his mum's casseroles for a long time. After handling the food and flowers she had spent some time trying to find Ron and Hugo, and then her parents insisted on coming back to her house for supper as well. She had finally gotten them off and tucked Rose in bed, and now she curled up on the couch in front of the fireplace with a much needed scotch on the rocks. She was not usually one for hard liquor, but days like this called for it.

It definitely seemed like the same group of people who had been at Collin's funeral almost 18 years ago. The school friends were not as beat up looking this time, as many had been hurt in the same accident as Collin and Ron's brother apparently and looked quite worse for wear that day. But they had all aged. Collin was still 17 in her mind, but all of his friends were now middle aged mums and dads with kids of their own. Like Dennis and Fiona had been. Until this week.

Ron's family helped her at the reception and were great hosts, keeping their school friends and Fiona's work colleagues entertained so Hermione didn't have to. She thought she especially liked Ginny. She seemed to be a take-charge, no-nonsense woman, which Hermione guessed you would have to be growing up with six older brothers. She appreciated that Ginny had orchestrated a massive clean-up effort that seemed to go remarkably quickly once Ginny had handed out the tasks. Apparently their social group knew not to question it when she barked out orders. She had asked Harry ahead of time if there was any sort of special honor or recognition Fiona should have for being a detective, but he said that would be handled privately by the department away from the family and public gathering. Hermione appreciated that, but between that and the fact that not one single uniformed police officer came to the funeral felt that there were a few more tick marks in the "definitely not a police detective" column for whatever it was that Fiona and Ron did.

She had also noticed that like the wedding all those years ago, Dennis and Fiona's friends had a very unique sense of style. Somehow it just seemed a bit off. Like they had all stumbled out of a 1980s BBC re-run that would show in the middle of the night. She was definitely not a fashion snob with her sensible heels and modest clothes. But, there was something weird about it, and she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.

As she nursed her drink, she also kept thinking of one woman at the funeral today who definitely got under her skin. She was a much older woman – possibly a teacher at the Scottish boarding school she thought based on the accent. She had remembered seeing her at Collin's funeral, and the woman hadn't changed much in almost twenty years. She wore her grey hair in an old Gibson girl hairstyle and dressed as if she was in Edwardian mourning attire draped in a tartan shawl. While that could describe a mousy older woman, this lady was anything but a wallflower. She stood tall and straight as a post, and all of the people in attendance who knew her clearly deferred to her and seemed to still be quite intimidated by her presence. She even called everyone by their formal names, which Hermione found very amusing. But she wasn't at all loud or obnoxious about it. In fact it was quite the opposite. She walked quietly but confidently like a cat stalking its prey. Hermione had laughed watching the woman walk up behind Harry and saying something like, "Is there a problem, Mr. Potter." Harry had jumped so high you would have thought he'd been found kissing Ginny in a school hallway or something. Must have been some boarding school. Whatever it was, she noticed this woman staring at her and Rose at several different times during the day. Until today she had forgotten that the Scottish woman had done the same thing at Collin's funeral, and it had really gotten under her skin. She wasn't sure if Rose had noticed it today, but she certainly had, and it creeped her out. She pulled out her phone and jotted down a reminder to ask Ron about her later.

She looked around her sitting room at the pile of cards and gifts people had brought, and was overwhelmed. She knew Hugo wouldn't want any of it now, but he could very well want it in the years to come. She felt she had to organize it in a scrapbook or memory case of some kind for him to peruse later. Yet another thing to add to her planner.

She downed the last of her drink and put out the fire. She was simply too exhausted to do one more thing tonight. She crept upstairs to kiss Rose goodnight, and found that Rose wasn't in her room. After a momentary panic, she found her curled up in Hermione's bed. It was perfect actually, as Hermione did not want to be alone tonight. She slipped off her dress, threw on the most comfortable pajamas she owned and cuddled up with her daughter, thankful they had each other.