Smarts and Mischief / Fremione Fanfic

Two.

The Burrow was a beautiful country home. Well. At least in Hermione's opinion. She always found it rather endearing, albeit anxiety inducing, that it extended up rather than out. The slight lean to the building always worried her but years of visiting had proven that the building was sturdy and thus she had no reason to do so. It was her new home now. Percy's former room had been cleared out and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny had helped Hermione make it her own. In one corner sat her single bed, donning white bedding, accented with light blues and purple in the stitching and embroidery. In another corner, in the nook of the window, was a surprisingly large, at least for the room, armchair with a side table and lamp; a reading corner for Hermione to spend her free time curled up in. The wall by the door was home to an old brown dresser that had once belonged to Percy and now housed all of Hermione's belongings, what little she still had. On top of this dresser sat bottles of lotions, the occasional makeup item, and perfumes.

Hermione had claimed the space and she and her cat, Crookshanks, were more than comfortable here. Things were so different now. There was no fear, no need for protection spells, no worries of getting a call or owl that another loved one had been killed. For the first time in a long time, Hermione, and everyone else for that matter, could relax. While she herself wasn't a fan of flying, from her reading nook in her room, she could watch as the Weasley children played Quidditch in a field behind the home. No, she wasn't a fan of flight, but she did enjoy watching the playful soaring through the skies and even further enjoyed the bickering over who had really won when the group returned in the evening. Bickering that always ended with Mrs. Weasley snapping at the lot of them just as any mother would to silence unnecessary arguments. It was nice, Hermione thought, to exist as part of a family. She had always been an only child and that had been nice but there was nothing like watching the dynamic between siblings. A dynamic she hadn't had until she'd met the Weasley's.

It was another night of quidditch and Hermione had spent the evening watching from the comfort of her chair until she could see the four redheaded teens wandering back home. Tucking her bookmark in its place, she pulled herself to her feet and made her way down to the kitchen, just in time to find the others coming through the door. As expected, the bickering was rampant, Ginny's voice carrying above the rest. From what Hermione could gather, Ron and Ginny had lost for the first time in a while and were insisting the twins had cheated, all as they settled into chairs at the kitchen table. Hermione found herself laughing quietly as she fetched glasses of ice water for the four, slightly tuned out until her name reached her ears.

"I say next match, we drag Granger down to the field and get an unbiased scorekeep," Fred was insisting, his eyes finding Hermione's form and for a moment? She thought she might have seen them wander down and then back up. Normally, that wouldn't have sat well with her but something about this instance, the fact that it was Fred, made it tolerable. "Whaddya say, Granger? You wouldn't dream of letting us down would you?" And this of course gave room for pause as four pairs of eyes focused on the brunette expectantly. Her mouth opened, closed, and then opened again, finally allowing her voice to ring out.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt, right? A bit of fresh air?" she offered at last, to which George laughed.

"Bit of fresh air is right. You hardly leave your room. Nose always in a book. We miss having you out and about, 'Mione. Swear you won't back out on us?"

"Oh, could you lot leave the girl alone? She's not obligated to anything for us," Ginny piped up, glancing toward the other girl and offering a sympathetic roll of the eyes. Hermione couldn't help the breath of a laugh that left her as she shook her head.