Family Ties

Chapter 14: Family Ties

The Burrow never seemed to change, Hermione often thought. The house still looked the same as the first time she saw it – in other words, as though a stiff wind would finish it off – but inwardly, it was the strongest home that she had ever known.

The reason, of course, was the Weasley family. Arthur and Molly had built a virtual fortress of love and warmth within the Burrow's drafty walls, and Hermione was constantly in awe of the strength of her parents-in-law. Not a single Weasley child had fallen through the cracks, although it was certainly a daunting parenting task given the number and variety of personalities involved. A trip to the Burrow always brought with it a spate of happy memories; even though her relationship with the Weasleys would be forever changed when her divorce went through, Hermione knew that she would always be welcomed there.

As usual, Molly met her with the normal effusive greeting: Been so long since we've seen you... You seem a little pale... Looks as though you've lost a bit of weight, are you eating enough? Hermione had learned long ago that it was pointless to do anything until Molly had been allowed her traditional fussing. When the woman finally paused, Hermione assured her that she was just fine.

"Wonderful!" Molly beamed, then abruptly pulled Hermione into an enormous, crushing hug.

It felt as if her ribs would crack. Hermione found herself counting the seconds until she could breathe once more.

Molly finally released her, only to grasp her by the hand and tug her into the lounge. "Everybody's gathered in here, dear."

The definition of the word 'everybody' was highly fluid at the Burrow. Hermione knew it to mean 'every person who was supposed to be there at any given time', not 'every Weasley, Weasley spouse, and Weasley grandchild'. For that reason, one never knew who to expect to find on any given visit. On this New Year's Day, only the Bill Weasley family and the Harry Potter family had congregated there.

"Hermione, hello!" Arthur rose from his seat when he spotted her. His smile wavered when he realized that she was alone. "Your parents aren't with you?"

"I'm afraid not, but they send their regrets." Hermione was apologetic, although she knew that her parents had long tired of the novelty of being grilled about their Muggle ways. "They had an opportunity to spend New Year's Eve in Rome. They'll be home tomorrow."

"Do tell them hello for me, will you?"

"Of course." Hermione moved on to greet Harry and Ginny, and Bill and Fleur. "Where are the kids?" she asked, noting the relative quiet in the room.

Bill grinned. "Upstairs, playing dress-up. Mum dragged an old trunk down from the attic, and last I saw, Lily and Samantha were putting on old clothes as fast as Marielle and Patrice could dig them out."

Ginny, who sat next to her husband with his arm around her shoulders, added, "If I know Lily and Samantha, we'll have a fashion show shortly."

"Be prepared to ooh and aah," Harry advised Hermione and gave his wife a fond squeeze.

"You men," Fleur Weasley grumbled. "No wonder you 'ave no idea of style. Thees ees how little girls learn to become women. You theenk it ees play, but eet ees the way we learn."

"That must be why I'm so fashion-impaired," Hermione quipped, taking the seat Arthur indicated next to him. "I spent my childhood reading instead of playing dress-up."

"Same here," Ginny agreed. "Except my spare time was spent stealing my brothers' brooms so I could practice flying when Mum wasn't looking."

"You are most likely correct," Fleur said, nodding vigorously. "Zat ees probably what 'appened."

No one bothered to be surprised by Fleur's rather rude declaration. Over the years, everyone had become accustomed to her biases, and now Bill and Harry merely exchanged knowing glances while Hermione and Ginny smothered their grins. It was an accepted fact that Fleur Delacour Weasley believed British style to be so far below the French that it barely registered in the Grand Scheme of Things. Ginny and Hermione had the misfortune of being born on the wrong side of the English Channel and were, therefore, hopelessly lacking.

"I'm sure the girls will have a wonderful time with those things," Molly said, bringing a tray of snacks from the kitchen and placing them on the coffee table. "That trunk belonged to Great Auntie Muriel. There are all sorts of lovely old styles in there."

"What have you been up to, Hermione?" Arthur wanted to know. "How is your book coming?"

Hermione grimaced. "I'm afraid it's not. I couldn't interest any of the publishers."

"What?" Molly cried, looking personally affronted by the news. "From what I read, I thought it was wonderful!"

"Thank you, Molly, but they just didn't see it that way. Actually, I'm thinking about submitting it to a couple of magazines. See if I can find any takers that way."

"That's a smart idea," Bill put in. "Which magazines?"

"I found two that looked like good possibilities: Our World and The Thinking Witch and Wizard."

"I don't think I've ever heard of either one," Molly said, frowning.

"Nor had I," Hermione said. "I think they're fairly new. Our World is a quarterly, and The Thinking Witch and Wizard publishes six times a year."

"Well," said Bill, "if you do get in print, let me know. I have a friend who works for the WWN, and I bet he could arrange for you to be interviewed."

"Really? That would be great, Bill."

Fleur, meanwhile, seemed rather annoyed. "I cannot believe zat zee weezarding publishers 'ere take so little interest in keeping their heestory books current. In France, I believe zat zere ees a mandate for all books to remain current, or else zey are taken out of ze circulation."

There was thoughtful, appeasing nodding all around. Another lesson learned long ago was that skirting debates and arguments with Fleur was much preferred to an explosion of Gallic temper.

"Hermione, I saw your picture in the Daily Prophet recently, didn't I?" Arthur asked suddenly.

Hermione managed a pained smile. Of all possible topics, did Arthur have to bring that up? "Yes. It was taken at the D.I.M.C. Christmas party."

"Did you have a good time?"

"As good a time as one could have at those sort of affairs," she said with a shrug. With luck, that might quell the discussion...

...but no.

"Professor Snape was in the photograph with you, wasn't he?" Harry asked, his face the picture of innocence.

It was impossible to miss the accusation behind the query. "That's right. He was."

"Poor man," Molly sighed. "He's had a difficult road, hasn't he?"

Harry rolled his eyes and was rewarded by a barely noticeable poke in the ribs from Ginny.

"It turns out," Hermione said, "that his circumstances are far better than I was led to believe."

"Oh?" Arthur said.

Hermione described Snape's potions business and the patents he held. Arthur looked impressed.

"You don't say! I knew that he supplied Fred and George, but I had no idea that his business was so lucrative. Of course, he's a very intelligent man, so I've no doubt that he's capable of doing quite well."

"Given his lack of people skills, I'm amazed that Snape has any customers at all," Harry pointed out flatly, looking directly at Hermione as he spoke.

"He has no problem behaving in a civil manner," Hermione said defensively.

"You would know. After all, he was your escort that night."

Hermione felt her face redden as an awkward silence descended on the room. What in the world was Harry up to? "I needed an escort for the evening. Did you expect me to ask you?"

Ginny glanced from her husband to Hermione and rose immediately to her feet. "Hermione, let's go upstairs and see how the girls are faring. I haven't seen the insides of Great Auntie Muriel's trunk in years."

"Yes, let's." Hermione followed suit, grateful for the chance to escape.

Molly looked at the two of them, then sprang to her feet. "More snacks, anyone?"

Ginny led the way up the stairs, but instead of climbing to the third floor and the sound of giggling little girls, she stopped on the second landing.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. Harry's being a real bear today about you and Ron."

"Why?" Hermione asked, mystified. "I thought he'd been taking it in stride. Even that day he helped me clear out Ron's things, he was all right with it."

"He was until last night."

"What happened last night?"

"Ron was here." Ginny hesitated, as if weighing her words carefully. "He brought his new girlfriend with him."

The impact of Ginny's words hit Hermione like a lead cauldron. She'd known that Ron had every right to look for love elsewhere when the divorce became final. She had accepted the notion that he might possibly find it beforehand, even though it was a legal and moral gray area. But hearing Ginny's report brought on a fresh wave of grief for her marriage.

"I see," Hermione said, trying desperately to keep her face neutral. "Is she French?"

"Yes. Her name is Celeste Thibault. She's twenty-five, has long blond hair, and works in Promotions for the Torpilles." Ginny scowled now. "I just can't believe he brought her here. Mum went absolutely spare."

That explained Molly's wildly enthusiastic greeting today. "I can imagine."

"Harry was really angry with him. I think he sees it as an insult to you. And on top of that, there was that picture of you at the party with Snape. You know how he feels about Snape..."

"But he never said a word about it when I was at your house on Christmas Eve," Hermione pointed out in bewilderment.

"That's because Harry didn't see that issue of the Prophet when it first came out."

"Then how did he--"

"I mentioned it to him several days ago, and he dredged up a copy to have a look." Ginny looked vaguely guilty.

"So now Harry's angry with me as well?"

"He didn't say as much to me before now, but it certainly seems that way."

Hermione sighed and sagged against the wall. "Ginny, this is so hard. You know, when Ron first moved out, I thought that would be the most difficult adjustment. But then when we decided to divorce, it was just as awful. We're still legally married, which makes it a sort of a No Man's Land. You want to go forward and yet you really can't, and you can't go back, and it's just difficult."

Ginny regarded her curiously. "Are you siding with Ron?"

"I'm not siding with anybody. It's just that when you're one of the parties involved, the answers don't come easily."

"I think you should talk to Harry."

Hermione nodded. "You're right."

"So..."

"So what?"

"So what's really going on with you and Snape?" Ginny asked, an odd light in her eyes.

There was something in the way she asked the question that caught Hermione completely off guard – so much so that she found herself stammering out an answer.

"There's nothing – why would you – what do you mean?"

"I just wondered."

"We're – friends," Hermione said lamely. "I asked him for help with my book, and he agreed. Not at first, of course, but he's been cooperative lately, and we've had dinner a few times because of it. And last night, we went to a concert..."

Her voice trailed off as she recalled suddenly, vividly, their midnight kiss – well, her midnight kiss really since Severus had been less than enthusiastic.

"Hermione," Ginny said softly, "is there something you're not telling me?"

"No. Really!" Hermione felt vaguely trapped. Was there something so obvious, so blatant, that she didn't see it?

Ginny regarded her steadily, then nodded. "I believe you. As I said, I just wondered."

Hermione realized that her heart was pounding more rapidly than the situation demanded. What if she did fall in love with Severus? Would he be greeted as coldly as Ron's new girlfriend while she was the target of everybody's anger?

"You know," Ginny continued when Hermione failed to respond, "you're a grown woman, Hermione. You can take up with whomever you want."

"So can Ron," Hermione blurted, feeling a lot more sympathy for Ron just now than she had earlier.

"True, but his timing was lousy. Look, believe it or not, I don't dislike Snape. I'm not wild about him, but I don't hate him the way Harry does."

Hermione smiled. "Nobody hates him the way Harry does."

"No kidding. The thing is, Hermione, Snape may be a war hero and a successful businessman, but he's still damaged goods. Can you honestly see yourself taking him home to your parents? Or having children? Or--"

"Stop it, Ginny!" Hermione felt a small frisson of panic at her friend's words. There was more truth in there than she cared to admit, and the question was, why did it bother her? "Severus and I are friends. Full stop."

"Okay." Ginny's smile was disarming. "Enough about Snape. Listen, do you want to go back downstairs and watch Harry be childish, or do you want to go on up and see what the real children are doing?"

"Upstairs." And maybe, Hermione thought tiredly, it would be a good idea to make this visit to the Burrow a short one.