Best of Fifteen

The Burrow was as loud and warm and lovely as ever. Hermione was leaning against the kitchen counter, taking a moment of space from the mob of children chasing George on his broom around the backyard. The pack was led by Teddy, his hair flashing between Weasley red and an alarming shade of green, and Victoire, whose angelic appearance was belied by a mischievous grin. Hermione smiled to herself at George’s antics.

A figure came into the kitchen and leaned on the counter beside her.

“Care to spike that tea?”

It was Ginny, her vibrant hair pushed behind an ear, her willowy frame angled towards Hermione. She held out a flask of Ogden’s, eyebrows raised.

“It’s 10am,” Hermione said, “What will your mother say?”

Ginny looked fearful for a moment, her eyes darting behind her before ascertaining that Molly wasn’t nearby. She scowled and whacked Hermione’s arm before pouring a healthy share into her own tea.

“Some welcome home party,” Hermione observed. “How many times has Molly cried?”

“Three,” Ginny said. “All my children under one roof again,” She continued, her impression of the teary older witch spot-on.

Hermione smiled. “She missed you. We all did.”

“And you,” Ginny responded, wrapping an arm around Hermione. “You know you’re as much a Weasley as any of us. I was not the only wayward child for the past, oh… eight years?”

“And Charlie,” Hermione added. “He’s wayward too, living in Romania and all.”

Ginny nodded her assent. The two witches sipped their tea, eyes on the commotion outside.

Hermione eyed Ginny as the witch winced slightly after taking a sip.

“Seen Harry yet?” She asked, aiming for casual.

Ginny’s eyes darted to Hermione’s and she shook her head. “He’ll be here just before the meal, mum says.”

Ginny swallowed heavily. Hermione didn’t pry.

“What about you? Seen Ron?”

“Mm-hmm,” Hermione hummed, “it was fine.”

Both witches took another gulp.

Molly summoned Hermione and Ginny from the kitchen shortly thereafter, and they were separated for several hours. Hermione, a particular favorite of Luc, Bill and Fleur’s youngest, was subjected to an enthusiastic and nearly unintelligible story from the three year old about George’s broom. Ginny was placed between her mother and Parvati for much of the afternoon, listening to wedding planning details. Ron nodded agreeably along. Harry arrived as predicted, and Hermione watched him greet Ginny. After a moment of awkwardness, there’d been a hug, and a few words shared about quidditch. After Ginny pretended to hear Molly call for her, Harry had found Hermione quickly.

His face was red as he took his seat next to Hermione. She didn’t say anything, but gave the wizard a face clearly communicating that they’d be discussing it later.

Shortly, the entire clan was shepherded towards the seats at a magically extended table. The gathering was rounded out by Percy, his wife Audrey, and their two daughters; Andromeda, who’d brought Teddy; Angelina; Arthur; and Charlie, who was back from the Reserve temporarily on assignment. Upon arrival, Hermione had slipped Arthur a slinky, and he was still chortling about it over the meal. His delight over muggle inventions never failed to make her smile.

Arthur looked up from the slinky when Ginny, clearly fed up with discussions about flowers, abruptly said, “Oi, Hermione, how was the date on Friday?”

The table quieted as everyone looked at her. Hermione shot Ginny a death glare, but the witch did not seem sorry. Harry looked up at Hermione in surprise. Charlie seemed highly amused.

“Ooh, a date?” Molly asked, perking up, “Dear, why didn’t you tell us?”

“Nothing to tell,” Hermione responded, reddening.

She looked at Ron briefly, who pulled at his collar, but smiled encouragingly at her.

“What was wrong with him, then?” Ginny demanded.

No one spoke, which was no small feat with so many Weasleys at one table. Hermione bit her lip, unsure how to communicate in front of the children that the wizard Pansy had selected for her had spent the majority of the evening staring at her chest.

“Erm, just not compatible, I suppose,” Hermione hedged.

Molly looked disappointed. “Oh, dear. Well, you’ll find someone. I’m sure of it.”

Arthur smiled encouragingly at her. Parvati nodded emphatically, reaching for Ron’s hand. He smiled down at her.

Just at that moment, as Hermione began to wonder if she knew a wandless, wordless invisibility spell, the baby Audrey was holding began to cry. The noise set everyone off, and Percy ran inside to look for the bottle they’d left cooling. Molly suddenly had something to say about baby formula, and Fleur began reprimanding Luc in rapid French for eating off of Hermione’s plate.

Not long after the meal had wrapped up, brooms came out and the party moved outside. Hermione made her excuses and gathered her things. As she looked back over her shoulder, she saw Harry’s eyes trained on Ginny. The witch was whooping as she raced George. The look in Harry’s green eyes was one she remembered all too well. She smiled a private smile and pulled her scarf tightly on.

Arthur appeared beside her, giving her a crooked smile and a tight hug.

“Get home safely,” he said, “And do come back anytime. It’s so good to have you back with us.”

Hermione smiled fondly. “I will.”

She turned to the door, but turned back as she remembered one more thing. “Arthur!” she said, “Try the slinky on the stairs.”

The wizard’s face lit up. As she apparated away, Hermione swore she could hear an echo of delighted laughter.

Hermione’s Sunday, on the other hand, was shaping up to be fantastically unremarkable. She’d prepared tea and a full breakfast, and was preparing to finish her newest purchase from Flourish & Blotts. She’d just gotten comfortable on her sofa and read the first line of the chapter when her fireplace lit up green, and to Hermione’s utter shock, a man’s body whirled through it.

“Pansy?” the figure called as he straightened up.

He saw Hermione.

“Oh, Granger. Hi Granger. Is Pansy here?”

It was Theodore Nott, she realized, although it had taken a moment to place him. He was almost comically tall, with a head of dark brown curls and a pair of sea blue eyes. He had on impeccably tailored linen trousers, and looked desperately, acutely miserable. Hermione’s first instinct was to reach for her wand, but her hand was stayed.

“No, she’s not.” Hermione closed her book. “I’m sorry, how did you get in? Did Pansy add you to my wards?”

“Oh, no,” he said, shaking his head. “They just weren’t very impressive.”

Hermione was put out. “Pansy said the same thing.”

“Who do you think taught her?” the man asked, then continued, seemingly quite unbothered about interrupting Hermione’s weekend, “So, no Pansy? Do you know where she is?”

“I’ve no idea.”

At this, the wizard deflated, crumpling onto her couch and throwing his long limbs across her decorative pillows. He was the very picture of tragedy.

“Nott, are you alright?”

“Theo,” he corrected, “And no, I am not alright. Not even a bit. I need Pansy for this sort of– although, you’re Granger.” Hermione watched as this idea struck him. The wizard straightened up as if shocked. “You’re Granger! That’s good. That’s brilliant.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

Theo’s whole body leaned towards her, his expressive eyes pleading, “Is Charlie Weasley gay?”

Hermione let out a laugh despite herself. Theo seemed, if possible, even more distraught.

“Yes,” she responded quickly, “Yes, he’s gay.”

Hermione couldn’t tell whether or not this was the answer Theo had been hoping for. He fell back onto her couch, his face in his hands.

“Oh, I’m an idiot,” he moaned. “I’m an absolute, utter idiot.”

“Theo, I’m sure you’re not–”

“I am Nott, but I am,” he groaned, and Hermione’s face screwed up as she attempted to decipher that statement.

“If I’d known that, I would’ve– Gods, I would’ve– Granger, do you think it’s too late?” On this last question, he jumped up again, grasping Hermione’s hands.

Hermione blinked. “Would you like a drink?”

“A drink. Yes, a drink would be good.”

Hermione extracted her hands from his and made her way to the kitchen. There, she pulled a bottle of wine and sent a quick Patronus to Pansy. She returned to the couch and handed Theo a glass, which he drank while mumbling to himself about dragons and biceps and tattoos.

Not two minutes later, a crack sounded from the kitchen. Pansy turned into Hermione’s sitting room to find Theo’s drink empty, and the wizard lying across Hermione’s sofa with one arm thrown dramatically over his face. Hermione gave Pansy a look of confusion.

“Theo, darling,” Pansy said, crossing over to the wizard and laying a hand on his shoulder, “Would you mind catching me up?”

Theo emerged from his pose at Pansy’s voice and did so. It seemed that Charlie’d been hired to oversee the removal of several dragon eggs that Nott had discovered in his father’s heavily warded study, and the project was to be done by the end of the following week. The story took several sidebars: Charlie’s muscle definition, Theo’s stupidity, and The Hopelessness Of It All.

“He’s just gorgeous, Pansy,” Theo said, finishing off Hermione’s drink. “What do I do?”

“Oh, Theo, darling,” the witch said, taking his face in her hand, looking almost sympathetic for a moment. Then her eyes narrowed and she lightly slapped his cheek. “Pull it together.”

Hermione blinked, but Theo did not appear phased by this behavior. Instead, he shook himself and nodded.

“A week? You’ve pulled blokes in less,” Pansy said. “You’re Theodore bloody Nott.”

Theo nodded, standing up.

“I’ve watched you pull witches in twenty minutes flat, and you don’t even like witches,” Pansy continued. “Now get your gorgeous head out of your gorgeous ass and put in some work.”

Theo, visibly heartened, nodded.

“You’re right. I’m Theodore bloody Nott!”

“Hear, hear,” Hermione said uncertainly, raising her now-empty glass.

“Thank you,” Theo said, grasping both witches by their hands. “Now I’ve got to go!”

With a sweeping of his hand through his hair and a flash of green flames, Theo was gone.

Pansy sighed and plopped onto Hermione’s couch.

“So that was Theo.” Hermione said after a moment.

“That was Theo.”