Legitimement Maries

Se réajuster nonchalamment en public

Se réajuster nonchalamment en public

Casually readjusting oneself in public

Hermione had seen the Burrow clean before, but what she had never seen was the Burrow stay clean for so long.

There was no pile of shoes at the back door. There were no mud-tracks on the floor inside the house. Everyone had simply gotten into the habit of taking their shoes off, and putting them away. There were no piles of washing in their respective baskets, littering the floor of the bedrooms. Everyone had learned to put their clothes away where they belonged. However, Hermione suspected that this could have been due to the addition of wives who would tell their husbands in no uncertain terms exactly what would happen should they not do as they were bid.

Hermione looked down towards the bottom of the long piece of parchment in her hand. It had been a few days of very hectic word towards her own wedding. The only major task that was not yet ticked off was the arrival of her parents.

Henry and Marian Granger were staying with the Weasley's where they would be able to meet the entire Weasley family properly (sans Charlie who had not been able to take time off from work), but also be able to attend the wedding of their beloved daughter. Mr Weasley was going to pick them up from the muggle train station, and then side-along apparate them to the Burrow. Much to the amusement of Hermione, he had been the most eager of the family when it came to volunteering for this task.

Hermione nervously tried to smooth down her hair, even though she knew her efforts to be futile. She just needed to do something with her hands.

She sat down on one of the sofas in the Burrow's sitting room, putting her list down next to her. She glanced at down at her words, most of them crossed out as a result of their achievement.

She closed her eyes in an attempt of relaxation. There was, after all, only two more days until her wedding.

She had only been resting for a few seconds when she felt a heavy weight rest down beside her. Her eyes instantly fluttered open, and upon focusing, she saw that it was Fred next to her.

"Is there anything that you need help with?" he asked her, glancing down at the parchment.

"There is nothing that we can do yet. The only thing that we can do is wait for my parents. Your Dad should be bringing them any second."

It was then that Hermione saw what she thought was a flicker of fear on Fred's face.

"Will they like me?" Fred asked, his face not as robust as it usually was.

Hermione laughed at him.

"Of course not!" she replied.

A look of absolute horror was briskly taking over Fred's already pained facial expression. Hermione, upon seeing this, began to laugh heartily.

"Why not? What have you told them? They don't think I'm some kind of escaped criminal, do they?"

"No, you goose. The only reason why they might not like you, is because we're getting married. You're going to be the one that is taking away their baby."

"Oh," was all that Fred was able to say before he and Hermione head the cracking sound, so distinctive to apparition.

Hermione instantly bounded off the sofa, and flung open the door. She threw herself into the waiting arms of a woman whose hair would have been as bushy as Hermione's own, had it not been placed into a tight chignon at the nape of her neck. Her face was almost the spitting image of Hermione's, save for the odd laugh line. This must have been Hermione's mother.