A/N: First, thank you to everyone for reading my first chapter and for your patience for the second! I was extremely flattered by all of the subscriptions I received. And thank you for your lovely reviews. I am a first time fan fiction writer and I really appreciate any feedback I can get!
Also, I'm sorry for anyone who received multiple alerts about publishing. I had some difficulty with the edit/preview function on FF. (Has this changed? Because apparently I don't know how to work it….)
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The trio apparated into the garden of the Burrow. As they walked together to the front door, sobbing could be heard from the floors above.
All of the curtains were drawn in the kitchen despite it being afternoon. Various kitchen implements and bowls were scattered over the counter and the oversized table was covered in pans and potential ingredients. In amongst the chaos, Ginny stood crying hysterically over the large cauldron she was stirring.
"Gin, put the spoon down," said Ron.
"I c-c-can't!" She bawled. "We're having the wake tonight."
"Oh Ginny," Hermione gasped and moved forward to step in, but Ron put his hand on her shoulder to stop her.
Moving swiftly past the two of them, Harry took the large spoon from Ginny and wrapped his free arm around her. Still sobbing, she buried her face in his shoulder and Harry continued stirring.
Ron had sat down at the table and rested his head in his hands.
"Look," said Hermione taking her wand slowly from her pocket, "Why don't I help you get this under control."
"NO!" shouted Ron and Ginny at the same time.
Hermione jumped in surprise, "Alright. Harry, why don't you take Ginny outside for some fresh air and I'll take over the stew."
Ron glanced up at the pair as Harry guided Ginny to the door. Harry was so focused and full of concern for Ginny that he took no notice of Ron's searching gaze. And that was enough for him.
Hermione interrupted his thoughts, "Do you want to explain why you two just exploded at me?"
"Sorry," Ron said, looking guiltily at her. "Well, every wizarding family has their own rules. The two biggest Weasley ones are: we can't use magic or leave the house until Fred- until the wake is over."
He rose from his chair and moved towards the kitchen counter. "I'm surprised you haven't read about this. Hogwarts doesn't have a copy 'The Big Book of Wizarding Bereavement'?"
Hermione shook her head, "I came across one in the library years ago, but I couldn't so much as get through the first page."
"Yeah, well there's a few other things we need to do," he said changing the subject. "It looks like Ginny's got the food under control. We'll still need to double check the curtains, cover any mirrors and stop the clocks."
"I can do that. But..." Hermione couldn't stop her curiosity from getting the better of her. "why do we have to do all of this?"
"Well," explained Ron as he attempted to clear away some bowls, "mostly because the family has been doing this for a thousand years, but it's not just mad traditions. Everything has its own... kind of lesson."
"Magic... makes things too easy. And this isn't supposed to be easy, so we can't use it. And staying at home is pretty obvious. Even the little things have reasons."
The ringing of a timer interrupted him. Hermione handed him the spoon and salt shaker and went to retrieve what appeared to be pies from the oven.
"We haven't got much time," she said glancing at an ornate hourglass, "and we need really need to change."
"Yeah, that bit's trickier," responded Ginny as she reentered the kitchen still tucked under Harry's arm. "We're not allowed baths or new clothes. I couldn't find anything to lend you, so I owled Fleur."
"Are she and Bill not here?"
"No, they'll arrive at five with everyone else. Pig should be back by now," Ginny said. "Why don't you go up to change and I'll -"
"We'll," Harry interjected, as though he were asserting that he would never leave her side again.
"We'll keep an eye on things down here," Ginny said with a shadow of a smile.
ooooOOOOoooo
Just as Ginny predicted, they found Pig in the Ron's attic room flitting about with the parcel in his tiny talons. Ron plucked it from the air and passed it to Hermione.
She moved toward the door, but Ron remained holding tight to her hand. He wasn't ready to be without her. Luckily, she seemed to share his thoughts and she took out her wand and cast an Imperturbable Charm on the door, blocking out the sounds of grief that echoed below them.
"Buttons," Ron interjected. "We're not allowed to do our own. Reminds us that we can- no, that we have to depend on each other."
He moved across the room to the chest of drawers, pulling his t-shirt over his head before he retrieving a rather wrinkled black dress shirt. He pulled it on and placed himself in front of Hermione, whose nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons.
She then moved on to opening the package from Fleur and removing a simple black dress from it. Ron immediately shut and shielded his eyes with his hands, which earned a chortle from Hermione. She quickly slipped it over her head and stood in front of him.
On her command Ron opened his eyes to find himself facing Hermione's back. There were at least forty tiny buttons trailing from the base of her neck to the small of her back.
"This is going to take forever," he said, sitting down on his bed and pulling Hermione back towards him. In truth, he didn't mind for as he took his time doing up the many buttons, he could take advantage of the excuse to touche her. Fingers brushing against her skin. Hand around her waist moving her closer or adjusting her position.
"Done," he announced planting a gentle kiss on her neck and turning her around to face him.
"You can't wear those jeans," she pointed out frowning.
"Er, right," Ron said turning instantly red. "Well, I can deal with the trousers myself."
"I don't think so," Hermione smiled. "Rules are rules, Ron."
ooooOOOOoooo
Mourners had begun to arrive, forcing the pair to leave their attic sanctuary and make their descent to the ground floor sitting room.
"Right, there's one last thing," Ron said with determination. "The book."
Before Hermione asked, Ron began to explain.
The book had been in the Weasley family for generations. It was older than the Burrow and had years on Aunt Muriel's tiara, but in their house full of worn out hand-me-downs the book was in pristine condition.
During the wake it would be passed to immediate family members or anyone who needed to receive some last words from the deceased. Ron had never actually experienced this ritual before,
They entered the sitting room, crowded with familiar faces and received handshakes and hugs as they made their way to where the Weasley family was gathered.
They were received with tight embraces by Molly. The matriarch, who was so broken by the death of her son, seemed to be gathering strength with the additional presence of her children.
As the last sand ran from the hourglass on the large table, Ron placed the book down and Fred's voice rang out from its open pages.
I don't think I expected that our little Ronnikins would turn out to be a hero. Sorry about that. I guess that's another thing to prove how damn clever Hermione is: she saw it all along.
Alright, Georgie? Good thing you were the clever, funny half. Try and get by without my good looks. I don't envy you for getting stuck with this miserable lot. If anyone needs a laugh it'll be this bunch. Don't let me down. It's up to you to finish what we started.
Perce. I'm glad yours was the last face I saw. And you made a joke! Don't ever stop joking. We missed you, brother.
Mum and Dad, If I'm being honest, I'm not sorry for most of the daft things I've done, but I am sorry I didn't see Rookwood. I love you.
In silence, glasses of Firewhiskey were passed around the room until not a single hand was empty.
George was the first to speak, "To Fred. My best friend, my brother, my twin."
Every glass joined his in the air as the crowded echoed, "To Fred."
After each glass was drained in unison, the bangs began and everyone rushed outside to be greeted by a fireworks display. Harry and Ginny stood smiling proudly in the middle of the garden. Beside them, Ron wrapped his arm around the weeping Hermione.
Arthur and Molly made their way over to where the couples were standing, eyes gleaming with tears.
"Harry, we have something we need to ask you about the funeral tomorrow" Arthur choked. "We want Fred to be carried by his brothers."
"Of course," Harry nodded. "How can I help?"
"He means all six of his brothers, mate" Ron offered. "You may have been able to avoid the ginger hair, but let's face it, you've been a Weasley since your first Christmas jumper."
Without actually looking him in the eyes, Harry pulled Ron into a tight hug, which in turn set Ginny and Mrs. Weasley off again.
"How are you?" Ron asked, leading Hermione to the side of the garden.
"Just thinking..." she murmured.
"There's a surprise."
"I don't have a Weasley jumper."
"Of course, you don't," he replied matter-of-factly. "You're not a Weasley."
A hurt look spread across Hermione's face, and she turned away from Ron, who quickly realised his mistake.
"Oh shit. I mean, not yet," he said grabbing her hand. "Besides, it won't be Mum who makes you a Weasley. It'll be me."
Standing on her toes, a rather pink-cheeked Hermione kissed Ron softly on the cheek.
By the door of the Burrow, Percy leaned against the wall, no longer having the energy to hold himself up. George walked towards, reached out and took Percy's hand in his.
"It seems to be working for them," he said nodding in the direction of Ron and Hermione.