A/N: I'm back! Sorry I haven't written anything in a while, but it seems I lost my muse. Never fear! There is more where this came from. This is just a random drabble, something to get me writing.

Rating: K

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Harry Potter, we'll leave that to JK.

Summary: An early morning at the Burrow, Hermione finds company in Mrs. Weasley.

Tea With Mrs. Weasley

Hermione crept quietly down the stairs, towards the Burrow's kitchen, avoiding all the places she knew the floor would creak. It was only five in the morning and she had no intention on waking the house's occupants. Finally, she sighed in relief as she reached the bottom of the stairs, the hardest part was done. She finished her last few steps making her way into the kitchen, and began to rummage through the cabinets looking for tea cups.

Finding the appropriate cabinet, she peered in to find several cups stacked to the top of the shelf. She exhaled in exasperation and pulled out her wand, realizing she would have to use it if she was to keep on her quiet streak. She summoned a cup, which in turn caused the others to begin crashing down, but with her quick thinking, she whispered Immobula freezing them in the air before they could make their tragic collapse, she sent them back into the shelf and closed it quickly, sighing in relief that she had finished the most dangerous part. Setting her cup down on the island, she turned towards the kitchen's brick oven to set the water on the kettle.

Filling it, and quickly lighting a fire, she turned back to the counter in search of tea. Smiling when she saw the array of tins labeled with each tea that was inside of them, she decided on a black spiced tea, making sure she got her daily dose of caffeine. She scooped out the right amount, and dropped them into her cup, before closing the lid, and placing the tin back where she found it. She found the milk, and returned to the island, sitting on the stool nearest the kettle, so she could retrieve it as soon as it began to whistle. Slipping on the oven mitts, she looked quite comical, watching the kettle with a fierce expression of anxiety.

She didn't have to wait long, as a few minutes later the kettle began to whistle, and she pulled it off the fire and onto the hot plate, in a swift movement that would make a quidditch player jealous. She smiled in triumph, as she poured her hot water over the chosen tea leaves in her cup. She made her way around the island to the table, facing the window so she could watch the sun rise over the distant trees. Sighing contentedly, she waited for her tea to steep, and relaxed into the chair, today would be a good day.

A moment later, she heard and shuffling behind her. It was . "Hermione dear, you're up early," she commented, her eyes widened slightly before going back to normal, and smiling.

"Yes, I've found myself waking before sunrise as of late," she replied sleepily.

"When you get older, you find that happens more and more. Of course, the boys never really helped in the cause for sleep," she chuckled, "mind if I join you?"

"Oh not at all," Hermione smiled, "I've already prepared hot water for the tea."

Mrs. Wealsey made her way around the kitchen in motions Hermione assumed she had developed over the years, for the way she did it so mechanically. "However did you manage without making any noise dear? I didn't hear you at all." She asked as she began pouring water in her cup.

"It was hard work, trust me." Hermione laughed lightly, pouring milk into her tea. She never really minded the bitterness of tea, in fact, sometimes she welcomed it. Hermione liked milk in her tea, not because it calmed the bitterness, but because of the creamy texture it provided, similar to coffee with cream.

"I bet it was," Mrs. Wealsey replied, making her way to the table, sitting on the corner next to Hermione, "It took me years before I perfected my technique, now as you see I can do it with my eyes closed. Although, we didn't have nearly as many chinaware as we do now. I suppose you did it with magic?"

"No, actually, besides retrieving the cup, which I knew would be a feat once I found the cabinet, I didn't use any magic. I find doing things with my hands is much more rewarding." She replied thoughtfully, taking a sip of her tea, and smiling, perfect.

"That's a good practice dear," Mrs. Weasley praised, "Although I didn't grow up as a muggle, my parents taught me well, and even now I still do many things without magic. I had to in my youth, as I worked with muggles."

"You did?" Hermione asked in confusion.

"Oh yes, back in the sixties," She smiled with a distant look, "I worked in a diner as a waitress. I suppose that's where I got my love for serving people."

"You must have really liked it there." Hermione watched the old woman reminisce her teen years.

"Some of my best memories came from that place. All of my friends were those muggles. But," She smiled sadly, "I haven't seen them in years…" She trailed off.

"I never knew…" Hermione commented in admiration for the woman.

"Oh dear, you wouldn't," She smiled, her eyes losing their distant look, "Only Arthur knows. After Charlie was born, I never had time to keep up with my past. In time, my friends and I all lost contact. Of course, not many of them knew I was a witch, but a few did."

"Why don't you try talking to them again?" Hermione asked interestedly.

"Oh honey, they're all long gone by now, I wouldn't have a clue as where to find them." She replied with a mist of sorrow.

"Tell me about them." Hermione encouraged, wanting to know more about the matron of the Burrow.

"Well," She smiled, "There was Evie, she was always so full of energy, always eager to please. She had a look of wonderment on her face, keen to know what was next. A little clumsy though, she was like Tonks, always making people laugh," She chuckled, "I remember many times at work that she would fall into the customers or spill trays. She was always in a hurry, that one." Her eyes glassed over in thought momentarily, before she continued. "Then there was Luca, oh a very charming young man, he always had ladies after him, little did they know," She laughed here, "He was gay. Oh but he was a dear, he was the first to find out I was a witch. He constantly teased me, telling me I was wicked, and I had kidnapped Dorothy, but it was always in good nature."

"It sounds like you really loved them." Hermione observed.

"None more than Ginny." She said with the distant look back in her eyes. Hermione guffawed in shock, setting her cup down a bit more loudly than intended.

"Oh yes, Ginny. She was my very best friend. She was a wonderful, wonderful person. A lot like Lily Potter, although I never got the chance to know her too well, when I ever did have the chance to talk with her, she reminded me so much of Ginny. Ginny was an extraordinary girl, many loved her, including my brother, Fabian." She paused to take a sip from her tea.

Hermione's eyes widened in shock, there was so much more to this woman than meets the eye.

"Ginny, my daughter, may be the first Weasley, but she was not the first to be a part of my family." She stated.

"You mean?" Hermione's eyes remained wide as she looked at the older woman.

"They were married, and happy. They had a son. And when Gid and Fabian… when they…" she began to tear up, so Hermione placed her hand on the older woman's, she smiled at Hermione and squeezed her hand and cleared her throat, "When they died, Ginny died with them." She finished, tears running down her cheek.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione whispered.

"It was many years ago," Mrs. Weasley dismissed.

"But you've still never had the chance to… let it go." Hermione spoke quietly.

"I know," She smiled sadly, and changed back to a happier subject, "Ginny was always there for me when I needed her most. I owled her from school when I was lonely, and on every holiday that I would return, she would always be there waiting for me. We had many adventures together, getting into a lot of mischief."

Hermione looked at her for the umpteenth time in shock.

She chuckled merrily, "You think Fred and George got their devious nature from their father?"

"I suppose not…" Hermione mused.

"Of course not," responded, "I love my dear Arthur, but he was never a rule-breaker like I was, despite maybe his spontaneous attitude about things. I grew out of it eventually, but Fred and George are always a constant reminder of my past, in many ways." She paused in thought, "I don't mean to be so hard on them, they just…"

"It's okay Mrs. Wealsey, I understand, and they do as well. You love them, and you're only looking out for what's best, they know that." Hermione comforted.

"I hope they do…" She said quietly.

"They do," Hermione affirmed. For a while, they sat in silence, watching the sun begin to peak its way over the tree tops. Hermione absently twirled a ring on her left hand. After a while she spoke, "Mrs. Weasley?"

"Please, call me Molly dear, as you are part of this family now," She smiled at her soon to be daughter-in-law.

"Alright, Molly, what… what was the name?" She asked hesitantly.

"Name?" The older woman looked at the younger one in confusion.

"Of Fabian and Ginny's son." She affirmed quietly.

Molly looked back at the sky, a serene expression on her face, and spoke quietly in return, "William."

"You mean?" Hermione spoke in shock.

"Yes, my dear, their son was Bill."