Chapter Two
August 1st, 2012
Most of the former headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts were sleeping soundly within their portraits when Hermione made her entrance into the Headmistress's office.
She was a frequent visitor to the office, but every time she went there, she still felt like a scared little first year, about to get in serious trouble from the Headmaster.
That is, until this time. This time she had paid the loudmouthed gargoyle at the entrance no mind, giving it a quick 'Jolly Rancher' before she hurried up the spiral staircase to the office.
As Dumbledore had been a figure of wisdom and good that Harry could look up to, Minerva was for Hermione. Often, when times were particularly difficult, or she just needed someone to talk to, (about serious matters, of course), she would turn to Minerva. There was a reason that Minerva had become the headmistress of Hogwarts after Dumbledore was killed. Firm but fair, and a beacon of hope amongst the waves, Minerva had held the castle together through the worst parts of the war. She had protected the student body and lead the defences with a tenacity that would have made Merlin himself proud.
The castle had needed a head, and Minerva had fulfilled that role admirably.
She was also, unfortunately, late. Hermione sat down in one of the comfortable leather seats that faced the headmistress's desk and gently picked at the corners of the papers that she held in front of her.
It had taken her almost two hours to find the journal she was looking for. It told a story that seemed almost too insane to be true, and if it had been anyone else, she wouldn't have believed it.
Harry Potter's life had been one crazy story after another, and it would seem that the not-quite death of Harry had followed the same tradition. It was almost too ridiculous to believe.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Hermione, educating the young wizards and witches keep these hands busy, even during summer holidays." Came a voice that made her jump lightly in her seat.
"It's no problem, Minerva, I haven't been here long." Hermione kept her tone balanced and neutral. She didn't need Minerva to start to think that she was an emotional wreck and was only finding things that her mind was searching for. She needed belief, understanding, and a plan.
Minerva placed her beloved hat on a stand next to her desk and moved around to give Hermione a light, almost maternal, hug.
Headmistress McGonagall did not appear to have aged a day since Hermione had graduated from Hogwarts. Sure, there were a few more greys in her hair, and maybe an extra line or two around her eyes, but aside from that, she was the same Minerva McGonagall that had taken all those points from Harry, Ron and Hermione, in first year.
"How are you my dear? I must admit that I was surprised to get your floo. Something important that couldn't wait until the Burrow, tonight?"
It was one thing to practice your, 'I'm Ok' face in the mirror, it was another thing entirely to present that to a woman who had been your mentor for the large part of seventeen years.
"Its- Well, you see- It's – It's Harry."
Strange. She had known exactly what she had wanted to say, but then when it came time to actually saying it, she couldn't. She had finally been able to share the news, to tell another soul but her tongue had felt too big for her mouth. The words wouldn't come.
Minerva had an understanding look in her eyes. The topic wasn't easy for her either of them. Hermione could see the sadness that hid behind her eyes. Harry's death had affected a lot of people in different ways.
Hermione struggled to speak, but no sound came out.
"Tea?"
Hermione nodded and stared down at the folder in her hands.
The Headmistress fixed a pot of tea from a sky blue pot that looked like it had been made and painted by a small child. She poured out two steaming mugs of tea into a matching set with all the same qualities as the pot.
Minerva gave a small smile when she caught Hermione looking.
"A small gift from an old friend." Minerva answered the unasked question as she handed Hermione one of the mugs.
"Hagrid?" Hermione found her voice again.
Minerva nodded.
Hermione took a sip of the tea. It was very good. She tried to avoid the scrutinizing stare of her former teacher as she did so, preferring to look at the snoozing headmasters and headmistresses around the room. She could see that Professor Dumbledore was awake. He gave her a wink and a little wave.
Dumbledore, majestic and awe inspiring, even in death.
"Hermione. I know this time of year is particularly hard for-"
"Harry's alive."
The silence that hung in the air seemed to stretch on for a lifetime. Minerva stared at Hermione, both of her eyebrows having shot up and in danger of going missing in her hairline. She noticed that a few of the sleeping portraits now had one eye open, staring at her, having forgotten to pretend to be asleep. Behind Minerva, she saw that Professor Dumbledore had leaned forward in his portrait and had clasped his hands together, bright, painted eyes boring into her.
Finally, Hermione broke the silence.
"Look."
She removed the copy of the Telegraph from the folder and placed it on the headmistresses desk, pointing towards the headline and photograph.
Again, silence reigned. Minerva stared at the photograph in front of her. She could have sworn she saw a tear well up in the headmistress's eye, but only for an instance.
Minerva's eyes stared at the photograph, before darting back and forth, reading the article that accompanied the picture.
After the longest time, she sighed before leaning back into her chair and reaching into her drawer that set under her left elbow. She produced a pitcher of amber fluid. She poured a measure of each of the fluid into each of their mugs.
Hermione took a sip and nearly choked as the spirit infused tea went down her throat and threatened to come back out. She did her best to stop the flush of colour to her cheeks.
"McGonagall's Highland Single Malt." Explained Minerva.
"Ah," was all Hermione could manage.
Silence.
Frustrating, stupid, annoying silence.
With nothing to do but busy herself or go mad waiting, Hermione took another sip of her tea. This time, she was proud to say, with more grace and composure.
"He is alive." Minerva finally spoke.
Hermione nodded.
Suddenly, the biggest smile Hermione had ever seen on Minerva's face lit up the room. Hermione couldn't help but match the smile with her own.
In the background she heard Professor Dumbledore let out a laugh.
Quickly, Hermione explained what she had seen on television, from the helmet camera and how she had undone the obscuring in the photograph. She neglected to mention Crookshanks role in the whole situation, there was no reason to let the headmistress know that Hermione was slowly losing her brilliant mind!
When she started speaking, she found she couldn't stop. She explained her research, including the Army unit that Harry was a part of, and the difficulty that she would face trying to get any information from them.
It was then that she got up to her next part, the part that was purely speculation on her part. The part that she hoped, against hope itself, was the truth.
She handed Minerva the folder.
"This medical file contains a single case study. It has been largely panned within the greater medical community for one primary reason. There was no medical or scientific way to explain how the patient survived. There is only one thing that they could use to explain it…"
Hermione took a long sip of the tea that she held in trembling hands.
"Magic."
Minerva gave Hermione that small smile once again.
"You truly are the most brilliant witch of your age, Hermione."
Hermione flushed, despite herself.
"But why would Harry be alive and have not come back to the fold?"
"If you have time, read the journal. It is long and has a lot of medical jargon scattered throughout, but the gist of the matter is, that when he woke up, Harry had absolutely no memory. He could not recount what had happened to him, he didn't even remember his own name. He was a blank canvas. It doesn't surprise me that he enlisted in the Muggle military, he would not have had a world full of options."
Minerva had that sadness behind her eyes once more.
"He never has had an easy run, has he?"
Hermione just shook her head, taking another sip of the tea. She didn't know exactly what to say, or for that matter, if she could keep her voice from breaking long enough to say it.
"Who knows about this?"
"No one. Just you, Professor Dumbledore and I." She felt like a student again, in trouble with the headmaster and head of house, only this time, she did not have the luxury of friends by her side.
It was Professor Dumbledore who spoke next, the glimmer in his eye evident from her seat.
"It would seem, Minerva, that Miss Granger has fully accepted the somewhat delicate nature of Harry's position."
Minerva looked thoughtful, until Dumbledore spoke again.
"Imagine the chaos of a horde of Witches and Wizards running off half-cocked to rescue someone who is likely unaware that they require rescue. This situation may be best handled with a manner of discretion. If we could send someone who knew what it was like to be a Muggle to infiltrate the community…"
Hermione was glad to hear that Professor Dumbledore was in agreement with the plan she had been formulating in her own head.
"I could transfer hospitals. Lord knows, that boy can't keep out of hospital for longer than two weeks without breaking something. The article said that he was still recovering from his injuries, if I could find a way to get close to him and do some study, maybe I can restore his memory and bring him home."
Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.
"A simply excellent idea, Miss Granger."
Hermione couldn't help but blush, some things never changed.
"Albus, Hermione, maybe we need to notify the Ministry of this matter. Or at least the remnants of the Order? This is big. Harry Potter has already returned to the magical world once, causing an uproar, but to think about him doing it now? Imagine the situation it would cause. The Ministry will want answers as to how he survived and what happened with Voldemort. We simply cannot overlook the fact that Harry,being alive, may mean that Voldemort too, is alive.
"Not doubting your abilities Hermione, however with Ministry assistance, this might be easier," she added.
Hermione shook her head. "These are dangerous men, Minerva. Aurors and Hitwizards are powerful agents of offensive magic in our world, but to underestimate the Muggle Military is to invite disaster. I know how capable and strong Ron is, but these are strong men, battle-hardened and tough. They endure all measure of pain and suffering to ensure they succeed in their operations. Besides…"
Minerva gave her a knowing look.
"You've already applied, haven't you?"
Hermione bit her lip nervously.
"St Mungo's has a program whereby Healers can do secondments to Muggle Hospitals. It has only recently been created, in the wake of the Magical World beginning to understand that Muggles truly have an in-depth understanding of the human body. I championed the program from its infancy until its creation. A few healers have gone and worked in Muggle hospitals, bringing back a wealth of up-to-date medical knowledge that has helped untold numbers of people.
I checked the program. We have a partnership with St Michael's of Hereford. It is a very unique hospital in that it services the General Public but has a large part that is used by the Military stationed at the base. It has access to trauma care, rehabilitation, surgical support, and most importantly, a growing neurological department. It seems the Muggle Ministry of Defence spends a lot of money to ensure that its best soldiers are well looked after. It does make sense after all, a protection of their investment. Giving them access to the best of medical care means that they keep them in the field for longer.
They have a vacancy in the neurology department. That may seem fortunate, but it is common in the public medical system. There is too much money in the private world to retain the skills needed in the public health sector. So, I applied. It seemed like the right thing to do."
Minerva shook her head with only slight disapproval, taking a long sip of her own tea. Professor Dumbledore, for his part, winked at Hermione.
"What about Ron? He would be upset not to know about this." Minerva asked.
This time it was Hermione's turn to give a long pause before she answered.
"I've decided not to tell him. It wasn't easy. Normally, this kind of thing would be something that he would help me with. But he has family commitments, now, and his work is tracking well. Besides, Ron doesn't know anything about the Muggle world. This is not the kind of task that he is entirely well suited to. So, my decision is that we don't tell him, or anyone what I'm doing – at least until I determine the extent of the situation."
Minerva looked disapproving. "I don't know if not telling him is entirely wise, Hermione."
"I appreciate that Minerva, but it's my decision and I've made it. I'm sure he will understand in the future."
Minerva gave her a long, scrutinizing look, but she nodded. "I will respect your decision, Hermione. But don't hesitate to check in if you need anything. I'm only too happy to help in whatever capacity I can."
Hermione nodded.
"There is one more thing. About two months ago, I had a very vivid dream about Harry. It woke me up in the middle of the night. I thought it was just a very strange and very vivid dream and didn't think much of it. In fact, I more or less forgot about it.
However, while researching this incident, I was able to find film of the event. My memories of the dream, such as they are, link up to the footage very well. I am very well versed in physiology, Muggle and wizard. I can heal all manner of wounds, from to mundane. I have even helped heal magical minds before. But I am frustrated by this. I don't know the link. It is something that I can't quite put my finger on."
Minerva shared a knowing look with Dumbledore.
"I have my theories on that, Hermione, but I think it's best that you mull it over." Minerva's face was unreadable. It frustrated Hermione, to have answers and theories withheld.
"But why Minerva? Why won't you tell me?"
Minerva shook her head. "Because that is not for me to tell. That is for you to determine in your own time and in your own way. Some magics cannot be understood so easily. Some powerful magics must play themselves out in their own way. If I were to tell you, the answer and solution may not play out as they are meant to."
Hermione frowned. Minerva was being cryptic, and the answers were eluding her. That frustrated her.
"Perhaps, Miss Granger," Dumbledore chimed in, "You would be best served telling us what you have determined happened, during this particular incident which has brought Harry to light?"
Hermione nodded and gave a run down of what she had managed to learn from articles online and the video. that had been found. The footage had been edited, she had determined, and there was more, but it was not available. Even the internet hadn't been able to locate all of it.
"And you say he was gravely injured?" Dumbledore asked with a darkening expression.
Hermione nodded, "From what I can tell, three gunshot wounds, leg, lower back and shoulder. The bullet to the lower back went through, while the other two were embedded wounds."
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "And in your medical opinion, how likely would wounds like this be to cause death?"
"Well, I would need to see the wounds and investigate, but all three are easily capable of causing death. Muggle bullets cause significant trauma, they are designed to after all. The injury to the leg could strike the Femoral artery, in which he would bleed out quickly. The shoulder wound, without an exit wound, meant that the bullet likely struck bone and ricocheted around his body, causing severe internal trauma. The least dangerous wound is the lower back wound. Going through meant it likely struck some vital organs, but the bleed out and the speed of death time for that can be agonisingly hours."
"You have a theory about what has probably happened then?"
Hermione thought for a moment.
"From what I can determine, wounds of that severity not causing death and him being up and outwardly-mobile, within such a short healing period, means that it's highly likely that his magic kept him alive and healed him. We know that wizards heal more quickly than Muggles, as our magic serves as another form of Immune System, except including injuries. It's why magic folk don't suffer from such ailments as Cancer, Diabetes and Heart disease. Those diseases remain afflictions only for Muggles."
Dumbledore nodded. "Go on."
"And if that is the case, then it's likely that he had no idea how he survived, and the doctors don't either. However, living in the Muggle world, he would not use magic with any conscious decision. Much like child-wizard activations ,where we know that extreme stress, trauma and emotional reactions can stimulate magic.
We don't know what happens in adults, as all magically-capable children are identified and educated. There is no documented example of a magically able child not receiving education. Which is strange in itself.
As he is older, maybe he has more control over his emotions and therefore doesn't have the activations. So, the first time he has truly used magic would be in this life-or-death situation. The body will always fight to survive."
"My thoughts exactly, Miss Granger." Said Dumbledore.
"So, what does this have to do with my dream?"
Dumbledore again looked at her cryptically.
"Harry Potter used his magic, either knowingly or unknowingly. It must have been quite a potent use of latent magic to heal him from his present situation, if he is currently up and about, following wounds as grievous as you described. It would seem, Miss Granger, that you have picked up upon this use of magic, and therefore you have had your dream."
"But I have never had that happen before? I knew Harry for seven years and did not have dreams about him any time he cast a spell."
Dumbledore looked knowingly at Minerva again. Hermione hated that. The way they communicated silently; portrait to person.
"It has been a long time since he has used it. Tell me, Miss Granger, who knows Harry Potter best in this world, barring the last ten years of course." Dumbledore had a small smile on his face, as if he was leading Hermione down a garden path. Hermione felt like she was playing pin the tail on the donkey, only there was no donkey, and the garden path was somewhere she could not find.
"Well, Me, or Ron."
"Do you honestly think Miss Granger, that Mr Weasley knows more about Harry Potter than you?" Dumbledore arched an eyebrow as he looked at her. He gave her a long, scrutinising stare.
"Honestly? No. Ron may be Harry's best mate, but there is no person on this earth who knew that man better than I did. Sometimes, I wonder if even Harry himself…" Hermione trailed off. She was confident in her answer, but even in her mind it sounded arrogant.
"Indeed. Miss Granger, if you take nothing away from this, you should take this. There is so much about the wonder of magic that we still do not understand. Even you, with your brilliant mind and your clinical study into the depths of magic and science, cannot understand all things. There are still things that cannot be explained, but they cannot be denied.
You ask why you had your dream, why you were tuned into his magic, more than anyone else? But who else, Miss Granger, who else would be?"
"Albus…" Minerva said, a hint of warning in her tone.
"Yes, Yes, Minerva, of course. Miss Granger, my point is that some things are meant to happen the way they do. Some things cannot be stopped, helped or denied. They just are. They just happen. In the end, the dream came to you.
We have discussed and I have agreed with your hypothesis that Harry's magic is reacting like that of a wizarding child. Flaring up in times of self-defence or great emotional reaction. It would be raw. Raw, and in a case like Harry's, extraordinarily powerful.
We don't know what knowledge he had of his past, but we have determined that it is likely very little. So, I would make the guess, educated as it may be, that perhaps his magic, in a time of distress and seeking protection, reached out to a kindred magical being. Someone he felt close to. A trusted – friend."
Hermione couldn't help but notice the small hiccup in Dumbledores otherwise flawless and measured speaking.
"We know it doesn't have the finesse of Harry at the height of his power. But if it reached out to you, we are likely able to assume that the knowledge still exists within him to restore his memory. That, Miss Granger, is an encouraging thought."
Hermione's mind was spinning. Intelligent as she was, she had never considered it like that. But something was left out. Something was missing from what they were saying. She was increasingly frustrated by the key to all of this, which was left unsaid.
"So, you think the memories are still in there? That there is a chance of success."
Dumbledores eyes shone through the canvas. "I do, Miss Granger. And I do believe that there is no one else who would be able to succeed. I believe that this task has been allocated to you, and to you alone. That said, you should never hesitate to ask for assistance from your friends and your family. However, there is one more thing."
The tonal shift of the last sentence caught even Hermione off guard. She braced herself for what came next.
"No matter what you do Miss Granger, you must remember that ten years have passed since he lost his memory. A lot will have happened. He built his life within the wizarding world in seven, and look at the effect he had, on you, on everyone. He is simply an extraordinary person. But we all know this.
He may have built a life that he is comfortable in, a life that is his own. I think we all would wish that for him. A life of peace and quiet, as unlikely as his chosen profession makes that seem.
No matter if you can restore his memory, if you can regather for him his rightful place within this world, our world.
He may not wish to come back."
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Half an hour later, Hermione had departed. She needed to get home and get ready for the big Weasley Family Dinner, lest she be late. Hermione was many things, but she was not tardy.
Minerva sat at her desk and stared into her long-gone-cold spiked tea. Sure, she could easily heat it up with a charm, but sometimes you just had to let these things happen.
"It's not our place to tell them, Albus. You know the damage that could cause."
"You think she does not know?" Albus reply was soft, almost surprised. Almost.
"I think she is in denial. I think giving her a push in the wrong direction could cause more harm than good. She has already suffered so much. She has already been through so much; endured unimaginable pain. She is, in my opinion, the strongest of the three of them.
I cannot deny that I have never been prouder of someone for picking up the pieces and moving forward. For shouldering the burdens as she has. Harry carried the weight of the world with him. He carried it for the whole war.
But Hermione? Hermione carried Harry."
Dumbledore sat back in his chair and ran his fingers through his long beard.
"Perhaps then, this will be a blessing in disguise."
"I hope so, Albus, I truly do. Merlin knows that they are about ready for a few blessings."
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August 1st, 2012
When Hermione arrived at the Burrow, she was immediately put to work. Not in the kitchen, Merlin knows that for all her books, cookbooks were never her strongest read. She could brew a potion that would cure your worst ailments, but making a delicious, nutritious meal? Not in the slightest.
So, she was put to work setting up tables, putting out places and generally making sure that everything was ready when everyone else arrived.
Which they did. In dribs and drabs, pairs and singles.
Some, she had not seen in a matter of months, well, baring yesterday. But she had not spent much time mingling.
But she was grateful for the menial work which took her mind from everything else going on in the background. In truth, she was still processing the major changes herself. But setting tables, adding chairs, making sure food and drink was being set out, was just the ticket.
It helped that she had good company. Neville was talking excitedly about his new plants. The Hogwarts' Professor of Herbology was only too happy to talk her ear off about the magical properties of each and every new plant he acquired. In some ways, his childlike glee reminded her of Hagrid's, rest his soul.
How she missed Hagrid. He was keenly missed ever since his passing in the Battle of Hogwarts.
Neville was telling her all about his new plant, that would be instrumental in providing a potion to cure Wizards' Flu, which if you asked the men, was much worse than Witches' Flu, despite it having the exact same magical properties.
Neville's wife, Cassandra Longbottom, would only smile at him as he talked excitedly about such things. They had married only the year before, and Hermione thought they were fantastic.
Cass had worked with her at St Mungo's and was an accomplished Healer with so much compassion for other people that it threatened to burst out of her at any time. Cass was a pretty witch of almost 26, with curves in all the right places, and black hair that she often did up into a practical bun.
Hermione loved that they had found each other and remembered with great fondness how Neville would hang around longer than was necessary after delivering new potions and balms he had produced for St Mungos.
Cass, for her part, had been initially oblivious, until a few of the Mediwitches had made a point to sit her down and explain what was going on.
Since then, they had been inseparable.
Cass had also been instrumental in the research into and healing of the magical injuries that had afflicted the minds of Neville's parents. Who were now, so well recovered, that they were expected to be joining the party, when they arrived, later that evening.
Fred and George were both in attendance, entertaining the next generation of Weasley's with endless jokes, tricks and games that had them shrieking in delight.
The recently engaged Ginny and Draco had also arrived, naturally doing their best in attempting to rival Fleur and Bill as the handsomest couple at the gathering.
Teddy Lupin was there, eleven years old and listening with horror to how he was going to have to wrestle a troll on his first day of Hogwarts, just to learn which house he would be settled in. Hermione could see him nervously playing with his hair, which was changing into different shades of brown as his anxiety got the better of him.
It was almost impossible to tell whether Teddy took after Remus or Tonks more. And Hermione meant almost impossible. He was a metamorphmagus, like his mother, and a werewolf, like his father. Hermione found that Teddy often changed his features around in order to better fit in with his environment, a quality that Hermione found was entirely Remus.
Hermione saw that his features had turned back into the more usual, sandy brown hair that he liked to adorn himself with. He looked over at Hermione and waved, to which she smiled and waved back. He was a good kid, and a fascinating example of cross-gene cancellation.
Having inherited both the genetic traits of a Metamorphmagus and a Werewolf, it had been found that the changes on the full-moon had a significantly reduced effect on him. He would transform, but, due to the psychological and magical elements of his already inherent ability to change, it was like he had taken the Wolfsbane potion. In the wolf form, he always kept his own mind and some of his ability to change.
In fact, Hermione had seen him transform himself into a golden retriever while in wolf form.
It made his transformations more of a fun adventure than a curse. He would run around, often as the above-mentioned golden retriever and terrorise the neighbourhood. Urinating on everything and anything for his own amusement and barking at people that annoyed him.
The great sadness was that neither Tonks nor Remus were around to see it. Andromeda was doing a fantastic job of raising him, and he was definitely part of the Weasley clan, which had grown to encompass so many people, herself included.
Victoire, Dominque and Lousie Weasley, Bill and Fleur's children were also mixed up in the story, and Dominque looked like she was about to cry.
Hermione watched as Dominque, with her brilliant shock of red hair, that was more fashionable than traditional Weasleys', went running over to her mother. They most certainly took their looks from the mother, with her handsome features. That was not to say that Bill missed out in the genetic lotto; there was a pleasant mix of both Weasley and Veela in the three children.
Their hair was just too sleek, their freckles just too cute. It was another interesting blend of genetics.
Hermione marvelled as more and more people attended what was meant to be just a family dinner. It's like they sensed the news that was coming and all had attended.
Soon, Hermione was back at it, adding more and more tables to the collection.
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"Ladies and Gentlemen, if I could have your attention."
Ron stood nervously in his place, at the table and tapped the end of his beer, a wizard brand called 'The Brew of Boon'. The tapping of the beer and calls for attention did absolutely nothing.
Between Fred and George holding court and telling stories about their latest creations, and Molly Weasley insisting that Percy needed to spend less time at the office and more time with his family, Ron was not heard.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, If I could have your attention, please!"
Ron tried a little louder this time. Which had the same effect.
None, whatsoever.
Finally, it was Charlie who took pity on Ron. He stood up, not that as the shortest male Weasley that made a lot of impact, but he did so anyway.
"Oi you lot!" He almost bellowed, "Pipe Down!"
The conversation stopped immediately, and all eyes turned to Charlie, standing near to the end of the table.
Hermione stopped mid conversation with Ginny about her work with the Daily Prophet, and her attempts to return journalistic integrity to what had previously been a compromised news outlet.
"Ron's got something to say." Charlie indicated towards his brother, with a muscular hand that bore many fresh and healed burns.
All eyes turned to the tallest Weasley, who's nervousness seemed to be broadcast for all to see. Clearly, as was always the case with Ron, he had not thought about what he was going to say. Hermione shook her head with a small smile. Some things just never changed.
"Better be good, little brother." Charlie said, sitting down and taking a sip from his own beer.
"Thanks Charlie. Much obliged. Yes – look- Um, Well."
"Get on with it!" called Fred or George.
"Tell your story Walking!" called George or Fred.
The Weasley matriarch sent them a look that could curdle milk. They caught her eye and sat back in their chairs, acting like they would not interrupt. Hermione however, had seen that look on their faces before. They were just warming up.
"Thanks Gred and Forge!" Ron said, biting back at his twin brothers. "Now, If I could just bloody well continue without being interrupted by you tosser's!"
"Ron!" cried Mrs Weasley.
"I beg your pardon!" called Mr Weasley.
"Ronald." said Luna in a singsong voice of warning.
"Sorry! Sorry, sorry everyone." Ron's face was in danger of going the same red as his hair.
"It's okay Ron, we understand. But you don't need to make an announcement." came the reply from possibly Fred.
"Yes, Ron, there is no need to make a big deal. We all know what's happening here." ,ontinued possibly George.
"You two, zip it!" Molly Weasley's tone offered no argument. Well, no argument from any person present who wasn't the twins.
"Sorry Mum!" they chorused together, not at all sorry.
"Ronald," said Luna, grasping his hand with her own, "There's nothing to be worried about. We've been trying for a little while. And it has finally happened. It is something to be proud of. It is the most natural thing on earth."
The way her hand seemed to calm Ron, so significantly, spoke of the profound effect that she had on him. Normally, when he got this angry or flustered, it took time and space for him to calm down. Not with Luna around.
"Awww, Ickle Ronnikins finally lost his virginity!" called almost certainly Fred.
"He's a real boy, now!" called almost certainly George.
"THAT'S IT!" Molly Weasley stood in her chair now and bellowed over at the twins. "IF YOU TWO CAN'T KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT-"
"Luna is pregnant." Ron finally managed to get out.
Everyone froze, and for the first time in her life, she wished that Colin Creevey was still around to take a photograph. Molly Weasley, at the end of her wits at her twin sons, on her feet and finger pointing aggressively towards them at the other end of the table. The twins, for their part were sitting back with Cheshire smiles that would have made Peeve's proud.
Ron, having just admitted some news that was a massive deal for him, looking down at Luna, still holding her hand and smiling. Luna, looking up at her husband and absolutely beaming.
And everyone else sitting in stunned silence. Not because they were overly stunned about Ron and Luna's announcement, or her oversharing (they were very used to that by, now), but just the utter absurdity of the situation.
The pause lasted a good three, maybe four seconds, and then there was an explosion of noise.
Ron's hand was wringed, held and shaken.
Luna was hugged, held and embraced.
There were choruses of 'Congratulations' and 'What Welcome News' from all the family, whether born or adopted.
Hermione, for her part, gave Ron another big hug, and a whispered congratulations.
She also gave Luna a big hug. Luna and Hermione may not have been very close at school, but in the hunt for the Horcruxes and the war that was, she had found enormous respect for her slightly off-with-the-fairies, friend.
When Ron's affections had started being noticeable for Luna, Hermione had been delighted. Luna centred Ron in a way that Hermione never could. She had a way of calming him down with just a word, and of making him see reason when his temper was getting the best of him.
She also, Hermione would admit to herself, built Ron up. In the times when there may have been hints of feelings between Ron and herself, they had just served to bring out the worst in each other. Ron's anger, jealousy and lack of self confidence always matched Hermione's sometimes insensitive, abrupt and know-it-all-nature. Not to mention that they had been and continued to be, incredibly stubborn and unrelenting.
For his part, Ron had been instrumental in encouraging Luna to be forthright. Luna had always been her own person, something that Hermione had found initially hard to deal with, but she had later accepted it to be a quality of extreme strength in her. With Ron's encouragement, she had learnt to be a bit more sensitive to other people's feelings and used her incredible ability to read people to provide them comfort and support.
Ron did a magnificent job of keeping Luna on an even keel and helping her find her own sense of balance.
In short, the two were perfect for each other, and Hermione would not have it any other way. Seeing them both now, positively glowing from the news and excited for their life ahead, filled Hermione with a sense of happiness and pride that she was a part of their lives.
The celebrations and thundering back claps went on for some time as all the standard questions were asked. "How far along are you?", "When did you know?", "Are you excited?", "Do you want a boy or a girl?" and of course, "You two will be simply amazing parents!"
They were, of course, met with the standard, yet truthful, answers.
"14 weeks," "14 weeks, but confirmed last week," "Yes," "We don't mind, as long as they are healthy," and of course "Thanks, we hope so."
It was indeed a night to celebrate and celebrate, they did.
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Later in the evening, most of the guests had left, lamenting big days at work the following day, or big days that had preceded them.
Soon, all that was left at the table was Luna, Ron, Ginny, Draco, Neville, Cass, Arthur and Molly Weasley.
It was lovely to have them all together, and the conversation was easy as people talked about nothing, or they talked about everything. The conversation readily and often turned to the big news of Luna's pregnancy, which no one seemed to mind.
Hermione looked out over the Burrow and the fields that surrounded it and couldn't help but think about the changes brought about by the last decade.
Aside from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, which obviously provided a donative, Arthur Weasley's promotion to Deputy Minister of Magic under Minister Shacklebolt had proved a further boon.
Firstly, cosmetically, were the additions to the Burrow. Extra rooms had been added and the living room had been expanded. The family vegetable patch was now big enough that it would give Neville's greenhouses, at Hogwarts, a run for their money.
The house still looked as if it was held up by magic, but that was its charm, and no one would have it any other way.
But the house was still a home. It was still inhabited by the same loving people that had come to encompass her Magical Family.
The one addition she had never seen coming was seated at the table as natural as you like. Draco Malfoy.
He had grown slightly. Not as tall as Harry had been – is – she corrected herself, but not short either. He was still lean, but with a seeker's leanness. He wore nice clothes, not overly ostentatious as he had dressed in the past, but his taste in fine clothing had not abated. This of course suited Ginny who also had a taste for nice clothing, and the two made a gorgeous pair.
Hermione would never, ever forget the look on Ron's face when Ginny had come home arm in arm with Draco Malfoy. It was the angriest Hermione had ever seen him. It was full of righteous indignation, and sheer utter rage. Several windows had broken as he had briefly lost control of his magic (and the mug he had been holding in his hand).
Ginny had been ready to come to blows with her older brother over the situation. They had almost come to a full-on hex battle between Weasleys, before common sense prevailed.
Draco, for his part, had been remarkably calm. It was the new Draco Malfoy, Hermione had noticed, or perhaps the Draco he always meant to be. Calm, with the ability to be compassionate and kind, but absolutely doting over Ginny. Free of the influence of his father, and now much closer to his mother, Draco Malfoy had finally become a human being.
And a pretty good one at that. He still possessed a measure of arrogance, but that would never change. Hermione suspected that it was something that Ginny was attracted to, as it meant that he stood up to her and challenged her when she was being unreasonable.
And she could be unreasonable, indescribably so. But Draco would have none of it.
They had some spectacular Row's, ones that put Hermione and Ron's to the test, in the level of raw emotion that flew around.
But Ginny and Draco always came through them and out the other side better than they had been before. Unlike with Hermione and Ron, they didn't let it get them down, and they never, ever resorted to name calling.
Their rows were always, always, about the issue at hand, not the other person (except when the other person was the issue, then it was handled with delicacy).
It made their relationship stronger.
Now, nine years later, here they were. Engaged and soon to be married. And the Weasley clan had grown to accept another person into its fold.
To the wizarding world, the union between two pure-blood families was always news, but never surprising. Even if those two families were the Malfoy and Weasley clans, long known for their enmity and hostility.
The issue they had of course, had been different. The union between a Journalist and an Unspeakable had raised eyebrows and had been the source of gossip throughout the Wizarding world. It was almost scandalous for those who keep secrets to join with those who spread them, but they had found a way.
No one knew how except them, and that was okay.
"I think the owl will arrive any time now."
Hermione came, too and looked around at the assembled crowd, all of whom were staring expectantly at her.
"Hmm?" she replied, rather lamely, even she had to admit.
They all chuckled.
"I was saying, Granger, that you were so far off with the fairies, that I would send an owl to communicate with you," said Draco, causing Ginny to laugh and cuddle herself into his shoulder.
"Granger, hey?" Hermione replied, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, I figured if you were going to ignore me like that, we were back to our days of just being empty surnames."
"Terribly sorry," she said, dripping with sarcasm, "You must have mistaken me for Crabbe or Goyle, to hang onto every word."
Ginny laughed at this and swatted her beau on the chest.
"She has you there."
Draco laughed good-naturedly.
"I was asking, Hermione, how work has been for you."
Hermione chewed on her lip thoughtfully.
"Well. About that. Funny you should ask." All eyes were on her now. "I applied for a term transfer to a muggle Hospital in Hereford. I heard back from my Senior Healer pretty quickly, who indicated that it was likely if I went through my application I would be accepted and transferred within a fortnight or so."
"That's exciting," said Ginny. "Why did you choose that hospital? Like, what is special about that one?"
Hermione paused. This was hard. Harder than she anticipated. She hated, hated, lying to people, especially people she considered to be her family. She wanted to just blurt it all out, tell them the good news, get them excited, see them all happy and excited. But she couldn't. There was simply too much at stake.
So, convincing herself that it was for the greater good, she took a breath and lied the best way she could. Truthfully.
"Well, it has a really excellent program that is looking into Traumatic Brain Injury or TBI, in order to help returning soldiers who have suffered trauma. You may not know that my father was in the Royal Marines," they nodded, but it was a confused nod. "A branch of the Muggle military. My uncle served with him as well. At 50 years old, my uncle was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer's. They later determined that repeated concussive blast during the Falklands War had caused his brain enough trauma that he started to forget things. He started to forget his wife, his kids. He forgot my father.
Watching my father be forgotten by his own brother was so incredibly difficult. They were very close."
"My uncle ended up committing suicide, in a moment of lucidity, when I was 10."
"I'm so very sorry to hear that dear," said Mrs Weasley, "So very sorry."
Molly reached out and patted Hermione's hand gently. Hermione smiled sadly at her.
"It's okay. The point is, that if there is a way of helping the veterans of the current war, recover brain function and memory, through magical or Muggle means, then that would do their families and themselves a world of good.
There. It wasn't a lie. It wasn't entirely the truth, but it wasn't a lie.
"I thought your parents looked after muggles' teeth?" Draco enquired.
"They are dentists, as you said. But before getting his doctorate, my father was in the Royal Marines. He continued his service part time after he completed his studies."
"Ah." Was all Draco replied.
"Are the muggles at war?" Luna asked. Her voice light on the air, yet weighed down by curiosity.
"Yes." Hermione answered, "In Afghanistan and Iraq. Not to mention the numerous wars throughout the rest of the world."
"That's sad," said Luna, with a voice that could convey the genuine nature of her words in a way only she could, "The Mirklebarque's live exclusively in Iraq. I should very much have liked to see them. I do so hope they are okay."
Hermione knew not to ask what a Mirklebarque was. But the sentiment was genuine. Most witches and wizards did not have any concept of the issues facing the Muggle world.
It simply served as another reminder of the level of detachment between the wizarding world and the Muggle world. It further stemmed her resolve that she had to be the one to do this. There was no subtlety with wizards dealing with Muggles.
"Are you excited to start?" asked Ginny, trying to move the topic away from the melancholic topic of war, especially considering what yesterday had been.
"I am. I have to organise to move if I am found successful, and I will have to find a place to live-"
"Wait, Move?" asked Ron.
"Yes Ron, I will be working in a Muggle Hospital. I can't very well apparate from London every day, it would raise too many questions. And Obliviating doctors and nurses with acute knowledge of fine medical practises is completely out of the question. But don't worry, the power of magic means I can return at any time."
Ron looked thoughtful. He knew something was up. She could see it in his eyes. The way he looked at her with a scrutiny borne from 18 years of close friendship.
Thankfully, he decided to let it pass. Hermione knew that she wasn't completely out of the woods, yet.
"Oh Hermione," chimed in Arthur suddenly, "I forgot to say! Well done on the speech yesterday. I thought it truly grasped the nature of the day. I don't think there was a dry eye in the hall."
The rest of the Weasleys murmured their assent, and offered their own congratulations, such as they were.
Hermione accepted their congratulations with grace, mumbling a thankyou or two.
Molly once again reached out and patted her on the hand.
After the long day she had had, the speech and traditions observed seemed like last year.
"And dear?" Molly chimed in. "I have to ask, it's my little thing, if you will forgive me…"
Ginny smirked and Ron sighed.
Hermione rolled her eyes. She knew what was coming.
"When are you going to meet a nice boy and settle down?"
"Yeah, Granger," chimed in a decidedly unhelpful Draco, "When are you going to settle for the next best thing to me, now that this redheaded fireball has taken me off the market."
Hermione rolled her eyes again, harder this time. Ron made a motion like he was throwing up. Ginny laughed, swatting Draco across the chest again, and Luna smiled an earthy smile.
"Molly." Hermione started, punching the bridge of her nose with her hand. "I don't feel the need to define my life by a boy. I am making leaps and bounds with my career and helping people in the process. Maybe, one day I will settle down, if, IF, the right person comes along. But so far he hasn't and that's okay. I'm more than okay with being by myself."
Molly started to apologise, but Hermione cut her off.
"I'd much rather be by myself than be with the wrong person. Besides." She paused and smiled at them all, "I have all of you. I'm perfectly happy."
She wasn't. But that wasn't defined by a want for a relationship or company. That was defined by an absence in her life that went further than a boyfriend.
"I'm sorry dear. I just thought I would ask, you know. There's always room for more around the Burrow."
Hermione reached over and patted Molly on the arm. "I know Molly, I know. It's just not a priority right now. Besides, you are about to have another one running around."
Molly gave her a sad, knowing smile. She knew. Somehow, she knew. It was all there in her eyes.
"As long as you're happy my dear, that's enough for all of us."
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