Burning Down the House

Ron watched his wife Disapparate, feeling like he'd been punched in the solar plexus.

Richard Granger had unconditionally accepted him the moment he'd walked in the door of their house on Hermione's nineteenth birthday. The roses Hermione carried in her bouquet on their wedding day came from Richard's garden. Richard had always treated Ron like a member of the family, even before he'd married Hermione.

Ron struggled to breathe normally, as he quickly showered and pulled on some clothes. The rest of the family. He had to go tell Molly. She would handle telling everyone else.

Ron Apparated into the back garden of his childhood home. He blinked back tears, as he saw Teddy's battered football by the back door. Just a few weeks ago, at Parker's birthday party, Richard and Teddy had been teaching everybody how to play footie. Teddy's going to be devastated, thought Ron. He lifted a hand to the doorknob, a corner of his mind that was able to think analytically, noting how heavy his hand seemed to be.

The kitchen was empty. 'Mum?' Ron called, wincing at how strained his voice sounded. 'Mum? Where are you?'

'Bill's room, dear,' she replied.

Ron took a deep breath, and forced himself to walk up the stairs. Molly was dusting the furniture, humming to herself. 'Mum...' Ron's voice cracked with the strain of trying not to break down.

Molly stopped, the tone of Ron's voice stopping her cold. 'Ron, darling, what is it? Is it Hermione?'

Ron gaped at Molly, unable to speak. He nodded. Ron sat heavily on the edge of the bed, and cleared his throat several times. 'It's Richard,' he said hoarsely.

Molly immediately sat next to Ron, her arm around his shoulders. Ron allowed himself a fleeting moment to grieve. He lowered his head to Molly's shoulder, and indulged in shedding a few bitter tears. He was ached inconsolably for his wife. After mere seconds, Ron inhaled a deep, shuddering breath. 'Mum, I need to go to Oxford. Hermione's with her mum.' He looked helplessly at his hands. They seemed unnaturally large right now. 'I need to be with her.'

'Of course you do.' Molly patted Ron on the back. 'Let us know when the funeral is,' she said. 'We'll come. All of us.'

Ron nodded, his hands clenching and unclenching.

'I'll pop over later with some food,' Molly said decisively.

'Thanks, Mum. You remember where the house is?'

'Of course I do.'

'Just Apparate to the back garden.' Ron scrubbed his hands though his hair, unsure of what to say, what do. 'I'm going to go back to the flat, though, and get some clothes. I have a feeling we might be staying at the house for a few days.'

******

Ron Apparated into the Grangers' back garden. He stood in the center for a long moment, taking in the bright rosebuds, waving gently in the breeze. He slowly walked the perimeter of the garden, his fingertips lightly caressing the velvety petals. He could name each variety of rose. Some of the rosebushes were older than Bill. He stopped at the newest member of the group. 'Gentle Hermione,' he murmured. Ron desperately wanted to cry, but like Dumbledore's funeral, he swallowed it all, knowing Hermione needed him to be the calm one today, and for the next several days.

He opened the back door of the house, and slipped inside. Hermione was in the kitchen mechanically preparing tea. 'Mione?'

She looked up, anguish carved into her face. She walked straight toward him, burying her face in his chest. 'He's gone,' she whispered.

Ron's arms wrapped around her shoulders. 'I know, hen,' he murmured. 'What can I do?'

'I don't know.' Hermione's face twisted.

'I brought a few changes of clothes for us,' Ron said. He was beginning to babble. 'I thought we might need to stay a few days. I used your old handbag. It's in my jacket pocket.'

'Ron.' Hermione's ragged voice put a halt to the flow of words.

'I'm sorry, Mione... I'm so, so sorry.' They stood wrapped in mute misery for several long minutes.

'Mum... She needs the tea,' Hermione sighed pushing reluctantly away from Ron.

'I'll make it. You go back to your mum.'

Hermione nodded, and brushed a few tears that had slipped down her face away. Ron quickly assembled a tray with tea and biscuits and took it to the sitting room, where Jane still sat in numb silence. Ron glanced questioningly at the vacant sofa, following Jane's fixed, stunned gaze. He set the tray down, and poured a cup of tea for Hermione and Jane. 'Mione, why is your mum staring at the sofa?' he asked softly, under the clatter of the spoon on china.

'They just took Dad away,' Hermione said tightly. 'Right before you got here. He was lying on the sofa.'

'Mum's coming later. With food.'

'I don't think I'll be hungry.' Hermione handed Jane the cup of tea. Jane automatically raised it to her lips and sipped the liquid.

'It's what Mum does. At least if anyone comes by, we'll have food to offer.'

'Good point,' Hermione said tiredly. She looked at the clock on the mantle. It was barely twelve-thirty. God, it feels like I've been up for hours... she thought, when in fact, she had only been up for less than two hours. She folded herself to the floor at Jane's feet, and leaned her head against Jane's knees.

'Hermione?' Jane's plaintive voice cut through the heavy silence. 'What am I going to do?'

******

Molly knocked softly on the back door of the Granger house. She was furtively levitating a box filled with casseroles, pasties, and biscuits.

Ron quickly opened the door, and took the box from Molly. 'Merlin, Mum, how much do you think we'll need?'

'You ought to have something for after the funeral,' she said crisply.

'Mum, I can do that,' Ron protested quietly.

'I know you can, dear, but I just wanted to help. You'll have a lot to see to this week without worrying about food.'

Ron set the box down on the counter in the kitchen, and began to put the items in the refrigerator. 'Thanks, Mum.'

Molly set her handbag on the counter and rummaged inside for a moment. 'Here.' She handed Ron a small drawstring bag. 'It's got a few vials of Sleeping potion.' Molly bit her lip. 'You might want to save one for after the funeral,' she advised. 'For Jane.'

Ron nodded, tucking the bag in his pocket. 'I'll do that.'

'You can put it in some tea or something else,' Molly added.

Hermione heard the sibilant murmur of voices from the kitchen, and followed the sound. Molly's head turned when she saw Hermione's pale, drawn face in the doorway. Molly said nothing, but held out her arms, and Hermione gratefully fell into them, letting Molly enfold her in a tight embrace.

******

Jane and Hermione sat at the table in the kitchen, picking at the vegetable soup Molly had brought earlier. Neither of them felt like eating, but Ron insisted they each at least try to eat something.

Jane shoved the bowl to the middle of the table and pushed her chair away from the table. 'I'm sorry, Ron. I know you went to a lot of trouble...' She gestured to her uneaten soup. 'I just...' She left the kitchen.

Hermione watched Jane leave the room, and stirred her own soup. It was making her stomach turn. She knew Ron was watching her - watching every failed attempt to lift the spoon to her mouth. She forced herself to eat a few mouthfuls of soup. Hermione knew it was good. Molly's soup was excellent, but at this moment, it might was well have been one of Madam Pomfrey's more heinous potions.

Hermione laid her spoon on the table and silently cleared her and Jane's bowls, avoiding Ron's censorious gaze. 'I'm going to go check on Mum,' she said, and slipped out of the kitchen.

She searched the house for Jane, beginning in the sitting room. Jane wasn't there. Hermione went upstairs, and opened the door to her parent' bedroom. The bed was neatly made and Richard's wedding ring lay on the night table on his side of the bed, next to the book he'd been reading. Jane wasn't there. Hermione pulled the door closed and rubbed her throbbing forehead. She saw a narrow band of light under the door of the spare bedroom. Hermione pushed the door open, and peered around the gap.

She found Jane curled on one side of the bed. 'Mum?'

Jane wrapped her arms around her knees. 'I just can't sleep in there. Not now.'

Hermione curled next to Jane, facing her. 'I can't say I blame you.'

Jane sighed and her hand stroked the curls from Hermione's face. 'Thursday. At St. Giles. We'll start making phone calls tomorrow. Put a notice in the paper on Monday, I suppose.'

'Molly said they would come.'

'That's nice of her and Arthur.'

A slight grin drifted across Hermione's face. 'Not just Molly and Arthur, Mum. All of them. From Arthur all the way down to James.' She reached to clasp her mother's small, cold hand between her own. 'Say what you want about the Weasleys, but they don't do anything in half measures...' Hermione looked up at her mother. Jane had fallen asleep, her hand still cradled between her daughter's. Hermione didn't want to risk waking her, so she lay still, and eventually sleep claimed her as well.

******

Ron wasn't hungry, either. He tried to eat a bowl of soup, but every time he put a spoon of soup in his mouth, it seemed to turn to sawdust. Sighing, he Vanished the soup in his bowl, and washed the dishes. He looked at his watch, and his mouth opened slightly in shock. It was still early, but it felt like midnight. He trudged upstairs, wanting nothing more than to fall into bed with his wife.

When he reached the second floor of the house, he frowned at the spill of light coming from the spare bedroom. He went to look in the room, and pulled up short at the sight of his wife and mother-in-law sound asleep on the bed. Ron remembered what it was like after Fred had died. George wouldn't sleep in his old room for weeks. He slept in Percy's old room. Ron quietly opened a cupboard in the hallway, and found a spare duvet. He took it into the room, and spread it over Jane and Hermione. Ron bent over Hermione and gently kissed her on the corner of her mouth.

Ron switched off the lamp next to the bed, and crept from the room. He went into Hermione's childhood bedroom, and eased on the bed. He felt a hundred years old.

And incredibly guilty.

Ron was grateful both his parents were still alive.

He couldn't even try to imagine the pain Hermione experienced today. He didn't want to.

Ron untied the laces of his battered trainers. They were the ones he wore at the shop. He let them drop from his feet, and fell back into the bed, fully dressed.

******

Hermione woke up and looked around in confusion. Jane was still sleeping, but with a look of strain on her features. Hermione slowly sat up, so she didn't jar the bed, and noticed the duvet covering both of them. Where did this come from? she thought, bewildered, before rubbing her burning eyes. Ron must have done it. She pushed the duvet away from her legs, and tucked it back around her mother.

Hermione stumbled into her bedroom, and found Ron sprawled across the bed, his feet dangling over the edge. She lightly touched his hand, and his eyes opened. 'I wasn't asleep,' he whispered, swinging his feet to the bed, and scooting over so Hermione could settle on the bed. She shivered as she lay down. 'Are you cold, hen?' he asked.

'Not really,' she said.

Ron pulled her against his body, tucking her head under his chin. 'How's your mum?'

'Sleeping. She won't go into their bedroom.'

'I wouldn't think so.'

'Service will be Thursday morning.'

'I'll run by the Burrow tomorrow morning and let Mum know. She'll take care of everyone else.'

'We'll need clothes.'

'I'll go get them tomorrow, too.'

Hermione pulled back from Ron a bit. She was getting hot. 'There's a black dress in the back of the wardrobe. It's sleeveless. Looks like something from Breakfast at Tiffany's.'

'Breakfast at where?'

'Sorry... No frame of reference. It's a plain, sleeveless dress. Zips up the back, has a belt.' She felt Ron nod in understanding. 'Your suit, a shirt and tie. Tie color won't matter, I guess.'

'You'll need shoes,' Ron reminded her. 'Unless you intend to wear your trainers...'

'Anything black with a heel.'

'If you don't like it, I can always go back.'

'It won't matter, Ron.'

'If you say so.' Ron began to stroke her hair. Hermione's shivers evolved into outright trembling. She began to shake from the strain of trying to hold back the sobs that she had shoved back all day. Ron pulled his wand from his pocket and aimed a Silencing charm at the bedroom door. 'Go ahead, hen, let it out.'

Hermione began to cry. Just a few sniffles at first, then as quickly as a summer storm; she began to sob outright, hands fisted in the front of Ron's shirt. They seemed to rip from her throat.

Ron's arms tightened around her, and he wanted very much to cry with her. It was a luxury he didn't have right now.

******

Hermione sat in a front pew at St. Giles church. She felt Ron's hand slide around hers, and gently squeeze it. She stared at the simple coffin, bearing her father's remains. After all she had said and done since the age of twelve, she knew witches and wizards didn't necessarily leave. Not spiritually, anyway. They lived on somehow. As ghosts, or in Harry's case as a Patronus. She knew they were there.

'Does it work for Muggles?' she asked idly.

'Does what?'

'Do they live on, like we do?'

'They do,' Ron replied with more certainty than he felt.

Hermione heard a rustling sound, and twisted around to see Molly and Arthur at the head of a line of Weasleys. Everyone. Even Andromeda and Teddy, whose hair was a drab, subdued sandy brown. They filled an entire pew. Hermione noticed the twins and James even seemed unnaturally subdued today. She saw how uncomfortable Molly and Arthur looked in their seldom-worn Muggle clothing, even though they tried very hard not to show it, and felt a rush of gratitude and love for them, that they would do this for her.

Most of the service passed by in a blur. She was conscious of Ron's arm around her shoulder and Jane's cold fingers in her hand. And her father's coffin. She felt Ron's arm leave her body, and looked up to see him help shoulder the coffin. He was in the front, and she could clearly see the grief etched on his normally cheerful face. He blinked and tears dripped down his face. Hermione was startled. Ron had been so composed the past week that the sight of his unheeded tears cut her more deeply than anything else had that week.

If Ron had finally indulged in his own sorrow, it must be real.

******

'Who are all these people?' Hermione's older cousin William lounged in a chair in the sitting room, languidly sipping his tea.

'I'm not sure,' said his mother, Jane's older sister, Pam. Pam eyed them all with a bit of suspicion. There were an awful lot of them, and one of them with a badly scarred face wore his hair in a ponytail and a strange-looking earring dangled from an ear. One of them didn't even have an ear. Another bore several burn scars on the backs of his hands. And still another had an odd-looking scar on his forehead. 'Do you think they've been in some sort of accident?'

George overheard the conversation. 'You could say that,' he said, keeping a firm grip on Jacob, lest he take out his wand and hex Hermione's relatives.

Hermione came in, bearing more biscuits and a fresh pot of tea. 'You know them, Hermione?' William asked, jerking his head at the assembled Weasleys. Ron had followed Hermione into the sitting room, and his head flew up at the tone in William's voice. It reminded them both unpleasantly of Draco Malfoy.

'They're my husband's family,' she told William stonily. Hermione stepped back into Ron. 'You remember my husband?' she asked coldly. William, remembering his manners, after a sharp jab in the ribs from Pam, stood up to greet Ron, and blanched a bit when he realized Ron towered over him by nearly a foot.

William sat back down and turned to his mother, muttering when James began to fuss, which set off Fred and Jacob, too. 'You'd think they'd have the decency to leave the midgets at home,' he said darkly.

'Sod off, William,' Hermione said tightly, between clenched teeth. 'I'll thank you to remember this is my mother's house, and those are my nephews, and if you can't remember to treat them with decency, you can leave.' She turned on her heel and stalked to the back garden.

Richard's manky football lay neglected in a corner. Hermione kicked her shoes off, and began to carefully dribble the ball across the bricked in area of the garden. She could hear her father's patient voice as he tried to teach her the basics in footie. She didn't hear the back door slam and jumped in mild alarm when she heard Teddy speak. 'I'm sorry about your dad, Hermione.'

She stopped dribbling the ball, breathing hard. 'Thanks, Teddy,' she said, passing the ball to him. He caught it neatly, his hands behind his back.

'He was really nice to me.'

'He really liked you. He was really looking forward to watching the World Cup with you next summer.'

Teddy's big grey eyes widened. 'Really?' he whispered.

Hermione sat on the grass. 'Really.'

Teddy toed the ball up to his chest and began to bounce it on his knee. 'Harry says... Dads don't... Ever leave... You...' he said distractedly, counting the bounces.

'Harry would know,' Hermione agreed.

Teddy gave the ball one final bounce and deftly caught it midair. 'I wanted to wear my hair Man U red today, but Gran said it had to be normal. 'Cause of the Muggles.'

Hermione held her arms out, and Teddy dropped into her lap. 'You know what would make me happy?' she whispered conspiratorially to him.

'What?'

'Man U red hair. And sod the Muggles.' She gave Teddy a hard hug. 'It would make my dad happy, too.' Teddy grinned, and Hermione could see the traces of Remus as a Marauder on his face. His eyes unfocused and his hair slowly changed from sandy brown to bright red. Hermione planted a kiss on top of Teddy's head. 'Thank you.'

******

Ron hugged his parents before they Apparated home. The rest of the family had gone home earlier to put the children to bed. Molly had insisted on staying to help clean up the house, which she did by magic as soon as the Grangers' Muggle relations had left the house. He slowly pulled off the tie that he had loosened earlier and found the suit jacket he had shed when they came inside the house after the funeral. Jane had excused herself when her sister and sodding nephew had finally left, and gone to bed. Hermione was still out in the back garden.

Ron went to see how she was doing. She must be exhausted.

He found her sitting on a bench, in one of the corners of the garden, under a trellis arch. She looked up blearily, a nearly empty bottle of wine on the grass next to her feet. 'Ron!' she said gaily.

Ron frowned and pulled his wand out. 'Lumos,' he whispered, holding the wand's lit tip over Hermione's face. 'You're sloshed, hen.'

Hermione carefully stood up. 'No, I'm not. I'm just a bit squiffy.'

Ron bit his lip so he didn't chuckle. 'If you're using the word "squiffy", hen, you're drunk. Plastered, even.'

'Honestly,' she huffed. 'Dad always said you weren't drunk if you could find your bum with your own hands.'

'Oh, he did, did he?' Ron couldn't keep the grin from his face. Drunk Hermione was rather amusing.

'Yep. Not in front of Mum, though.'

'I would think not,' Ron murmured. Hermione's hands wandered around Ron's backside, groping for his bottom. She found it and squeezed it firmly with both hands. 'Um, Mione? I hate to break it to you, but that's not your bum, hen. It's mine.'

'We are married,' she informed him loftily. 'It's my bum. Legally in Muggle and Wizarding law.'

'That might be a bit of a stretch,' Ron protested. Hermione's lips met the skin at his throat exposed by the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. 'Mione, what are you doing?'

'Nothing,' she said innocently, her hands slipping to the front of his trousers, working on the belt buckle.

'That's hardly nothing,' he said, gasping as her hands delved into his boxers.

'Please, Ron? Please?' Hermione begged. 'I just need to feel something... Something other than the way I've been feeling for days...'

Ron's hand came up to cup the back of her head. He was almost about to refuse, when her hands began to work their, well, magic. He picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, and took her place on the bench. He privately agreed it was better than the morass of grief they had been wading through.

Even if it was just temporary.

******

She's asleep, Ron sighed to himself.

Afterwards, they sat companionably on the bench, sharing the rest of the bottle of wine. Hermione leaned against his shoulder, and trailed off, mid-sentence. Ron looked down and warily pushed her hair out of her eyes, and saw her face relax into the expression she wore when sleeping. He cautiously picked her up, his wand in one hand. He used the wand to open the back door, and Hermione's bedroom door, gingerly laying her on the bed. He turned to the small box Molly had brought the other day. A Hangover potion was in there, along with a few others. He pulled it out and set it on the night table. She might need it tomorrow morning.