AN: Sorry this chapter took so long to post, but you know how life is. Anyway thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. Especially to rhmac12 who managed to review all 3 chapters in the span of about a half an hour! Anyway I hope you like this chapter.
Hermione hadn't spoken to Ron the rest of the day and Ron had spent the rest of the day trying to figure out if she was mad or just embarrassed. It was hard to tell with Hermione because the two very frequently merged together. There was also the distinct possibility that Hermione hadn't been speaking to Ron simply because no one was speaking. The Burrow was silent. Ron couldn't remember his home ever being quiet before.
The others hadn't gotten back from the ministry until dinner time. Then afterwards everyone sat in the living brooding over Fred's funeral the next morning.
Despite her silence, when she announced she was going to bed, Hermione lingered for a moment at the bottom of the stairs. She threw a pointed look at Ron over her shoulder. Ron scrambled to follow her upstairs, ignoring Harry's raised eyebrows and Ginny's poorly suppressed giggles. Ron was beyond caring what they thought, he was just pleased he would get to spend the night with his arms wrapped around Hermione despite sticking his foot in it this morning.
They spent another sleepless night tossing and turning in silence. Ron wished he knew what to tell Hermione; he wished he could explain everything. Hermione wished the apology for how she acted hadn't died on her tongue. After everything they'd been through together they both just wanted to be honest and say what they were feeling. Unfortunately, that was just the problem, for seven years whenever either of them had been remotely honest about their feelings, the other would find the cruelest way to cut them down. They both knew just how to twist the knife.
Now they lied in bed together afraid to say anything to the other because neither could take that kind of pain piled on top of everything else that was going on. So, they remained silent.
The funeral was first thing in the morning and would be attended by family and close family only. Unlike Bill and Fleur's wedding nearly a year ago, this was not an event the Weasleys wanted to share. Everyone was up early looking, if possible, more ghastly than the night before.
Mrs. Weasley was already dressed in lacy, black robes. The table was set for breakfast but no one ate anything and for the first time ever Mrs. Weasley didn't push it. The usually boisterous woman looked as if he had been completely deflated. Ron hardly recognized her.
Ron retreated back upstairs to put on his dress robes, thankful that the new ones he got for Bill and Fleur's wedding were black.
When he returned downstairs Harry was standing in the kitchen wearing his dress robes and his mum was fussing around him. They were the dark green ones his mother had picked during their fourth year, but since Harry had grown a bit since then his mum appeared to be trying to extend the hem around the bottom and sleeves a bit.
Harry kept apologizing, "Sorry Mrs. Weasley, I haven't really had time to get new ones, and I know they're not black, but dark green is ok right?"
"Harry dear don't fuss, this is absolutely fine. I've gotten quite good at mending and altering clothing over the years. Six boys and a tight budget, heaven knows I needed to. There, that should do it," said Mrs. Weasley with false cheer, stepping away to admire her handiwork.
Just then, Hermione came down the stairs in a lovely black dress. It had a high neckline and cinched in at the waist before flaring out. Her hair had been tamed into smooth curls, no doubt with about a bottle of hair potion. Usually Ron would have thought she looked beautiful but he was too preoccupied with how thin she looked. Her shoulders were like sharp edges and her knees and elbows jutted out awkwardly. Ron became painfully aware of the damage a year of malnourishment had done. He felt the now all too familiar pang of guilt, as he recalled all the days he complained about not having enough to eat.
A small tent was set up in the back yard near the orchard, it was much smaller than they one that had stood in its place a year before. Hermione couldn't help comparing the two events. Slowly friends began arriving: Alicia, Katie, Lee, Oliver and Angelina. Each offering condolences to the Weasley's before taking their seats.
The simple wooden coffin was closed with a wreath of wild flowers on top. It was magically suspended over a large, gaping hole. Next to the coffin a large picture of Fred and George was displayed. Mr. Weasley admitted that they didn't have any photographs of Fred alone. This seemed fitting though, seeing as though it were like George had died too. Hardly anyone had seen him since returning to the burrow. He stayed holed up in his room refusing food and company. When they did catch a glimpse of him, he looked and moved as if he were a ghost. Ron had found himself wondering if he tried to hug his brother if his arms would pass right through.
Everyone was seated and fidgeting, waiting for the ceremony to begin. Rather, waiting for Charlie to return with George in tow. Finally, the crowd saw the pair walking across the lawn. Charlie had his arm around George guiding him in the direction of the tent. George looked like he was a million miles away. His hair was greasy as though he hadn't bathed for a few days, and his dress robes were wrinkled and thrown on haphazardly over jeans and a dirty t shirt.
Rather than sitting in the front where his mum and dad were saving him a seat, George wrenched out of Charlie's grasp and plopped down in the back row next to Angelina, and as far away from the casket as possible.
Once Charlie was seated, Mr. Weasley rose to say a few words.
Hermione listened as Mr. Weasley choked up while describing his fallen son. Ron's hand clenched hers, she couldn't bear to look up at his face so she kept her head bowed. Ron's knuckles were white from holding her hand too tightly.
Despite going to church with her family every Sunday growing up, Hermione had never been particularly religious. She had always found it hard to believe in something with no proof. In fact, she much preferred the much more spiritual belief that those in the magical world held. They believed that everyone had magic inside of them- and more progressive witches and wizards believe that muggles also contain their own magic-and this magic is connected to a greater magical power that holds the universe together. Hermione had loved this idea since Ron had described it to her during their first year. She found it very poetic and much more believable than the Christian god she grew up with.
Despite her beliefs she found herself muttering The Lord's Prayer under her breath and feeling oddly comforted by the familiar words that she had recited mechanically at the end of so many church services growing up. She found herself silently asking whatever power was out there to take care of Fred and the rest of the Weasleys.
Tears fell freely into Hermione's lap, Ron wrapped his arm around her. Hermione looked up for the first time and noticed Ron's face looked as stoic as ever, but his eyes betrayed the pain he was really feeling.
After Mr. Weasley finished speaking, he, Bill and Charlie magically lowered the coffin into the grave and covered it with dirt revealing the simple headstone. It read in bold typeface: Fred Fabian Weasley, 1 April 1978- 2 May 1998, Loving son, brother and friend.
Underneath, carved into the granite with imperfect wandwork were the words Mischief Managed. Ron recognized George's handwriting and suddenly he couldn't sit here any more, the tent was too suffocating. So, he stood abruptly and stalked towards the pond.
Hermione immediately got up to follow him. She found him sitting on the dock with his legs dangling over the edge. There was about a foot of air between his feel and the water because the pond was still half empty from Hermione extinguishing the fire on the lawn. Hermione sat down silently next to him.
Ron looked up at her, his blue eyes shining. Then suddenly, he wrapped his arms around her and began sobbing into her shoulder. For a moment, Hermione sat unmoving, stunned. In all the years she had known Ron, she could never remember him crying. Not after losing a quidditch match, nor at Dumbledore's funeral, and not after the battle. Ron was one to bottle up his sadness and fear, and hide it away from the rest of the world. Hermione had come to learn that Ron didn't have the emotional range of a teaspoon as she had once accused, he simply chose to keep them to himself. Hermione felt incredibly lucky that after everything they'd been through together, Ron was finally letting her in.
Remembering herself, Hermione hugged Ron back, stroking his hair whispering everything would be alright. Their row from the previous day forgotten.
They sat like that for a very long time, the sun had risen to its peak and began its decent down again before Ron's sobs tapered off.
He looked up at Hermione and whispered, "Everything isn't going to be ok Hermione."
"It won't be the same, but it will be ok. In time." Hermione replied, although she wasn't sure if she believed her own affirmation.
"Its not fair," Ron murmured, "Its not fair that I get to sit here with you, that I could kiss you and Fred will never get to kiss another girl."
Hermione's heart leapt at the mention of Ron kissing her.
"I can get married and have kids and grow old, and Fred will never get any of that," Ron continued, tears beginning to fall down his cheeks again.
Hermione looked into his eyes and fought back her own tears, "You're right, its not fair. But nothing can bring Fred back, all we can do is make sure we live the best lives possible for him, for all of them."
Hermione began to lose the battle against her tears, "We need to love harder and achieve more and most importantly we need to laugh harder because we are so lucky."
Ron got a mischievous look in his eyes as he raised his wand and shot fireworks into the air. He gave a watery laugh and Hermione raised her wand and retaliated. Each trying to out do the other in color, shape and noise until they were both laughing so hard they were crying, or perhaps it was the other way around.
After a few moments they noticed other fireworks joining theirs, so many that it was certain every Weasly had contributed something. Some were so magnificent that they could only be coming from George himself.
Ron let his wand fall and turned towards Hermione suddenly serious, "Hey Hermione, just so you know since Fred won't get to kiss anymore girls, I'm just going to have to kiss you twice as much to make up for it."
Before Hermione could open her mouth to say anything, Ron's lips were crashing into hers. They tasted salty from tears and his cheeks were still damp, but somehow it seemed perfect.
Hermione pulled back for a second and said with a coy smile, "Somehow, I think I'm ok with that," before kissing him back with vigor.
When they finally pulled apart, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon as they looked out over the pond, and for the first time since the battle they both felt as if there were some hope for a normal, happy life after all.
As they held hands and watched the sunset, they knew it wouldn't be easy. In fact it would probably be they hardest thing they'd ever done, which was saying a lot, but they had each other and that was enough.
AN: Ok, I know this chapter is pretty short compared to my others. It was going to be much longer, but I just had to end it on a hopeful note. I hope you like it, please continue to review.