*** Thanks for the lovely reviews that have been coming in. They really encourage me to keep posting! Off to the Burrow we go… ***
Hermione, George and Fred apparated neatly in a field beyond the Burrow's garden. 'Whew,' whistled George. 'Hardly got a word in there, did we?'
'But we got what we wanted, didn't we Georgie? Well, that time.' Fred threw an arm around George's shoulder and ruffled up his hair with the other hand. Both looked over to Hermione. 'Ready, sweetheart?' asked Fred.
Hermione was standing a little away, chewing her lower lip. Even though she had fought off some of the darkest wizards and witches of her time, the thought of Molly was daunting. 'Boys? Um, perhaps it's a little late? We can ask your mum another day.'
The twins linked arms with her and marched her through the gate into the garden. 'No chance,' said Fred.
'Come on, we've already faced one dragon tonight,' said George. 'I quite fancy another round.'
They had reached the Burrow. There would be no teasing of the garden's gnomes tonight – the twins had business to attend to. Not needing to knock, Fred opened the door and entered the kitchen. 'Hello? Mum? It's us,' he called out. 'And we've got Hermione with us. Are you here?'
Hermione looked around the kitchen. It was the same as always, charmed brushes scrubbing pots in the kitchen sink, the radio tuned quietly to Molly's favourite Witching Hour channel. Only the clock had changed in the years since the war, having more locations for Molly's family added to it – the Harpies' stadium, Grimmauld Place, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes – and three new hands for Harry, Neville and Hermione. As Hermione looked, the hands for her and the twins were moving into position – The Burrow, no longer labelled Home, since the Weasley children had made their own homes elsewhere.
Molly came bustling in, quickly tucking a scrap of parchment with the Hogwarts crest on it into the pocket of her robes. 'Boys! My sweet boys! What a lovely surprise!', she said warmly, sweeping her twins into a joint hug. 'And Hermione too – always lovely to see you too, sweetheart,' she held Hermione's shoulders and planted a motherly kiss on her forehead.
Hermione noted the endearment – the same the twins so often used for her. Ever since she had cast the spell, Molly had treated the young witch as one of her own adopted children, along with Harry and Neville – one genuine orphan, and two effectively orphaned by the Cruciatus curse. 'Now! Have you eaten?'
The three swapped glances. 'Um no, actually we haven't Molly. But I'd hate to impose,' said Hermione shrewdly, knowing that it would put Molly in a good mood to feed and fuss over them.
'No trouble at all – Bill and Fleur and the little one were here for dinner earlier. There's plenty left – go on, tuck in.' Molly flicked her wand at the oven and again at the oak dresser. A large casserole dish floated up from the oven, and three dinner plates flipped themselves onto the table from the dresser just in time for portions of beef ragout to be dished out by a hectic ladle. Molly nudged the three into their seats, and sat down beside them, having waved her wand again to dispense cutlery, freshly pressed napkins and water tumblers in a sparkling, flapping dance of metal, linen and glass.
There was a silence as the three tucked in, making occasional appreciative sounds at the delicious meal. All were truly hungry, but had not noticed until now. Molly sat with them and filled the quiet with tales of little Victoire, and how she had managed to fly across the garden on Ginny's old toy broom, even though on land she could only crawl around the garden to pester the gnomes.
'And, I suspect Fleur might already be pregnant again,' she chattered on. 'Only early days yet, is my guess – she didn't eat much of my stew this evening.' George and Fred swapped a quick look under their eyelashes. Fleur had never quite got used to Molly's traditional cooking.
When all three had finished eating, the twins got up and bustled about with the dishes, Fred gently chivvying his mother back to the table when she tried to take over. 'Mum, relax, pull up a chair. You've fed us. Let us sort this out.'
Hermione glowered at them, knowing their sudden industriousness to be a front to avoid the inevitable conversation. Despite their bravado and talk of dragons outside, they'd lost their nerve when actually in the same room as their mother.
Molly reached over and patted Hermione's arm. 'So nice to have you here, dear. I'm glad you came with the boys.'
'Thank you, Molly. And that really was a delicious meal,' Hermione replied.
Molly beamed. 'Have you seen your parents lately? Any progress there?'
Hermione shook her head. 'A little. They seem to like seeing me – and the boys – but it's still as if I'm a friendly stranger they merely like the look of each time I visit. But they do have a comfortable set up in that ward. The Healers are so kind there. Mum and dad get on quite well with Professor Lockhart – probably because they don't speak and he's free to just rattle on as much as he likes. Oh, and they've recently started playing snap – the Muggle kind, not exploding snap – with Frank and Alice all the time, though all they do is take turns to pass out the cards. Alice quite likes brushing mum's hair too. It feels like some progress, even if it's just tiny steps. We can't expect more.'
Molly's eyes misted over at the thought of the Longbottoms – her old friends and fellow Order members – and the Grangers, reduced to a second childhood at the hands of the Death Eaters' curse. 'My brave girl.' She gave Hermione's arm another vigorous rub. 'I must go and see them soon – it's been weeks.'
Hermione looked over to where George and Fred stood at the kitchen sink, patently listening in. They seemed to have finished their scourgifying spells on the dishes. Taking advantage of Molly's benign mood, she said, 'Um, Molly? This isn't an impromptu visit, I'm afraid, even though it is lovely to see you. We have something to ask you about.'
*** Hope you enjoyed this visit to the Burrow! What's Molly going to say? Reviews are like pumpkin juice and sugar quills! ***