"Bottoms up." - George called raising his glass to his sibling. Fred raised his glass up as well to let it clash. Hermione had a nasty glare at them. It made George quirk his eyebrow up. - "What's the matter Granger?" - he questioned lowering his cup of butterbeer back on the table. Hermione leaned in closer with a sharp inhale. - "The problem is we are trying to stay under the radar and you keep making noise for the entire pub to hear." - her voice low but full of warnings.
George looked around, making it a bit too obvious, which led to Hermione panicking even more. - "Relax Granger, a pub is where people drink and that is exactly what I am doing." - he noted bringing his cup slightly up. He sighed setting it back down as she still didn't seem satisfied. - "I hate the waiting." - he mumbled out for his brother to hear. - "The others will meet up with us soon.
Remember this is a diversion, Georgie." - whispering so no others could hear in. - "Yeah and we're stuck with little miss teacher here." - he sighed out, knowing he rather wished to be in another team. Fred reached his hand out to his brother. - "You'll see Y/n soon enough." - reassuring him of the matter. George exhaled deep, raising his butterbeer once more. Elbow out, he unintentionally bumped against a person walking by, making him set a quick hand on the table. Butterbeer splashing out from the cup onto the man's shoes.
George quickly apologized. The man shrugged it off and walked off. George's eyes met up with his brother, seeing him look questionable back. - "Au!" - George called out, flinching back from Hermione's sudden slap against his arm. - "I told you to keep it low." - hardening her gaze onto him. - "It was an accident." - He made clear for her to stop worrying. Rolling with his eyes, he grabbed the butterbeer and drank from it before there would be any new interruptions.
Hermione kept track of the hour. When it was time, she got up. The Weasley twins following her movement. Tossing some galleons on the table before their departure. Just outside, the three of them nodded at each other before each taking a route. Hermione went left, Fred forwards as George went right. Moving his collar up to the cold and tug his hands in his pocket. Keeping his head low, he barely made any eye contact. For anyone could be watching.
Deatheaters could be watching. To get them off their scent, they started to meet up in small groups all over the place. Knowing they would be watched and keep them busy while avoiding them to understand the real plan that is at hand. George took a strange route through Hogsmeade. Going over bridges and hills to head for the highlands. Glancing from time to time over his shoulder to be sure he wouldn't be followed. In the highlands he picked up his pace a bit.
Hurrying down a hill to get to the rocky parts. Feeling as if he was being followed, he went maintained his pace, hurrying for the inwards of a cave just behind the corner of a cliff. In the entrance, he evaporated. Leaving his unwanted guest to look around curiously before heading in the cave where he would be met up with nothing but darkness. George evaporated in an empty street. Grinning to himself for his outstanding deception. Removing himself from near the wall, he headed for the building up ahead.
Squeezed between two houses, nothing out of the ordinary. Entering the house, he wanted only one thing. He went through the corridor, straight to the kitchen. Molly looked up from her vegetables, ready to greet him with words as he frantically looked around the table. Barely any face present. - "Has Y/n arrived yet?" - he asked, letting his gaze go from Sirius to his sister and Hermione.
"Not yet." - Sirius responded, glancing up to Molly. Molly came from around the counter to her son. - "She will be alright." - his mother said soothingly. At the hearing of sounds coming from the hallway, he moved his mother out of the way. Hurrying over. There he found a panting Bill and Fletcher. Hearing a familiar voice, he shoved them aside. - "Y/n!" - he called out, wrapping his arms around you. You were breathing loudly but gladly accepted his hug.
Moving your at arms-lenght, he touched your chin with care. - "Are you hurt?" - he asked worriedly. - "I'm fine." - you responded, moving his hand down. - "She gave them one hell of a run." - his brother pitched in with a breath. Smiling exhaustingly at Bill, you were caught off by George kissing you. Bill cleared his throat to Fletcher, making him leave the hallway. George threw an arm around you, pausing briefly.
"Everything alright George?" - you questioned setting a hand on his chest. He hummed loud, shaking the feeling off. With a smile, he guided you back to the kitchen. Waiting for the party to be full once more. After diner would most of the group return to the Burrow. Awaiting new orders to get the deatheathers off Harry's scent. Clouds rolled over as the sky darkened. You stood by the window, looking upwards. - "Do you think it will rain?" - you questioned, feeling a precense nearing you. Two arms going around you, embracing you in warmth.
"Maybe?" - George responded, resting his chin on your shoulder. You turned round when you heard George whince. Making him move a hand to his head. - "George?"- you said. There was a moment of silence. Then as if being announced clouds gathered. Leaving the sky in an almost pitch black state. Like a distant drumming before a few drops splashed against the window.
More and more gathering till it became a clattering of hard rain against the glass. George looked up to the sky, needing to blink a few times, pushing you out of the way. A pitch black cloud slithered in the air. In an unusual way. Dropping with force to the ground. More shadow streeks came joining, dropping with haste. - "Deatheaters!" - he called out, nearly running you over with haste. Hurrying more to the living room to his parents. - "They've found us!" - he called out.
Arthur rushing towards the window, seeing flames spread out into the fields. - "Merlin's beard." - he muttered out in shock. - "Y/n!" - Bill called out, wand in ready as he hastened to the door. He wasn't going to let the burrow take flames. You hummed determined, taking out your wand as well. Bill flung the door open, running outside. Arthur hurried to the door, calling out both your names.
He moved aside when his twins came forcing a way through. Ron wanted to join too, but Arthur grabbed him quickly by the collar. Pulling him back inside. - "Wake your sister and Hermione." - ordering as his son nodded. Molly came by his side, watching the flames in the fields up ahead. Bill and you were huffing and puffing loud. Running through a gap of the flames, entering the field of crops. Blinded by your surroundings. Bill and you seperated.
Spotting a cloaked figure, you aimed your wand at it. A flicker blasting out of the tip. Missing the figure by a passing hair. - "Y/n!" - you heard being called out. People running through the crops. Hidden in the maze of corn, you looked at both sides. Wand up, deflecting a spell that came your way. Answering with one of your own. - "Y/n!" - you heard again. Knowing it was George frantically calling for you.
Casting another spell, the figure vanished into smoke. Dropping somewhere else in the maze. Hasting after him, you pushed your way through the crops, panting loud. Leaves whipping against your cheeks and arms. Out of breath you came into a clearing. A circle of crops cut down. From somewhere on your right appeared George from between the crops. Equally panting loud. He acknowledged you with an exhausted smile. Wanting to run over to you.
Yet three shadows dropping down in the clearing made him stop. Three deatheaters with masks emerged from the smoke. Moving their wand gracefully. George and you nodded once, tightening your grip around your wand. Their spells came quick and all at once. George and you reflecting them one by one. Different colours luminating your surroundings.
You deflected and counter striked immediatley. Stunning the deatheater. - "Nice one Y/n!" - George complimented. You remained focused. George managed to stun another one too. The third one kept casting as George and you kept moving forwards. You launched forwards casting expelliarmus. Their wand flung away. Yet that didn't stop them as they pulled out a knife. It shined illuminating under the moonlight. George urged you to stay back.
He didn't see the fourth one coming, but you did. You jumped in front of George when they casted a curse. - "Imperio!" - the flash of light hitting you in the chest. Leaving you motionless and with a glaze over your eyes. - "Y/n!" - George called out, rushing over to you. The deatheater with the wand, orchestrated some movement as you copied it. Raising your wand at George.
George paused with a loud gasp. - "Y/n stop! Snap out of it!" - with panic as he knew it was no use. He deflected the first spell of yours that came his way. The deatheater telling you exactly what to do with his wand. George rolled to the side, after feeling a precense from behind. The deatheater with the knife slashed at him. George casted expelliarmus as the knife flung away.
Dropping right by your feet. George stunned the deatheater, turning around to focus on the one controlling you with the imperius curse. George kept steady to deflect every spell of yours. Groaning with frustration, the deatheather stopped. Glanced down and motioned with his wand. Your hand swept up the knife from the ground. - "No!" - George called out, leaping at you.
Grabbing the handle of the knife before it could wedge deep into your chest. Grunting, he tried to force it away from you. Struggling to keep you from doing it. The tip of the knife inches away from your chest. - "No... Y/n please." - he begged moving it to the side but you plunged it back in front of you. - "Please... please..." - his face contracting with pain and sorrow. He noticed a single tear rolling down to your cheek. A loud gasp making him widen his eyes.
The knife plunged deep into your chest. The glaze over your eyes dissapearing, limbs dropping lifeless to the side. With no weight to carry you, you sunk in. George caught your body, holding you in his arms. Gently against his chest. Chin against your head. Crying silently for no screams came out. Mind falling behind on the heart. Grapsing for air, he sucked in a breath. Screaming in terror.
Craddling your body against his. Feeling no response from the one he loves. Lowering his head, it began black before his eyes. Hearing a distant voice. Calling out to him. A ghostly voice, calling out his name. Then a touch. One that shouldn't be there. - "George... Georgie..." - fading in and out. He tightened his embrace. Eyes squeezed shut to drown out the terrors. With a gaps he widened his eyes. Looking around disoriented.
A ghostly face coming in sight. Calling out to him once more. He tried to blink a few times forced to clear the image. Another face coming in sight that looked like his, made no sense. Distorted voices till they became clear. Saying his name again. Gaze clearing up, widening at the sight of a familiar face. - "Y/n!" - he called out, wrapping his arms arouns you. He started tearing up when he felt an embrace in return. Pulling away, he touched your face.
Shuddering out a breath. - "You... you are here..." - he said making you look confused back at his twin. Fred came in sight, snapping his finger in front of him. - "Georgie, you awake? Blimey you scared us." - he spoke. George shoved him up, muttering about the burrow. Hurrying up to the window.
Expecting to find the crops withered, but they were clean. Untouched. Feeling a headache come up, he stumbled back. Fred and you caught him before he could fall. - "Georgie, take it easy..." - you said helping him sit back down. - "What happened, the burrow was burning... you... you... died in my arms Y/n." - talking about it made him teary once more.
You curled up a smile, taking his hand to touch your cheek. - "I'm still here Georgie... you passed out. Did you drink something funny?" - you asked. - "Only butterbeer." - he answered. Fred snapped his finger.
"The man bumping." - he let out, hinting they might have spiked his butterbeer with a nightmare herb. The realization sunk in making him crave your embrace. You hugged him tight, kissing his forehead with care. - "I'm still here Georgie..." - reassuring him it was only a nightmare.
I was reading a post earlier today about why die hard Hermione fanfic readers are so vehemently against Ron or Ron/Hermione while wholeheartedly in support of her/deatheaters and it makes so much sense.
Part of it because none of them actually like Hermione as a character. They like an idealized version of her. Where she is hugely powerful, badass, single-handedly saves everything while having zero flaw. They feel threatened when someone has the audacity to say 'you are wrong' on her face. They see it as 'bullying' and 'an attack'. They do not want anyone challenging her to be better. They just want someone to blindly follow her. That's why they can't fathom Ron. He doesn't worship the ground she walks on. He tells her on her face when he thinks she is wrong and helps her to grow as a person.
Next, Ron is poor and Ginger. Wears hand me down clothes. From what I have seen those 'die hard Hermione fanfic readers' group is from the west and (mostly) white. They are classists. Aporophobic. Hate poor people. Having an empty pocket is a bigger sin in those people's eyes compared to being a terrorist. There's also this thing they are white. So they have never experienced oppression or Racism in their life. Even if they try still they won't understand Hermione's place in the wizarding world. Malfoy calling Hermione a Racist slur and deatheaters trying to kill her feel like a superficial scenario to them. To them getting over racism is like buying a chocolate cookie. Simply because they haven't faced racism or understand it's impact. On the other hand Ron's jealousy, his bad temper, his insecurities are much more real. Those hit home much harder than let's say Malfoys racism, genocide etc.
Next, lots and lots of them are very very influenced by out of character fanfics which they have been consuming since stone age and now don't remember anything about canon.
Next, lots of those women made bad life choices. They project that onto Hermione. Ron gets the ex treatment while the deatheaters get the fantasy man treatment. They also take Ron's most of traits and give them to characters they are shipping her with while Dunking all over Ron. Simply because they don't understand how can someone be working class poor with hand me down clothes and still has the traits they want in their fantasy man.
Their constant misreading of Ron's intelligence while claiming 'Draco is her intellectual equal' despite having a huge amount of proof in canon that Ron is much more intelligent than Draco, comes from the fact rich=smart. Poor=dumb stereotype.
They often say Ron would force her to be a housewife and want her to give him 10 kids. He would resent her smartness. When we see Hermione becoming minister of magic while being married to Ron, Ron is gloating about his wife's success and intellect and throughout series Ron is in awe of her smartness and her biggest cheerleader. Everything comes from the working class stereotypes.
There is so much and I mean SO MUCH rampant classism in the harry potter fandom I actually haven't seen in any other fandom that I am a part of.
This is unlike anything you’ve ever read on AO3, a choose-your-own-adventure fic with 10 wildly different endings.
The Warp & Weft’s gritty, techno-apocalyptic setting will settle under your fingernails as you navigate Hermione’s choices in her quest to discover the secrets behind her mysterious dread.
At each juncture, Dillpicklepanic takes us deeper into a crumbling world of fabricated realities, questioning what—and who—we can trust.
Will your instincts lead Hermione to safety? Choose wisely.
