Hermione

On Christmas morning, Arthur and Molly Weasley presented the family, Hermione, Harry, Andromeda Tonks, and Teddy Lupin with a spectacular gift: the Burrow. Charlie Weasley presented them with an additional unexpected gift: George.

Needless to say, most of Christmas morning was spent crying tears of joy as the Weasleys reunited. Hermione and Harry were drawn into the fray by Mrs. Weasley while Mrs. Tonks kept Teddy entertained in the Weasleys' new drawing room, which had been added to provide proper ground floor support to the rest of the towering house.

Hermione, Ron, and Harry finally managed to flee the chaos and take in Ron's refurbished room. It was oddly impersonal, with a desk, a wardrobe, and a bed taking up most of the space. The walls were bare, but Ron's lurid orange Chudley Cannons bedclothes were folded at the foot of his mattress.

"They wanted to give me the option to redecorate, since I'd had most of the Cannons stuff since I was eight," Ron explained. "I'll probably put it all back up, except for the posters Ginny burned."

"Ginny burned your posters?" Hermione asked. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. Ginny was turning into a force to be reckoned with.

"Just the ones that showed Mackenzie. He was a Chaser and married the Harpies' Keeper. I guess they got divorced or something, and Ginny's started talking to the Harpies about trying out for their reserve team next season, so she took the Keeper's side of course, and now I don't have any more posters of Mackenzie." Ron didn't sound nearly as bitter about the loss of his posters as Hermione expected, but with everything they had lost and gained in the last year, they all looked at the world through a new perspective.

"Are you going to replace them with anything?" Harry asked.

Ron got a shifty look in his eye that made Hermione distinctly uncomfortable, as it was her eyes that he wouldn't meet. "Probably not for awhile." Still not meeting her eyes, Ron directed his next question to Hermione. "So, have you thought about where you're going to live after you leave Hogwarts?"

"That was not nearly as subtle as you thought it was," Ginny proclaimed as she walked through the door. Ron flushed a deep red, Harry looked pointedly away from his two best friends, and Hermione felt the need to get out of the room. "Hermione, Mum and Mrs. Tonks wanted you to come downstairs to help with dinner."

Hermione sprung up from her chair and forced herself not to appear eager to run out the door. Ginny walked ahead of her with an affected air of indifference that made Hermione stop dead halfway down the stairs.

"You lied," she accused the younger woman. "Your mum and Mrs. Tonks didn't ask for me, did they?"

Ginny shrugged. "No, it was Percy, but I wasn't about to say that in front of Ron. You know how he gets when it comes to you. And especially right after he hinted you should move in here next summer? I wasn't going to say it was Percy."

"That's why he asked where I plan to live after Hogwarts?"

"Yes." Ginny narrowed her eyes and examined Hermione for a long minute. "You aren't planning to move to Australia, are you?"

Hermione couldn't answer, because in all honesty, the thought was crossing her mind more and more often as she read up on Memory Charms. There was a chance that her parents would go through some form of shock when their charms were removed, which meant they should be kept in an environment where they were comfortable. She wouldn't know if that environment would be Britain or Australia until she actually completed her task.

"I don't know," she said finally. "It depends on my parents and what they'll need from me after I break the Memory Charm."

"Well, you know Mum and Dad would love for you to live here, especially since we have so many empty rooms now. They wouldn't let you move into Ron's room anyway. They're too old fashioned for that."

Hermione's cheeks flushed at the suggestion she would move in with Ron. "I wouldn't—I can't—"

"Come on. Percy's waiting."

"But why?" Hermione muttered to herself as she finished descending the stairs.

Percy greeted her in the kitchen and motioned for her to follow him outside. She appreciated for a moment that he forwent the Weasley tradition of wearing some shade of red, orange, or pink that clashed with his ginger hair. His smart blue jumper complemented his pale skin and made his eyes look a deeper shade of blue than normal.

Wait. Why was she noticing Percy's eyes?

With an internal groan, Hermione switched off the emotional part of her brain and focused on being logical. Reasonable. She could do this.

Being an hormonal teenager sucked.

"How's your project coming?" Percy asked as they paced the edge of the garden.

Hermione kept her hands in her pockets, even though Percy held his right arm just far enough from his torso that she could easily slip her hand into the crook of his elbow. She pushed her hands deeper into her pockets.

"It's frustrating, if I'm honest," she answered. "Everything keeps coming back to Legilimency, but when I research Legilimency, I'm left with nothing but dead ends. I can't find any practical information, just theory. And contradicting theories at that. Some researchers believe Legilimens must be born with the talent, while others believe it can be taught. And then there's the problem of how each researcher chooses to describe the mind itself. They're all completely contradictory. I feel like I need to become a Legilimens myself to understand what they're saying."

"But there's no information on how to do it," Percy mused. "It makes sense. Legilimency is a closely guarded branch of magic. Obliviators do between one and three years of training in the Department of Mysteries to study Legilimency—or that's the rumour, at least—, followed by a year of guided practice at St. Mungo's before they are licenced and allowed into the field. It's nearly as difficult as becoming an Auror even though the job is so specialized."

"Is there any other way to learn it?"

"Safely? Not unless you're a natural. But there are a handful of people out there who know the practice and train others; generally family members. Up until about World War I, the Blacks were known in certain circles to be Legilimens. Whether they were naturals or taught has never been confirmed, and after the war they mostly withdrew from public life. Everything we know now is unsubstantiated speculation."

Hermione imagined the shrieking portrait of Mrs. Black at Grimmauld Place. That was one woman she didn't want peering inside her mind.

The only accomplished Legilimens Hermione knew of was Voldemort. Given the evidence of evil incarnate and a family of questionable sanity, Hermione wondered if being a Legilimens eventually caused a person to lose his or her mind. It seemed like a real possibility, especially if one spent time searching the minds of people suffering from insanity.

"You're thinking too hard," Percy said with a half-grin. "You're on holiday. Leave the schoolwork for school."

Hermione feigned shock. "Percy Weasley, are you suggesting I'm taking something too seriously? You, purveyor of cauldron-bottom thicknesses and heaven knows what else, dare to accuse me of what? Turning in to you?"

"Yes," he said with a smile. "And I daresay such obsessions are unhealthy, especially for one so intelligent as yourself. You have too much to learn and too much to experience before you get lost in something that might take the rest of your life to understand." Percy held out his hand and gave Hermione a pointed look. "Live a little before you start pouring over decades of analyses of cauldron-bottom thicknesses."

Hermione's heart raced as she stared at Percy's hand waiting patiently to take her own. "I—Percy—Ron—"

"Is not your boyfriend. And I think if you wanted him to be, you would have made it official by now."

"We're still—I'm still in school and he's doing his Auror training. The timing just isn't right."

Percy dropped his hand, but the smile never left his eyes. "Hermione. The timing will never be right. You, especially, will always have something you're working toward that will distract you from having a personal life."

"But—"

"Can I ask a question?" She hesitated, but nodded after a pause. "This thing with the Memory Charms goes farther than a school assignment. I can tell that it's something you're passionate about and something you're going to pursue after you leave Hogwarts. So answer this: how well is Ron able to keep up with you when you talk about it?"

Hermione's heart twisted. "It hasn't really come up."

A look of true surprise crossed Percy's face. "In every letter you write to me, you're able to tie everything back to Memory Charms. I talked about the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts job and you mentioned how wizards combined experimental charms with electro-shock therapy in the late 1960s. You talked about your meetings with the other students and how you wished there was some sort of charm you could do to block their pain. It's an obsession and you're telling me you've never talked to Ron about it?"

"It just hasn't come up," she said again. "We don't talk about any of that kind of stuff."

"Hermione, this 'kind of stuff' is who you are. And when you do decide it's the right time to be with someone, you should be with someone who can keep up with you." Ron can't, was the hard truth Percy left unsaid. "I do stand by my earlier statement, that it will never be the right time to start something personal, especially for someone as smart and driven and passionate as you."

The mental box where Hermione had locked away her emotions began to crack open. She stared at the hedges to organize her thoughts before she turned back to the man in front of her. "I can't believe how much you've changed over the last two years. You're not..."

"As full of myself?" he offered. "Being a patsy—three times, mind you—in the middle of a war tends to open one's eyes to reality. First with Crouch, then Fudge, then Scrimgeour... By the time Thicknesse arrived, I knew how much trouble I was in and I could tell you every mistake that brought me to that point." Hermione stayed silent and watched him as he gathered his own thoughts. "I'm struggling against my own nature sometimes, staying here. I still have ambitions and I don't think working for Dad is going to get me anywhere, but I can't let down my family again."

"Taking a different job isn't letting down your family. Your parents raised you to be smart and successful, and if you feel like the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts job isn't your key to success, don't take it. As long as you don't turn back into a pompous git, they won't begrudge you following your instincts."

Delight broke across Percy's face. "Did you just call me a pompous git?"

Hermione bit her lip to hold back a grin. "I called your former incarnation a pompous git."

Percy shook his head and gave her an almost serious look. "Friend to friend?"

She furrowed her brows. "Yeah?"

"Don't bite your lip like that if you don't want a man to think about kissing you."

In an instant, Hermione felt her face go red and she released her lip to bite the inside of her cheek. "I didn't realize that would happen."

"Truth be told, it weakens the strongest of us. It's the innocence. We can't help it." Percy held out his arm. "Now, Miss Granger, may I please escort you to a Christmas dinner with my family? I promise not to ask for a second date until you feel the time is right."

Her jaw dropped but she took his arm. "That was the most ridiculous way anyone has ever asked me on a date. And you used an event I was already attending!"

"We grew up poor. I learned to be resourceful."

The chatter in the kitchen stilled as Percy and Hermione walked in with her hand hooked through his elbow. Mrs. Weasley gave them an odd look. Mrs. Tonks cut through the awkwardness to ask Fleur and Bill if they had returned to working at Gringotts yet.

When Ron and Harry came down several minutes later, Hermione and Percy were deep into a discussion about his aspirations within the Ministry, which somehow kept coming back to a discussion about how to get Hermione an internship with the Department of Mysteries. They had their heads together in order to hear each other over the din of the Weasley kitchen, so Hermione didn't see Ron stomping out of the room until he turned to go back up the stairs.

"Oh, crap." She excused herself and chased after her best friend. "Ron!"

Harry stopped her at the foot of the stairs. "I'm not sure you want to go up there."

"This...whatever this is—has gone on long enough. And I owe it to myself and Ron and Percy to figure it out."

The green eyes blinked several times. "So there is a you and Percy, then?"

"No? Yes? I don't know. We're friends. We've been writing each other since I got back to school, and it's more than the three-sentence updates I get from Ron once a month."

"You know that Ron's not the type to write long letters. Or at all, if he can help it."

"I know." Hermione rubbed her forehead. "I need to talk to him."

"Hermione, it's Christmas. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I have to."

Harry took a deep breath and moved out of the way. Hermione was three steps up when she heard the front door open and the booming voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Minister!" Percy said and jumped to his feet. He caught sight of Hermione, who rolled her eyes. "Old habits," he said, and shrugged. "At least he's a good one."

She grinned and caught herself biting her lip again. "Dammit," she muttered and turned her head sharply away from the Weasley hurrying to greet the Minister for Magic.

"Molly, Arthur," Kingsley said as he broke away from Percy, "I hate to intrude just before you're serving dinner, but I have an announcement I would like the entire family to hear." Mrs. Tonks stood and began moving back to the drawing room with Teddy. "No, Andromeda. You too. Who are we missing?"

"Just Ron," Mrs. Weasley said. "Hermione, dear, can you go get him?"

"I'll get him." Harry pushed past Hermione rather gracelessly. She looked at a loss before Percy gestured for her to join him next to Kingsley. As Ron descended the stairs, Hermione stepped closer to Kingsley than to Percy. The last thing the Weasleys needed on Christmas day was for her and Ron to row in front of the Minister for Magic.

"Perfect. Thank you, everyone, for allowing me to briefly interrupt your evening. I wanted to share with you personally that on December thirty-first, the Ministry of Magic will be holding a ceremony to present numerous awards to people who served the Wizarding world over the past few years."

Mrs. Weasley's hand flew to her mouth. Hermione had a feeling she knew what was coming next.

Kingsley gave a sad smile to Mrs. Weasley as her eyes watered. "In regards to the members of this household, the following awards will be presented:

"Remus John Lupin, Order of Merlin, First Class for services rendered to the Order of the Phoenix.

"Nymphadora Lilium Tonks Lupin, Order of Merlin, First Class for services rendered to the Order of the Phoenix."

Mrs. Tonks had tears streaming down her face as she pulled Teddy close to her chest. Hermione struggled to hold back tears of her own. As she looked around, she saw that the only dry eyes belonged to Ron, Bill, and Charlie.

"Fred Fabian Weasley, Order of Merlin, First Class for services rendered to the Order of the Phoenix."

Mrs. Weasley choked on a sob and fell into her husband. Charlie and Bill put strong hands on George's shoulders as he took shaky breaths. Ron's eyes were no longer dry.

"Sirius Orion Black, Order of Merlin, First Class for services rendered to the Order of the Phoenix." Kingsley paused and looked at each of them before he began the next part of his list. Harry was clutching Ginny's hand so tightly his knuckles were white. If his girlfriend was in pain, she didn't show it.

"Harry James Potter, Order of Merlin, First Class for services rendered to the Order of the Phoenix and the destruction of a Horcrux.

"Hermione Jean Granger, Order of Merlin, First Class for services rendered to the Order of the Phoenix and the destruction of a Horcrux."

Percy gave Hermione a brilliant smile. Ron glowered from the other side of the room.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, Order of Merlin, First Class for services rendered to the Order of the Phoenix and the destruction of a Horcrux."

Ron kept glowering.

"George Gideon Weasley, Order of Merlin, Second Class for services rendered to the Ministry of Magic.

"Fred Fabian Weasley, Order of Merlin, Second Class for services rendered to the Ministry of Magic."

Kingsley finished and took in the room of quietly sobbing adults. At the second Order of Merlin for Fred, Mrs. Weasley pulled George away from his brothers by the arm of his jumper and cried into his shoulder.

"The Ministry of Magic also wishes to thank each and every person in this room for their contributions and sacrifices in the Second Wizarding War. I hope to see all of you at the ceremony on New Year's Eve so that we may all ring in a new year with a much brighter future."

Mrs. Weasley forced Kingsley to take some of the Christmas dinner with him since he insisted he had to leave to visit other families (the next of which was the Longbottoms; Neville would also receive an Order of Merlin, First Class for killing Nagini).

At the end of the evening, long after George and Charlie spiked the hot apple cider, Hermione wandered out the garden with Percy once again.

"That was an interesting first date," he chuckled. "Normally having my date run off after my brother would be a bad sign, but then having her awarded an Order of Merlin—"

"First Class," she interrupted with an alcohol-induced giggle.

"Order of Merlin, First Class," he echoed. "That seemed like a good sign. The issue now is that I am very confused by the advent of both a bad sign and a good sign." His arm dropped to her waist and Hermione froze.

There was still Ron to think about. And her parents (which she hadn't told Percy about), and school.

But maybe he was right. Maybe there never would be a right time, or a right circumstance.

Still tense, Hermione tried to smile at her 'date'. "Hogsmeade," she conceded.

"Hogsmeade?"

She nodded. "Next Hogsmeade weekend, you should join me. I can't guarantee I'll be alone, but it's a start."

Percy grinned. "I will be there."

Through the window to the kitchen, Hermione spied Ron watching her out of the corner of his eye. Sometime between now and Hogsmeade, she had to make a decision. Would pursuing whatever this was with Percy be worth losing everything she had built with Ron?

With a murmured apology, she walked away from Percy and brushed past Ron to beeline her way to George and Charlie.

The solo twin looked up at her with surprise. "And what can we do for you, Miss Order of Merlin, First Class?"

"Do you have anything stronger than the cider?"

Charlie got a devilish smile on his face and reached into his dragonskin jacket. "Don't blame me if you don't know where you wake up tomorrow." He handed her a flask, and the brothers watched intently as she took a long swig. The bitter alcohol burned in the pit of her stomach, but left her immediately feeling lighter.

She eyed the flask, the men, and with a smile to match Charlie's, she drank again before handing it back.

"How do you feel, femeie frumoasă?"

She had no idea what 'femeie frumoasă' meant, but for some reason, she didn't care. "Light. What is it?"

George winked at her. "Let me know how you feel tomorrow and maybe I'll tell you."

Hermione tried to feel annoyed but the required tension wouldn't come. She shrugged and waved the men off. "Tomorrow."

A/N: 'Femeie frumoasă' means 'beautiful woman' in Romanian (according to Google Translate, so grain of salt and all that)