Through the Weasley Web
The atmosphere in the Burrow was as chaotic as ever, with everyone bustling about, voices rising and falling in a sort of rhythm that only a large family could produce. But it was quieter now in the kitchen, with just a few of them lingering. The smell of something warm wafted from the stove as Molly stirred something for dessert, her humming filling the air. Fleur, Ginny, and Hermione were leaning against the counter, chatting softly, grateful for the momentary calm after the intensity of the dining room. The familiar hum of the Burrow made it feel like home, but the weight of the lingering questions and awkward tension sat heavily on Hermione’s shoulders. The far-off laughter and the clinking of plates couldn’t quite drown out the unease bubbling beneath the surface.
Ginny, ever the blunt one, had stayed with Hermione, folding her arms across her chest and giving her a knowing look. Hermione caught the glint of mischief in her eyes.
“So,” Ginny began, her tone laced with amusement but edged with irritation, “Percy. Honestly, Hermione, you should’ve warned us. Ron was being a prat.”
Hermione blinked in surprise. She hadn’t realized Ginny had noticed how uncomfortable Ron had been at the table. “What do you mean?”
Ginny rolled her eyes dramatically, her expression a mix of exasperation and affection. “You know exactly what I mean.” She leaned forward, her voice lowering a bit as if sharing a secret. “The second he realized you and Percy were... together, he just froze. And not in the ‘oh, that’s nice’ way. No, more like he’s convinced that it’s all some joke or that you’re just pretending.”
Hermione felt a pang of guilt twist in her stomach. Of course, Ron would be confused. Maybe even hurt. But she didn’t know what else to do, and the situation had spiraled far too quickly for her to explain everything to him.
“He’s just protective,” Hermione said softly, though she wasn’t sure she fully believed it. “He’s probably confused because of the history... between us.”
Ginny snorted, her lips curving into a teasing smirk. “Protective? He’s a bloody prat, that’s what he is,” she said, her voice light but with a trace of real irritation. “I mean, come on. If anyone should’ve had an issue with you and Percy, it’s me!” Ginny threw a pointed look Hermione’s way. “It’s not like he hasn’t been obsessed with you and your well-being for years. I mean, it’s Ron, for Merlin’s sake. You know how he is.”
Hermione let out a breath of laughter despite herself. “He’ll come around,” she said, though doubt lingered in her tone. "Eventually."
“He better,” Ginny said with a quick, side-eyed glance toward the doorway, where the sound of clattering dishes and chatter could still be heard. “Because if he doesn’t, I’ll make sure Harry sorts him out. He’ll get it, at least.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow at her. “Harry?”
Ginny shrugged nonchalantly, as if it were obvious. “Someone needs to tell him he’s being ridiculous. And who better than Harry?” Her expression softened slightly, but her eyes still held the sharp edge of frustration. “Ron’s a good bloke, but he’s got this thing about being the protector. He just... doesn’t know how to let go. You’re not his responsibility anymore, you know?”
Hermione looked at Ginny, surprised by the way she seemed to cut through the situation with such clarity. Her words were blunt, but they had a touch of warmth, as if Ginny was trying to help Hermione understand just how stubborn and, in this case, misguided her brother could be.
Before Hermione could respond, Fleur, who had been quietly arranging some dishes on the counter, chimed in. Her soft French accent filled the air, a gentle, teasing undertone to her words. "Ah, ze Weasley brothers," Fleur said, her lips quirking into a small, knowing smile. “So... complicated, non?”
Ginny grinned, the annoyance momentarily fading from her features as she exchanged a look with Fleur. "Tell me about it," she muttered, shaking her head with a soft laugh. "But that’s what makes them Weasleys, right?" She pushed herself off the counter, leaning back slightly as she crossed her arms, a small, affectionate smirk curling on her lips. “So, what’s your take on all this, Fleur? What do you think of Percy and Hermione?”
Fleur glanced over at Hermione, her gaze warm and full of understanding, her dark eyes soft as she considered her words. She gave a little shrug, then looked back at Ginny, a teasing glint flashing in her eye. “I think...” she began with a light chuckle, “they are very convincing, oui?” She tilted her head as she spoke, her voice lilting with the French accent that Hermione had always found oddly comforting. “But you, Hermione, I can see through you. I know you are not always at ease with this situation.” Fleur’s gaze held a mixture of playful teasing and something much more serious, as if she could read between the lines. "But you do it very well, I must say. Your acting is superb."
Hermione flushed slightly at Fleur’s remark, feeling the weight of the compliment, though a small laugh escaped her lips as she rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. “It’s not exactly acting,” she said, her voice a little sheepish. “It’s more like... trying not to collapse under the pressure.”
“Mon Dieu," Fleur responded, shaking her head slightly with a dramatic sigh, her voice deepening in that lovely, melodic accent of hers. "It is not easy, non? But for Percy, he is strong,” she continued, her voice softening as she spoke with more sincerity. “And I am sure he will help you, yes?” Fleur's eyes softened, and there was a deeper, almost protective note in her voice as she added.
Molly, who had been busy whisking a rich chocolate and orange sauce, finally turned to them with a thoughtful smile, the warm glow from the stove casting soft shadows over her face. “The poor boy’s just trying to protect you both, I think,” she mused, her voice carrying that distinct motherly wisdom. She wiped her hands on her apron, glancing between Fleur and Ginny with a knowing look. “They’re all like that—so stubborn.” There was fondness in her tone, but also resignation. “But they'll figure it out. Just give them time.”
Ginny shook her head, though a smirk tugged at her lips. “Honestly, Mum, Ron is so stubborn, he could break a brick wall with his head.” She folded her arms, her expression unimpressed but tinged with amusement. “He just needs to get over himself.”
“Ginny,” Molly chided gently, though she couldn’t quite hide the chuckle in her voice. “Not so harsh.”
Ginny shrugged, tilting her head with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Someone’s got to tell him, or he’ll never get it.”
Hermione found herself smiling despite the weight in her chest. It was nice to know that someone had her back in all of this—even if it was just Ginny, who had a remarkable way of cutting through the complications and making things seem far simpler than they really were. The reality was, Ron’s reaction hadn’t been a huge surprise, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear.
Fleur, who had finished arranging the teacups with precise elegance, stepped closer to Hermione, her eyes full of understanding. “Don’t worry, dear,” she said softly, her accent giving her words a lilting, reassuring rhythm. “Zese things take time.” She reached out, brushing Hermione’s arm in a brief but comforting touch. “It will work out. Percy is... different now. But he is also... steadfast.” Fleur’s lips curled into a knowing smile as she tilted her head. “He will make it work. You will see.”
Hermione swallowed, her fingers tightening around the edge of the counter. “I hope so,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. There was a moment of hesitation before she looked over at Ginny, her brow furrowed slightly. “I just hope Ron comes to terms with it. All of this. Because it’s only going to get more complicated, isn’t it?”
Ginny’s grin turned wicked, her brown eyes dancing with mischief. “Oh, definitely,” she said without hesitation. “But if there’s one thing I know, it’s that Weasleys are experts at making things complicated.” She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “And if he keeps being difficult, well… I do have ways of making him listen.”
Fleur let out a delicate laugh, her expression amused. “Ah, zey are complicated,” she agreed, shaking her head fondly. “But you will figure it out, Hermione. You are strong, non?” Her dark blue eyes held Hermione’s gaze, full of quiet confidence.
Hermione let out a small, breathy laugh, some of the tension loosening in her chest. She wasn’t sure she was as strong as Fleur made her out to be, but in that moment, surrounded by their warmth and support, she felt just a little bit steadier.
No, this wasn’t going to be easy—but at least, she realized, she wasn’t in it alone.