Hermione sucked in a harsh breath as the unrelenting pressure suddenly gave way around her. The garden was aglow with light flooding from the windows of the old, rickety home. With trembling hands, she replaced her wand within her robes and wiped at her face desperately. Please don't do this now, she willed her body, forcing tension into her limbs to keep them from violently shaking. Her eyes roamed the small garden. She forced herself to take in another breath, struggling to make it deep and soothing. Biting her lip, she shut her eyes against the flood of memories surrounding her in the landscape.
She scrunched up her nose as another laugh escaped her lips.
"You're beautiful, you know," he whispered, reaching out to hold her hand. His thumb ran over her wrist in slow circles.
A blush stained her cheeks a bright pink and she looked quickly away from his gaze. "You keep telling me that. I'm beginning to think it's the truth."
"It is, Hermione," he said emphatically. "You're gorgeous."
She bit her lip for a moment before looking back up at him, taking in his bright red hair and freckled cheeks. He was, in fact, the gorgeous one. "Thank you."
Hermione sucked in a hard breath, willing her mind to stop. Another memory washed over her before she could keep it from happening.
He pulled on her hand as she hesitated at the doorway. "Come on, Hermione. It'll be fine."
She bit her lip before allowing him to pull her past the threshold and into the garden. "I don't want to mess anything up. Fleur will be so upset."
"We won't touch anything," he promised her. "I just want to see what it looks like at night. Y'know, give me an idea of what it'll look like come Sunday"
She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "It's going to be lit to heaven and back, Ronald. Fleur has made it clear she wants the whole thing to sparkle when the dancing is happening." She followed closely behind him, keeping her hand entwined with his, her free hand resting on the crook of his elbow.
He slowed their pace as the enchanted tent came into view a little ways past the garden wall. Almost reverently, he gently stepped into the dancing area, turning to her. She hesitated on the other side.
"Come here," he tugged on their joined hands lightly. She ardently refused, shaking her head a few times. He sighed and brushed a stray hair out of her face. "Dance with me?"
Her lips turned up lightly of their own accord. He offered such a natural respite from the realities of war that surrounded them. With hesitant steps she joined him under the canopy. In one swift motion he pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her waist.
She felt the tears begin in earnest, falling down her face and onto her chest. She frantically wiped them away. Her chest shuddered with another breath out.
"Are you okay?" His voice broke through the darkness. She didn't ask how he knew she was there despite no light around them from wands or candles. He always seemed to be able to sense her when she was nearby, as if her body called out to him. His always seemed to call out to her, at least.
She sucked in a breath to avoid sobbing. They had gotten word that the Ministry was unlikely to survive the weekend. Harry, Ron, and she had planned their escape earlier that night if something were to happen. They'd carefully recited option after option of how to proceed hunting horcruxes if Britain suddenly became inhospitable to them.
"Love," he whispered, coming up in front of her in one fluid, silent motion. "It'll be alright, Hermione. We have plans. We'll beat them."
She didn't say anything, not trusting her voice. A traitorous tear ran down her cheek silently. A finger—his—brushed it away before it could fall off her chin.
The breath of his sigh tickled her eyelashes. She felt his warm hand lightly cradle her neck. "Hermione, you're the brightest witch of our age. With you, all of this is more than possible." She felt him lean in, and she slowly opened her eyes.
"You really think so?" she asked, her voice escaping past her lips on the most quiet of whispers.
"Yes, Hermione, I do," he responded before closing the gap between their lips. It wasn't the first time they'd kissed but nonetheless this one felt so different. She responded to him with such a primal urgency, wrapping her hands into his hair and pulling him closer. His body pushed against her until she felt the coolness of the Burrow's wall against her back.
The sob broke through her mouth before she could force it back. Hermione clutched her arms around herself, turning away from the damning building. She opened her eyes and rummaged through her robes for her wand. She couldn't do this. She had to get away before another one came over her.
He closed the door behind them, quick to entangle their limbs again as he guided her to his bed. She tried desperately to forget the wedding the coming day—of the near certain need to escape that night to save their lives. Her nails dug into his shoulders as their kisses grew more frantic. He pushed her steadily into the bed, his hands running down her sides and then back up again, quickly shedding her of her sleeping shirt. She returned every move of his desperation with boldness, and soon they pressed into the sheets together, his mouth trailing light kisses down her neck as her nails scraped down his back.
"Hermione, wait!" A voice drew her out of the memory. "Don't leave, ok? Just… just come have dinner with us." Hermione turned around slowly. Ginny stood just outside the door, her hand reached out towards her. The brunette took in a shaky breath. "Please, Hermione. Let us help how we can."
Oh God, Hermione thought. They thought she was crying over the courtship. Did Ginny know that she had been assigned to marry their old Potions professor? Closing her eyes briefly again, she gave herself five seconds to relive those faint touches of his before shutting down everything. Her hands trembled as she smoothed down her robes. After several silent moments, she looked back up at the redhead.
"I'm sorry this is happening. I'm sorry it's his birthday, Hermione. I'm sorry I couldn't bring him back," she whispered. Hermione's eyes widened. Perhaps her friend's words hadn't been about the damning courtship. "I know the courtship thing sucks, but I also realize it's just the icing on top of a horribly bitter cake. I know those wounds still hurt you, Hermione. I can tell. Just… Just don't leave this time, alright? Let us help you. Let me help you. I'll never make you come back here again if you stay tonight. We can always meet up somewhere else after this."
Hermione examined her friend's face. "O-Okay," she mumbled, walking up to Ginny, whose face lit with a smile. Hermione didn't bother to fake a smile back.
Ginny pushed the door open and ushered Hermione inside, stepping back to give her more space. She hesitated at the threshold. A deep breath in and then she walked into the living room. The loud clamor of the room suddenly quieted, and she found eight sets of eyes locked on her.
Neville tied with Molly for who reached her first. Molly surrounded her, locking her in a maternal embrace, while Neville grabbed her hand.
"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so glad you came," Molly whispered in her ear.
"You're so brave, Hermione," Neville told her, squeezing her hand tightly. "Way braver than the rest of us."
Molly released her. Hermione let her hands fall to her side limply as Neville let go. Her eyes looked over the Weasley matron with sad, tired eyes. She was surprised to see the same emotions reflected back. The other witch's mouth turned up in a small half smile.
"It never really has gotten easier," she admitted.
Hermione felt her eyes widen. "You, too?" She asked, incredulous. She thought she had been the only one unable to move on.
"Some days are easier than others, but his birthday is always the worst—even worse than Christmas. And Christmas is dreadful."
"Molly, dear, has supper finished cooking? It's getting quite late. I know that Minerva and Neville will need to be returning to Hogwarts soon," Arthur spoke as he rose from a chair in front of the blazing fireplace.
"Oh, yes, sorry," she murmured back to him as she turned around, raising her wand in front of her. She stepped through the door to the dining room without looking back, but Hermione noticed her hand came up to swipe at her face.
Harry approached her while the group of people began to follow Molly out of the room. "How are you holding up?" His voice was subdued in an attempt at privacy.
She shrugged one shoulder, her hands shaking again. Harry nodded, his eyes echoing the others' concern. He gently placed a hand between her shoulder blades and silently ushered her into the dining room. It was the strangest sensation—physical touch hadn't calmed her since he'd died in the Battle—and yet, where Harry's hand touched her back so, so lightly, a warming calm seemed to emit. It spread across her skin like a slow-burning fire, taking its time and yet rushing in the same moment. She gasped as she felt for the first time in years. Harry hesitated at the doorway, his eyebrows pulled low in concern.
Hermione looked at him—really looked, noting little details she hadn't remembered seeing before. Laughing lines crested the corners of his eyes and mouth, even with it drawn tight in a frown. His eyes were bright and clear, unburdened. He had gained muscle since they had battled together in Hogwarts. His shirt fit tightly across his chest, subtly highlighting the change in his build. Ginny came up behind him, and she noticed the subtle concern lighting her friend's eyes as she looked at him. Had they made everything official? Ginny quietly bit her lip. Hermione guessed not.
How much had she missed? How many moments of friendship had she been deprived of since he had died? Her breath caught in her throat as she thought over the last two and a half years, remembering how little interaction she had had with her best friend and her adoptive family. And then she sighed, realizing she hadn't even tracked her own parents down from where she had sent them to in Australia.
"Harry, how much have I missed?" Hermione questioned her friend seriously. Neither her voice nor her hands shook. She watched as his eyes darkened and his mouth tightened with chagrin. "How much, Harry? Don't lie to me."
With a sure movement, he rotated himself to be between her and the doorway, deftly moving Ginny back into the dining room. His arms came to hold her shoulders. "No one is holding the time against you, Hermione. We all agreed to give you as much time and space as you wanted."
"That doesn't change the fact that I've missed things, Harry," she told him frantically.
"No, it doesn't. But it does mean it shouldn't matter to you. What matters now is that you're here. Like, really here. Don't fret about what has happened, you'll only make yourself sick. Come eat dinner with us. We can help you with the rest…if you want."
She searched his face for whether he was telling the truth. He looked back at her, unashamed. Slowly, she nodded, moving towards him to enter the other room. "Did you… Did you ever tell the Ministry about you and her?" She whispered before he moved out of her way.
A small nod. "They don't know. They don't want her married so soon. Something about travelling and enjoying herself." His eyes rolled in frustration. "But we had to, otherwise…"
She nodded, too. She understood. She would have been in the same position. If not for that blasted Death Eater, she would have been in the exact same place. "What a load of shit this is, Harry. It's absolutely deplorable." She paused, taking a moment to just breathe in the moment. Actually breathe. It seemed like she hadn't felt her lungs in years. "How long… When do you have to have everything… official?"
"Christmas," he muttered. "I begged Shackelbolt to give me extra time. They're only supposed to give a year. He gave me almost two."
Her eyebrows rose. How had she not known for so long? Harry was quick to talk. "We didn't tell anyone. We made sure it stayed out of papers. You're actually… You're the first one who knows beside the people actually involved at the Ministry. We were going to announce tonight but with everything else…" He trailed off, shrugging. "It can wait a few more weeks."
"Thank you for telling me, Harry," she told him emphatically. "Thank you. I'm… I'm sorry I haven't been around. It just seemed like you all had managed to move on, and it still hurt so horribly badly."
With a swift finger against her lips, he stopped her apology. "I'm not accepting because you don't need to apologize. I can't imagine losing her, Hermione. I cannot imagine having to figure out how to do life without her. Trust me: none of us blame you for how long it may take. We are all just thankful you came tonight. We've all missed you so much." He paused. "I've missed you, you know."
She felt the smile actually warm her face. Maybe… just maybe fate had decided her torture wasn't necessary anymore. Maybe time would be allowed to get what he wanted from her—healing.
"Now let's go eat. I'm starving. You must be, too." He was careful not to stare at her sunken cheeks and protruding sternum as he said it. She bit her lip as an awkward silence fell between them then nodded.
He walked with her into the dining room, where everyone else had already begun eating. She sat down between Harry and Ginny before eating in earnest. Merlin, when was the last time she could remember wanting to eat? How long had it been since she actually had eaten?
Percy awkwardly cleared his throat. "Hermione?"
She looked over at him, watching as a red blush lit his cheeks. "Percy?"
"How did the meeting go?" His voice was deceitfully nonchalant. She noticed the tightness of his grip on his fork.
"Dreadful. It was horrible." It seemed to help the weight on her chest, talking about it. "I was barely managing as it was because of—of today," she told him in a rush. But then the cold reality of today's anniversary rushed over her again, and she was suddenly drowning in despair again. A small, strangled sob broke through her lips.
Percy frowned at her words, and he put his fork down on his plate before fisting his hands together under his chin. "Sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to remind you," he apologized quickly. Ginny's hand came up to ghost across the skin of her shoulder.
"This is ridiculous," she muttered, dropping her face into her hands. "I shouldn't even have to worry about marrying him"
The room was quiet around her, and she heard, slowly, each person return to their meals. Her appetite, though, left as quickly as it came. She could feel the slow, steady falls of the tears down her cheeks that she didn't attempt to hide. Her heart ached to hear his voice, feel his arms wrap around her body. She sucked in a hard breath. With a quick flick of her hand, she cleaned off her cheeks. And then she was pushing herself away from the table, intending to leave.
"I'm going to go," she muttered pathetically, turning towards the door.
"Hold on, Hermione," Harry commanded quickly. "One more thing"
Almost woodenly, she turned around, finding her friend's eyes filled with concern and questions. "Ok," she whispered, not daring to look at the rest of the room.
"I saw you leave from the meeting at the Ministry but didn't hear anything else. Who did they assign to you?"
Her teeth worried over her bottom lip as she attempted to tell him. His name hung on the tip of her tongue, but it felt almost traitorous to speak of him on Ron's birthday.
"Would you like me to say, Hermione?" Percy asked her quietly.
A quick shake of her head. Damn the Ministry for doing this to her today. "No, no. I can say it. It's just—I shouldn't have to, you know? They could have finalized all this bullshit on Monday." She bit her lip to force herself to stop rambling, allowing herself to take a large deep breath in to stabilize her. Looking back at her best friend, she felt his name linger on her tongue again. Her hand reached out for the chair she had abandoned so quickly. "Snape. They paired me with Snape," her voice was the smallest of whispers, a quick rush of breath before her last bit of courage left her.
Harry's face froze in utter shock, his mouth falling open and his eyebrows shooting high onto his forehead. A collective gasp rose from the room at large; Hermione forced her eyes to remain on Harry. She watched as he regained his composure, his expression falling into something more resigned and sympathetic rather than straight shock. "And you had the preliminary meeting they require?"
She nodded, smoothing down her hair with a shaky hand. "It was a mess. Marvington insisted he come with me after being at the meeting with me at the Ministry. He had a whole freak out, saying he deserved his position. Snape essentially laughed in his face. They attacked each other, and Marvington threatened trial." Her eyes rolled. "That's not really how the law works. Trust me, I know. And then the actual guy who came with me from the Ministry talked with Snape—"
"Wait," Percy cut her off. "Marvington was at the meetings with you?"
Hermione nodded, looking over at him with a confused look across her brow.
"He's not supposed to be there. It's a conflict of interest. If he gets involved with personal matches, they can't guarantee that the selections are impartial and based strictly on their selection criteria."
Hermione frowned. "He made a point twice to remind us that he has final say on matches."
"Well, yes, he has final say, but only after the Selectors have gone through the entire process. He's not allowed to intervene before then or after signing the official order."
Hermione thought back to Snape's behavior in front of Marvington. Had he been aware of these subtleties of the law? Had that been why he had been so intent on not having Marvington present while he told her his stipulations?
"Should I say anything to Shacklebolt?" The question left her lips before she could call it back, her thoughts focused on the new perspective of her meeting with the Headmaster.
Percy shrugged. "I imagine that Snape has already sent word to him. And if he hasn't, I know that he will."
Hermione nodded. "He did threaten Marvington with Shacklebolt. Marvington was trying to make us decide on a date while he was there. But I know we were given thirty days, right? So we in theory have until the end of the month…"
Percy nodded. "Good on him to know the law. I'm honestly surprised that he does. Shacklebolt and I were both shocked that he had been included in the list for Selection."
Hermione hmmmm'd her agreement.
"When do you meet with him again, Hermione?" Ginny asked from her other side.
"Sunday evening," she answered right away, distant again in her thoughts.
"Would you want to get together afterwards? I can come to you, if you like."
Hermione took a moment to pull herself out of her questioning thoughts. A night with Ginny? She hadn't done that in so long. And in Hogsmeade? She thought it over for a moment. She desperately needed time with her friends. The time tonight had already done her good, despite her heart ready to restart the drowning at any moment. Perhaps… Yes. This was what she needed.
"Sure," she agreed, trying to keep her voice light. "We're meeting at the Hog's Head. Maybe we could walk the shops after we're finished?"
Ginny nodded, flashing a large, happy smile before looking over at Harry.
"Do you still want to leave?" His question was quiet, skating soothingly over her face. Her eyes moved around the room, resting lightly on each person there until she returned to him. She took in another breath, reveling in the feeling of it. Slowly, she shook her head.
"No, I'd like to stay a while, if you'll let me."