Fic Attempt - Upholding Tradition
Ah ha, I am actually posting a fic. It's only a little one shot but it's a fic none the less. All comments are very welcome - it's unbetaed so if you notice a typo or anything that doesn't make sense please let me know.
Rating: G
Word Count: 1295
Disclaimer: I don't own anything - It's all from the wonderousness of Miss Rowling. No infringement intended.
Upholding Tradition
Hermione sat around the Christmas tree at Grimmauld Place and smiled nervously at her second family. So far it was shaping up to be a very subdued holiday. The horcrux hunt had been on hold for over a month now while the family clung together in grief.
After all their careful planning and guarding of secret missions it had never occurred to them that Mrs Weasley would be unsafe picking up a few groceries. The attack at Diagon Alley was small by recent standards but overly effective. With Dumbledore’s death they had taken the head of the Order but with Molly’s they had taken the heart.
The Weasleys had crumpled with the blow and the Order had followed.
Percy had granted his mother’s greatest wish and returned home too late to be of any comfort to her. He, along with Bill and Charlie, spent the majority of their time trying to hold their father together. The twins had sunken into their own little world talking only to each other and had ceased playing altogether. But it was Ginny, who turned to Harry and offered him solace at the loss of his second mother figure, who did the greatest damage. Under normal circumstances she would have turned to Ron but in turning to Harry instead, she had left Ron alone amongst the crowd. Hermione had done her best to fill the space - holding him when he broke down, listening to his memories as he relived the years in his mind, letting him know that he wasn’t alone - but she couldn’t help but feel unequal to the task. Much as she had loved Mrs Weasley and as much as she had made her feel a part of the family, Hermione knew that she was an outsider in all of this. That she would never fully comprehend the extent of the pain that each of them felt. She was as far from understanding this as she was from understanding the losses Harry had suffered through the years. But as difficult as it was she was charging herself with the task of helping them move on. There was a war out there and they needed to fight. Mrs Weasley wouldn’t want them to wallow in their grief.
Hermione sighed as she looked around the room. No one seemed to have any enthusiasm for the presents under the tree. Waking up early to open gifts was almost a burden this year and what Hermione was about to do would either help lift spirits or make it all a thousand times worse. She summoned all her Gryffindor courage and stood up. Ten sets of eyes locked on her.
“Um … I-I just wanted to say that this is a wonderful family and even though I’m not a real Weasley I still feel like I belong here and … well, what I’m trying to say is that I never want to upset any of you but I think I might be about to.”
Several of them looked worried at that statement and Hermione noticed Harry and Charlie both finger their wands, waiting for her to reveal some form of attack. She ignored them, swiped the tears from her eyes and continued.
“A few weeks ago I overheard George and Ginny talking about how unnatural it was to have a Christmas tree without their mother’s telltale gifts under it and I started to think how horrible it was that those … well that they had literally stolen the warmth from this family. And … well, I thought that since Mrs Weasley wouldn’t want any of you to go without, that I would make them on her behalf. You don’t have to accept them if you don’t want them. I don’t want to upset anyone. I just thought you deserved your jumpers.”
She silently summoned the pile of gifts from behind the couch and nervously looked up to survey their reactions. Everyone was either wiping away tears or on the verge of needing to do so. Hermione was mortified. She had known this was a bad idea. Why on earth did I think I had the right? This is their mother’s legacy. How am I ever going to be able to apologise properly?
“I should like mine.”
Hermione snapped out of her thoughts and looked over at Mr Weasley.
“Very much.” he added, smiling even as his tears made him choke on the words.
She sorted through the pile and handed him his present. The room seemed to be holding a collective breath but Hermione interrupted it.
“They’re not the same,” she warned as he began to unwrap it. “I couldn’t find the right colour wool and the patterns are a little different. I didn’t have enough time to find the right ones.”
“Probably for the best.” Mr Weasley answered as he pulled the midnight purple wool from its packaging. He held it up to admire the crimson ‘A’ on the right breast before pulling it on over his pyjamas. He swiped at his tears and pulled Hermione into a tight hug.
“Thankyou”
Well at least one person doesn’t hate me she thought.
“Who’s next?” George asked as he craned his neck, trying to read the name tag at the top of the present pile. Hermione smiled wetly, trying to act as though this wasn’t the first thing George had said to her in a month and picked up the next two.
“Um, Percy and Fred.” she read out. Somehow they had all decided to follow their father’s lead and accept their jumpers. With every one that she handed out she got a hug in return until she got down to the last three.
“Harry.”
He hugged her but he also kissed her cheek and told her she was the best sister he could ever have wished for, before taking his jumper back to his spot on the floor to unwrap. Hermione swiped away a fresh wave of tears and picked up the next one.
“Ginny.”
Ginny gave her a bear hug and repeated Harry’s words. Hermione was a blubbering mess by the time she picked up the last one and held it out.
“Ron.”
He managed a watery “Thanks” as he took the present from her but then dropped it on the coffee table unopened. She worried that he might be upset but she couldn’t see his expression through her tears.
Ron stood in front of her and used the sleeve of his pyjamas to wipe her cheeks and waited for her to blink her tears out of the way. When she could see straight again, he looked her in the eye and thanked her again. Hermione smiled knowing that the second thankyou wasn’t so much for the jumper as it was for his family.
“You’re welcome.” she muttered.
He nodded once and, quite surprisingly, kissed the tip of her nose and hugged her gently. That one gentle hug spoke more to her than any of the other clutching embraces she had received.
“Wo-ho! Did you see that?” Fred cheered.
“Kissed her-” said George.
“In front of everyone.”
“Indeed.”
“And without a single word about her sisterly-ness.”
“Shocking”
“Scandalous”
“We might have to question his intentions.”
“Good Point! Wouldn’t do -”
“to have our Hermione - ”
“being heartbroken!”
Hermione flushed bright red but Ron just ignored hem and pulled on his new (blue) jumper. The look on his face was what made her realise: the twins were playing. And if the twins were playing then the jumpers had worked.
So instead of being embarrassed Hermione decided to be impulsive and poked her tongue out at the matching redheads. Mrs Weasley may be gone, and the pain of it may never leave, but they would move on and they would be okay.
Rating: G
Word Count: 1295
Disclaimer: I don't own anything - It's all from the wonderousness of Miss Rowling. No infringement intended.
Upholding Tradition
Hermione sat around the Christmas tree at Grimmauld Place and smiled nervously at her second family. So far it was shaping up to be a very subdued holiday. The horcrux hunt had been on hold for over a month now while the family clung together in grief.
After all their careful planning and guarding of secret missions it had never occurred to them that Mrs Weasley would be unsafe picking up a few groceries. The attack at Diagon Alley was small by recent standards but overly effective. With Dumbledore’s death they had taken the head of the Order but with Molly’s they had taken the heart.
The Weasleys had crumpled with the blow and the Order had followed.
Percy had granted his mother’s greatest wish and returned home too late to be of any comfort to her. He, along with Bill and Charlie, spent the majority of their time trying to hold their father together. The twins had sunken into their own little world talking only to each other and had ceased playing altogether. But it was Ginny, who turned to Harry and offered him solace at the loss of his second mother figure, who did the greatest damage. Under normal circumstances she would have turned to Ron but in turning to Harry instead, she had left Ron alone amongst the crowd. Hermione had done her best to fill the space - holding him when he broke down, listening to his memories as he relived the years in his mind, letting him know that he wasn’t alone - but she couldn’t help but feel unequal to the task. Much as she had loved Mrs Weasley and as much as she had made her feel a part of the family, Hermione knew that she was an outsider in all of this. That she would never fully comprehend the extent of the pain that each of them felt. She was as far from understanding this as she was from understanding the losses Harry had suffered through the years. But as difficult as it was she was charging herself with the task of helping them move on. There was a war out there and they needed to fight. Mrs Weasley wouldn’t want them to wallow in their grief.
Hermione sighed as she looked around the room. No one seemed to have any enthusiasm for the presents under the tree. Waking up early to open gifts was almost a burden this year and what Hermione was about to do would either help lift spirits or make it all a thousand times worse. She summoned all her Gryffindor courage and stood up. Ten sets of eyes locked on her.
“Um … I-I just wanted to say that this is a wonderful family and even though I’m not a real Weasley I still feel like I belong here and … well, what I’m trying to say is that I never want to upset any of you but I think I might be about to.”
Several of them looked worried at that statement and Hermione noticed Harry and Charlie both finger their wands, waiting for her to reveal some form of attack. She ignored them, swiped the tears from her eyes and continued.
“A few weeks ago I overheard George and Ginny talking about how unnatural it was to have a Christmas tree without their mother’s telltale gifts under it and I started to think how horrible it was that those … well that they had literally stolen the warmth from this family. And … well, I thought that since Mrs Weasley wouldn’t want any of you to go without, that I would make them on her behalf. You don’t have to accept them if you don’t want them. I don’t want to upset anyone. I just thought you deserved your jumpers.”
She silently summoned the pile of gifts from behind the couch and nervously looked up to survey their reactions. Everyone was either wiping away tears or on the verge of needing to do so. Hermione was mortified. She had known this was a bad idea. Why on earth did I think I had the right? This is their mother’s legacy. How am I ever going to be able to apologise properly?
“I should like mine.”
Hermione snapped out of her thoughts and looked over at Mr Weasley.
“Very much.” he added, smiling even as his tears made him choke on the words.
She sorted through the pile and handed him his present. The room seemed to be holding a collective breath but Hermione interrupted it.
“They’re not the same,” she warned as he began to unwrap it. “I couldn’t find the right colour wool and the patterns are a little different. I didn’t have enough time to find the right ones.”
“Probably for the best.” Mr Weasley answered as he pulled the midnight purple wool from its packaging. He held it up to admire the crimson ‘A’ on the right breast before pulling it on over his pyjamas. He swiped at his tears and pulled Hermione into a tight hug.
“Thankyou”
Well at least one person doesn’t hate me she thought.
“Who’s next?” George asked as he craned his neck, trying to read the name tag at the top of the present pile. Hermione smiled wetly, trying to act as though this wasn’t the first thing George had said to her in a month and picked up the next two.
“Um, Percy and Fred.” she read out. Somehow they had all decided to follow their father’s lead and accept their jumpers. With every one that she handed out she got a hug in return until she got down to the last three.
“Harry.”
He hugged her but he also kissed her cheek and told her she was the best sister he could ever have wished for, before taking his jumper back to his spot on the floor to unwrap. Hermione swiped away a fresh wave of tears and picked up the next one.
“Ginny.”
Ginny gave her a bear hug and repeated Harry’s words. Hermione was a blubbering mess by the time she picked up the last one and held it out.
“Ron.”
He managed a watery “Thanks” as he took the present from her but then dropped it on the coffee table unopened. She worried that he might be upset but she couldn’t see his expression through her tears.
Ron stood in front of her and used the sleeve of his pyjamas to wipe her cheeks and waited for her to blink her tears out of the way. When she could see straight again, he looked her in the eye and thanked her again. Hermione smiled knowing that the second thankyou wasn’t so much for the jumper as it was for his family.
“You’re welcome.” she muttered.
He nodded once and, quite surprisingly, kissed the tip of her nose and hugged her gently. That one gentle hug spoke more to her than any of the other clutching embraces she had received.
“Wo-ho! Did you see that?” Fred cheered.
“Kissed her-” said George.
“In front of everyone.”
“Indeed.”
“And without a single word about her sisterly-ness.”
“Shocking”
“Scandalous”
“We might have to question his intentions.”
“Good Point! Wouldn’t do -”
“to have our Hermione - ”
“being heartbroken!”
Hermione flushed bright red but Ron just ignored hem and pulled on his new (blue) jumper. The look on his face was what made her realise: the twins were playing. And if the twins were playing then the jumpers had worked.
So instead of being embarrassed Hermione decided to be impulsive and poked her tongue out at the matching redheads. Mrs Weasley may be gone, and the pain of it may never leave, but they would move on and they would be okay.