Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay. While I was working on this chapter, I was also typing a chapter for Christina. (Does she sound familiar? Hmm…!!) It was for her newest story, The Real Potters: The Series (she's Christina-Potter-09 over on FF.N) and you should so totally check it out! (Shout out, Christi! :-P)
I wonder if this covers everything with the Weasleys. If not… tell me what I've missed, kay? I'd like to know what I've failed to cover.
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August 18th, 2001 …
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Hermione pursed her lips, fixing her crisp black blazer, waiting at the door. Harry was next to her, stroller in the middle of them, where Andrew was content drinking his juice that was in the bottle. They knew that the Weasleys weren't going to be very happy since they'd skipped their `meeting' yesterday, but Harry and Hermione just couldn't make it. The fight they had last night would've just made the Weasleys something to gloat about (Harry could just imagine it now: "She'd be happier with me!" Ron would say) ad he didn't want that.
Harry nervously played with the tip of his boxers, which were peeking out from his jeans. Perhaps wearing his loose jeans, just for the sake that it actually matched his shirt, wasn't the best of ideas. Every time he'd get them so they wouldn't show, Andrew would tug on them, holding his bottle out, either ready to throw it at his head, or silently ask for more juice.
"I told you not to wear those jeans," murmured Hermione, watching Harry tug his jeans again as Andrew pulled them once more. "Andrew loves those, and he's just going to try and get his fingers in the holes." She rolled her eyes, knocking once more. Where are they? she wondered, getting frustrated.
"There aren't that many holes," he muttered quietly. He sighed, gently prying Andrew's fingers from his jeans again, "Son, please stop?" He hunkered down to his height, and gave him a kiss, groaning afterwards as he hit him in the head with his bottle. "Fine, if that's how you want to play," he muttered, getting up again and waiting for the Weasleys. "Where are they?" he asked, scratching the back of his neck. (After he'd gotten his short faux-hawk, and had gotten used to styling it that way, he'd gotten into the habit of scratching the back of his neck, rather than run a hand through his hair.)
"Oi!" called someone from behind Harry and Hermione, and they instantly turned around. It was Bill, carrying a four-year-old girl, with his wife, Fleur next to them, her beautiful platinum blond hair flowing behind her. "Harry, Hermione, what're you doin' here?" he asked, making sure his hold on the girl (whom, Harry assumed, was his daughter) was tight.
"We weren't here yesterday," answered Hermione, "and so we thought that we should be here today, rather."
Bill nodded. "Erm, Harry, do you think you could move?" he asked politely. Harry nodded, and moved to the side. "Thanks," he murmured, casting an `Alohamora,' and opening the door to the house.
That's why no one was answering, Harry rationalized, snorting, because no one was home. Walking in, he saw the little girl run towards the kitchen, giggling as she saw Andrew. Harry walked in and looked around: no one was home. "Where is everyone?" he asked Bill, taking the bottle from Andrew as he attempted to throw it at him again, making Andrew giggle madly.
Before answering Harry's question, he said, "Oh, why don't you come in? Fleur and I don't hate you, so you don't have to pretend as if we're about to bite your heads off," he chuckled.
Harry and Hermione nodded, both smiling. "Thanks," they murmured, though they weren't too sure why. Perhaps it was the mere fact that Bill didn't loathe them, but they weren't too sure.
"Oh," Bill went on, "Mum is probably upstairs, and she just hasn't heard you. She's a bit hard at hearing right now," he winked, making Harry and Hermione chuckle. "Dad's at work, obviously, so he should be floo-ing in a few hours; George is at the shop, and I suspect he won't be hope for at least a few more hours. Ron… Well, I don't know where Ron is anymore," he shrugged. "Probably with his new girlfriend. Same with Ginny," he finished, walking into the kitchen and fishing a few butter beers from the refrigerator.
"Oh…" murmured Harry.
"Yeah," said Bill. He clapped his hands once, gaining their attention again. "Well, you can talk to Fleur for a bit, while I get Mum downstairs and freshen up a bit," he said.
Nodding, just for the sake of politeness, Hermione and Harry started walking towards the sitting area. Once finding a couch for themselves to rest on, Harry and Hermione sat, Andrew's stroller right in front of them. Andrew started babbling things, though a few words, such as, "Mumma," and, "Papa," were understood, and clapping his hands, looking around and playing with the cushioned seat. Harry and Hermione both gave soft smile, seeing their son's innocence, and quietly took each other's hands.
Fleur came in less than a minute later, holding the little girl in her arms. Letting her go, she sat elegantly on the armchair nearest to the wedded couple, her lean legs crossed as she leant on the arm of the chair. "So," started Fleur, smiling softly, "'ow are you?"
Hermione blinked. Wasn't Fleur supposed to be arrogant, obnoxious, and simply beautiful? Hermione didn't think she'd actually try to have a conversation with him.
"We're not doing too badly, actually," she answered, looking at Fleur's beautiful, silver eyes. She saw the little girl come up behind the stroller, and try to scare Andrew, but she backed out at the last second, deciding that it'd be rather fun to play with her blond hair instead.
"How old is your daughter?" Harry asked, looking at Fleur.
"She eez actually almost four," Fleur answered, smiling at her daughter. "Her name eez Victoria," she added. "What eez your boy's name? Drew?"
"Andrew," answered Hermione.
She nodded.
Just then, Bill came in. "Well, I see that you're quite cosy. Now, why don't we go into the kitchen and you can talk to Mum, Ron, and Ginny, eh?" he asked, grinning.
"Ron and Ginny are here?" Harry asked standing up. "I thought… they were with their, uh, boyfriend or girlfriends?"
Bill shrugged, leading the wedded couple, and his own wife, to the kitchen, where they were met with three angry glares. Ron, clad in fancy robes, and Ginny, wearing her Harpies uniform, were both glaring at the Potters with fierce glare. Molly was thirteen times worse, her glare backed up by her frizzing hair, tired yet flaring eyes, and her clothes in disarray. Harry and Hermione suspected she'd just woken up.
"Well?" deadpanned Ron, standing up.
Hermione instantly went in front of Harry, narrowing her eyes. "Don't even think about it, Weasley," she hissed, her anger suddenly raging. Sometimes mood swings can be promising, Hermione thought, internally smirking as she saw Ron stop from where he stood.
"Don't try and defend Harry," said Ginny, standing up, "you'll only-"
"-embarrass myself?" finished Hermione. She shook her head, "I'll defend my husband as long as I want to, and that will be forever." She glared at the younger girl, arching her eyebrow, silently wondering if she'd caught on to what she'd said.
"Your… your husband?!" she asked incredulously. "When did you marry him?!" she asked, advancing on her.
"February third, almost four years ago," answered Harry this time, his eyes shifting from Ron, to Ginny, to Molly, and back again.
"You're… four years ago?!" Ginny shrieked, and then stood in front of Harry, slapping him hard on the cheek. "You cheated on me, left with her, and then married her?!" she cried, raising her hand to slap him once more.
Harry caught her wrist before she could slap him again. "Don't abuse people whenever you can't have your way," Harry told her, his eyes narrowed at her.
"I'll do whatever I please, Potter," she hissed, snapping her hand away from his vice like grip. "Just as I sense you two have been doing," she continued. "You two didn't even wait for us, see how we were feeling!"
"It's not like you waited for us, either!" shouted Hermione. "Ginny, shagging every rich guy that crosses your path," she shouted at the younger girl. She then turned her attention to Ron, who just stared at the wedded couple in shock, horror, and sudden realization, "And you, Ronald, shagging every typical runway model!" she shouted, tears now streaming down her cheeks. Now is not the right time for hormones to kick in, she reprimanded herself.
Ron stubbornly folded his arms around his chest, his face forming a scowl. "You don't know what you're talking about," he muttered, looking away.
"Ron," said Harry, "it's Hermione. You've known her for seven years; has she once been wrong?"
"Shut up, Potter," shouted Ron, suddenly aware that Andrew was looking at him. "Don't you look at me like that!" he shouted at Andrew, making the boy jump three feet into his stroller and nearly screaming in freight.
Unable to hold his anger any longer, Harry punched Ron square in the face, forgetting about his wand. (While living in the States, he'd gotten quite used to fighting the Muggle way, only using his wand if worst came to worst. Even after four years, he still hadn't used his wand, though he'd gotten into quite a few Muggle fist fights-and coming victorious in just about all of them, even if he had to sleep in the spare room afterwards.) Grinning as Ron staggered back, he grabbed him by the collar, so their noses were touching. "Don't you dare shout at my child," he hissed, glaring into the sapphire blue eyes.
He threw him back, internally grinning as he saw him hit the table and clutch his lower back and face in his hands. Unsuspecting anything at the moment, he hadn't noticed Molly storm up to Harry and Hermione (whom was calming their son).
"Don't even think about it," Harry alleged, knowing what she was going to say. "Don't you dare tirade on the supposed law that I was to marry Ginny, and Hermione Ron. No, it wasn't supposed to be like that. I married my true love, Hermione, and your son and daughter are lower than prostitutes!"
Hermione stood up, cradling her distraught son in her arms, and turned to face the older woman. "Misses Weasley, I honestly don't understand why you held that belief. Ron and I hadn't even started dating, and it seemed as though you were planning our wedding." She shook her head. "And Ginny and Harry. Honestly, they dated for a month, and Harry told me they'd barely even made out! You expect a relationship to progress from that? A girl that fantasised over a boy since she was seven, and a boy that didn't even know if he was going to live to the next day?" She laughed bitterly. "Some match, that."
"Don't you dare assume you know what's going in my children's lives, young lady," was all Molly could manage. "My son and daughter are leading promising lives, without you two! What do you do, Potter? Stay at home while your wife works and supports the child? Harry, I treated you as my own! How could you betray me?"
Harry laughed. "If by stay at home, you mean I was a full time University student, on a scholarship, working a job-even though I have at least two billion dollars in American Muggle money-and trying to live a normal life, then yes, I stay at home." He ignored the baffled looks of the Weasleys (though they didn't know how much money the Muggle money was worth in galleons, they knew that two billion of anything was a lot), he continued. "And we didn't betray you. We simply left-"
"-in the middle of the night, not reappearing until four years later, with a son!" finished Ginny.
"What is it with you people and our son?!" Hermione asked. "Really, our son hasn't done anything to you! And you go around, verbally and nearly physically assaulting him! He isn't even one year old yet!"
"I just can't believe that you two left without saying anything," muttered Ron, still holding onto his face, where his cheek was an odd shade of black, blue, green, and yellow, and his lip where it was bleeding heavily. "You just left, and didn't show up."
Harry snorted, leaning on Andrew's stroller. "As if you cared! Hermione and I went to Diagon Alley-seemed as though you two were doing just fine without Harry Potter and Hermione Granger," he spat. "It seems as though we were just erased from history. The windows, shops, and everything is filled with Weasley this, Weasley that. What happed to Potter?"
"What, can't handle that someone else took the limelight from you?" sneered Ginny, her hands balled up in fists. "Just because no one cares about you anymore doesn't mean they don't have the right to move on to better things!"
Hermione sighed. "You think Harry actually cares that he was famous? Do you really think that, Ginny?" she shook her head. "I think it's quite obvious, then, that you don't know Harry at all."
"Don't butt into our conversation, Granger," she snarled.
"It's Potter, Weasley," she countered nastily.
"Only because you seduced my husband into marrying you!" she retorted, stomping her foot. She looked like a little child, throwing her temper tantrum, but she didn't care.
"Your husband?" Hermione laughed. "Oh, that's funny," she chuckled some more, putting Andrew back into his stroller, turning him around so he wouldn't be able to see anything.
"Yes, he would be my husband if you hadn't taken him! He'd been my first, and now you're depriving me of my destiny?" She glared at Hermione, daring to challenge her.
Harry chuckled. "Your first, Ginny? Your first what? I never shagged you, ever. My first was with Hermione, and that was our wedding night. Never before." He shook his head. "You're unbelievable, Ginny, you really are."
"Shut up, Harry!" she shouted, ready to slap him again, though she refrained.
"You know what, I think it's about time we leave," announced Hermione. "But, before we do, I feel obliged to tell you what we've been doing the past four years." She glared at the three. "Now, you have two options: One, you'll sit and listen to us, or Two, you'll let us leave and go on with our lives."
No one spoke for a good five minutes. The room was silent, and the only sound coming was Andrew's soft noises that he made while playing with himself, or trying to reach for Harry's jeans again. Slowly, Ron muttered, "We'll go for option number one, please."
Hermione nodded briskly, and said, "Well, sit." Slowly, again, the three followed her instructions, sitting in three chairs facing Harry, Hermione, and the stroller.
Harry and Hermione chose to stand. "Now, where to start?"
"The beginning would be nice," muttered Ginny.
Harry chose not to retort. "At first, we'd only intended on leaving for a month or two, travelling to Australia to recover Hermione's parents' memories. After taking a plane from Heathrow, and successfully finding and restoring their memories, we decided to spend two weeks simply travelling around the small continent. Hermione and I hadn't started dating yet, we hadn't even thought of each other like that until nearly a month later," he explained, confirming that they hadn't cheated on anyone at any given time, at least not really.
"After that time period, Harry and I didn't want to return to England," continued Hermione. "But we had no choice. We dropped my parents back to their home, and went to Diagon Alley-and before you ask, we had glamour charms on. We took all of his money out-and before you ask, again, Harry had two hundred million galleons, counting the wills from Sirius and his parents, which totalled in nearly three hundred million ("It's more than that now," Harry muttered, letting her know) dollars.
"We applied to Stanford, a Muggle University, and were accepted a short time letter, thanks to the American Ministry. There, Harry majored in Biology and I majored in Engineering. We'd gotten married in our Freshman-that's our first year of University-year, and Andrew came along a few years later.
"We didn't plan on ever returning to England. He and I are quite content living in California, playing Volleyball and Soccer-that's football, Ron-with our friends and playing with Andrew while preparing for the new one. But, one night, Harry and I received a call from the American Ministry and they told us that my parents were hospitalized and they wanted to see us," she stopped, tears suddenly threatening to leak from her eyes.
Giving a short smile, ignoring the Weasleys completely, Harry enveloped his wife in a comforting embrace and held her for a few moments. He decided to continue, knowing that his wife wasn't able to talk at the moment. "A few days after we'd received the call, we decided to visit them. A month later, we'd sold off our apartment-that's a flat, if you didn't know-and everything, and we flew here shortly.
"I wanted to write you a letter, but I didn't know how to send it. I didn't have my Firebolt and Hedwig, since she died and I dropped it. But then, we saw my cousin and Luna, we told her to tell you about us. And…" he shrugged, "here we are now."
Ron rolled his eyes, while Ginny and Molly glared viciously at them. "Some story," Ron muttered, slouching in his seat. "Went to University to get smarter, got married, had a kid, somehow managed to keep the grades up, and decided to pay the little people a visit." He rolled his eyes. "How typical. But, what more can you expect from Harry Potter and Hermione Granger? Oh, I meant Hermione Potter," he sneered, standing up.
"What are you insinuating, Weasley?" Harry asked, releasing Hermione, who went to Andrew to make sure he was all right.
"Oh you know perfectly well what I'm insinuating, Potter," he growled, getting ready to punch Harry.
"Oh you son of a mother fucker," he muttered. "If you're about to punch me, I suggest you don't. You'll just embarrass yourself," he continued, glaring at Ginny.
"Get out," Ginny muttered, pointing a slender finger at the door. "Get out and never come back. We don't need you people here."
"Ginny," said Molly, "now, don't you think they deserve something else? They've betrayed us, and that's all you can say, `get out?'" Standing up, she walked up to Harry, slapped him hard on the face. And then went to Hermione, who'd just stood up, and delivered another slap to her cheek.
Harry didn't even have the chance to move; it was too sudden for him. She'd simply stood up, and slapped him. He growled, noticing Hermione's eyes blazing, looking as if we were about to pull Molly's hair out, and stood next to her.
"Now, you get out," Molly told them in a low voice. "Get out, and do as Ginny said: never come back."
His eyes shifting from Molly, to Ginny, to Ron, and back again, Harry muttered, "Don't worry, we won't." Placing his hands around the stroller's bar, he took Hermione's hand and they started to leave.
But, she turned around, glaring at everyone in the room. "If I wasn't pregnant, Ginny would be lying unconscious on the floor; you, Ron, would be sporting a bruise on the other cheek; and you, Molly, would have a rather large bald spot, along with a broken leg." She glared at them, "You'd be amazed at what you can do with simple Volleyball moves." And with that, she stormed out of the Burrow, Harry following her closely behind.
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"How… how dare they?!" she screeched into her pillow, ready to start crying. Today was just too much for her. "They… they-" she stopped, and threw her pillow at Harry.
He caught it, giving a wisp of a grin. "Love, no matter how angry you are, please don't throw things at me," he told her playfully. He sat on the bed, making sure Andrew was indeed taking his afternoon nap, and then scooted closer to his wife. He put his arm around her shoulder, laying her head on his shoulder, his hand softly running through her curly hair. "But I have to agree with you," he murmured, rubbing her side with his other hand. "They were completely out of line, even though they said that they'd be calmer."
"That was calmer for them," she muttered, wrapping her arms around his waist. "They didn't bring their wands out, and you didn't kill anyone. I think that itself is an achievement." She chuckled, remembering the time when Harry was a sophomore, and had gotten into a fight with a senior (though it was off campus) over Hermione, and Harry had actually landed the senior into the hospital for a week. (Though, no one knew that Harry had beaten up him, for they were a bit too scared. Even though Harry knew he risked expulsion, he didn't care; that guy deserved every broken rib he had.)
They sat in silence for a few minutes. "There are still a few questions I wanted answers from, though," said Harry. "Like why neither you nor I are mentioned in anything. Again, it's like we were erased from the Wizarding World. I just… it's not right," she muttered, but quickly tried to retain herself. "I mean, it's not like I want us to be in everything everywhere, but I needed to know that we were there for something. I mean, without you, Voldemort would be in control, and everyone would most likely be dead!" She shrugged with one shoulder, snuggling closer to Harry, overlapping one of her legs over his so they were nearly moulded together.
"I guess that's true," murmured Harry, rubbing her thigh. "But… you're right. I never was one for recognition, but…" he shrugged. "You know what I mean."
She smiled. "Yeah, I do."
After a while, Harry's hand started travelling, from rubbing her thigh moving upwards, now rubbing her inner thigh. "Are you all right?" he asked softly, craning his neck so he could try to look at her.
She smiled, lifting her head. "Yes, I am," she told him, giving him a soft kiss.
He smiled into the kiss, still rubbing her thigh, and parted his lips slightly, slipping his tongue into her mouth. She happily obliged, their tongues sweeping across each other's as her hands travelled to his stylish shirt. His hands started roaming, too, and all too soon, they found the hem of her shirt, and he started pulling up, just as she did with his. Not too much longer, Harry started pushing Hermione onto the bed, still keeping their lips in tact, their hands still roaming familiar territory.
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"Look, this apartment isn't too bad," said Harry, looking at the ad. "Two bedrooms, one bath, moderate sized kitchen and living room, perfect for us right now."
Hermione nodded, looking over Harry's shoulder. "It sounds alright, but where is it?" she asked, holding Andrew and feeding him his food.
"Right here in London," answered Harry, looking at other ads. "I mean, we don't need something like a penthouse or a double, do we? We're not going to be here for too long, and we're going to be renting, anyway," he said as he looked at the other apartments that were on rent.
Hermione nodded. "True." She looked at the paper, seeing the other choices. "The first choice sounds best," she said.
"London apartment it is, then," he affirmed, picking up his cell phone and dialling the number. "Hello…? Yes… Harry Potter… No," he stood up, holding up his pointer finger, indication he'd be back in a moment, and left to go to the bedroom, probably to get information, she suspected.
"Papa can be so silly sometimes," said Hermione to Andrew, smiling when she saw him clap, saying `Papa' over and over again. Taking the spoon of baby food, she tried to feed it to Andrew, only to have it come in contact with his cheek. She tried again, and received the same response. "You're full, then, aren't you?" she asked, knowing he wouldn't respond with words.
Andrew grinned, his mouth covered in baby food, and started crawling his way from his Mother's lap. "Oh no you don't," she muttered, holding him. She took the soft cloth that was next to her, and started wiping his mouth. Once he was clean, she gave his forehead a kiss, and let him play with his toys.
Hermione stood up, brushing off imaginary dust from her old Volleyball shirt, smiling absently as she felt the bump of her impending motherhood, and ambled to the bedroom. Harry was still on the phone, seemingly affirming that they were only staying for a short while (he'd told them that they were tourists, but wanted to stay somewhere else rather than a hotel).
Nodding, muttering a, "Yes, thank you, bye," he flipped the phone so it closed, and stood up. He smiled at Hermione, standing up. "Well, we've got an apartment now. We can move in tomorrow, or even today, if you want."
She nodded, looking around the room. Her carriers, along with Harry's, were by the wall, open, ready for the clothes to be picked. She chuckled, seeing her three large carrions apposed to Harry's large two. Andrew had one large carryon for his clothes and one other for his toys. (Their other belongings-extra personal belongings, albums, old books from university, sports things, etcetera-were all shrunken and in other carrions, which were still shrunken, in Hermione's purse.)
"I think… we can start packing up today, and move in tomorrow morning. Sound all right?" She turned to her husband, seeking affirmation.
"Sure."
"I'll start packing our belongings, and you can pack Andrew's things," Hermione told her husband, picking up a pair of Harry's boxers (black silk, she noted, silently giggling) and folding them, putting them into his bag.
"All right, love," he said, picking up one of Andrew's khaki shorts and putting them into his bag.
Harry sighed. It was going to be a long day.
Author's Notes: … Sooooo…
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