Chapter Text
It was still dark outside when you set out for the Weasleys’ house. Having always been an early riser, the mornings were your favourite part of the day. The air outside still smelt of dew and cold, but the first rays of sunlight began to spread colour across the nearby mountains. After glancing around your bedroom for any last-minute items you might have forgotten, you closed the door behind you and crept towards the front of your home.
Backpack in hand, you started down the pavement towards the edge of the driveway. The entire setting of the suburb was still bathed in the dark blue hue of nighttime. Bits of dirt and gravel crunched under your feet as you approached your family's parked car. Your mother offered to drop you off this morning and she was already waiting for you outside. You plopped into the front seat and stared out the window. You watched your home disappear behind you as the car drove slowly down the street.
You met Ron Weasley in your first year at Hogwarts after both being sorted into Gryffindor. Both of you took quickly to one another and became quite protective over each others’ safety, especially once Ron began to find himself in ever-increasing danger year after year. This was in no small part due to Ron’s affiliation with Harry Potter, but despite his natural aptitude for stumbling into troubling situations, you never resented Harry. You actually got along well with him and Hermione, and often tagged along with the Gryffindor trio. Nevertheless, you always felt the most relaxed when it was just you and Ron. He protected you like you were his sister and you had never found that kind of connection in another person before.
This summer, before your fifth year, Ron offered for you to spend the holiday with his family. In all your years of friendship, you had never been to Ron’s home before, much less met his family. Sure, you had seen his parents at King’s Cross and his siblings around the school grounds, but you couldn’t recall a time you had spoken to any member of the Weasley family other than Ron. You were nervous to meet them, despite Ron’s assurance that they would all love you.
The quiet scenery of the countryside proved soothing as your car bumped lightly along the dirt road leading up to Burrow. Your mother parked in front of the house and you stepped out with your things. The cool morning air chilled your skin but the slowly dawning sunrise reminded you that the day would only get hotter from there. The sky began to show signs of its signature baby blue colour as you waved goodbye and your mother drove off.
You knocked quietly on the door, unsure if any of the Weasleys would be up at this hour. You knew Ron wouldn’t be, but having never properly met the rest of his family, it seemed rude to make disrupting their sleep your first introduction. After a few moments of silence, the door swung open to reveal Mrs Weasley, dressed for the day and donning an apron.
“Oh, Y/N, dear! How wonderful to finally meet you!” Mrs Weasley said, pulling you into her open arms. You had only seen Mrs Wealsey a few times before, but she had such a warm disposition about her that the intimate welcome felt natural.
“Ron has been telling us all about you, but it is quite nice to put a name to a face,” she laughed. “Where is your trunk, dear?”
“Oh, this is everything, Mrs Weasley,” you said, referring to your backpack.
“Well, should you find that you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” Mrs Weasley patted your arm gently and you could already tell that you were going to love her.
“Well, come in, come in! Wouldn’t want you to catch cold, now,” she said, ushering you inside.
The house smelled sweetly of fresh air and baked goods. The door you had come through led straight into the joint kitchen and dining area, with a long dinner table taking up a majority of the space. Plates and utensils had already been set out, and a few platters of breakfast foods decorated the centre. The bottom floor layout was open and inviting, but the rustic winding staircase in the middle appeared to lead to more complex parts of the house. You had heard Harry talk about how magnificent the Burrow was, but you remained captivated by its unexpected charm.
A girl shuffled down the stairs in a hurry and jogged casually into the kitchen.
“Morning, Mum,” she said, sliding quickly into her seat at the table. Once she was situated, she noticed you standing in the doorway. “You’re Y/N, aren’t you?”
You smiled and gave her a polite nod.
“I’m Ginny. I’m in the year after you.”
You were pretty familiar with Ginny Weasley already, despite never speaking with her before. With how closely integrated she was in both Harry and Ron’s lives, you had become vaguely aware of the kind of person she was.
“It’s nice to meet you,” you said.
“Have you eaten yet, dear?” asked Mrs Weasley. After you responded with a small shake of your head, she guided you gently towards a seat near the end of the table and turned back to the kitchen to continue preparing breakfast.
Slow, thumping footsteps descended the staircase next, and having listened to those same sluggish footsteps every morning for the past four school years, you knew immediately who it was. Still in his pyjamas, Ron stumbled sleepily into the kitchen and nonchalantly took his seat next to you.
“Hey, Y/N,” yawned Ron. “When’d you get here?”
“Just a bit ago.”
“I would have thought you’d be a bit more excited to see her, Ronald Weasley,” Mrs Weasley said pointedly.
“I just saw her last week! How much more excited do you want me to be?”
Ron put his head down on the table to rest a bit longer and you ruffled his hair as a sign of affection.
Less than a second later, two identical boys apparated into the seats across from you, giving both you and Mrs Weasley a fright. After being scolded for such use of magic, the boys piled their plates with food and whispered indistinctly amongst themselves. They didn’t acknowledge your presence or offer up a quick “hello”. They seemed too enthralled in whatever discussion they were having to notice an extra girl seated at the breakfast table.
“Morning Weasleys!”
A chorus of various responses greeted Mr Weasley as he entered from the kitchen door and sat down at the head of the table. He was still dressed in his work clothes and had just returned from a night shift at the Ministry. Only once completely seated did he take notice of you sitting to his right.
“And who are you?”
The twins, breaking away from their conversation, looked surprised to find you sitting across from them.
“Y/N, sir. I’m Ron’s friend from school.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Mr Weasley. “The very same one we’ve heard so much about. Wonderful to have you join us.”
Mr Weasley carried the same enthusiastic and welcoming energy as his wife. He was exceptionally cheery, with the pleasant demeanour of a man who valued his family above all else. You decided that you already liked him as well.
“Did your parents drop you off this morning?” asked Mr Weasley.
“Yes, sir. My mum did.”
“That would explain the vehicle I passed outside,” he chuckled. “Your parents must be muggles then, yes?”
Hesitantly, you nodded in response. It wasn’t a big secret that you were a muggle-born witch, but coming from Hogwarts, where you were occasionally looked down upon for your magical lineage, it wasn’t a fact you openly celebrated. However, to your surprise, Mr Weasley only found the subject matter delightful.
“Incredible contraptions those muggles make. Terribly complex for me to try and sort out sometimes. Which reminds me, Molly–” Mr Weasley’s attention left the topic of your family and redirected towards a conversation with his wife.
Noticing the food begin to dwindle on the serving platters, you decided to be a good friend and filled Ron’s plate with all the breakfast foods you had known to be his favourites.
“Wakey-wakey. Food’s here,” you chimed, poking him gently with your fork. Ron began to stir slowly, until he saw the plate before him, and quickly straightened up. With a new alertness behind his eyes, Ron hastily ate his meal.
“Well someone’s wide awake now,” you joked, elbowing him. “Where was all that excitement when you saw me, hmm?”
“You know bloody well I’d trade you for breakfast in a heartbeat,” Ron said, smirking.
The banter you shared with Ron took you away from the pressure of the situation for a moment. You forgot about keeping up appearances and enjoyed how nice it felt to be with your best friend again. This refuge was short-lived, however, because Ginny interrupted by posing a jarring question.
“Do you two fancy each other or something?”
It caught you completely off guard. Ginny looked at you expectantly and the twins had ceased their conversation to glance between you and Ron curiously. Scrambling for a reply, you said, “Oh, no. He’s brilliant, and he’s my best friend, but no.”
Ginny smiled and retorted, “Brilliant? That’s a bit of a stretch, isn’t it?”
The twins snickered at Ginny’s remark, but Ron did not find it as amusing. Ron and Ginny began to argue, leaving you with no one to talk to and nothing to do but eat.
“Hello, darling.”
You were startled by the use of such an intimate nickname and looked around to see who had spoken. Your eyes met one of the Weasley twins, though, truth be told, you were unsure which one.
“I don’t believe we’ve been properly acquainted. Fred Weasley.”
“Y/N,” you said, exchanging a polite nod. You knew the twins had outgoing personalities, but it was still mildly alarming to be on the receiving end of their attention.
“And this ‘ere is George.” At the mention of his name, George looked up from his plate to smile quickly at you.
You didn’t really need the introduction; you knew plenty well who these boys were. Infamous amongst the Gryffindors, not only for their Quidditch abilities but their notoriety as troublemakers, the Weasley twins had made quite the name for themselves. Thankfully, you had never been a target for their harassment, but you suspected this was due to your closeness to Ron.
No further exchanges were offered from either of the boys and the conversations around you resumed, leaving you, once again, out of place and with nothing to say.
Ron swallowed the last of his breakfast and stood up from the table.
“I’m gonna go get changed,’” he said to you. “I’ll be right back.”
You silently begged with your eyes for him to not leave you alone, but being as dense as he was, he left without a second thought.
One by one, the remaining Weasley family members finished their meals and began to excuse themselves from the table until only you, Fred, and George remained. You searched for something to say to them, but nothing came to mind.
The three of you ate in silence, with only the occasional sounds of the utensils cutting through the quiet. A tightness in your chest grew from the awkward tension of the room. The boys didn’t seem to share the same worry you did, however. In fact, they didn’t seem to pay you any mind at all. They continued eating without saying a word, apparently not wanting to risk you listening in on their private conversation. What were they supposed to say to you anyway? You were just another one of their younger brother’s friends. No need to get personal or anything.
Fortunately, George and Fred quickly finished up their meals and dumped their plates in the sink, bounding up the stairs towards their room. You hadn’t realised just how tense you had been until your shoulders relaxed and your eyes looked up from your plate.
Even with the entire downstairs floor vacant, you found it surprisingly lively. Various knickknacks chittered on shelves, cleaning supplies operated autonomously, and now that the sun had come out a bit more, the windows blew open to allow fresh air inside. Standing up from the table, you wandered about the house, admiring its quirks and appreciating every detail.
Hanging on the wall, you noticed a peculiar clock with more hands on it than an average one. Upon further inspection, no mention of numbers could be found anywhere on the device, only locations: Home, School, Prison, and the like. The one that made you smile was vaguely titled “Mortal Peril”. It wasn't all that surprising to imagine the Weasley family needing such a label. Each hand on the clock had a family member’s name on it, and presently, all but Bill, Charlie, and Percy’s hands were positioned at “Home”.
Pinned to the wall, right next to the clock, was a photograph you recognized from being shown it in your third year. The complete Weasley family smiled from somewhere in Egypt, the figures in the picture moving about and talking to one another.
There were two older brothers that you did not recognize and could only guess were Bill and Charlie, followed by Percy, whom you had known from your first few years at Hogwarts. Ron and Ginny were easy enough to sort out, but when it came to the twins, you struggled.
Trying to look for significant differences to tell them apart proved to be difficult: Same height, same eyes, same hair, same face. It made you feel guilty not knowing who was who. They had enough trouble being distinguished from one another by everyone else. The last thing you wanted to do was contribute to the confusion. It felt impersonal; like they were not individual people, but always part of a matched set.
Your thoughts were interrupted by someone calling your name.
“Y/N!” Ron shouted from the bottom of the staircase. “Okay, so here’s the deal: Mum said you can either sleep with Ginny in her room or take Percy’s if you’d rather have your own space. Which do you prefer?”
“If I have the option, I’ll take Percy’s room, then.”
Ron led you up the staircase onto a landing on the second floor. Two bedroom doorways sat adjacent to one another, with Ron opening up the one on the right to reveal Percy's room. It was about what you expected for someone of Percy’s nature: a massive bookshelf took up one wall of the space, a desk occupied the opposite side, with a simple twin-sized bed in between. The room was clean and pristinely organised, which you intended to maintain for the tenure of your stay.
“I’ll let you get settled in, then,” said Ron. “You can just come up to my room whenever you’re ready. It’s the one all the way up in the attic.”
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙
You spent the remainder of the day lounging about Ron’s room, picking through his stuff, talking about school, and making plans for the summer. His room was far messier than Percy’s but had significantly more personality to it. Clothes were strewn about the floor and an unmade bed sat up against a wall. Quidditch memorabilia decorated shelves and walls, and french doors opened up to a small attached balcony.
By the time the sun had set and you were well into the night, you hadn’t moved from your spot on the floor in hours and Ron sat in the corner of his bed, flipping through a magazine. The ambient sounds of crickets and frogs floated in from the open balcony doors, and the bright light of the full moon cast moonbeams down upon your skin.
“That reminds me,” you said, rolling over to sit up. “Do you mind if I set up my scope on your balcony? Your brother’s room doesn’t have one.”
You reached your arm deep into your backpack and resurfaced it with a telescope and tripod in tow. Hermione’s insistence on invisible extension charms proved useful after all.
“What’d you go bringin’ a whole telescope for?”
“To spy on the neighbours, Ronald,” you quipped back, sarcastically.
“You and that bloody telescope. You were up in the astronomy tower every night back in school. I’d find you out there asleep the next morning.”
Ignoring Ron’s snide remarks, you walked over to his balcony and began adjusting the telescope’s various components. “The skies are never this clear around my house this time of year and there’s a meteor shower expected this month. I should take advantage of the opportunities I am presented with.”
“You are just as bad as Hermione sometimes, you know that?” he teased.
You shot Ron a sarcastic glare as you continued tinkering with the device. After around half an hour, Ron was fast asleep and you were surrounded by textbooks, star charts, and an endless open sky.
Being one of the few studies at Hogwarts that had a muggle subject counterpart, Astronomy had been one of your favourites from the beginning. It was a hobby you could share between the two worlds, which, being a muggle-born witch, made you feel a kindred connection with it.
Beginning to feel the effects of sleep take hold of you, you decided to grab a glass of water before heading to bed. The floorboards creaked under the weight of your footsteps as you crept down the stairs. All the lights in the house had been extinguished hours ago, which is why you were perplexed to find soft candlelight flickering against the bottom of the staircase. You quietly rounded the corner of the steps and peered into the kitchen to see who was there.
Leaning against the kitchen countertop, looking out the window in apparent thought, was one of the twins. His eyes flickered absentmindedly at the scenery outside and his lips moved almost imperceptibly, as if he were speaking to himself without knowing it. His hands supported his weight on the countertop behind him, but his index fingers tapped absentmindedly on the counter’s edges.
You had never seen either of the twins in such a neutral state before. They were nearly always animated with the same radiant energy of the sun; smiling and laughing at one thing or another.
Your slow shuffling into the kitchen snapped him out of his trance.
“Hey,” he said softly.
"Hi," you replied. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I didn't think anyone would be down here." You nervously fidgeted with your hands.
"Oh, it's alright," he said. "Did you need something?"
“Just water.”
He must have realised that you would have no idea where the cups were stored because, without a second thought, he plucked one of many mismatching cups out of a cupboard and extended it towards you without saying a word. You accepted it with a quiet “thanks” and turned towards the sink to fill it up.
A soft silence fell between the two of you as you filled your cup from the tap. It was that uncomfortable lack of conversation topics that so often comes with unfamiliarity. The quiet tension you felt at breakfast lingered in the air once more, but the Weasley boy’s determination to carry the conversation steadied your heart just a bit.
“You’re in Gryffindor, right?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“I thought I’d seen you in the common room before. George thought you were in Ravenclaw for some reason. I suspect it was the formality.”
So this one’s Fred, you noted. “Just trying to be polite. Make a good first impression, and all.”
“Aww, you shouldn’t be worried about that. We’re pretty laid back as far as families go.”
Fred continued leaning against the countertop but removed his arms from behind him to cross them over his chest.
“You play Quidditch?” he asked.
“Yeah, I was thinking of trying out for the team this year.”
“Nice. What position?”
You stopped the faucet and simply responded, “Beater.”
Fred chuckled with genuine amusement. “You? A beater? No offence, but look at these scraggly little limbs!” He reached over and squeezed your upper arm lightly. “Bloody bludger would take your whole arm off! And besides, George and I already hold those spots for Gryffindor. Now, if you’d rather go out for Hufflepuff, I’m sure they’d be more than happy to have you. Merlin knows they need the help.”
Being friends with Ron for so many years, you had developed a sibling-like response to affectionate taunting; that is to say, you taunted right back.
“I think you gravely underestimate me, Weasley,” you said, sipping your water confidently.
“Using that name around here is gonna get real confusing real fast, darling.”
Fred smiled and the last remaining nerves in your stomach subsided. His snarky remarks reminded you of your friendship with Ron in many aspects, and those similarities were comforting to find.
“I should be heading back to bed,” you said, moving towards the stairs. Fred gave a halfhearted attempt at a nod and you could begin to see the drowsiness settling into his eyes. You whispered a quick “goodnight” as you tiptoed up the steps towards Percy’s room.
You opened the bedroom door and a sudden ache of tiredness engulfed your body. Setting your cup down on the desk, you crawled under the covers and reflected on your first day at the Weasley residence. Although Ron was still the only person you felt comfortable being alone with, you knew, at the very least, you could hold a conversation with Fred, and that surely had to count for something. As your thoughts began to slip into incoherent nothingness, you remembered your self-assigned task of differentiating Fred and George. Struggling to keep your mind awake long enough to think, the last comprehensible thing you recalled was Fred calling you “darling” before you drifted off to sleep.