Homecoming

As they watched Harry walk away with the Dursleys, Hermione felt a familiar tapping across the back of her hand. Without stopping to give the matter much thought, she reached out to entwine her fingers with Ron's. She couldn't remember at exactly what point during the past year at Hogwarts they'd begun holding hands. They usually did it during the Gryffindors' Prefects weeks to conduct inspections late at night, when they were the only two students wandering the hallways of the school; occasionally at other times, too.

"Mum, can Hermione come to The Burrow for a few days?" Ron asked.

"Of course, dear. She's always welcome," Mrs. Weasley replied.

"No," said Mrs. Granger firmly. "Hermione, we've barely seen you during this past year! It's not that we don't appreciate your hospitality, Molly, but she's our daughter and she'll be grown and gone before we know it. We want her to spend these holidays with us."

Hermione was torn. She truly loved her parents and understood that her involvement in a world they could never be a part of was painful to them. But the thought of being away from Ron for two whole months was painful, too! However, a stunningly obvious solution suddenly popped into her brain and out of her mouth. "Well, then, why can't Ron come to our house, instead?"

"Could I, Mrs. Granger? I mean, if it's all right with my parents?" Ron asked.

"Honestly, Hermione, can't you handle being away from your boyfriend for a few weeks?" asked her mother with a sigh.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest that Ron wasn't her boyfriend, then promptly shut it again. Making such a statement while she and Ron were standing in the middle of King's Cross Station, holding hands and pleading not to be separated from each other, seemed a bit daft.

Standing his tallest and looking directly into Mr. Granger's eyes, Ron said, "I think it would be a good idea for us to get to know each other better. Don't you, sir?"

"Er, yes, perhaps it would at that," Mr. Granger replied. "Gladys, unless you have serious objections?"

"No, I don't mind," Mrs. Granger said. "It's about time we repaid some of the hospitality Arthur and Molly have shown Hermione over the past few years. Perhaps Ginny would like to come, too?"

"No thank you, Mrs. Granger," Ginny replied quickly. "I'd prefer to be with my own Mum and Dad these holidays."

"Are you sure, dear? You're passing up a chance to spend time in a Muggle household, get a firsthand view of how they live," Arthur Weasley said.

Mrs. Granger and Mrs. Weasley smiled at each other. There were many differences between the two women -- not just that one was a Muggle and one a Witch, but that one had combined a career with a parenting a single child, while the other had devoted her whole adult life to raising a large brood of children -- but they were both mothers. They knew that a desire to see how Muggles lived wasn't why Ron wanted to spend time in the Granger household.

"It's settled then?" Hermione asked. "Ron can come to our house?"

"For the first week of holidays," her mother agreed. "After that, we need to go down to Cornwall to visit your Gran and I really think,"

"That Ron will need to return home at that point," Mrs. Weasley finished firmly.

"Ooh, itty-bitty-Ronniekins has a girlfriend," Fred said, echoed by George.

Ron grinned at the twins. "Just because you two gits can't manage to get girls interested in you, even with dragonskin jackets, doesn't mean all of us Weasleys suffer from your deficiencies. Ask Bill."

Ron departed with the Granger family, still holding hands with Hermione.

"Well, we *were* going to ask him to come back and see our shop," George said in a mock-aggrieved voice. "But since he obviously prefers the company of Muggles over his own brothers. . ."

"Mum, can I go and see their shop?" Ginny asked.

"Sure, Mum, let the squirt come to work with us today. We'll bring her home, safe and sound," said Fred.

"Yeah, Mum, what harm could she come to with us to watch over her?" George asked.

"I shudder to think," said Mrs. Weasley. "But, yes, you may go to the twins' shop with them if you'd like."

"I guess we're on our own, then, Arthur," Mrs. Weasley said. "Ron's taken his trunk and Pigwidgeon with him to the Grangers', so if you'll just help me with Ginny's trunk, we can head home."

Unknown to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, a wizard shrouded in an invisibility cloak had been watching them ever since they arrived at King's Cross. Knowing that the two of them were returning home along together was just the opportunity he had been waiting for.

***

When the senior Weasleys returned home, Molly looked around. "Arthur, I have the strangest feeling that we're not alone," she said softly.

"Trouble?" her husband asked, whipping out his wand and looking around quickly.

"No, I think one of the boys is home. None of the younger ones, obviously, we just left them. Bill? Charlie?" she called out.

"Actually, it's. . .me," a voice said quietly, as the invsibility cloak fell to the floor.

"Percy!" screamed Mrs. Weasley, rushing toward her third son with her arms outstretched. He'd been estranged from the rest of the family for almost a year now.

Percy let his mother enfold him in her arms, unwilling to cause her any more pain, and patted her gently on the back. But as soon as she loosened her embrace, he said, "Mum, Dad, I want to tell you,"

"You don't have to say anything, dear, we're just so glad to have you back," Mrs Weasley began.

"Let him talk, Molly," her husband said instead, his voice like steel.

Percy, being Percy, had composed a lengthy speech consisting of flowery phrases and references to obscure wizard feuds in centuries past. Standing in front of his parents in the warm, shabby living room of the Burrow all he could think of to say, however, was, "I'm sorry. I was wrong. So very wrong. You were right. Can you forgive me?"

"Of course, son," his father said, holding out his arms. Percy threw himself into his father's arms with the abandon of a toddler.

"There's something more I want to say," Percy said after a moment, straightening up to look at his father's face. "All my life, I've searched for other wizards to pattern my behavior after. As smart as I was supposed to be, you'd think I might have noticed that the best example of honesty, integrity and bravery I could ever hope to find was my own father. I'm proud to be a Weasley."

"We're glad to have you back, son," his father said. "That's all your mother and I have ever wanted. But there are other people you owe apologies to."

"Who *don't* I owe apologies to?" Percy asked with a slight smile. "Let's see, besides you two there's my siblings, Professor Dumbledore, Harry Potter, the other members of the Order of the Phoenix. . .heck, might as well toss in Ron's Hermione and the twins' Lee Jordan while I'm at it."

Molly smiled a bit at that. "Will you be moving back in now, son?"

"I think it might be better if I didn't, Mum," Percy said slowly. "I was thinking. . .but if you don't want me to do this, Dad, I won't. . .that it might be good if Fudge and some of the others at the Ministry,"

"thought you still disapproved of us?" his father finished for him. "It might, at that."

"Talk with the others and let me know what you want me to do," Percy suggested. "I'll follow whatever path you think is best. I'll be back for dinner, but now I might as well start popping in on the others." With a wave of his wand, Percy was gone.

***

Percy was pooped. He'd apparated and disapparated so many times today he'd lost count. He'd been in a vault at Gringotts talking to Bill, a forest in Romania chasing down Charlie, the twins' joke shop, the Grangers' garden and the Headmaster's Hall at Hogwarts. But the hardest apology he'd left 'til last.

Standing just outside the gates of Hogwarts (he couldn't disapparate from the grounds) Percy waved his wand once more. Seconds later he was striding up to the door of Number 4 Privet Drive and knocking briskly. He'd had the presence of mind to wear jeans and a T-shirt, rather than his wizarding robes, but he still seemed to cause a bit of a stir when the door was opened.

"Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying," Aunt Petunia began.

"I'm not selling anything. I'd like to speak to Harry Potter, please," Percy replied.

"Oh, it's you," Aunt Petunia said. "Er, yes, all right. Harry, your friend's here. That Weasley boy!"

Percy hardly felt that he deserved to be called Harry's friend at this point and realized that Aunt Petunia had probably mistook him for Ron. It wouldn't have been the first time someone had done so; he and his youngest brother bore a strong resemblance to each other.

"Ron?" Harry called excitedly as he clambered down the stairs. He hadn't expected to see his friend quite so soon. He came to a skidding stop a few feet from Percy. "Oh, it's you. What do you want?"

"I'd like to talk to you for a moment. Privately."

"Fine. Aunt Petunia, I'm going out," Harry said, leaving the house and closing the door. He led Percy to a small park a block or so away.

"To repeat: what do you want?" Harry said, facing Percy.

"To apologize," Percy said simply.

"It's your parents you owe an apology to, not me," Harry replied.

"I've already spoken to them; they've forgiven me. So have the other members of my family and Professor Dumbledore. Now I'm asking your forgivness."

"Yeah, fine, whatever," Harry said.

This was a less enthusiastic response than he'd encountered thus far, but Percy could hardly blame Harry. Instead he said, "I think I owe you more than an apology, Harry; I owe you an explanation, too."

"Well, yes, it would be rather nice to know why you assumed I was a deranged, lying lunatic," Harry said with a touch of sarcasm.

"Jealousy," Percy answered.

"You mean. . . because I got all the attention during the year you were Head Boy," Harry suggested.

"That's part of it, yes," Percy said. "But it was more because. . .do you know who the one person I used to get along reasonably well with was?"

It took Harry a moment, but then the light dawned. "Ron?" he suggested.

"Yeah. He was always my favorite brother. I figured when we got older he and I would be like Bill and Charlie or the twins. But he's made it pretty clear he doesn't really need a favorite brother; not when he's got you for a best friend."

"Oh."

"But that's still no excuse for what I did," Percy admitted.

"It's. . .okay, Percy. I do know what it's like to feel a bit overlooked at home, you know."

The End