A Losing Battle

10

"I've died and gone to hell."

Eileen's chuckling was like a double-edged sword, it made Hermione want to join in and scream all at once. How could the girl not be as frustrated as she was?

Still grinning after her chuckling died down, Eileen placed a comforting hand on Hermione's arm as they headed towards the Entrance Hall. "After ye suffer the horrors of glorified homemaking for two years, ye become numb to the pain."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "Two years? You mean to tell me this is your third year in that joke of a class?" Eileen shrugged her shoulders. Turning her gaze back towards the stairs before them, she then commented with, "I correct myself, we've both died and gone to hell."

Nodding towards the pair of auburn heads standing off to the side of the foot of the stairs, Eileen squeezed Hermione's arm then released her. "Purgatory, me dear. Tat's all. T'll be hell when we've succumbed to our fates of marriage, children, and homemakin'."

Stopping a few steps from the bottom, Hermione grabbed her arm, stopping Eileen a step below hers. When she turned and met Hermione's gaze, Hermione noticed for the first time the touch of sadness behind her smiling eyes. "Who says it's our fate?"

Eileen looked ready to laugh. "Society, our parents… tis them who arranges our future. What are your odds of being betrothed to a man who doesn' expect ye to play Mary Homemaker? One in a million I'd say."

Hermione did laugh. "Arranged!" Her little outburst drew some attention from a group of Slytherin girls walking past them but she ignored them and soldiered on. "Not me. I dictate my own future and I'll chose for myself a man that will see me as more than his trophy wife, but as his equal."

What was at first a disbelieving look slowly turned into one of shock. "Ye mean your parents aren't arrangin' your marriage? Even the muggle parents will arrange a marriage if a pureblood's involved."

At first Hermione thought to clarify that her parents would never presume to do such a thing but then she recalled her cover story and thankfully it was a better reason to give her new friend. Though she knew she had a part to play when it came to her invented background, the thought of possibly not seeing them again for a long time made the job of appearing upset easier. "My parents, who were muggle, passed away this spring. As I am of age, I can arrange my own future."

"I'm sorry," the redhead apologized, "I didn' know."

A silent moment passed before Hermione spoke again. "No, no… it's alright, no harm done," she offered, reminding herself of her parents not having died helping her to look the part of a girl who's grieved enough to say such a thing.

"Might I ask then," Eileen began carefully a few seconds later. "What ye will do if ye finds this man ye speak of and e's a pureblood? I've never heard of a pureblood marryin' without it havin' been arranged, it could ruin their standing."

Their standing, indeed, Hermione thought. Somehow, she was a little surprised they stopped arranging marriages by her time, as they seemed to think of nothing else.

"Well, I'm not exactly interested in marrying any time soon." Hermione replied nonchalantly.

A small chuckle escaped Eileen's lips before she asked, "Ye mighn't be interested in it, but ye might find yourself fancin' some strapping young pureblood… then what?"

Hermione laughed, "Well, I'm not even looking, so I suppose I'm safe." Eileen raised a mocking eyebrow and Hermione imagined she thought her fighting a losing battle. Purposely ignoring the look being cast her, she ended that train of thought. "Oh, enough of this, there's your brother and Mister Dumbledore."

With Eileen laughing, the two took the last few steps and rounded the foot to find Eoghan and Albus discussing the finer points of Quidditch.

"… Puddlemere's new Beater. Why he…" Albus cut himself off as Eoghan motioned towards them as they came up behind the future headmaster. Turning to include the girls in their small circle, and casting them a smile, Albus said, "Ah… Miss Riley, Miss Granger. I trust Practicals was as to be expected?"

The humor in his eyes at the question brought back Hermione's ire slightly. With a smirk she replied, "As pleasant as a trampling by a herd of hippogriffs."

Without missing a beat Eileen interjected, "I'd prefer the hippogriffs, actually."

"Perhaps it can arranged?"

"I'll speak with Professor Tannen."

As the two smiled, Eoghan looked to Albus. "I'd t'ink it a joke if it weren't for me sister. She'd likely do it."

Albus chuckled and winked at Eileen. "I believe she'd be more likely to set the stampeding herd on Professor Staud."

"But you'll not be warnin' her, will ye, Mister Dumbledore?" she asked in reply, a smile on her lips.

"Tis not my place to interfere in the workings of the female world, dear Miss Riley," he answered with the usual twinkle in his eyes. And despite the laughs to be had at that moment, one thought ran through Hermione's mind… that that would change. One day Albus Dumbledore would interfere in much more than that.

It was on that down note that Hermione began to feel the toll of that day's events coming down on her like rain. Hours in her tight laced corset was causing her chest to ache at the prolonged pressure, her feet, unused to such hard and small heeled shoes, felt as if blisters were forming, and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to retreat to her room and leave the day to finish without her.

"I hate to end this conversation, but I'd like to return to our rooms, Mister Dumbledore. Today's been a little more tiring than I expected," she said, changing the subject and taking a breath that felt a little more difficult to draw than just a moment ago.

Albus' gaze turned more serious as he held out his arm for her. "Of course, Miss Granger. We can continue our discussion later, Eoghan. Miss Riley," he said, giving the pair a nod of his head as Hermione took his arm.

Walking back towards their rooms, the toils of the day began to catch up with Hermione tenfold. Her ribs now screamed, her feet throbbed, breathing went from an unconscious reflex to a labored task, and her head felt as if it had been struck with a pickaxe. Her bed had never looked so inviting. For once, she wanted to forgo her habitual revision in order to jump out of these ridiculous layers of clothing and the pressures of living in this time so that she might visit her own scantily clothed time in her dreams.

If only the damn rooms weren't so far away. Had they moved?

As they reached their common room, Albus motioned for Hermione to go in first and he noticed she seemed a bit winded as she walked a bit gingerly. "Miss Gran…"

"Albus," she interrupted in a tone that echoed her wearied appearance as she unceremoniously dropped her things onto the coffee table before the couch, a few of which slid to the floor.

"Hermione," he corrected himself. Such habits were proving harder to break than he initially thought. "You don't look well."

Reaching the couch, she spun around and quickly sank into the cushions, leaning her head against the back, her gaze being turned upwards until he could tell she no longer had him in her line of vision. "That noticeable, is it?"

"Indeed," he replied, crossing the room to deposit his books on the side table just outside his bedroom door. "Were your first day of classes truly that exhausting?"

A few silent moments passed as he returned to sit in the armchair closest to her side of the couch. She had closed her eyes and almost seemed to have fallen asleep. It was only when he shifted in the seat in order to lean over and touch her arm to rouse her that she suddenly exhaled and responded tiredly.

"No, not the classes so much as the tension today. Tension with the men in class, the ladies," she paused and grimaced, "and this bloody corset." Placing a hand over her chest as if the action would suddenly decrease the pressure on her rib cage and enable her to breath normally, she said, "I think I've reached my time limit in this torture device for one day."

Sitting up straight, Albus held back a chuckle, knowing the subject to be one not entirely appropriate for them to discuss. At the thought of which, he glanced up to their chaperones' portraits. Thankfully, they both seemed to have found something else to do than act as vigilant eavesdroppers. A bit relieved, he turned his gaze back to Hermione.

Her hair had begun to slip out of its tightly pinned coif, little fuzzy tendrils framing her neck and face. In a way, it was a far more becoming look on her. Seeing her all prim and slicked in place seemed somehow out of sorts with the girl's character.

Crossing his legs and letting his back sink into the cushion of the velvet chair, he pointed out one minor detail as she stood up and appeared to head towards her room to remove the offending garment. "You do realize we've dinner in little over an hour. Should you escape that 'torture device' now you just may find it more difficult to put back on before going down to the Great Hall."

She stopped and he imagined she closed her eyes in frustration as he watched her chin fall towards her chest. When she replied, the weariness was evident in her voice more so than before as she lifted her head and took a few more determined steps. "Then I shall skip dinner tonight."

At that, he was on his feet, catching up to her as she headed for her room. "I don't think that wise." Reaching her, he took hold of her arm gently in one hand, halting her progress, and with the other, turned and lifted her chin until her gaze met his. Her face was a bit pale, her breathing was slow and shallow, and in her eyes, she looked half asleep already. "No, you need to eat dinner this evening," he said, taking it upon himself to see to her well-being. However, he didn't expect her to react as she did.

With all the energy she could muster, Hermione's gaze on Albus hardened and she pulled back her chin from his grasp. "I can decide that for myself, Albus." With each word her voice rose, "I don't need you to tell me what I will and will not do." Of course, in doing so, she ended up with her breathing being more labored than before and her lightheadedness increasing by the second. The last thing she needed was to faint again, but after all she said to Eileen that day, she felt the drive to push him and his damned chivalry away.

The twinkle went out in his eyes like a snuffed candle. Despite this, his voice retained its pleasant tone, which she could faintly tell was taking his concentration to do so. "Hermione, under normal circumstances, I would not dare to dictate your actions, however, that being said, I will not stand by and say nothing when you are so blatantly ignoring your own health."

"I am not…" Starting off with nearly shouting her response, she suddenly felt dizzy and grabbed at one of the chairs at the dining table to the right. As her vision was clearing, she took note of Albus' arms on either side of hers, but couldn't find the strength to push him off.

"Indeed, you are not in a position to argue the point," he finished, taking a hold of her arms, helping to prevent her from collapsing on the floor. He could tell she wanted to push him off, but her injured pride was keeping her from making the situation worse as he lead her back to the couch.

Setting her down on the couch, Albus quickly arranged the pillows against the one arm then helped her to lie back against them. Almost instantly she relaxed into the pillows and he reached down to lift her feet onto the couch as well, her skirts falling to the side as he placed her feet onto the velvet. It was a brief moment before he realized his gaze hadn't left her stocking ankles before he blushed and quickly shifted her skirts up to cover her.

With her now comfortably in position on the couch, Albus went back to the other end and knelt down, saying gently, "I do apologize for just now."

Hermione didn't open her eyes, but seemed to be concentrating on her breathing, "For what, Albus?"

His face felt hot as he gestured towards her ankles, as if she could somehow sense his movements through closed eyelids. "The delay in…. covering your… ankles."

"My ankles?" she lightly chuckled, her hand coming up to her chest again as she grimaced. "I don't care about my ankles, for heaven's sake. You've seen more than that I imagine."

He earnestly prayed the professors wouldn't return to their frames any time soon. His embarrassment was growing by the minute; a helping of reprimands from the watchful duo wouldn't make matters any better. "Yes, but it's entirely improper."

Opening her eyes, she reached over her chest and grabbed his hand. "Forget propriety, I'd rather breathe easier right now, okay?"

Seeing a way out of this awkward moment, Albus produced his wand. "I could cast a charm that would loosen the garment without altering the outward appearance. It will only last a few hours, but it should be enough to get you through dinner." Thankfully, he felt the excess blood draining from his face as he spoke and Hermione gave no indication that she had noticed the change in his facial coloring.

The corners of her mouth went up in a smile and she nodded. "Please." But somehow in that moment, she saw something oddly familiar flicker in his eyes and it wasn't as comforting as she would hope.

"I'll do it," he began, a look of resolve on his face, softened by a smile and those once again damned twinkling eyes. "If you promise me you'll come and eat dinner with me later this evening."

Her stomach was still rolling as it tried desperately to move about normally in its confined space, her resulting nausea caused her to close her eyes once more in a vain attempt at controlling the sensation. Were she less distracted by the damned pain of the corset, she might have realized how skillfully he had worded his demand, leaving her no out should she try to slip past the requirements later. Instead, she was so thankful to hear of a remedy Hermione quickly nodded her agreement with a strained, "Alright, I promise."

A whispered charm later and she felt the tight boning of the corset loosen an inch or too. Her breastbone gave a quick jolt of pain from the sudden lessening of pressure on it, and she drew a deeper breath, releasing it slowly as she relished the relief. It wasn't like being set free, but it was a great improvement. Closing her eyes, she relaxed into the pillows further and sighed.

"Thank you," she said with a smile, and as she did his hand broke free from hers, giving her a gentle squeeze as he did.

When he spoke next, it was bordering on a whisper. "Now rest. I've some revising to do. I'll wake you in time for dinner."

Worn out from the excitement of the day and her depleted oxygen levels, Hermione nodded in agreement and drifted off to sleep, without realizing she had just lost in her first argument to Albus.