The morning of Fred's funeral dawned upon the Burrow with a sense of foreboding. The previous day had seen George spend the rest of the afternoon and evening in the room he'd used to share with Fred. The odd explosion would shake the house with such a force pictures in their frames would shake on the walls, plates cracking in the cupboards. No one had paid it any heed. It wasn't any of their places to tell George what he couldn't do.
Ginny hadn't spoken to Ron, the disgust evident every time she caught a glimpse of her elder brother. Molly had vanished to the kitchen and stayed there, physically cleaning every surface over and over again, her cheeks stained with tears.
A faint knocking was at the door of Ginny's room, the taps were gentle, clearly not Ron, but as Hermione woke she noticed Ginny's bed was empty, the sheets practically untouched.
"Hello?" She asked, sitting up slowly, expecting Ginny to enter. The door opened, and George came in, his stocky frame shy, nothing like Hermione had ever seen before.
"George," She said in surprise, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, and expecting the lone twin to morph into another brother. He did not and instead perched tentatively on the edge of Hermione's bed.
"Hey," he began, his voice torn, "I was wondering…" He swallowed, and draped his head in his hands. Hermione pulled the blankets off her a little, leaning towards him curiously. "Look, I need your help, and I don't want you to judge me for this. I just need you to listen, and I need you to help me with it. I already have Harry's help, but right now that isn't enough." George spoke seriously, his eyes boring into Hermione's, imploring her to keep quiet for the time being.
"What is it George." She spoke quietly, watching as the sunlight came in through the curtains, a lone sliver of it illuminating the figure at the end of her bed.
"When Fred was alive, we joked about things you know, all kinds of things, but one of them was what we'd do when we died. If one of us went before the other. We heard about some muggle, apparently he wants his ashes fired out of a cannon and we both just agreed that would be how we wanted to go. Only-"
"You can't find a cannon as they're a weapon." Hermione surmised, "So you want Harry and I's help to find some other way of launching Fred into space."
"Yes," George admitted, looking utterly relieved.
"I assume your fireworks aren't good enough for some reason?" She asked, as a fresh dawn broke across George.
"They didn't even occur to me…" he sighed, looking defeated. "I was thinking of everything else, but nothing was right."
"I'm not surprised; I doubt any of us have been able to think clearly lately."
"Thanks, that does make me feel better." He smiled weakly, "So how do you suggest I do it?"
"I assume you cremated Fred?"
"There's no way I'd attach anybody as handsome as mine to a firework." George replied bluntly as Hermione grinned at him, relieved a small amount of the twins famous humour was still intact.
"Then I'd get some of his ashes in a very small pouch and tie it to the stick of the firework." Hermione suggested, as George nodded in understanding.
"Thank you, genuinely Hermione, thank you. I was also meant to tell you that Andromeda will be arriving with Teddy soon, apparently they have an auror babysitting Narcissa so she can come to the funeral."
A lump had developed thickly in Hermione's throat and she gasped weakly, unable to breathe properly, George looked at her alarmed, as tears swarmed to her eyes.
"Hermione?" George asked carefully, peering at his brother's best friend through concerned, grief stricken eyes. Hermione's own brown gaze was rapidly filling up with unspent tears, her mouth parting slightly as if she were about to say something.
"I can't do this George," she whispered, closing her eyes and expelling the tears finally, "I was deluding myself since battle finished. Trying to keep myself busy, shopping, seeing a healer, making up answers for that bloody Witch Weekly interview… I can't deal with this. I can't see Teddy." Hermione sobbed quietly; letting the tears spill little silver streams over her cheeks, her eyes now sparkling as she searched Georges' face for some kind of acknowledgement and understanding. To her relief, his expression matched hers, his own eyes tormented and grief written over the wry twist he gave his mouth.
"I can't do this without Fred." He gasped, and Hermione threw her arms around him, pulling the redhead onto the bed with her, cradled in her tearful embrace. Together they sobbed quietly; she rocked him like she would rock an infant, slow and gentle, their movements soothing the storms they'd been trying to block out. George's arms were wrapped tightly about her chest, she was held so close that her breath was long and deep, his hands entangled in the wildness of her hair, his head buried into her neck. She ran her own hands over his back, absently tracing patterns as she rocked them from side to side. Eventually, a sound at her door made her look up, only to meet the confused grimace of Ron.
"Mum says the both of you need to get downstairs. Andromeda's here." He managed to say, forcing George to let go of her as if she was toxic, and stood up immediately. Hermione nodded to Ron, and threw the blankets off her completely, swinging her legs as if to stand herself. Ron watched her for a moment, flicking his eyes between his brother and her a few times before his footsteps echoed down the stairs. George took her hand in his for a brief moment, squeezing it tight before letting it drop.
"Thank you," he whispered, wiping away a tear with the back of his hand, before following Ron down the stairs. "Andromeda!" he could be heard greeting, his voice abnormally loud and cheery. Hermione swallowed again, and changed into fresh clothes, breathing in the completely clean scent they failed to emit, a stark difference to all her clothes having a pungent tang to them before she'd thrown them all out.
She stumbled down the stairs, her mind reeling from the range of emotions she'd experienced since waking up. The smell of Molly's cooking breakfast was wafting throughout the house, but the sound of people in the kitchen was oddly absent, everything was still as if there was calm before a storm.
"I know it's so early Molly, I don't even think it's seven in the morning yet, but; I thought it was best to be here as long as I could today, especially considering I've Teddy, and when the auror office said they'd send someone at any time I wanted-"
"No, don't be silly, it's wonderful to have you today, even this early," Molly was saying, a hint of fuss to her tone as the very first signs of life came into being. The voices were coming from the kitchen, but to her shock Hermione noticed that the majority of those awake were staring, dumbfounded at someone by the fireplace. Hermione's eyes fell onto Harry immediately, a tiny child was in his grasp, his green eyes were wide and staring, transfixed upon the minute fingers clasped about his little finger, his skin was whiter than white, the lightning bolt scar the only colour to his figure.
He looked terrified.
He looked to her, slowing on the last step of the stairs, as the child in his arms snuffled gently. George was stood right behind the sofa, his hands placed upon the back of the worn furniture to support him, his jaw slack. Ginny was sitting, half asleep with a blanket pulled over her legs in an armchair just by the fireplace, her eyes resting easily upon Harry. Ron, his mouth twisted with disgust was by the kitchen, his jealous gaze upon his brother.
"You know, I've never seen a baby earn such a reaction from people before." Andromeda announced, appearing behind Ron, a banana casually being peeled, her wild hair a contrast to her amused smile.
"He's like me." Said Harry, his voice barely higher than a whisper.
"I'm not sure what you mean by that," Andromeda replied, as Molly stepped around her, making towards the coffee table with a large bowl of fruit.
"He's got no parents." Harry said just as quietly as before, while Teddy yawned largely. Harry had started to look the infant over staring at the child's minute features. "It's my entire fault. I'm so sorry."
"Harry James Potter," Ginny growled, just as Andromeda threw her hands up in the air, rolling her eyes back so far into her head Hermione was sure she'd been briefly knocked out by something.
"Oh you stupid boy," Andromeda sighed, as Teddy began to cry, noticing the change of atmosphere in the room. Ginny, who'd been half asleep moments before was now wide awake, on her feet, her hair crackling with her famous temper.
"But he's all alone, like me." Harry breathed.
A sharp resounding crack split Hermione's ear drums as the sudden silence that followed it dropped on them with the weight of several sphinxes.
"How dare you." Ginny hissed at Harry, a red mark on his cheek where she had hit him, abruptly she turned on her heal and fled through the house, doors slamming as she left, her rage still sparking in the room despite her absence. No one made to follow her, experience had taught them well to leave her to her mood until it died, lest be hit with a bat-bogey hex that was increasing with power each year she grew older.
Teddy started to wail in earnest, causing Molly to sigh and take the babe from Harry, ready to comfort him instinctually. Andromeda was watching Harry, an upset glimmer to her eyes.
"Harry…" Hermione said unsure, her insides churning with the shock at what he had just said.
"No, I get it." George stopped her, his eyes fixed on Harry and he nodded once, a genuine understanding shared between the look they gave each other.
"Well I'm fucking glad someone does, because what he just said was-"
"Ron!" Molly chided immediately, "I'm sure Harry didn't mean it that way."
"He didn't." George defended as Harry began to look ashamed.
"I really didn't Mrs Weasley." He spoke quietly, wringing his hands in front of him as he looked at the floor.
"He has a family Harry, he has his Grandmother at least, and he'll always have us; you his God-father, and Hermione. I've always had two daughters and seven sons, and now its two daughters and eight sons. You can't choose who your family are but sometimes you're lucky enough to pick them." Mrs Weasley told him gently as Hermione started, her lower lip wobbling for the second time that day, and unable to contain it she cried openly. George nodded to her sympathetically, as Molly handed Andromeda back her grandchild, and went to embrace Hermione. Ron had started to openly scowl at his brother, a move not unnoticed by Hermione and the now extremely familiar emotion of confusion settled over her shoulders as she leant into Molly's hug.
"The war has been difficult on us all," Andromeda spoke quietly, rocking Teddy gently as his hair rocketed through Harry's black shade, to Hermione's brown, and the different red hues of the Weasleys before changing again to the grey tones of his Grandmothers. Teddy looked with uncomprehending eyes at the warm but grieved expression on his guardians face and wailed again. A silence save for Teddy's cries lingered upon the family, all accepting the truth of Andromeda's words before anyone could think to say anything else.
"No, you're right, I always thought of Hermione as a sister, but for some reason I never realised you'd always treated me like one of your own. I never meant…" Harry spoke, his voice cracking slightly.
"You were my son the moment Ron and the twins," she swallowed her lower lip wobbling with the effort of not sobbing, "stole their fathers stupid car and travelled across the country to get you." She told him, stroking Hermione's hair possessively.
"I just meant-"
"About blood relatives, he'll never know his parents, like any kids of ours won't know their uncle Fred," George said, tears dribbling down his cheeks, "I understand Harry."
Harry nodded at George, unable to look at him properly, as George messily wiped away the tears that he'd cried. Molly looked as though she understood Harry finally as she watched George cry and she slumped onto Hermione, who wrapped her arms tighter about her magical mother comfortingly. Andromeda breathed out deeply, her expression heartbroken. Ron however, was still watching Hermione and George with a suspicious glare.
"Right, come, to the kitchen. Breakfast. Bill and Fleur will be arriving soon, and we need to get this house all clean and the garden set up for tonight." Molly announced abruptly, releasing Hermione with a squeeze and dabbing at her eyes with the corner of her sleeve. She bustled past Andromeda and Ron, flicking her wand as she went, the ingredients for pancakes flying out the cupboards and throwing themselves into one of the largest mixing bowls Hermione had ever seen.
George turned around, looking towards Hermione pointedly, and gesturing politely that she should go first for breakfast. She smiled warmly at him, ignoring his flushed cheeks, and puffy eyes, fresh from crying and walked by a near fuming Ron.
:: :: ::
Breakfast had been like they were at Hogwarts once more. Every conceivable type of breakfast food had appeared at one time or another, Molly's non-stop cooking filling the table the moment someone had finished a plate of eggs, or bacon, or waffles.
A stream of washing up had followed immediately after, to which Molly had announced a house clean would start like there had been before Bill and Fleurs' wedding. Ron had stood up immediately excusing himself, saying he'd go and buy the candles as he knew they were running low. Molly had accepted this, with a brisk nod of her head, as Ginny pulled herself up from the table clearly unwilling. If there was anything good to come of this, it would be that finally, they could all use magic to help.
Every window in the house had been opened, allowing for a breeze to blow in freshening up the insides of the cosy Burrow, as Charlie apparated on the front door step, a knowing look upon his dragon burned features. He withdrew his wand immediately, casting housecleaning charms so efficiently Hermione stopped her own cleaning of the curtains in wonder. Charlie greeted her with a grin that reminded her of Ron, and called for his mother, knowing she would not be pleased if he didn't say hello properly.
Moments later, Bill and Fleur arrived, her heavily pregnant and glowing. Bill kissed her cheek as they landed in the fire place and helped her out, before whispering something in her ear, noticing the deep clean that Hermione was performing. He raised his hand to her, before sweeping into the kitchen much like Charlie had. Ginny came from down the stairs, a bundle of sheets in her hands, and upon noticing Fleur, flushed a wonderful crimson colour Hermione hadn't expected, an expression of resolve developing. Ginny dumped the fabrics on the floor unceremoniously, and shoved her hands into her pockets, looking for the entire world as if she did not want to do something, but must.
"Fleur," She began, watching as her pregnant sister in law attempted to gracefully lower herself on to the sofa, "I need to apologise to you." Ginny said seriously, as Hermione's jaw dropped.
"I have treated you terribly the past few years. I called you names, and I essentially blocked you from being a part of this family, and I am very sorry for it. I should never have done it. I can't explain my behaviour; I don't really know where it came from anymore. Perhaps I was jealous, and I didn't approve of you. I think I thought you would never fit into this family. Only, I was wrong, and I've always been wrong. I'm sorry. I am very proud to call a woman like you my sister in law." Ginny said, looking more and more relieved as each word came out of her mouth, her stance relaxing as Fleur watched her carefully, an amused smile creeping on to her lips.
"Oh oo' could 'ave blamed you!?" Fleur laughed, waving a dismissing hand into the air, "I was a 'orror back to you! Eef anything, I am just as proud to call you my seester. You are very fierce." Fleur acknowledged, her eyes glittering with pure delight that managed to enhance her beauty, with a sickening drop in her throat Hermione realised that she'd been a part of the poor treatment of Fleur, and it could no longer be considered an acceptable way to behave towards the woman, if it could ever have been called acceptable.
Fleur had willingly placed her own family in danger the weeks she'd homed a small rescue party that had made her tiny cottage become drastically over crowded. She'd fed them, cleaned up after them, all with minimal fuss. She'd kept their secrets. She was not the vapid, insipid princess that she had originally expected her to be. After all, the Tri-Wizard cup had chosen her for a reason. Shame burst to life in the depths of Hermione's soul, coursing through her veins and chilling her. A cold sweat broke out upon her forehead, and she swallowed the bitter pill that was her pride.
"You need to add my apology to that too Fleur," Hermione said as Fleur looked up at her clearly surprised. "I never called Ginny out when she called you names, and I joined in, but the time when you looked after us all a few weeks ago I-"
"Oh eet ees all ok!" Fleur smiled, once more waving a hand in the air dismissively. "We cannot judge on past beehaveeours, else we will never move forward. What ees done ees done." Only her eyes were welling up with tears, her teeth glittering as she smiled so wide. Ginny leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, before darting upward again.
"Breakfast?" She asked her sister, gesturing towards the kitchen. "I'll bring you something if you've not eaten." Fleur looked positively delighted, and Hermione used all her effort to look away from the beautiful woman and focus on cleaning the curtains.
:: :: ::
Crying was the emotion of the day.
As the house became steadily cleaner, along with the garden, Hermione had stopped to wipe away her tears on more than one occasion. Fleur had waddled as best she could around, handing each of them fresh tissues, and helping to cook as much as she was able. Eventually, Bill took her to the garden, where she stayed under a tree by the pond, Teddy in her arms and cooing at him delightedly, as he twirled her moonlight hair about his minute fingers.
Charlie had walked up to Bill with a butterbeer, and congratulated him on having such a beautiful wife, and a wonderful expectant mother, as Bill had beamed with pride. George had accosted Ron, who wore a look of fury and distress upon his freckled features, and the pair of them tied hundreds of tiny pouches to fireworks of every conceivable size.
Andromeda and Percy were placing the candles Ron had bought outside, grouping different sized ones together near tables and chairs, and lighting them. Some had a pungent tang to them, and Hermione noted that no insect would go near them.
Each of them, all of those cleaning, cooking, organising, were to be found sobbing at various times in the day. Tears running silently down cheeks, or secreted into tissues and sleeves, or let to drip off their chin, on to the ground below unapologetically. Ginny had given up on wiping away her cries, and as she flitted about, throwing broken things out, and replacing bed sheets, she left little splashes where she went.
Eventually, the guests began to arrive. The front door remained open, and the living room had a never ending stream of people flooing into it. Arthur stood in his hallway, shaking the hand of each solemn well-wisher, and directing them to the garden, past the smell of food and drink, where they could talk and see George.
Harry had kept his distance from Ginny all day, much to Hermione's disappointment, and was instead leaning against the wall of the Burrow as guests walked past him, into the garden, drink or food in hand. Hermione had eventually come to join him, preferring the quiet as the Weasleys began to be surrounded by those offering love from the deepest parts of their beings.
Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet had both arrived, with Angelina Johnson, who had swiftly walked to George and pulled him into a powerful hug. Katie and Alicia on the other hand, had both dissolved into hysterical sobs at the sight, and were inconsolable. Oliver Wood had turned up not long after the girls, and Harry had finally walked over, eager to speak of Quidditch, or anything, anything but Fred.
Lee Jordan appeared, crates full of butterbeer and firewhiskey with him, and had promptly taken to handing people a drink of their choice. Hermione had accepted a butterbeer, and Lee handed one to her, kissing her on the cheek as he did so.
"I'm so sorry for your families' loss," he muttered in her ear as he pulled back, and Hermione had found herself completely unable to answer instead raising her bottle to him in speechless gratitude. Lee understood, and he left her with a sympathetic smile to offer a drink to Luna who had drifted into the back garden, her head hanging back dreamily, her mouth wide with awe.
Members of the D.A began to appear, Cho, her arm in a sling, and the only person to force Harry back to Hermione's side at the wall. Ernie; a large bandage across his face. The Patil twins, who looked as though they'd been crying as much as Hermione had been, and she suspected it had more to do with Lavender than Fred. News about her was like gold dust. Hannah and Neville arrived together, both splattered with pale bruises, and were overheard thanking George for inventing bruise paste.
McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and other Hogwarts teachers arrived, with Hagrid, who had sought out Harry immediately, to wrap him in a bone splintering hug. Harry had held him tightly back, not caring that his glasses were knocked askew from his face.
On and on came the well-wishers and those who wanted to say goodbye. People from the ministry, people Arthur knew, people Molly knew, people George and Angelina knew. In the quiet chatter a soft lullaby was being sung, and Fleur, her hair rippling in the soft evening breeze was rocking Teddy to sleep, who had been staring, wide eyed at the gathering.
Eventually, Molly left the kitchen, the stream of food coming to a stop, Andromeda at her side, her arm slipped through the Weasley matriarchs in a show of support. The front door was closed, and with a final, ear splitting crack as Shacklebolt arrived, his expression apologetic, with a bouquet of perfect, white lilies, it was clear all who was expected to turn up – had.
:: :: ::
The sun was finally beginning to set, blooming its pinks and golds over the sky; the orange hues that seemed to linger a moment longer than the other shades, a love song to the lost Weasley. Finally, the sun vanished beneath the skyline, and Percy began to light candles, setting them up to float above their heads, bathing them all in soft tangerine glow, as the flowers became illuminated, throwing intricate shadows over the garden.
The stars started to sparkle, the night sky inky over the orange hued garden below the moon. Arthur Weasley tapped his wine glass with a fork abruptly, unable to look anyone in the eye. The notes rang out, sharp and true, as the friendly, subdued chatter laid itself to rest. The gathered guests turned, respectfully towards Arthur, in heartbroken anticipation.
"George," Molly whispered, nodding towards her grief stricken child, handing the ceremony over to him as the final words of chatter went into the night. He cleared his throat, stepping forward to where the fireworks had been placed into the ground, cordoned off by a levitating ribbon. His red hair fell into his eyes as his head fell, his gaze on the fireworks as he took in a deep, shuddering breath.
"I don't know what to say," He said quietly, "you were my brother, my best friend, you were my business partner. You were always there and now you're not. I love you Fred." He whispered, tapping his wand on the fuse of the fireworks.
They launched into the sky, leaving trails of red, orange, yellow, purple, blues, greens and pinks. The famed Weasleys Whiz-bangs carved spirals and stars against the back drop of the night, silver dust shimmered in front of them, seeming to dance in the sky. The gathered crowd gasped, murmuring in surprise and approval.
"I think I know what to say George; your brother: he was brave." Shacklebolt said as he watched the firework display. His wand was raised, and all of a sudden his lynx patronus burst from its tip, running up into the fray of colour; jumping with glee.
"Intelligent, although you were both loathe to admit it," McGonagall added, as her tabby cat slipped forth and pounced onto Shacklebolts lynx.
"Kind." Hermione heard her own voice say, hypnotised by the beautiful and unexpected funeral George was holding for his twin. Her otter shook itself off, before swimming upwards and paddling around a blue stream of sparks.
"Loyal," Harry's voice joined from beside her, his stag effortlessly proud as it cantered towards the playing lynx and tabby.
Before long, the patronuses of those gathered swam about the night, shimmering different colours on their backs from the seemingly never ending pops of fireworks. Cho's swan played with Hermione's otter, whilst Ginny's horse galloped with Harry's stag. Ron's terrier nipped at the heels of McGonagall's cat, and chased Luna's hare.
The lone words for Fred were being whispered into Georges' ear as he hung his head in remembrance, his wand alight and in the air, his tears dripping onto his shoes. Soon, others followed suit, holding their wands aloft and bright as the candles died out and coloured streams of the fireworks began to fade. The patronuses began to shimmer away between the stars, as finally, George added his word.
"Loved." He whispered, and let his wand go out.
