Between Headlines and Hearts

The door clicked softly behind them as they stepped into the Burrow, the familiar, bustling sounds of the Weasley home immediately surrounding them. Laughter echoed from the kitchen, mingling with the sounds of clinking dishes and the hum of conversation from the dining room. The smell of something savory filled the air, and a sudden wave of nostalgia swept over Hermione, the comforting chaos of the Burrow wrapping around her like a warm embrace. No matter how much time had passed, no matter how many changes the world had gone through, the Burrow remained a constant—alive with love, energy, and the hum of family.

Hermione was almost lost in the peaceful noise, feeling a small but significant pang in her chest, when she heard a voice—warm and familiar, with just the right amount of enthusiasm to make anyone feel instantly welcome.

“There you are!” Molly Weasley’s voice rang through the house, followed by the soft thud of footsteps hurrying across the floor. In the blink of an eye, Molly appeared in the doorway, her eyes lighting up the moment she saw them. She was still the same—her red hair just as vibrant, her smile just as wide and welcoming. And there it was again, the comforting feeling of being enveloped in the heart of the Weasley family.

Molly didn’t waste a moment before busting through the distance between them and enveloping Hermione in a tight, motherly hug. It was the kind of hug that seemed to erase all the worries in the world. The kind of hug that always made Hermione feel like no matter how much time had passed, there was always a place for her at the Burrow, and she was never truly alone.

“Oh, Percy! Hermione!” Molly’s voice was full of joy as she pulled back slightly, her hands still resting on Hermione’s shoulders. “I’m so glad you two could make it! Come in, come in, we’ve got lunch all set up—oh, and I saved your favorite dessert, Hermione!” Her eyes twinkled mischievously, and Hermione couldn’t help but smile. She wasn’t sure how Molly managed to remember all the little things about her, but it made her feel cherished in a way that was rare, even among her closest friends.

Hermione blinked, slightly overwhelmed by the sudden rush of affection. For a moment, she closed her eyes, allowing herself to simply be wrapped up in the warmth of it all. Molly’s hug was like a woolen blanket on a cold winter’s day, the kind that made everything feel safe, like nothing could touch you. It was the very essence of family—something she had often longed for over the years, even if she had found it in so many different forms.

“Thank you, Molly,” Hermione said softly, her voice thick with emotion that she hadn’t quite expected. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed this, missed being a part of this warm, slightly chaotic, perfectly imperfect family.

“Of course!” Molly said, her voice full of affection. She pulled back, still holding Hermione by the shoulders, her eyes full of a genuine, motherly affection. “You know there’s always room at this table for you, dear. You’re family. Now, come on, we’ve got lunch all ready. You must be starving after all that traveling!”

With an enthusiastic gesture, Molly waved them both forward, ushering them into the heart of the house. The kitchen was a blur of activity, with pots simmering on the stove and the familiar scent of roast chicken and potatoes in the air. A warm fire crackled in the corner, adding a comforting flicker to the otherwise cozy chaos of the room. The mismatched chairs were pulled around the large wooden table, waiting for the family to gather.

Molly’s gaze shifted to Percy, her smile softening just a touch as she asked, “So, how is everything? How’s work?” Her voice was gentle, but there was a quiet undercurrent of concern behind the question. She had always been so attuned to her children, always able to read the little signs—the slight shifts in body language, the small changes in tone. Hermione had always admired that about her.

Percy, always composed, straightened just slightly, but Hermione noticed the slight tension in his jaw, the way his posture had stiffened just a touch. He didn’t seem upset, just... reserved, as though he was carefully holding something back.

“It’s busy,” Percy replied, his voice neutral but clipped, as if he was choosing his words carefully. “A lot of changes happening at the Ministry.”

Molly nodded, clearly satisfied with the answer. She smiled warmly, though Hermione couldn’t help but feel the subtle weight of that pause. It was like she could sense something else—something unspoken between the two of them. But Molly, ever the doting mother, only gave a little nod before turning back to Hermione.

“And you, dear?” she asked, her voice full of concern as she turned to Hermione. “How have you been? I don’t want to keep prying, but it’s been too long since I’ve seen you. I do hope everything is going well.” Her expression softened even further, her brow furrowing ever so slightly in a motherly way that made Hermione’s heart ache.

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat and managed a small, reassuring smile. “I’ve been good, Molly. Really, I have.” She paused, her eyes scanning the room as she tried to settle her thoughts. The question wasn’t a simple one, not after everything that had happened over the past few years, and certainly not after everything that had changed between her and the Weasley family. But Molly’s kind expression made it easier to push those thoughts aside. “It’s just... busy. Work’s been hectic, but nothing I can’t handle.”

Molly smiled, her eyes sparkling again, and she gave a small, knowing nod. “I’m glad to hear it. You always were so capable, Hermione. I’m sure whatever you’ve set your mind to, you’ve done brilliantly.”

It was the highest praise, and Hermione felt a wave of warmth spread through her. It didn’t matter how much time had passed, how much had changed. Molly still saw her as that determined, capable young girl who had once fought alongside her children in the Battle of Hogwarts. It was a comforting, grounding feeling.

“And how’s everything with you, Molly?” Hermione asked, eager to change the subject. It felt odd, this role of being looked after—she had always been the one doing the looking after, even when it came to the Weasleys. She could see the signs of age, the lines of care and experience around Molly’s eyes, and it made her realize just how much time had passed since their last proper visit.

“Oh, you know, the usual,” Molly said, waving a hand dismissively, but the lightness in her tone couldn’t hide the joy in her eyes. “Keeping the family together, making sure everyone’s fed, and—” She paused, her gaze flicking to the hallway. “—well, you know how it is with all the children running around.” She chuckled softly, the sound filled with both fondness and a touch of exasperation. “But that’s nothing new!”

Hermione nodded with a smile, the familiar hum of the Burrow making her feel at ease once more. There was something so grounding about being here, something so soothing in the way Molly still cared for everyone as though they were all her children, regardless of their age or distance.

But as much as she wanted to relax and enjoy the warmth of this moment, Hermione couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still hovering just beneath the surface. The question that had been lingering in the air since they arrived—Why hadn’t anyone known about Percy and Hermione?—still hung over them, ready to be brought up at any moment.

Before she could think on it further, there was a clatter from the hallway, and a voice she recognized all too well called out.

“Well, well, well, look at this,” came Ron's voice from behind them, dripping with the usual sarcastic amusement. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Percy, you finally got a girlfriend, did you?”

Hermione tensed, her breath catching in her throat as she braced for the inevitable awkwardness. She knew Ron—knew him—and even though their romantic history was firmly in the past, the fact that she was now standing there, hand in hand with his older brother, was bound to be strange. It was only natural for him to react this way. After all, Percy and Hermione had shared so much history, both individually and within the Weasley family.

Ron’s eyes shifted between her and Percy, narrowing slightly as he scrutinized them with an intensity that made Hermione feel like she was being sized up for something she wasn’t quite prepared for. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet, fighting the instinct to let go of Percy’s hand, but she stood firm. If this was going to be part of the act, then she had to hold on—literally and figuratively.

“Ron, really,” Percy said smoothly, though Hermione could hear the subtle thread of tension in his voice, a flicker of something sharp behind his calm demeanour. His grip on Hermione’s hand tightened just a fraction, but he didn’t let go. His eyes met Ron’s with a cool, level stare. “What exactly are you implying?”

Ron, ever the master of deflection, raised his hands in mock surrender, the grin still stretched across his face. “Nothing, nothing at all,” he said innocently. “Just surprised is all. I mean, you never mentioned anything about a new... relationship.” He placed emphasis on the word relationship, making it sound like something he was keen on probing further. His eyes lingered on their joined hands, an unspoken question hanging in the air, and for a moment, Hermione felt herself flush with the weight of that unasked question.

Her mind raced, scrambling for something to say, but it was Percy who stepped in first, his voice calm and unfazed. “It’s a recent development,” Percy explained, his tone smooth, though there was something just slightly defensive in the way he spoke. “We didn’t think it necessary to make a big announcement just yet. Besides, there have been... other matters we’ve been dealing with.”

Hermione noticed the subtle flicker in Percy’s eyes—he was redirecting, keeping the focus off of anything too personal, skilfully controlling the conversation and keeping it from spiralling out of their intended narrative. For all of his stoic, composed exterior, there was something impressively protective about him in that moment, and Hermione found herself quietly grateful for it.

Before either of them could speak again, however, the sound of clattering plates and a familiar voice echoed from the kitchen doorway.

“Oh, you boys!” Molly Weasley’s voice rang out, full of the familiar exasperation that only a mother could wield. She was a whirlwind of movement, stepping into the room with a smile that could light up the room. She was immediately on top of them, gesturing for everyone to move toward the table as she carried the conversation forward. “Let’s not waste time with all this teasing. You can save it for later when we’re eating!” she declared, though her voice was still laced with warmth. “Bill, Fleur! Dinner’s ready!”

As Molly bustled into the kitchen, shifting focus away from the awkwardness of the moment, Hermione couldn’t help but exhale a quiet breath of relief. For a brief moment, the tension had been cut, and she was grateful. She didn’t know how much longer she could hold up the charade of a new relationship, especially with Ron’s sharp eyes on them. The history between her and the Weasley brothers was not something that could be ignored—least of all the history between her and Ron. Even though they were both long past their romantic entanglements, the simple fact that she was standing next to his older brother—holding his hand, no less—was an elephant in the room.

The conversation seemed to have shifted, but not without leaving a thick tension in the air, and for the briefest of moments, Hermione thought that maybe, just maybe, the conversation might have died down. She wasn’t so lucky.

Ron’s voice broke through the quiet, casual but laced with something almost too pointed, too deliberate. “So,” he began, stepping into the room with his arms crossed, eyeing them both with a raised eyebrow. “What’s the deal? You two haven’t been... dating for long, right?” His eyes lingered on Hermione a little too long, and though his expression was neutral, there was a sharpness in his gaze that made Hermione feel a little exposed, a little too vulnerable. “I mean, I would’ve thought you’d mention it at some point, Hermione.”

The room seemed to freeze for a fraction of a second. Hermione’s heart skipped in her chest, and she felt the weight of Percy’s hand around hers tighten, just enough to remind her that he was still there, still a presence by her side. She could feel his subtle tension as he prepared himself for whatever was coming next, though his face remained unreadable.

She opened her mouth to respond, to explain, but the words seemed to get caught in her throat. What could she say? Could she tell him the truth—that this was all part of a plan, a strategy to deflect attention from their real mission? Or could she just lie, make it simple and easy, and pretend this was something more? It wasn’t as though she hadn’t considered the possible consequences of this charade, but somehow, seeing Ron’s eyes on her—familiar and sharp—made it feel much more real.

Before she could answer, Harry, who had been standing in the corner of the kitchen, cleared his throat. His voice rang out, unusually sharp, and Hermione turned to see him glancing between her and Ron with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, this is a bit awkward, isn’t it?” Harry said, a half-joking, half-serious note in his tone as he stepped closer to them. His eyes flicked between her and Percy, then back to Ron. “I mean, I didn’t know anything about this either, but then again, I suppose I didn’t really expect to be kept in the loop,” he said, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. But despite the jest, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, betraying his curiosity. “I don’t think anyone’s told me anything about you two... you know, dating.”

The words struck Hermione like a blow, a sudden wave of guilt settling deep in her chest. Of course, she should have told them. Of course, she should have been upfront. But how could she? The complexity of it all made her feel like she was drowning in lies and half-truths. She had spent years alongside these people, yet somehow, this moment—this simple misunderstanding—was pushing everything into sharp relief.

Percy stepped forward before she could find the words to respond, his voice steady and composed. “It’s recent,” he repeated, with a faint touch of finality in his tone. “We didn’t feel the need to make a big announcement.”

Molly continued her bustling in the kitchen, setting the table with a practiced ease, but there was a quiet tension in her movements now. She paused in mid-step, hands hovering over the plates as she glanced from her sons to Hermione and Percy. Her gaze softened, the lines of her face becoming gentler, but there was still a trace of something more perceptive in her eyes—a knowing look that suggested she wasn’t quite fooled by the surface calm.

“Is everything alright?” Molly’s voice was soft, as though her maternal instinct had sensed the discomfort in the room and was reaching out to reassure everyone. Her question was aimed more at her sons than at Hermione or Percy, but it was clear that she was aware of the subtle shifts in the atmosphere.

For a moment, the room went silent. Everyone held their breath, as if waiting for someone to say something, to break the tension. Percy’s face remained composed, his posture straight and unyielding, though Hermione could feel the faintest tension in the way he stood beside her. She could see his eyes flicker just briefly, as though he were measuring how to respond.

“We’re fine, Mum,” Percy said, his voice steady but laced with just the slightest edge. His gaze met hers briefly before moving to the others in the room, clearly not willing to dive any deeper into what was lingering beneath the surface.

Hermione offered a small smile, hoping it came across as genuine, though she wasn’t sure if it did. She felt her heart rate pick up as the weight of Molly’s scrutiny settled on her. Was it too much?Were they buying it?

Molly’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer, but she nodded, her face softening into a smile again. “Well, alright then,” she said, a little too brightly, as if deciding that it was best not to probe any further. "Don’t make me keep you both waiting. Let’s all head to the dining room, shall we?"

The tension seemed to ease slightly, but it wasn’t gone. No one asked any more questions—not yet. But Hermione could feel the air thick with unspoken words. There was no escaping the truth of the situation; the questions would come later.