Now, this has turned out the longest so far, which surprises me. I've never written Hermione before, and I'm not sure I've got her right.
Reviews welcome - please be merciful!
Aftermath – Before the Funeral
Hermione
She has never felt like an outsider in this house before. The Weasleys may be a close family, but they have a way of making you feel included, like you are one of them, as if they are glad you are there. But not now. Fred was not her brother. She cannot mourn him as his family are doing, and so she feels like an intruder, an outsider. (She does not blame them. It is not their fault she feels like this. It is just the way things are.)
She wonders if Harry feels the same. But he is so lost in his guilt, that she doubts if he has even thought about it. She has told him; Ron has told him; Arthur and Molly and Bill have all told him, that it is not his fault, that no one blames him. Hermione doubts if he really understood what they were saying, let alone took it in or believed it.
She is pretty sure that Fleur feels the same as she does. Fleur may be a Weasley in name, but Fred was not her brother. She cannot understand what his brothers and sister are feeling any more than Hermione herself can. She too must feel as if she doesn't belong here.
A tiny part of her mind – that she feels bad about, but cannot help – wants to scream about how bloody unfair this is. She wants to go to Australia to get her family back, not to be trapped here with this grieving family, whom she cannot help, no matter how much she cares for them, no matter how much she wants to. But she cannot leave now. She can't leave Ron, when they have finally acknowledged how much they need each other. She can't leave Harry. She can't leave any of them. Not yet.
So she tries to be unobtrusive and helpful. She makes endless cups of tea. She makes sandwiches and soup, though no one seems to be eating much. She clears up. She and Fleur try to deal with the owl post as messages of sympathy and queries about the funeral start to arrive, although they have to enlist help from Bill and Percy, because neither of them know who on earth some of the people who have written are.
She tries to be there for Ron, when he will let her close enough. To hold him when he finally gives way and cries. To let him know that she cares, even if she cannot completely understand.
She sits on Ginny's bed, and rubs her back when she cries in the night. She holds her and soothes her, but knows nothing she can say or do can really help.
She cries herself. For Fred, who was her friend. For Ron, whom she loves, who has lost his brother. For George, who has lost his other self. For this broken family, who have become her own, even if she cannot feel a part of them now.
A few days after the Battle, she feels she just has to escape, and goes to the orchard. Fleur is already there, and when Hermione looks at her, she knows she feels the same. They have to get away from the pain in this house, the pain which hurts them, but which they cannot fully share. The pain which tortures those they love, but which can never be fully their own. Hermione has some Muggle money in her pocket. They go to the village and buy ice creams and chocolate from the paper shop, and then go to the playground and swing on the swings until they feel sick and dizzy and are giggling like the schoolgirls they so recently were.
They both feel guilty about it (they do not say so, but each can tell from the look in the other's eyes as they return to The Burrow). Neither of them ever admits to anyone (not even to Ron or to Bill) where they have been. Somehow though, the stolen hour makes things easier to cope with. Somehow the feeling of being trapped has gone. Somehow, now, they can go on. At least for a while.
