14 August 1996
"Are you sure you don't want me to come in, dear?" Mrs. Weasley entreated, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder to steady her after the jarring and uncomfortable experience of side-along apparition.
"Oh no, it's quite alright," Hermione assured, stuffing down a small wave of nausea. "My parents are likely finishing up at the practice anyway, they're probably not even home yet."
"Alright, if you're sure. I'll have Arthur come back and pick you up tomorrow. Did you say noon?"
"Noon will be perfect. Thank you, Mrs. Weasley – I'm so grateful to you and Mr. Weasley for letting me stay with you as often as you do, but I can't wait to see my mum's face when she gets back. It is their anniversary, after all."
Mrs. Weasley smiled at her once more before stepping back into the cover of the hedge that lined the back garden and apparating away with a quiet pop. For a moment Hermione was nearly overcome with the guilt she felt at lying to the woman, but her excitement quickly outpaced it ten to one.
She glanced at her watch to note that it was nearly six. Any minute now –
"Is it actually your parents' anniversary?" George asked curiously, dropping his disillusionment and emerging from behind the garden shed. He was carrying two brown paper takeaway bags.
"Yes, they're just celebrating it in France. How long have you been there?"
"Just a minute. You're lucky mum and I didn't apparate in at the same time. Would have been a mite awkward."
"I know, we were supposed to get here earlier but I was running behind." She pulled the small overnight bag more squarely on her shoulder in preparation to apparate yet again. "Did you get it?"
George shifted the takeaway to his other arm and dug in his pocket for a moment before extending his hand to her. "Yep, just had to nick it from his bedside table."
She took the small silver key in her palm and made a solemn vow not to part with it again.
George left his arm out for her to grab, but Hermione hesitated for a second, rocking in place. "George, I just wanted to thank you for helping me orchestrate this. And I wanted to apologise for… for what I did earlier this summer. What I said in the kitchen, and the position that I put you in."
He huffed a small laugh and tipped his head. "I won't lie – when you came into the house that night, I just about had a heart attack, seeing the look on your face. I thought maybe you'd killed him, you seemed so distraught. But I understand, really. I know Fred has said as much already, but for what it's worth, I am truly sorry that we weren't there with you."
Hermione nodded and smiled. Every day she felt a little bit better, a little bit more whole. Perhaps the pieces weren't exactly where they had been before, but she was coming to terms with that too. And this day in particular was one she'd been looking forward to for nearly two weeks since she'd had the idea.
"What are we having for supper, anyway?" Hermione asked, finally stepping up to take his arm and eying the takeaway.
"Chinese food; Angie and Lee have been versing us in the wonders of ethnic takeaway, and we've been trying different places around the city. Is chow mein alright?"
"It's perfect."
oOoOoOo
Fred had just gotten out of the shower and put on a fresh pair of jeans and a faded black Weird Sisters t-shirt. Lee and Verity, their newest hire, were closing up downstairs while George had gone out to pick up dinner, and he was fully prepared to enjoy his first true evening off since their opening.
He ran a towel over his head roughly before throwing it onto the back of the chair in his room and padding barefoot into the main living area. He leaned over the write-up for their latest patent, which was currently spread on the dining table, and began to agonize over the wording for the umpteenth time. A few minutes passed before he heard a key jiggle in the lock beside the fireplace.
"Took you long enough, Georgie. Did you go all the way to China to get the bloody food?"
"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it's not quite that authentic."
At the sound of her voice, Fred looked up in shock to see not his brother in the doorway, but Hermione. She was in a dark blue t-shirt with some indecipherable writing on it and a pair of denim shorts that were living up to their name. Her hair was down and wild, his favourite of the ways she wore it, and she was holding a paper takeaway bag in one hand and an unmistakable key in the other.
"Hermione, wh –?" he trailed off stupidly, completely caught off guard and gaping like a fish. He was suddenly very aware that the shirt he'd put on had a hole in the back.
"The key works," she said with a wry smile. "I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of having it stollen back." She casually shut the door behind her and locked it before stepping beside the fireplace and toeing off her trainers.
"I definitely don't mind," Fred said slowly, looking uncertainly around the room and then back at her. This had to be a dream, but he didn't recall having gone to sleep. "But I'm going to need you to explain exactly what is happening right now. Small words, please."
"Well," she said deliberately, a smug grin spreading across her face then, "Your mum thinks I'm having dinner with my parents for their anniversary and then sleeping at their house. My parents are on holiday and think that I'm still staying with your family. George will be at Lee's this evening – whose father apparently gifted him a television set and the complete works of The Three Stooges. I am currently in your living room with Chinese takeaway and, the way that I understand it, you have a much-deserved night off. Does all of that sound accurate?"
Fred started to smile back, thoroughly bemused and realising with a flicker of pride what she'd managed to pull off. "Yeah. Yeah, I suppose I'd say that's the shape of it."
"Perfect. Then why don't you grab us something to drink while I set up the food?"
oOoOoOo
A/N: This may or may not be inspired by my personal adolescent exploits.