Chapter Text
Fred woke with a groan. When the thumping in his head subsided enough for him to try opening his eyes again (the first attempt had been a dreadful mistake), the first thing he saw was Madam Pomfrey’s backside as she leaned over the bed next to his. “H’lo,” he muttered.
“Goodness!” Madam Pomfrey righted herself with a start, then turned to face Fred. “Well, Mr. Weasley, it looks like you’re finally awake. Gave us all a bit of a nasty scare there, what with half of Hogwarts falling on you.”
“Halfa...what?” Fred propped himself up on one elbow and rubbed at his face with his other hand.
“Oh don’t be silly dear,” tutted the mediwitch as she bustled about a cart at the foot of the bed. “It was only the one wall, a bit of an explosion. Nothing a spry young wizard like yourself couldn’t handle.” She brought him a cup with an iridescent and slightly smoking liquid and gestured for him to drink up. “Though I do say, if it weren’t for Miss Granger here’s quick thinking, you might just have been done for. It’s quite remarkable what a well placed stasis charm will do."
The potion was cloyingly sweet, slightly spicy, and tasted just barely of armadillo bile, but Merlin did it clear Fred’s head. “Granger? Yeah, she’s always been quick with a wand, that one.” He looked at the bed Madam Pomfrey had been bent over when he awoke to see a bushy pile of dark brown ringlets on the pillow. “Oy! Granger! Madam Pomfrey here says you saved my life. I expect you’ll be wanting some sort of grateful gesture now, what?”
The brown ringlets did not move. Fred looked to Madam Pomfrey, who tsked and shook her head. “I’m afraid, Mr. Weasley, that she’s been unresponsive for a few days now. Ever since He Who...Voldemort was defeated--” Here she paused as Fred let out a well earned yawp of triumph. “Ahem. As I was saying. When young Mr. Potter killed Voldemort, I’m told that Miss Granger simply collapsed. She’s conscious, but she doesn’t speak, eat, or even move all that much. I’m afraid I haven’t been able to do much for her, aside from citritor ing some food into her belly.” Madam Pomfrey smiled sadly at them both. “Hopefully she’ll come ‘round soon. In the meantime, I believe I’ll go inform your family that you’re awake. I’m sure they’ll all want to see you.”
Fred all but shot out of bed. “George! Is he--?”
The mediwitch chuckled and pushed him gently back until he was lying down. “Hush now, dearie. All of your siblings are just fine, as are your parents and Mr. Potter. Wait here while I go round them up. They’re all a bit scattered about helping with repairs at the moment, but I’m sure they can spare some time to welcome you back to the land of the living.” With a flick of her wand, she sent her cart trundling itself back to her office. On her way out the door, she looked back. “Do touch the rune on the table, dearie, if you need anything. It buzzes a stone in one of my apron pockets. And try not to work your body too hard; you’ve spent the last few days repositioning and regrowing your entire skeleton.”
As the door closed behind her, Fred sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Oy, Hermione. I know you’re tired, but at least let me thank you properly, yeah?” At her complete and utter lack of response, he got up, ignoring how wobbly his legs felt, and moved to sit on the side of her bed. “Hey,” he said softly as he reached his hand out toward her arm.
She tensed immediately at his presence, and curled into herself at his touch. Where another might have yanked their hand back, Fred kept his firm and still, just above her elbow. “Hey now, Hermione. It’s just me. Just Fred. Well, if you ask my mum at Christmas time it’s Gred, but that’s all right.”
Her body relaxed a bit, only to tense up once again as the door blasted open. “Fred Weasley if you ever do that to me again I swear to Godric Gryffindor himself that I will murder you with a rusty spoon!”
Fred’s face split into a grin as Angelina Johnson stomped over to him. He stood up to meet her, only to be lifted into the air and spun around, losing his breath in the process. He gasped dramatically when she finally let him down, earning himself a punch to the shoulder. “Go easy, would you? I only just grew that arm! Where did you get all these new muscles anyway?”
“Ha!” She flopped herself down onto his bed and clasped her hands behind her head. “Didn’t you hear? I’ve apprenticed the coach for the Holyhead Harpies.”
“Merlin, Ange, that’s great! Gah, it’s great to see you. How are you? How’s Alicia? Shit, but I missed you.” He had to fight to keep himself from tearing up.
“I’m good. Great, actually. Gobbed a right few Death Eaters, I did. And Alicia, ah. Um.” Angelina blushed. “She might have, ah, proposed, ish, in the middle of the battle. I mean, I said yes of course, but we haven’t actually talked about it since. We’ve both been helping with repairs and tending the wounded and such. And, you know, it was probably just a heat of the moment thing, and I mean--”
Fred took her hand. “Ange. If Alicia proposed, she meant it. And you know you get first dibs on me as your best man, right?”
Angelina chuckled. “Yeah, you’re right. You’re always right. Thanks. Um. How’s Hermione? Any change?”
Fred looked behind him at the younger witch, still lying motionless on her side. “Well, she hasn’t docked me any house points yet, so that’s new, I suppose.” That got him an eyeroll from Angelina and a slight shifting of position from Hermione.
He turned back to Angelina. “I take it Madam Pomfrey found you on her way to go get the rest of the clan?” His friend hummed in response, then yawned.
“Gods, it’s good to lie down. We’ve all been working something like 18 hours a day just cleaning up all the mess. D’you know Longbottom hasn’t left the greenhouses in days? It’s like he refuses to let anything else die, even though most of the glass is fucked and the wards are all wonky. I swear if he doesn’t get awarded some sort of plant medal I’ll make him one myself. Or, well. Alicia will probably do that part. But I’ll supervise! Did you know that Longbottom’s the one who offed old Voldy’s snake? Sword of Gryffindor, clean through her head! Slice! Pow! Never knew the kid had it in him. I swear, if I weren’t gay as all hell...”
Fred listened eagerly as his friend rambled on. Angelina’s dramatic reenactment of her and Alicia’s fight with six (“Not, one, not two, not fucking three, four, or five; bloody six!”) Death Eaters was interrupted by the Hospital Wing doors opening once again. About a dozen people crammed through and converged on Fred.
George grasped the back of his neck and pressed their foreheads together. “I thought I’d lost you, Gred.”
Fred gave him a cheeky grin. “Can’t get rid of me that easy, eh Forge?”
Molly cried on Fred as she held him to her chest. She cried on everyone, really, but mostly on Fred. He got countless hugs from everyone, even Percy. Ginny stood to the side through most of the embracing, but could not escape her brother’s bear hug and whispered comfort. “It’s all right, Gin. I’m all right.”
After embracing everyone far more than his body wanted him to, Fred settled down on the edge of Hermione’s bed and patted her arm. “How’re you doing there, Granger? Feeling left out? Ignored? Brushed aside like so much stray hair?” She relaxed just a tad into his touch. He shifted closer.
“Fred, dear,” his mother said tentatively. “You know she hasn’t spoken for four days? I really don’t think…” The woman faltered, unsure of her wording.
He gave his mother an exasperated look. “Mum, just because she’s quiet doesn’t mean she can’t hear. Right, Granger?” He grinned at Hermione, then looked back to his family, all crowded around Hermione’s bed in chairs summoned from elsewhere in the room.
He took a moment, then, to really look at them. His mother, shirt stained as though she’d been working in the kitchens with the house elves, which come to think of it, she probably had. His father, battered but stalwart as ever. Bill, his arm around Fleur, who… was that a baby bump? He’d have to remember to ask her later. Charlie, looking so small amongst the towering Weasley men, but so, so strong. Percy, whom Fred guessed he’d have to start being nice to now. George. Sweet, wonderful George who had managed to survive it all and still come out with a grin. Ron, who kept looking awkwardly at Hermione as though he wanted to help but couldn’t figure out how. Ginny, who couldn’t look more grown up if she’d tried. And Harry. Harry who’d saved them all. Harry who barely spoke, who looked at Hermione as though he understood. And of course, Angelina, who had ended up sleeping through the majority of the reunion.
“Well,” said Arthur, clapping his hands together. “I’ve got a meeting with Kingsley, and I’m sure they’re missing your mother in the kitchen.
Molly and Arthur rose from their chairs, as did Fleur. “I will ‘elp cook too, Molly. I am sure some of ze elves could use a break.”
Harry snorted. Fleur whirled to face him. “Is zere something funny about zis?”
Harry’s open hands came up in defense. “No, no, it’s just that. Our fourth year, Hermione… She started this thing. She knitted things for house elves. I dunno, I just thought of it, and it seemed…” he trailed off, shrugging.
Fleur cocked her head, then smiled at him. As she turned to follow Molly and Arthur, Fred caught a new glimmer of respect in the glance she shot at Hermione.
Charlie and Bill got up to leave as well. They both hugged Fred fiercely, Charlie saying that they would be with Hagrid, helping tend the forest, and Bill with Lupin and Flitwick, helping shore up the damaged wards around the school. Percy followed soon after, saying that he had paperwork to get to.
Fred turned to George after their older brothers left. “Paperwork? Really?” He scoffed.
“Actually, brother mine,” said George, leaning his chair back on two legs, “it might not be what you think. Perce has been writing official letters to various upper ups, as well as chronicling the repairs for the Prophet and the Quibbler. Normally McGonagall would have to do that sort of thing, but she’s really more useful working on repairs and talking to parents. Perce’s ‘paperwork’ has brought in dozens of volunteers, and hundreds of galleons in donations. It’s amazing, really, what the git’s gotten done.” His chair wobbled a bit as he momentarily lost his balance. On regaining it, he flashed Fred a grin that eased a tension he hadn’t been aware of.
Fred turned to Ron to ask him what he’d been doing, only to find that his younger brother was sound asleep in his chair, drooling profusely. He chuckled, then turned his gaze to Harry, who stood with his hand resting on Ginny’s hip, her head on his shoulder.
“Ah, look at you two lovebirds. So when’s the wedding, hm?” He grinned brightly at them.
“We haven’t decided yet. We’re thinking maybe next October,” Ginny said, smiling softly at Harry.
“Wha...really? That’s great! That’s fantastic! That’s splendiferous! Georgie boy, did you hear that? Our little sister’s engaged! Look at you!” Fred beamed, every bit the proud older brother. “Wait, why not earlier?”
“Well, we want to wait to start planning it properly until after I’ve finished school, and--”
“Wait! Back up! Harry James Potter, did you propose to my underage sister?”
Harry raised his hands defensively. “No! God, of course not! I mean, not that I wouldn’t, but, you know, I mean she’s not even seventeen yet, and, um…” He trailed off as Ginny laid a hand on his shoulder.
“I proposed to him, Fred. I believe my exact words were, ‘Harry James Potter, you are going to marry me when I get out of school.’”
Fred chuckled. “And your response, good fellow?”
Harry blushed. “‘Yes. Right. Absolutely.’ And when it actually hit me a few minutes later I screeched like a gnome. It was terribly undignified. I believe Seamus has a picture.”
“By the way,” interjected Ginny, “he and Dean are engaged as well. They’re planning on fostering an ungodly amount of war orphans.”
“Loudly,” said Harry. “They’re planning this loudly. With great gusto. And I mean, they’re not wrong, you know?” At Fred’s nod, he continued. “I think, maybe, I mean Gin and I have already talked about it a bit, but I think I might turn Grimmauld Place into a great big foster home. We’d have to get some real adults involved, obviously, but...I dunno. I think it could be good. Safe.”
“I think that’s a great idea, mate. Anything I can do, just let me know.” Fred yawned, and then belched for good measure. “If you lot don’t mind, I’d like to get a nap in.” He yawned again, then shook his head roughly.
“Yeah, all right,” said George, getting to his feet. He leaned forward and squeezed Fred’s shoulder, only to lose his balance as Fred pulled him down into a fierce hug. Fred opened his mouth to say it would be all right, but was interrupted by the swinging open of the Hospital Wing doors.
Madam Pomfrey tutted her way through, followed by an unconscious and floating Neville Longbottom. At the group’s worried looks, she smiled. “Poor dear hadn’t slept in days. Miss Lovegood hit him with a well placed somnium , and she’s hidden his stash of Pepper-Up Potion. I think we’ll let him sleep for a while, don’t you?”
They let out a collective breath. Fred wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. “Get on, you lot. Loads to be doing, I’m sure. And I’m,” he yawned again, “bloody tired, I am.”
George and Ginny headed towards the door, but Harry came around and crouched at the other side of Hermione’s bed. He put a hand on hers, squeezed it, and kissed the dark brown curls at her temple. “I’ll be back in a few, Hermione. Don’t do anything truly ridiculous while I’m gone. I’ll...I’ll take Ron with me too.” He rose, nodded once at Fred, then turned and pointed his wand at Ron’s chair. He left, then, Ron and his chair levitating behind him.
“Oy, Granger, budge up, will you? Ange is a complete bed hog, and I don’t know that I’d make it to any of the others.” He nudged her arm gently, and was pleasantly surprised when she moved herself away from the center of the bed. “You don’t mind, do you love? If you do, just, er, get really tense, and I’ll flop myself on over to the bed on your other side.” After waiting a moment, and feeling no tension, he lay down on the bed beside her, left arm crooked under his head and right arm draped over her waist. “This all right, Hermione?” She nudged his right hand with hers, eventually intertwining their fingers. “Good,” he said as he drifted off. “Because I’m not sure I could get up at this point.”