The Hollow Beneath Hogwarts

8.Go Your Own Way

The next day and a half passed painfully slowly for Harry and Hermione. Every hour that ticked by made the knot in Hermione's stomach tighter. They knew they had to tell the Weasleys. They had known the moment the decision was made. But knowing it was the right thing to do did not make it any easier.

Because leaving the Burrow felt wrong in a way Hermione could not properly explain. The house had become more than somewhere to stay.

It was warmth.
Safety.
Family.

Late-night cups of tea at the kitchen table. Molly shouting upstairs for everyone to come down to dinner. Arthur falling asleep in armchairs with Muggle batteries still clutched in his hands. George trying to make people laugh even when grief hollowed out his eyes.

And Fred.

Fred was everywhere.

In the crooked staircase that still occasionally exploded into sparks because of one of his old joke products.

In the scorch marks on the ceiling.

In George's silence.

The Burrow was grieving.

And somehow that made the idea of leaving feel both necessary and terrible all at once.

Harry had spent most of Thursday night staring at the ceiling unable to sleep.

Hermione had pretended not to notice.

By Friday evening, both of them were nerves wrapped in human skin.

They sat together in Hermione and Ginny's room while the golden evening light spilled weakly through the tiny window. Half-packed trunks sat open across the floor, clothes folded badly in rushed piles.

Hermione tossed another boot into her trunk harder than necessary before dropping down onto the edge of her cot beside Harry with a heavy sigh.

"I hate this," she admitted quietly.

Harry looked up from where he was shoving books into his trunk. "I know."

Hermione rubbed her hands over her face tiredly. "I really hate the thought of hurting them."

Harry swallowed. "So do I."

For a moment neither of them spoke. The room felt strange now. Like it already knew they were leaving.

Ginny's side remained cluttered in the usual chaotic way, while Hermione's looked increasingly bare.

Hermione stared at the open trunk at her feet.

"But I know we're doing the right thing," Harry said eventually. His voice sounded steadier than he felt.

Hermione nodded slowly. "I know." She leaned her head briefly against his shoulder. "I agree."

But agreement did not stop the guilt gnawing at her ribs. They sat together quietly for several long moments.

Then—

A familiar swooping sound echoed outside.

Harry immediately straightened.

Hermione looked toward the window.

A second later came the unmistakable sound of the front door opening downstairs followed by overlapping voices drifting up through the Burrow.

Mr Weasley was home.

George too.

They waited.

A few seconds later Arthur's familiar cheerful "Hello everyone!" floated upward through the house.