Chapter 11: The Week After the Funeral

It had been almost a week since the funeral, and Ron was just starting to get his bearings with his new life. Hugo hadn't starved or had to wear dirty clothes, and Ron had used to learn his new phone and the tele, both of which he now wondered why he didn't own before. After apologizing profusely to Hermione the day after the funeral about the disappearing mix up, she had forgiven him but intimidated him such that he now always kept his phone on and returned her calls and texts right away of he missed her somehow. She was a lot like Ginny in some ways, he decided. She came across as nice, but she was most assuredly not someone to make mad if you could avoid it. If there was a muggle equivalent to a bat bogey hex, he was sure Hermione knew it.

He had laughed when she'd asked him about Professor McGonagall after the funeral. McGonagall never could blend in with muggles, and this was no exception. But, he had actually spit out his drink all over the table laughing when Hermione described her as a cat stalking her prey. "You have no idea how true that is," he'd replied. Ron hadn't noticed much of anything at the funeral other than Hugo – well, and Fi's coffin. So, he had truthfully said he hadn't noticed McGonagall staring at Hermione or Rose, but he did decide to ask Harry and Ginny about it later.

Ron was enjoying getting to know Hermione better. He and the kids had delivered the extra flowers to various places in need the day after the funeral. It seemed like a positive thing for all of them to see people smile from things that had made them cry only the day before. He had initially worried about Hugo doing it, but he seemed to enjoy it. Ron had insisted Hermione drive as he wanted to "hold the flowers." He saw the doubtful look on her face, and he began to wonder how long he had until he would actually have to learn to drive a muggle car. The last time he'd driven a car, it had been in the air and landed in a whomping willow, which was not an experience he was looking to re-create anytime soon.

In an alternate universe he would have asked Hermione out as soon as he'd learned she wasn't married. But, now it was much more complicated. They weren't romantically involved or dating, but they were definitely a significant relationship in each other's lives. They saw each other at least once a day, and often talked multiple times throughout the day. He was so grateful to have her there as almost a co-parent to help him figure out what to do. But, aside from the practical help, he was just grateful to be around her. She was smart and funny and kind, and she had no expectations of Ron about fame or fortune or heroes or adventure, and it was incredibly refreshing.

Rose had gone back to school the Monday after the funeral. Each afternoon she walked from the school to their house to bring Hugo his classwork, and then stayed and helped him with homework until Hermione finished work. Some evenings the four of them ate together, and some nights they each ate in their own homes, but Ron appreciated having another adult to see each day.

After the week of Rose coming by each evening, Ron wanted to have a nice supper for the four of them on Friday evening. It made a good project for he and Hugo to tackle during the day, and they had floo'd to The Burrow early Friday morning to get help baking an apple cake and to let Ron's mum "help" them make the chicken dish. While it couldn't have been pulled off without magic, the boys were proud of their efforts. They even put it in the muggle oven with a warming charm cast over it so they could pull it out at dinner.

By the time Hermione arrived at 6, the kids were creating art projects of some kind that seemed to involve spectacular amounts of muggle paste, glitter, markers and scissors. Ron wasn't quite sure what they were making, but they seemed busy and happy, which was what he was aiming for. Hermione busted out laughing as she walked into the sitting room to find the kids covered head to toe in glitter. And she laughed even harder when she realized Ron must have gotten it on his hands without realizing and then managed to get it on his nose, forehead and all through his ginger hair.

"What?" asked Ron seriously.

"You've got glitter on your nose, just there," she said as she went to try to wipe the glitter off his face while giggling. "I'm not quite sure I got it all. You – well, you still look quite sparkly."

"Seriously? Where? Did I get it?" he asked as he wiped his very glittery hand across his face and nose, only managing to spread the sparkling powder further across his face.

Now giggling uncontrollably, Hermione could only shake her head no, as she was laughing too hard to get words out. Ron ran to the loo and tried desperately to wipe it off in the mirror, but only seemed to move the glitter around.

"What is this stuff made of?" he lamented. "I can't get it off!"

"Oh, here," Hermione said as she finally pulled herself together. "The trick is to use a damp flannel." "Here, come back into the kitchen and I will get you fixed up."

With that, she grabbed a flannel and ran it under the kitchen tap. Ron came and stood next to her feeling like a child, but then she started giggling again as she couldn't reach his forehead without standing on her tiptoes. Finally feeling totally defeated he sat in the kitchen chair, so she could clean the glitter off his face. She gently held his face in one hand while she wiped his face with the damp cloth. The touch of her hands to his face made his breath catch, and he could feel his ears turning red while he prayed she didn't notice. Hermione was too busy hoping he hadn't noticed how her hands were trembling at touching him, or that her arms had broken out in gooseflesh. She slowly brushed his red hair away from his forehead to get some sparkles hidden by his locks. She leaned forward to wipe his cheek, and he could feel her breath on his skin, and he tried very hard not to look at her chest, which seemed to be breathing rapidly. Hermione gulped at the charged tension she could feel, and wondered if he felt it too.

She slowly stood back up and slowly said, "Well, I think that's the best I can do for now. But, I think you'll find glitter in your hair for a few days, or at least on the towels and such. You really do look quite pretty you know."

"Thanks," he laughed awkwardly as he stood up, his skin suddenly cold from the lack of her breath on his skin. "I was considering it as a new look. But now that I know how hard it is to get off I may have to reconsider."

She looked down at her hands self-consciously as she rinsed out the flannel in the sink. "Whatever are they making in there?"

"I have no idea," confessed Ron. "But they seemed happy and no one needed medical attention, so I was just rolling with it.

Hermione laughed at his honesty. "Guess that works. How was the rest of your day?" she asked as she poured herself some wine.

"Good, actually. Hugo and I went round to see my mum for a bit and she 'helped' us make tonight's dinner. Hugo wanted an apple cake, and since no one makes apple cake like my mum can, I knew I had to go straight to the source."

"I think I met your mum briefly at the reception after you left. She seemed very kind."

"She is. Maybe the kindest person I know. And she's a great mum. She raised the seven of us – and the twins would have been enough for any parent, and then she practically adopted Harry when I brought him home at age 12." Ron seemed lost in thought for a moment and then continued, "Anyway. She's been through too much. She buried a son, and she lost her own twin brothers when she was still a young mum. She just wants nothing more than to see her kids happy. And, you know – I don't think I ever really got it until this past week or so."

Hermione watched him and said thoughtfully, "You can never appreciate the love and sacrifice of your own parents until you become a parent yourself."

"Yeah – I've sort of pondered that a bit this week. In a lot of ways I feel like I have suddenly become a parent, but then again not. Hugo had an amazing dad, and I don't want to replace Dennis in anyway. And yet I am not his uncle or his buddy either. I sort of fall in this middle ground I suppose. I am still trying to figure that out."

"No matter what Hugo calls you, you are his parent now. And no, you'll never replace Dennis as his daddy, nor should you. But Hugo needs and deserves a parent, Ron. And that's you now. So while you two can figure out the name thing, do not doubt for a minute you are his father now. He needs it, and that is what Dennis and Fiona need of you too."

Ron just stared at her a moment and took in her words. Sighing, he turned to the sparkly flannel and asked, "Do parents let their kids wreck the house with glitter? Or is that more of a fun uncle kind of move?"

Hermione smiled. "That is a fun parent kind of move. But you have to make him clean it up later, you know? You can't do it for him – and you definitely can't just leave it that way."

"OK. Fair point. Fun parent- strict clean up. My mum would be shocked."

Rose and Hugo marched proudly into the kitchen holding up four elaborately decorated rectangles.

"Ta Da!" they pronounced with their chests puffed high.

Ron shot a questioning look to Hermione. Catching it, she quickly exclaimed in an enthusiastic voice, "They're amazing! Tell me about them!"

Oooh. Good comeback, Ron thought. She has no idea what they are either. I'll have to remember that one.

"We made placemats for the four of us," stated Hugo as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "See, this one is for you Hermione, and it has pictures of books on it. And Ron's has brooms and iphones."

Ron giggled at that, as he knew Hermione would wonder what his deal was with brooms.

"Oh yes, I can clean so fast it's like I'm flying," he declared as he shot a quick wink at Hugo. Hugo smiled as he caught the inside joke.

"Hugo's has paint brushes and brooms as well," said Rose.

"I like helping Ron," Hugo answered Hermione's confused look.

"And mine is covered with magicians and flying horses," continued Rose.

"I didn't know were interested in that," said Ron.

"Well, yes, I think magic is so fascinating," she replied. "I love all those stories about people who go on grand adventures and have to use magic to get out of all of these crazy situations. It's so fun to get swept away in pretending it is all real."

"Oh, right. That is fun," he replied awkwardly

"Rose has always had a really vivid imagination," said Hermione. "Even as a little toddler she loved books about things that couldn't be explained without using your imagination."

"Right," said Ron. He was rather sure this was not the moment to mention that he had actually ridden a thestral which was not nearly as pretty as the picture Rose had drawn, so he thought it best to get dinner on. "So, I am not sure these masterpieces will be dry enough to use tonight. Let's set them up on the side table to dry and then maybe we can use them in a day or two. Why don't you ladies set the table with the boring placemats for tonight, and Hugo and I will put the finishing touches on our dinner?"

They enjoyed their chicken dinner, and the ladies oohed and ahhhed appropriately as Hugo unveiled his masterpiece of an apple cake.

After enjoying his cake, Hugo put his fork down and declared, "I miss school. When can I go back?"

Surprised, both Ron and Hermione looked first at Hugo and then at each other.

"Wow, Hugo. That is great that you like school that much," Ron said. "It must say a lot about great of a teacher you have."

Hugo just nodded.

"Mrs. Thompson is wonderful," Rose chimed in. "I had her for a teacher too, and I loved her class. I have Mrs. Ringrose this year, and I don't like her nearly as much."

"Well, Mrs. Thompson is a special woman," Hermione said as she took a sip of wine. "Hugo, would it be ok with you if I took Ron to meet Mrs. Thompson on Monday? Then we could talk about the best way to ease you back into school."

"Well, sure. But, I have done all my work. Rose brought it each day, and it is in the blue folder like Mrs. Thompson says it should be."

"Yes, you've done a great job of keeping up," replied Hermione.

"It's just that I would really like to meet her," said Ron. "And that way if there are any problems Mrs. Thompson will know she can call me so we can work them out together."

"But I don't ever get in real trouble, Ron. She won't have to call you. All I ever do is read in class if I am not paying attention, but she doesn't get too mad about that. I never have detention or anything."

Ron shot Hermione another glance.

"Hugo," she said slowly, "is there something in particular you would like the other children in your class to know about what has happened over the past few weeks?"

Hugo looked down at his lap. "You mean about Mummy and Daddy being dead and not coming back?"

"Yes, honey. That is exactly what I mean. I have already told Mrs. Thompson. But, maybe Mrs. Thompson could tell the class what happened before you come back so you don't have to keep retelling the story about all of the hard things that have gone on."

"Do you think the kids will look at me differently?"

"Why should they?" asked Rose.

"I don't know," shrugged Hugo.

"If they do, they're dumb," declared Rose.

"I agree with Rose," added Ron. "They would be dumb to think differently of you. But I also agree with Hermione. I think it would be good if she and I went to talk to Mrs. Thompson and then had her tell the class that your mummy and daddy and grandparents were all killed in a car accident. And we'll tell them that you are ok, and you weren't hurt, but that sometimes you may still get really sad about it, and that's ok. And sometimes being that sad about something can make you really tired, so you may only go to half days at school for a little bit until you are feeling up to it. And we can ask the children not to pester you about what happened, as they wouldn't want to make you feel even more sad. Would that be ok?"

"Um, sure. That sounds like an ok plan. If I only go to half days can I skip the mornings when we have French? I don't like that class, and I am not very good at it."

"Probably," laughed Ron. "I can't speak French at all, so it's not like I can tell you how important it is to learn."

Hermione chuckled, and looked at Ron with a bit of awe at how well he had just handled that emotional minefield.

"Ok, why don't you two take up your dishes, and then you can start cleaning up the glitter explosion in there while Ron and I make some tea and clean up the dishes, alright?"

The kids nodded and headed off to begin cleaning up the art supplies. Hermione looked at Ron, and said, "I didn't expect him to want to go back to school already. Were you surprised?"

"Definitely. But, I think it's because as a kid I was always trying to get out of school. I didn't enjoy it like Hugo seems to. Though, I think getting back to a regular schedule would be good for him. So, it might be a good idea. Do you think he's up for it yet?"

"I guess. But there is no way to know for sure. He is a kid who thrives on knowing what to expect. Not that he doesn't want to do creative stuff – he just wants it to be his idea. I think he will be fine with the studying and the coursework. I just worry about what the other kids will say and how he will respond."

"Well, we'll go see Mrs. Thompson on Monday and go from there. She can help us know what the kids are saying – and maybe Rose can too."

"Mrs. Thompson really is a lovely woman. She will be great."

"Did you have teachers like that when you were younger?"

"Well, I was born in America and started primary school over there. I didn't come back to live in England full time until I was ten, almost eleven really."

"Did I know that? I don't remember knowing that. You definitely don't have the accent anymore. Why were you in America?"

"My parents worked in New York with the United Nations program on health – the World Health Organization on expanding dental care around the world. So, we lived in a suburb outside of New York City. I started in an American primary school. We came back here to see the Creeveys a lot – some during the summer and some at Christmas, though they came to New York a few times too. When I was about ten, my parents decided to move back home, and we got back the summer before I turned 11.

School in America felt really different than in England. Some better, some worse. It was the 80s and 90s right? So it was just as computers were coming into schools. The American school seemed to be farther ahead with math, but the British school was much more advanced in reading, writing and history. The history thing is silly. America only has two hundred years of history to cover anyway, it shouldn't take that long. But, somehow the British system manages to cover a much longer period of history in less time. I had a teacher in 2nd grade in America, Mrs. Pape. She was incredible. She was so excited to come in everyday and get our class excited about learning. I had always loved reading, but she encouraged me to read different types of things. I had loved stories – escapist stories if you will. But Mrs. Pape taught me to use reading as a way to learn about the world around me. If there is a problem, then I learn how to solve it from a book. Hence the pile of books on your counter about grief."

"How great to have a teacher like that in your life."

"I was lucky. But then when I moved back to England, the system was much stiffer. It was more rigorous maybe, but not as energizing an environment to learn in. Though, maybe that was just being older and learning harder subjects. I don't know."

"How about you? Who were some of your favorite teachers?"

"Huh. Well, Mum homeschooled us until we went off to Hogwarts."

"That's unusual, isn't it?"

"Perhaps. But, then I went off to Scotland at age eleven. Had some incredibly good and incredibly bad teachers there. There were a few – one named Professor Lupin that I really adored. But he was only there for a year. And then I really liked the headmaster there. He was quite a mysterious character, but Professor Dumbledore definitely had a huge impact on my life."

"Did you manage to keep up with them after school?"

"Oh. Well, no. They are both dead. Professor Lupin died the same night as Collin and Fred. And Professor Dumbledore died a year before that. Professor McGonagall is headmistress now."

"How did your school lose so many people? That is so awful. It must have been so tragic to try to handle that at such young ages."

"Well, yeah. It was. We lost a lot of friends and teachers that day. But, you move on. You put one foot in front of the other and then you start to heal. Which hopefully Hugo can do as well. We just have to help him figure out how to do that, right?"

"We will. Is he sleeping better now, or is he still having nightmares every night?"

"Both I think. He seems to be improving, but still wakes up at least once a night."

"Do you get up each night?"

"Oh, at this point he is still sleeping in Dennis and Fi's bed, and I moved a mattress from the guest room onto the floor next to the bed. So, I'm there when he starts crying or screaming in his dreams. Then I just hug him and rub his back until he calms back down. It's still awful, but it seems that he is calming down easier each night. I'm starting to think I should encourage him to move back to his own room as part of getting to a new normal so to speak. I could still sleep on the floor in there for a while, but maybe it would help. I just don't know. What do you think?"

"You've slept on the floor this entire time?"

"No – a mattress on the floor. It's not too bad. I'm not worried about that. But, I don't want to force him out of his parents' bedroom if he isn't ready. But maybe it's time? I wouldn't wash the sheets in there or anything. I know it must still smell like his parents, and I want to preserve that as long as possible for him."

"Have you asked him about it?"

"I need to, but I haven't yet. Maybe I will approach it as part of going back to school. That maybe it is time to move to his own room, at least on school nights. His parents' bed will be there if he needs it, but to encourage him to try it. What do you think?"

"I think that's a good idea. A really good idea. And he will take it well coming from you."

"You think?"

"Yeah. I do."

(Author's Note: Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading the story! I would love to hear any comments or feedback! Thanks, carrytheotter)