fred&hermione - doing just fine on your own

chapter three

breakfast

hermione's pov.

i unlocked the bathroom door after my moment of peace alone, and ascended down the staircase into the small kitchen of shell cottage. to my surprise, everyone had gathered down there before me, even ginny and harry. a few were still half asleep, trying to bring themselves to life with cups of lukewarm coffee, whilst the boys i'd encountered in the bathroom were messing around the stove, bill trying to fry eggs and bacon whilst the twins juggled oranges as if it was some kind of circus performance.

"do you imbeciles ever give it a rest?" i tutted, leaning over the kitchen counter to grab my own cup of coffee.
"but wouldn't you be so bored without us to entertain you all the time?" fred commented, smiling as he continued to focus on his juggling.
"i think i'd feel more safe than anything, juggling around a hot frying pan? anything could go wrong." i replied, shaking my head, taking a sip from my mug.

fred shook his head as i went to join the others around the small kitchen table. glancing at who was there, i noticed the weasley parents were missing.

"where's your mum and dad?" i asked, sitting down next to harry on a spare stool, my eyes wandering to which face would reply to my question.
"they apparated to the burrow this morning to pick something up." ron chimed, sipping his coffee.
"oh," i replied.

it was strange to see that everyone was moving on so fast after the battle, especially molly. she, of course, was getting older, but had fought her utmost hardest during it, i thought she would need double the recovery time i'd taken. it made me feel guilty and weak. i shook the thought out of my head as bill approached the table with large plates of fried eggs and bacon for everyone. this kind of late breakfast surrounded by everyone would be appeasing.

i smiled as the twins joined us, fred perching himself next to me, squeezing between i and george to get at the eggs. him and his brothers began to squabble over the last piece of bacon, ginny amending their argues in a fiesty tone, much to the appeal of harry, who had a total look of adoration in his eyes. she was turning into molly, slowly, their personalities resembled each other's so well.

tucking into my breakfast, which consisted of one egg and a broken piece of bacon, i glanced around the table at everyone surrounding me.

fred, george, ron, harry, ginny, bill and fleur.

this was my family. now, anyways. friends i had adopted and settled in with. it's crazy how quickly things had changed since the battle, i think the countless near encounters with death had brought us all closer together. it was mad to think that this was the way it was going to be now.

"you okay, 'mione?" harry asked, interrupting my thoughts.

i shook myself out of my daydream and smiled at him softly, trying to disguise my disorientation. i averted my eyes to my breakfast and tried to finish what was left to eat.

after breakfast, ginny and i helped fleur with the dishes whilst the boys sat lazily on the tartan fabric sofa decorated with assorted colours of throws knitted by molly's own hand. nice for them, i thought, to be so lazy. i shook my head, drying and tidying away the last plate.

it was then i realised i was still in my pyjamas. i felt embarrassed still wearing them at 12:30pm, it was the afternoon, how clumsy of me. i glanced at ginny worriedly, and she understood my look was a silent plead for help. she quickly abandoned her tea towel on the kitchen counter, taking my hand and quickly dragging me upstairs.

dressing people up always excited ginny so much, she was like my own personal stylist. it brought her so much joy.

"hermione, it's such a nice day. you have to wear something nice. we could go to the beach, encourage all the boys to go. it'd be such a fun day out." she excitedly chirped, slamming the bedroom door behind us and leaning against it.
"ginny, i-i don't know, i mean, what do you wear to the beach? what do i wear to the beach?" i trembled.
"hermione, you know me. i can find you something perfect." she patted my shoulder reassuringly, rushing to the wardrobe.

she began pulling out clothes from everywhere, little summer dresses and tight t-shirts, mom jeans and sneakers. ginny might be a witch, but she was a bloody magician when it came to clothes and fashion. she was a genius.

"what about this?" she asked, holding up a baggy, white long-sleeved shirt with mom jeans.

it looked too plain, too formal. i didn't feel i could move around in that.

i screwed up my face, shaking my head, "something looser?" i suggested.
"this?" she held up a pair of dungarees, her smile unsure.
i shook my head, "too...denim."

ginny threw the clothes on her bed, shaking her head. then her eyes grew wide, as if she'd just had an idea. she reached into the wardrobe, frantically, pulling out a flowing, white summer dress with black pinstripes. my heart jumped.

it was perfect. i smiled.

"yes?" ginny smiled, she could read me like a book.
"yes." i sighed.

i didn't know where this intention of wanting to look good had came from. what sparked it in me? why did i feel this way? but right now, i ignored those thoughts. i didn't care. the sound of the beach excited me, and right now, i couldn't wait.