Burning Down the House

'Hey, George?' Ron came from the back room of the shop, a quill stuck behind his ear.

George looked up form the window display. 'What?'

'You and Fred never bought Zonko's premises in Hogsmeade, did you?'

'Nope.' George shook his hair out of his eyes. 'Never had a chance to.'

'You still want to? Set up a shop in Hogsmeade?' Ron automatically straightened a shelf of Snackboxes.

George straightened up, stretching the kinks from his back. 'Why?' he asked suspiciously.

Ron pulled a scrap of parchment from the pocket of his robes. 'Look at this. It's a breakdown of everything we sold to Hogwarts students last August and December. A lot of the stuff they're buying in September is the stuff we won't deliver by owl post, like the Whiz-Bangs. But in December they're buying a lot of things like trick and fake wands, the sweets, the quills, and other stuff like that.'

George studied the chart Ron had drawn. 'Where are you going with this?'

'We should open a smaller shop in Hogsmeade,' Ron said, his face alight. 'We can keep it stocked with the smaller products we send by owl from here. That one will be able to handle most of the owl orders from the school, and if not, they can just send it on here.'

'You've been with Hermione too long,' George chuckled. 'I've never seen you this organized before.'

'George, come on... Just think about it?' pleaded Ron.

George examined the chart for a few more minutes. 'I have one question.'

'Shoot.'

'Who's going to run it? You and I have our hands full here as it is. And you want to open another one?'

'Ah. I've thought of that. Lucas and Sasha can run the Hogsmeade shop.'

'But -' George sputtered.

'But nothing. One of us can go up there and check on things from time to time once things get running, and we can take turns going up on Hogsmeade weekends during school to help out.'

George looked up as Charlie's belch rang out, signaling the door was opening. 'We'll talk about it later, okay?' He gave the chart one more look before stuffing it into the pocket of his robes. A harried looking mother and three young children streamed through the door.

After they left, each child carrying a bulging sack, George pulled the scrap of parchment from his pocket. It wasn't a bad idea, and it was one he and Fred had tossed around before the war started.

Maybe that's what bothered him. It had been his and Fred's idea, and to do it without Fred seemed like betrayal. George's hand stole up to the side of his head, and began to unconsciously finger the empty space where his ear had once been. Getting it set up would take some time, too. Going up to Hogsmeade on Saturdays until it was set up. One of them would have to go up to Hogsmeade daily until they were sure Lucas and Sasha could run it.

George glanced at the photograph of Katie and the boys tacked behind the counter, next to a photograph of Fred and him the day they opened the shop. Things had just settled back down to normal after the holidays and he hated to be away from the boys right now. Saturday was his day with Fred and Jacob, and Katie welcomed the respite from refereeing their antics.

He stuffed the parchment back into his pocket. He wondered if Ron wanted to do this purely for the distraction.

According to his calculations, Ron and Hermione had been trying to get pregnant for almost a year now, and George imagined Ron was desperate for something to take his mind off his other 'project'. And opening up a branch of the shop just to relieve Ron's anxiety was not a good reason.

George frowned at the corner of parchment protruding from his pocket. There were two people who knew Ron better than Ron himself did - Hermione and Harry. He was going to have to talk to one of them before he discussed it further with Ron. No, not Hermione, thought George. Not this time. George scribbled a note to Harry, and sent it off with his owl, telling himself that since Harry still did have a share in the shop, he should be in on this, too.

******

'It's a good plan,' Harry said. George sat on the other side of his kitchen table, Fred on his lap, trying to dodge the boy's increasingly urgent head butts. 'I can't believe you haven't done this sooner.'

'I thought about it,' George said slowly, setting Fred down on the floor. He waved his wand in a circle, checking the charms on the cupboard doors that kept them locked to the boys. Fred speedily crawled off to join Jacob in the sitting room. 'It just didn't seem right to do it without Fred, so I never followed through with it.' George pulled the sheaf of parchment with Ron's plans, charts, and graphs across the table, leafing through them. 'I was wondering, though...'

'If it's money to get it started, I can cover that,' Harry said. 'God knows most of it just sits in Gringotts collecting dust.'

'No, that's not it, although, if we do this we might need you to invest a bit in it,' George said shrugging. They really didn't need the money, but having ready cash would make the transition a lot smoother. 'It's Ron.'

'You think this is something like his way of putting his stamp on the shop?' Harry mused. 'Sounds like something Ron would want to do.'

'No.' George angled his chair so he could see into the sitting room. Everything with an edge had a Cushioning charm, but lately each twin had gotten possessive of certain toys, and at least once an hour he or Katie had to wade into the melee and put Fred and Jacob into neutral corners. 'I think he's trying to keep himself from thinking about why Hermione isn't pregnant yet.'

'That also sounds like something Ron would do,' commented Harry. He lifted James from his pushchair, and waggled a bottle enticingly in front of him. Harry settled James into the crook of his arm and began to feed him. He leaned back in the chair and watched his son ferociously attack his dinner for a moment. 'The real question is, George, do you trust Ron to do this?'

'You think I don't?'

'Doesn't matter what I think. I'm the silent partner in all this.'

George ran a hand through his hair in frustration. 'You're not helping,' he informed his brother-in-law pointedly.

Harry grinned evilly. 'It's my job to play devil's advocate,' he replied lightly, not bothered in the least by George's tone. 'Look, this is something you've wanted to do for almost eight years, right?'

'Yes,' admitted George.

'Then do it. Let Ron take this on. You keep telling me how good he's doing with the shop. Anything Ron really likes, he's not going to make a cock-up with it.' He pulled the bottle from James' mouth, and hoisted him to his shoulder. Harry firmly patted James' back until he burped.

'He sounds like Charlie,' offered George. 'You know...' George eyed James speculatively.

'Don't even bother. Ginny's threatened me with all manner of horrible things, the least of which involves feeding my bits to Buckbeak,' Harry interjected. 'I'd rather not confess to my wife that I let her barmy brothers use our child's burp for the shop door. Especially if she has a wand nearby.' Harry handed James a soft stuffed black dog. James put one of the dog's ears in his mouth and began to chew it in earnest.

'Scared of little Gin-Gin are we?' mocked George.

'And you're not?' retorted Harry.

'Erm... So, we'll tell Ron at lunch tomorrow?' George asked, hastily changing the subject.

******

Before Ron locked the flat for the night, he went into the kitchen and stood in front of the calendar on the wall. Tomorrow was March first.

D-Day.

The past couple of weeks had flown by in a haze of travel between Hogsmeade and London, setting up the new shop. Ron had been thrilled when George accepted his plan to open a shop in Hogsmeade for the students. It had been a rush of days transporting and making more merchandise, setting up the shop so it could be open in time for the Hogsmeade weekend on March fifth.

Ron had never worked harder in his life. He knew George was taking a big risk in letting him handle the Hogsmeade shop. This was just as much for Fred as it was for George.

Ron slowly turned up the page of the calendar.

And turned his back to it.

The next morning, Hermione was standing in the same pose Ron had the night before, staring at the date, a cup of tea cradled in her hands. She had a meeting with Firenze this morning. The centaurs had finally agreed to a set area in the Forest of Dean. The meeting with Firenze was a formality to sign and seal the agreement.

Ron came into the kitchen, still in his boxers. He wrapped his arms around Hermione's waist, and tucked his face into the side of her neck. 'Why do you put your hair up to go meet Firenze?' He nuzzled the exposed skin. 'Not that I'm complaining, mind you.'

'Makes me look older.' Hermione turned her head and kissed Ron softly. 'I have to go,' she said. 'You're going to Hogsmeade today?'

'Yeah.'

'I'll come by after Firenze and I are done signing a million pages of parchment.'

'I'll put you to work,' Ron warned her.

'Only if you feed me lunch,' Hermione shot back.

Ron dropped a kiss under her ear, before letting her go. 'I'll see you later, then.'

It was when she left, that they both realized neither of them had brought up the date, even though a small star was sketched in the corner of the day.

And it wasn't to remind Hermione it was Ron's birthday.

******

'So...' Hermione pushed a tomato around her plate. 'Today's the day.'

Ron nodded. 'I know.' He looked up at Hermione. 'Are you...?' He had been so busy they had barely seen each other the past week. They hadn't talked about it in so long, the topic felt alien in his mouth.

'I don't know.'

They ate in silence for several more minutes. Ron couldn't stand it anymore. 'Are you going to find out?'

'When I get back to London, yes,' she replied calmly.

Ron looked up at her incredulously. 'How can you be so calm about it?'

'You think I'm calm? You think this is calm?' Her voice rose into shrillness.

'Not anymore,' he said defensively.

Hermione stood up, and slung her bag on her shoulder. 'I need to go,' she said shortly and without another word, Disapparated.

'Aaarrrrggghhhh!' Ron swore under his breath. After months of not talking about it, a thirty-second conversation about it had degenerated into something that was on the verge of becoming an argument, if Hermione hadn't left when she did. 'Happy birthday to me,' he growled.

******

Hermione paced outside the bathroom, her eyes fixed on the second hand of her watch. Why did two minutes have to last so damn long?

Calm. Ha, bloody, ha, she thought. She hadn't been calm in weeks. She thought the both of them had done an excellent job of concealing just how not calm they really were.

The second hand swept past the five for the second time. Hermione lowered her wrist, and turned to face the open bathroom door.

A pink-and-white stick lay balanced on the edge of the sink. She approached it as if it were a bomb about to go off. Two lines, she told herself. I want two lines...

She peered at the test.

Hermione snatched the paper bag from the chemist's and stuffed the test into it, before she crammed the bag into the rubbish bin behind the toilet.

Her mobile rang, the strains of Beethoven singing through the flat. Hermione ran into the bedroom and snatched it from the night table on her side of the bed. 'Hello?'

'Hermione, it's Mum.'

'Oh, hi, Mum,' she said a hint of listlessness creeping into her voice.

Miles away in Oxford, Jane frowned into the phone. 'Are you all right?'

'Fine, Mum. Just a bit tired.' Hermione sat on the edge of the bed and flopped onto her back.

'If you say so,' muttered Jane.

'Mum,' warned Hermione.

'It's Ron's birthday today, isn't it?'

'Yes.' Hermione raised an eyebrow. She wished Jane would just get on with it, and say it sometimes.

'Do you have plans for the evening? Your dad and I thought we might take you two out for dinner.'

'Not tonight, Mum.' Hermione sat up. 'I'm not sure when Ron's getting home tonight. They're opening a branch of the shop by the school this weekend, and he's been pretty wrapped up in that.'

'Oh. All right, then.' The disappointment was evident in Jane's voice.

'Any time next week, Mum. Maybe Monday?'

'That would be fine. Your dad has something for the both of you.'

'I'll ask Ron tonight and give you a ring tomorrow. Will that be all right?'

'Yes, it will.' Jane paused. 'Are you sure you're all right? You really don't sound well.'

'I'm fine, Mum. Really. Good-bye.'

'Good-bye, dear.'

Hermione hung up the mobile and flung it across the room.

It was time to see Shanti.

******

Ron lay next to Hermione in their bed. 'What did she say?'

'We need to go see her on Monday. There are a few rules, though,' Hermione added.

'Oh, rules! Of course there are...'

'We can't do anything until after our appointment.'

'Define "anything",' sighed Ron.

'No shagging, no wanking.'

Ron blinked. Hermione rarely used language like that. 'For six days?' he asked in a daze. He felt, rather than saw her nod. 'Six days,' he breathed.

He didn't think it could get any worse.

He was wrong.

******

Ron eyed the small cup on the desk in front of him. 'You want me to do what in where?' he asked in disbelief.

'Ron,' Hermione said softly. She laid a hand on his arm.

He tore his gaze from the accusatory cup and reminded himself why they were there. He didn't say anything, but resignedly took the cup from the desk and left Shanti's office. He went into a small room, and set the cup down, before dropping into a chair.

Of all the things he had done in his twenty-five years, this one had to be the most humiliating.

He had to wank into a cup.

Ron turned away from the cup, still silently casting aspersions on his manhood. He leaned forward, placing his head in his hands. He didn't think he could do it.

He wondered how many other men had been in here, feeling the same amount of degrading desperation he was feeling right now.

A soft knock on the door, made him look up warily. Hermione's head peered around the door. 'You okay?' she asked.

'Do I look okay?' he nearly snarled.

'No,' she admitted. Hermione came all the way in the room, and shut the door firmly behind her, locking it. She perched on Ron's lap, leaning into him.

Ron rested his head against her shoulder. 'Mione, I'm not sure I can... Not here.'

Hermione tried not to sigh, but it escaped her lips anyway. 'Not even for me?'

'Oh God, Hermione, I want to do this for you, but...' Ron looked around the room. 'This isn't exactly the most romantic setting. It's even less romantic than the Potions dungeon, and that's saying something.'

'Can I help?' Hermione reached for Ron's belt buckle.

Ron started and reflexively covered his crotch with his hands. 'Mione!' he exclaimed in a scandalized whisper. 'What do you think you're doing?'

'Trying to help,' she said pointedly. 'Unless you want me to go?'

'Not really.' Ron's head fell back against the high back of the chair. 'I'm not exactly chuffed about you being in here right now, mind you.'

'It's not like I haven't seen you do this, you know.'

'Could you please not remind me of that right now?' Ron glumly looked at the seemingly innocuous cup next to them. 'It's mocking me,' he confided, pointing to the cup.

'It is not.'

'Yes, it is,' Ron insisted.

Hermione pulled back a little to look at Ron. He looked miserable. 'Ron, please let me help.'

'How can you help?'

Hermione lifted his protective hands, and deftly undid the belt buckle. 'Just let me...' She slid off his lap, and pulled Ron to his feet. 'Although, we might need to lose these,' she said, expertly unzipping his trousers.

Ron's eyes drifted shut, and he focused on how good it felt to let Hermione touch him. After six enforced days of nothing, he found if he kept his eyes shut, they could be in their own bedroom.

Ron's knees gave out, and he fell onto the edge of the chair he had occupied not five minutes earlier.

Hermione set the cup aside. They had a few minutes. Ron's eyes were still closed. 'Ron?' she asked uncertainly.

'I'm fine, Mione. I just... Need a minute.' He reached out and blindly found her hand. 'Thanks. For the help.'

*****

Ron stood in the back garden of the Grangers' house. 'I feel so dirty,' he whispered.

'Dirty?' Hermione looked at him quizzically.

'Mione, we're about to go have a nice, quiet dinner with your parents. And I just let you...' Ron hitched his shoulders uncomfortably. 'You know...'

'It's not like you shagged me on the dinner table in front of them,' she said dryly.

'Your dad's gonna know.' Ron scuffed the toe of his shoe in the grass.

'Don't be ridiculous, Ronald.'

'Are you two going to come in, or stand out there and chat all night?' Richard opened the back door. 'Oh, wait, don't come in yet! I've got something to show you!' He came out into the garden, and led them to a newly planted rosebush. 'It's called Gentle Hermione,' he informed them proudly. 'I've a couple for you to take home and put in your garden.'

Ron nearly laughed out loud, but turned it into a coughing fit at the last second. Gentle Hermione, indeed.