Evermore

Chapter Seven: I Let Him Steal Into My Melancholy Heart

The trio landed in the marsh outside the Burrow, and quickly moved into the reeds surrounding it, with Hermione wordlessly casting several cleaning spells to ensure that they were at least presentable when they announced themselves to the Weasley matriarch. Harry had remained silent since he'd yelled at Severus just moments before; his voice was raw from what he's said, and his temples pounded in a headache. Ron and Hermione just stared at Harry; having heard his conversation with their former Potions Master, they wondered if and when he'd be able to discuss it with the pair of them, however, they wouldn't be holding their breath.

"Let's go," Harry muttered, and Hermione squeaked at the notion that he so readily seemed to speak, but Ron helpfully pulled her along towards the house.

Harry held back, watching the pair of them walk towards the Burrow, and remembered the talk he and Severus had had in these very reeds. His hand reached out and caressed them; they were no longer green and tall as they had been during the night of the wedding, rather, they were shriveled and brown-looking, and Harry knew that, within a few weeks, they would fall down into the earth for winter. Shrugging it off, he forced himself to catch up with Ron and Hermione, who had, by this time, reached the front door, and Ron summoned it open, and they stepped inside, only to be blasted with the scent of Molly Weasley's cooking.

"Arthur!" came a shout from the kitchen. "That you? Done already with tinkering with those Muggle contraptions of yours?" Molly joked as she bustled into the living room from the kitchen, a tea towel in her hands, only to stop dead as she spotted the trio. She let out a little shout then as Harry shut the door behind him, and rushed forward, yanking the three of them into her arms and kissing them each on the forehead. "Oh, my dears!" she cried out, pulling them back to look at them. "I was worried, so worried—"

"Mum, give us room to breathe," Ron joked, and Molly finally let them go, watching as Ron put an arm around Hermione's waist, and gripped Harry's shoulder.

"Well, supper's on," she said at last, fixing a smile to her lips. "Come along, then," she went on, and ushered the three of them towards the kitchen table with mismatched chairs, and waved them all into seats. "Arthur should be along shortly," she continued in a merry manner, putting a golden-brown chicken into the center of the table, along with a heaping bowl of boiled potatoes, and a tureen of gravy. Next, she put down a platter of roasted carrots, and Harry saw Ron's mouth watering at the sight of Molly Weasley preparing a jam roly-poly for their pudding, as the front door closed and opened again, and the trio promptly jumped to their feet as Arthur Weasley stepped into the kitchen.

"Good evening, my love!" Arthur Weasley boomed, but stopped short as he caught sight of Harry, Ron, and Hermione sitting at the dinner table. "Ron!" he shouted then, dropping his bag and crossing over to his youngest son, whereupon he yanked him into a tight hug. Next, he embraced Hermione, who accepted the affection, and then he crossed over to shake Harry's hand, before he thought better of it and yanked him into his arms as well. "Good to have you boys home, and Hermione as well," he said, nodding at the three of them in an affectionate manner before crossing over to Molly, kissing her cheek. "Ah, jam roly-poly, how wonderful, my dear, wonderful," he said, before taking his seat at the head of the table.

"You've certainly done a very good job at hiding," Molly put in, finishing their pudding before she moved to sit at the foot of the table, while Arthur pulled the chicken towards him and began to carve it. "We were all worried for you."

"Mum, really," Ron whined, "we've been fine."

Molly tutted. "A mother always worries for her son, Ron." She hesitated for a moment before she turned to Hermione. "I do hope your parents aren't too worried, dear."

Hermione lowered her eyes, her face turning white. "They actually don't know."

"Don't know?" asked Arthur, levitating the pieces of carved chicken onto their various plates in a careful manner. "I'm sorry, my dear, but, given that you are their only child..."