Chapter Text
Hermione and Ginny rushed through the Hogwarts Express platform at King’s Cross station, dodging parents who enthusiastically greeted their children for the winter break. Snow slowly trickled around them, the air freezing, their breaths puffing out in warm gusts.
“I wish they’d stop staring,” Ginny grumbled as another set of parents stopped and openly stared at Hermione, star struck by her. Hermione nodded in agreement, getting overwhelmed by the fanfare. The first few months of the school term had been similar, students staring at her like she was a zoo animal, but eventually, the stares and the whispers stopped, and they grew used to a member of the ‘Golden Trio’ attending Hogwarts.
Golden Trio, it as a laughable term that was coined by the Daily Prophet. Hermione had giggled at its stupidity with Harry and Ron in the weeks following the Final Battle. The silliness of the term, however, stuck around, and now as being used synonymously with describing the saviours of the wizarding world.
It had been six months since the war ended, and the wizarding world was very much still in pieces. Slowly and surely, however, things were being rebuilt. Hogwarts had undergone significant renovations since the Final Battle, taking advantage of the Ministry’s offers to restore and improve.
Ginny and Hermione moved into line for the apparition point, chatting amongst themselves about their agenda for the upcoming two-week break. Christmas will be spent with the Weasley’s, and then Hermione, Ron, and Harry will go to Grimmauld Place for New Years, spending a few days with Harry to try and finish cleaning up the ancestral Black family home. The boys are six months into a two-year Auror training program. They will only get Christmas Day until New Years Day off.
“Are you sure that you don’t want to side along?” Hermione queried gently with Ginny. Ginny’s apparition skills were still a little shaky but improving. Ginny could easily pop around Hogsmead when they visited, but the Burrow was very far from King’s Cross, possibly requiring two leaps.
Ginny shook her head, “No, it should be fine. Especially if we don’t have luggage.” The pairs luggage had been shrunken down and hidden in Hermione’s beaded bag.
“North field?” she asked when it came to their turn.
Grinning, Ginny nodded, “see you in a flash,” she said spinning on the spot. Hermione soon joined her, enjoying the rush of magic swirling around her.
In a heartbeat she appeared in the north field, just outside the Burrows wards. The top of the Burrow’s roof peaking over the horizon. A thin layer of snow decorated the ground, the chill and wind more intense here than at King’s Cross. Hermione avoided casting a warming charm on herself, enjoying the feel of the elements on her skin. She appreciated magic, always, but enjoyed just experiencing the world as it was.
Several minutes passed before Ginny appeared, out of breath and perspiring.
“Sorry,” she wheezed, “I tried to do it in one leap, but ended up landing in a muggle backyard. They had dogs, and so I had to hide for a few minutes to get my breath before trying again.”
Walking through the wards towards the house, Hermione felt comforted by the familiarity of the Weasley magic. The Burrow door whipped open, Mrs Weasley greeting Hermione like Ginny, with enthusiasm and motherly tenderness.
Every letter Ginny received; Hermione also received one from Mrs Weasley. Mrs Weasley made sure to send Hermione a hamper every month with homemade treats.
Mr Weasley had travelled with Hermione and Ron to Australia with Healer Humphries, a renowned Mind Healer, to see what they could do about reversing her parents’ memory. The first week was intense, teary, but not without hope. It would take months, if not longer to slowly undo the Oblivion, and introduce Hermione back. Four months of steady work, and progress had been made.
“Oh, I am so happy that the family will be together for Christmas,” Mrs Weasley said, tears forming in her eyes. Hermione squeezed her shoulder in acknowledgement.
A tall fern tree stood in the corner of the room, decorated with all the trimmings. Garlands and tinsel adorned the ceiling, and a magical miniature town display was in the corner of the room.
“I thought Charlie wasn’t coming?” Ginny said, hugging Bill and Fleur.
“He wasn’t going to, but he had a change of heart last minute. With Fred… with Fred being gone, he wanted to spend more time with his brothers,” Mrs Weasley whimpered, dabbing her eyes.
“Someone talking about me?” a deep voice boomed from the top of the stairs followed by thumping.
Charlie walked into the living room wearing the traditional Weasley Christmas Jumper. A Hungarian Horntail had been knitted to wrap itself around the ‘C’.
Ginny squealed at the sight of her brother, leaping at him and hugging him fiercely. Hermione had always thought that Charlie was handsome. He was stockier than Bill, but still taller than Ron and the twins. His hair was thick, and the beard he was sporting was well groomed and a deep auburn.
Charlie spun Ginny around like she was weightless, earning him a harsh earful of language that made Mrs Weasley shriek, “Ginevra!”. Charlie was still laughing as he made his way to Hermione, pulling her in tightly for a warm hug, his woodsy and clean smell engulfing her.
Her stomach clenched in a familiar way, squeezing in on itself with her proximity to Charlie. The last time she had felt the same clenching was for Viktor in fourth year. Suddenly uncomfortable, Hermione quickly stepped away from Charlie, forcing a smile. He looked at her quizzically.
“Oi mum, where are we sleeping?” Ginny shouted from the couches where she was cuddling up next to Crookshanks (who had taken up a temporary residents with the Weasley’s), and the new family cat, Rosie. Since being burned down by Death Eaters, the Burrow had also undergone renovations. The kitchen and living room were more spacious than before, easily fitting in a 10-person dining table in the dining room that was now off the side of the kitchen.
“Everyone should have their own room this year. We’ve turned the study into a guest bedroom, which Charlie will be in. Ginny, you’ll be in your room, and Hermione and Harry will be on the first floor in the spare rooms.”
“Why can’t I stay with Harry?” Ginny asked with a tease, but the room descended into stilted silence.
“Ginevra Molly Weasley! I will not have you participating in lewd behaviours under this roof. Not at Christmas! Not at this Christmas, the first one without Fred!” Mrs Weasley roared, the pots and pans in the kitchen started quaking at the magic radiating from the matriarch. Hermione bit her lip to stop from giggling at Mrs Weasley’s outrage. Ginny knew how to rile her mum up, getting an explosive reaction, which is exactly what happened.
“This is a time of family! I would like to believe you can think not with your loins! If I hear a peep of you trying to sneak downstairs, I will ward your bedroom doors shut, and we will feed you through the keyhole!” Ginny gaped at her mum, realising too late that she may have crossed a line.
“Wait until your father hears about this. No, wait. I won’t tell him. It would kill him to hear.”
“Mum! I wasn’t suggesting I was going to have sex with him-.”
“I should hope not!”
Charlie, Bill, Fleur and Hermione slowly crept out of the living room while Mrs Weasley and Ginny continued to argue. Entering adolescence, Hermione realised that wizards were particularly prudish and repressed. Parents had any number of anti-masturbating or low libido charms to weld out.
Hermione settled into the guest bedroom, faint yelling of Mrs Weasley and Ginny can still be heard. Harry and Ron shouldn’t be arriving until the day after tomorrow, Christmas Day. Hopefully by then Mrs Weasley calms down enough and forgets about the threat of warding rooms.
Hermione obviously wanted to respect that it was Mrs and Mr Weasley’s house, but she wouldn’t mind some private time with Ron. The summer after the war ended was an emotional time for the both of them. Celebrations and mourning happening simultaneously. After one particularly boisterous party at Grimmauld Place, Hermione and Ron had found themselves alone in a bedroom, fumbling their way through sex.
Kissing him was comforting, but Hermione can admit that the actual sex was awkward, if not a little painful and uncomfortable. They had undressed in a frenzy, Ron entering her without much in the way of foreplay. After reading extensively on the subject, she hadn’t expected an earth-shattering experience but hopes that it does get better than the quick, and often, forgettable experience she had.
Her and Ron had spoken at lengths after having sex as to what they were. Ron had been the one to say that it was too much, at the moment, for them to be officially ‘boyfriend and girlfriend’. Hermione had agreed. She was relieved, really.
She was doing nine NEWTS and contemplating where to go to university. Offer letters from magical Oxford and Cambridge had come during the first half of the year. She had toured both campuses with Professor McGonagall and Mr Weasley. Ron was still training to be an auror, his family was dealing with grief, and he was trying to work out who he was in the world.
If Ron came to her and said he had found someone else, she would be sad, but not heartbroken. She loved Ron dearly, and that wasn’t going to change.
The yelling died down after an hour, and Hermione gingerly left her room to find Mrs Weasley in the kitchen, furiously peeling potatoes. Hermione and Bill ended up helping Mrs Weasley with dinner, Mrs Weasley teaching Hermione how to cook with magic, while Bill quizzed her on how her NEWTs were going.
Dinner was a frosty affair.
Percy and George were coming to the Burrow tomorrow night. Ginny was glaring at her mother, while Mrs Weasley muttered to herself about how shameful the young girls were.
“I don’t know why you think I am such a hussy, mum! You’re the one with seven children in 11 years. You certainly didn’t find us under the cabbage patch!” Ginny shouted across the table.
Hermione choked on her chicken, Charlie spat out his butterbeer and Bill sighed as his wife giggled. Mrs Weasley gaped, sparks flying out around her as she glared at her youngest child. Fortunately, Mr Weasley came home at that very moment and immediately sensed the impending war. Taking up centre stage, he distracted everyone at the table for the duration of dinner with typical Ministry nonsense and promptly whisked Mrs Weasley away once pudding had been served.
Hermione and Ginny cleaned up, Ginny still fuming at her mum.
“Honestly, she treats us all like children. Even when Bill was engaged to Fleur, she wouldn’t let them in the same room.”
“It is her house, Gin,” Hermione said gently, manually drying the plates, taking pleasure in the monotony of the task, “it’s only for a few days. When we go to Grimmauld Place you guys can stay together then.”
“It’s my house too! Is it so hard to trust us. Especially after the last year. It doesn’t seem unreasonable for me to want to spend a night with my boyfriend. She just thinks the worst of us. None of us got anyone pregnant during school. None of us got married straight after Hogwarts, unlike her and dad. Harry and I aren’t even having sex yet.”
Unlike her and Ron, Ginny and Harry had been quick to make their relationship official. The chaos of the last few months had, however, made it difficult for them to find the time to actually go on dates. The last time that they tried to go to the Three Broomsticks, paparazzi had interrupted them. Ginny had hexed several journalists before Harry could whisk her back to Hogwarts.
The girls eventually moved onto other topics while they finished tidying up. The house quiet as people rested before the festivities of tomorrow. Bidding Ginny good night at the stairs, Hermione went through the motions of getting ready for bed. Ginny and most of her other siblings had rooms on the higher levels, with their mum and dad’s rooms in the middle.
The Burrow was warm, combatting against the frosty outside world. Hermione still liked sleeping in a long sleep top, the edge of which fell just below her bum, with no pants on. Standing in the bathroom and staring at her reflection, Hermione methodically brushing her teeth the muggle way. She had regained much of the weight she had lost during the war, looking less gaunt. Her face was still too sharp, but at least her breasts and bum had filled back out.
The bathroom door opened suddenly, startling Hermione as she turned to glare at the intruder.
“Oh shit, sorry Mione, do you mind if I brush my teeth?” Charlie said from the doorway, walking in before she could respond.
Hermione eyed him as he stood next to her. He was shirtless, wearing just sleep shorts that were tight around his muscly quads. His chest was defined and speckled with auburn hair that darkened between his belly button and the waist of his pants. A couple of tattoos of dragons decorated his arms, but the most noticeable part was a long scar that travelled from his right shoulder across his chest and down to his left oblique.
She tried not to stare but found it difficult. She bore her own scars, knowing that it must have hurt a lot.
“It was a baby Welsh Green, my first-year learning to be a dragon tamer. I was arrogant, a little head strong. The dragon knew and put me in my place.” Charlie said grinning, unconsciously running his hand over the long-healed mark.
“I’m sorry it happened to you,” she said nonetheless, resisting the urge to touch her own marking. The same stomach clenching as before came back as she kept glancing at Charlie. Feeling warm, she quickly finished flossing, before wishing him a good night, hoping her voice didn’t become breathless.
“Good night, Hermione,” he replied warmly, his eyes looking intensely at her.
Back in her room, she lay between the suddenly cool sheets, feeling flush and jittery. She fell asleep with visions of shirtless dragon tamers.