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Author: Asthore Story: No Place Like Home Rating: Young Teens Status: WIP Reviews: 4 Words: 10,963
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm only adding to a wonderful world created by JK. No copyright infringement intended. * It was seven o’clock in the morning, and while the rest of the house slept, Harry and Hermione were already in the kitchen, setting the table for breakfast. “Have you told her yet?” Hermione asked. Harry laid a battered fork down on the table. “No, and I’m not going to.” Hermione sighed exasperatedly. “Harry James Potter, you need to tell her. If she finds out that you’re keeping something from her again…” She flicked her wand and some cups floated towards them and arranged themselves on the table. “Everything I’ve kept from her, I did to protect her.” “You know, your nobility streak can be a bit irritating.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. “Ginny isn’t a little girl who needs rescuing anymore, Harry. She needs the truth and the longer you keep it from her, the worse it’ll be.” She flicked her wand again and some of the cups filled themselves with steaming hot coffee, the others with hot chocolate. Harry Summoned the eggs and sausages that were sizzling on the stove, and placed them on a platter next to the biscuits. “It’s a good thing we researched how to make this beforehand.” “Harry…” Hermione sighed. “I love her, Hermione.” Like Ron, Harry very seldom spoke of his feelings, so this admission caught Hermione off guard, though only for a moment. “I know you do, and she loves you, too. Which is why Ginny is going to kill you when she finds out about it.” “Why am I going to kill Harry?” Ginny cheerfully asked as she pranced down the stairs. “Because I forgot the honey in your hot chocolate. Sorry, love,” he answered as he added a dollop of the amber liquid into her cup and handed it to her. “Well, I guess I’ll forgive you for now.” She kissed him on the cheek and took a sip of the hot chocolate. Hermione shot Harry a look that implied he was not going to get off that easily and that they would continue the conversation later. “Hermione…” She turned around at the sound of Ron’s voice. He looked anxious. “Is something wrong?” “No, I just need to talk to you.” “Ok, kids,” Mr. Weasley announced as he entered the kitchen. “We have ten minutes before we need to leave for…” “…Fred’s funeral,” Mrs. Weasley ended as she came in behind her husband, her eyes filled with tears. It was like a repeat of the day before: a hurried breakfast, a quick change into dress robes, and pulling out a Portkey. As they were tugged into the swirl of being transported, Ron realised he had not even had a chance to talk to Hermione. * Was it wrong to laugh so much at a funeral? Harry wondered. His sides were in agony from the constant laughter. The funeral had started off like most funerals: bland and depressing. After a few speakers, George stood up. “I’m sorry to say this,” he began. “But Fred would’ve hated this.” There was a gasp from a few, but then a short burst of laughter erupted from Ginny and George’s face broke into his signature grin for the first time since Fred had died. “That’s the spirit, Ginny. Fred’s death wasn’t what defined him and shouldn’t be how we define his funeral. We’re here not to mourn his death but to celebrate his life.” And with that said, everyone was scrambling up to the podium to share a memory of something that showed who Fred really was. “I remember when Fred pretended to be George once and tried to find out how I felt about ‘his wonderfully charming and witty brother.’ Those were his words not mine,” Katie remarked. “Well, I knew what he was trying to pull, and so I responded by snogging his brains out. ‘Does that answer your question, Fred?’ I asked. He looked at me and cheekily replied, ‘I don’t know, Katie, why don’t we try that again?’” “We were sitting in Charms working on an assignment while Professor Flitwick was grading an exam we had taken the previous day,” Angelina said. “We were all writing on our parchment when we heard a shriek from Flitwick. When he had touched Fred’s paper it turned into a miniature Gryffindor Lion and started chasing him around the room.” Harry was surprised to see Hermione stepping up to the podium next. “Now, I know I’ve given not only Fred, but George as well, a lot of grief over the years. But I’ve got to thank him for something really important.” She started to blush. “As many of you know, Ron and I finally started dating.” “It’s about time,” someone shouted. A ripple of laughter made its way through the crowd. “Well, last summer before Bill and Fleur’s wedding, Fred pulled me aside and told me that Ron may be ‘a git, totally clueless, and have the emotional range of a teaspoon,’” A few chuckles echoed, “but that I’d ‘be a fool to let him go’ because we were perfect for each other. And right before the Final Battle began when Ron made a comment about saving the house-elves, I remembered what Fred had told me. And his words gave me the courage to kiss Ron. So, yes: Fred was funny, mischievous, and often drove me barmy, but he was also a caring and insightful person; someone I’m proud to have known.” As Hermione left the podium, Ron walked up to her and, without hesitating, kissed the living daylights out of her. “Yeah, I’d like to thank Fred for that, too,” he announced with a goofy grin on his face. More laughter echoed. * After that, people stopped using the podium; instead, people mingled with each other and shared stories of Fred amongst themselves. Harry watched as Angelina approached George and reached out to hug him. However, for some reason, George flinched and removed himself from her grasp before walking away, leaving Angelina staring after him. As she slowly turned around and prepared to walk away, Harry saw pain and despondency carved upon her face and her dark eyes filled with tears. What was that, Harry wondered. Entranced by the altercation he had just witnessed, he did not notice when Ron pulled Hermione away, so that he could talk to her. As they stood off by themselves near a thicket of trees, Ron turned to her and said, “Hermione, we need to talk.” A look of worry crossed her face. “What’s wrong?” “I was going to ask you the same thing,” Ron replied. “Something is wrong and you’re trying to hide it.” The worry changed into surprise and then denial. “What do you mean? Nothing is wrong with me.” Ron sighed. This was going to be harder than he thought. * Hermione was shocked. When did Ron, of all people, become perceptive? It doesn’t matter, she told herself, I’m still not going to tell him. She was so used to being self-sufficient. Before Hogwarts, she did not have any friends. She had been a “freak” growing up. None of the kids wanted to be friends with her. The bushy hair, the nervous chattering and the weird incidents, which she now knew were from small, uncontrollable bouts of magic, caused most kids to keep their distance from her. Therefore, she took care of herself. She played by herself, read by herself, and spent most of her childhood by herself. Ron and Harry had been her first friends, ever, and she knew she could count on them for anything. However, the habit of self-sufficiency was hard to break. “Nothing is wrong with me,” she stated forcefully, perhaps a bit too forcefully. The look on Ron’s face showed he did not believe her for a second. “Hermione…” However, she was not going to be swayed easily. Ron was stubborn, but so was she. “What, Ron?” “Don’t ‘what, Ron?’ me, Hermione Jean Granger,” he spat, inwardly cursing himself. How did she do that to him? One minute he was as calm as could be, and the next she had him arguing with her. “My, my,” she bit back, “somebody’s already lost their temper.” It was so much easier to fight with him than to admit her vulnerability. She would rather him see her as strong and stubborn, not as a weak person who needed protecting. “Bloody hell, Hermione! You drive me completely mad. Just tell me what’s wrong!” “Watch your language, Ronald!” “Oh, I’m Ronald now, am I?” * Ginny and Harry watched from a distance as the two continued arguing. “Oh, dear, this isn’t going well,” Ginny whispered. “You knew about this?” Harry asked. “He thought something was bothering Hermione, so I suggested that he ask her about it,” Ginny explained. “But, as you can tell, he went about it the wrong way.” “Yeah, she’s good and shirty with him now,” Harry agreed. All of sudden, Hermione swung back her hand and slapped Ron across the face. The impact of her hand made a resounding crack. “And I don’t want to talk to you ever again!” she shouted and Apparated away with another Crack! * A/N: Thank you Drusilla! And thank you to everyone who’s been reading and reviewing, I really appreciate it.
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