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Chapter Text

The Burrow , Five Days After the Battle of Hogwarts

After seeing me breakdown, Mum seems to be on a mission to make it all better by fattening me up as much as possible. The rest of the Weasley clan appear to have been roped in as well as people keep coming by with food. Fleur comes with freshly baked bread and Nana Weasley with casseroles and various Aunts and Uncles and Cousins keep dropping by with a smorgasbord of offerings. Despite the depressing context, I have to admit we’re luxuriating in it after our year on the run - sausage rolls… jam tarts…steak pies…Victoria sponge.

Harry, Charlie, George and I stake out the kitchen table for much of the week with the pretence of discussing the funeral but with the real aim of diverting as much pastry as possible into our mouths.

It’s what Fred would have truly wanted says George between mouthfuls of Bakewell Tart. George is taking Fred’s death surprisingly well. We all keep anxiously watching him like he’s going to completely lose it but, despite looking a bit pale and tired and his laughter sounding a bit forced at times, he hasn’t yet. 

Hermione initially sat and tutted at us with a smile from behind a copy of Hogwarts: A History that she’d dug out from under my bed.  Now though she’s been distracted by Crookshanks who Dad brought over from Muriel’s, along with Pig, the first day after we got back. 

Pig had immediately come fluttering over to my shoulder and began rubbing his head against me and preening my hair. I tried to keep my composure but I was so relieved and happy to see him as I stroked his feathers that I forgot myself and dropped a kiss on top of his head which made Harry and George smirk and Hermione grin. 

Crookshanks, however, is not so easily won over and has taken to sitting in the corner glaring at Hermione while she sits cross-legged on the floor across from him cooing, offering toys and treats and sometimes just sitting in a weird staring match.  Yesterday, he actually came and rubbed himself between my legs momentarily, while looking directly at her, which it seems was just about the biggest fuck you he could think of.

“I’m sorry I was so mean to you after you came back” she’d whispered a bit tearfully last night as we cuddled on the couch together while everyone else was in bed. “No I understood, you needed time. So does he.” I whispered back. She’d nuzzled into my chest which was good because I’d had to bite my lip to stop myself from snorting with laughter at the idea that Crookshanks had inadvertently done something to strengthen our relationship and how much I couldn’t wait to rub it in his face later, once he settled down. 

I tell myself it is deeply irrational to want to have a talk with a cat, to be angry with him, but I can’t help myself. Now that the war is over, Hermione is desperate to see her parents. Undoing the work of the Muggleborn Registration Committee has been number one priority in the Ministry and I convinced Hermione to tell Percy what happened with her parents. Percy was offered a job in his old department - the Department of International Cooperation - and a big part of that right now is repatriating families who fled. They’re on the case, liasing with the Australian Ministry, trying to locate her parents and all we can do is wait. So Crookshanks is the only part of her family she has at the moment and I wish he’d stop acting all arsey. 

I mull it over late that night. I can’t get back to sleep. Tomorrow is Fred’s funeral. I need a distraction.

Fuck it. I’m going to talk to the cat.

I get up and plod downstairs and into the kitchen to make a cup of hot chocolate, the sound of the milk is bound to bring in Crookshanks.  Sure enough I soon hear the pitter patter of his paws and that ugly squashy face peeks round the door with calculated disinterest as I set down a small saucer of warmed milk.

“Right.” I say, standing in front of the milk, trying my best to look menacing but not get clawed half to death. “You can have that” I point to saucer  “if you promise to stop being such a tit. Hermione loves you, she’s had a really shit time of it, way more than you can imagine so just give her a break alright?”

Crookshanks peers at me. I crouch down in front of him and pray he doesn’t start shredding my legs. “Alright?” I say again, raising my eyebrows at him. He reaches out and puts a paw on my bended knee and I take this as assent. 

“Good, now let’s be clear.” I risk picking him up. “you’ll give her a cuddle and let her kiss you and brush you and you’ll do it all with good humour. The vibe we’re going for is I love you Her-meow-nie.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Harry asks standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. 

“Bargaining with the cat.” I say, setting Crookshanks on the ground and he immediately runs over to the saucer. Harry stares at me for a minute before shrugging and helping himself to the hot chocolate. 

He looks at me carefully. “Want to play some chess?”

I nod gratefully and we head into the living room. We open the door and we’re surprised to find the lamp on and George and Percy already sat up playing cards.

“How long have you been up?”

George snorts. “Long enough to hear your little speech to the cat. You want to be careful Ron, you're one knitted shawl away from turning into Aunt Tessie.” 

I throw a cushion at him. 

“Come on, with four we can play poker.”

“Five” says Dad quietly from the doorway. “And what’s this about the cat?”

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The funeral felt like it went on forever and was over in no time at all. I gripped Hermione’s hand in one hand and Bill’s in the other the whole way through. Some of it feels like it will be permanently burned into my brain - a little tufty wizard announcing that “We are all here today to say goodbye to Frederick Fabian Weasley.”; George, white as a sheet and clutching Mum like when we were little; Dad crying - and some of it seems to have completely passed me by - Lee Jordan’s eulogy, the mournful singing, the platitudes of Aunts and Uncles.

The wake is drawing to a close now, the evening sun starting to wane. I can’t take wallowing anymore and I sidle up to Harry, drawing my chair closer to his.

“What’s up, you’ve been glaring at Neville all afternoon?” I ask quietly.

“What? No I haven’t.”

I raise an eyebrow at him 

He sighs “It’s nothing.”

“Come on Harry, I need a distraction and you’re being weird.”

“He’s been hanging around her all day - bringing her tea, talking with her, he put his arm around her earlier. Do you think he and Ginny…”

“Harry, it’s Neville.”

“Yeah but it’s not like it’s fourth year Neville is it? Look at him, he’s all - you know.”

“What?”

“Sexy.” Harry burst out furiously 

And I can’t help it, my whole body starts to shake with laughter. 

“S’not funny.” He admonishes me.

“I really don’t think so, Gin was crazy about you.”

“Yeah well it’s not like she doesn’t have options is it? Fucking Viktor Krum was sniffing around last year.” 

“What?! You’re telling me this now. How do you know that?” 

Harry launches into the story of how he told Krum Ginny was dating some big bloke who wouldn’t take kindly to his advances. 

“You were right, he's a total bellend. I spent a good chunk of our down time last year thinking about whether I could have finished him off in that maze.”

“Harry, Harry, Harry if you want ways to off Krum you’ve come to the right place.”

Harry grinned at me as I happily launched into several well thought through plans. 

“Well, the tampered broom and wronski faint has a certain je ne sais quoi quality about it but I still think my favourite is the one where you drown him in a vat of his own tears.”

“What are you talking about” Hermione says plopping down besides us, Crookshanks snuggled in her arms.

“Quidditch.” We say together, avoiding looking at each other. 

She rolls her eyes.