Chapter 37: The Shape of Things

Ginny couldn't help but smile when she saw Clive and Art coming downstairs in their dress robes. Clive looked just like Fred and George only with his father's unruly black hair. Art, on the other hand, was a Weasley redhead and the spitting image of Ron, only with Hermione's curly hair. In their black dress robes, they both looked way too much like men for Ginny's taste. Where had the time gone? A few steps behind them was Devin, tall and lanky like Art, Devin's hair was a deep red and straight like Ginny's. All three of them had piercing blue eyes, and although Ginny knew she might be biased, they were a handsome lot.

As she passed them on the stairs, Clive and Devin both kissed her on the cheek, meaning they were up to something. She made a note to check on them throughout the evening. As Moody used to say "Constant Vigilance!" It was practically her mantra for motherhood.

She made her way up to Ron and Hermione's room and knocked on the door.

"Come in," was the soft reply.

Ginny opened the door to find Hermione sitting at her dressing table in her bra and knickers holding her wand to her hair. She set it down when she saw that it was Ginny.

"Hullo, I thought you were Ron."

"No, it's me. I thought you could use some help with your hair."

Hermione sighed and her shoulders slumped. "It's the oddest thing; I can't seem to remember the spells."

"It's all right," Ginny said, pulling out her own wand. "I know them." As she cast the spells to have Hermione's unruly locks hanging in relaxed ringlets, Ginny watched for signs of life in her old friend, but Hermione kept her eyes down and her shoulders remained slumped. Ginny didn't think she'd gained much weight back since the hospital and her scars stood out thick and white against her skin.

"How do you feel about a bit of makeup?"

Hermione glanced at her image in the mirror. "That's probably a good idea."

Ginny used a combination of charms and potions to make Hermione's skin rosy and her eyes sparkle. When she was done, Hermione looked both younger and more vibrant, but a profound sadness remained.

"Look," Ginny said to Hermione's image in the mirror, "Harry told me. About the abduction."

Hermione glanced up for an instant, before letting her gaze drop. "It was a long time ago. I'm fine now."

"But it doesn't feel like it was a long time ago does it?" Ginny gently asked.

Hermione shook her head.

Ginny rested her hands on Hermione's shoulders. "It gets better," she said. "It takes time, but it does get better."

Hermione nodded. "I just don't know how I'm going to face all those people." She looked at her image in the mirror. "I look a fright."

"No, you don't," Ginny said.

Hermione looked at her incredulously. "I'm skin and bones, there are dark circles under my bloodshot eyes. My skin is all blotchy from crying. What isn't frightening about that?"

"No fair looking past the charms," Ginny grumbled. "There aren't going to be but maybe five people at the whole party that are even capable of seeing past the charms, and those five aren't going to bother."

Hermione smiled weakly. "You're right. I just need to get over this, buck up and move on."

Ginny sighed and conjured a chair and sat down next to Hermione. "I didn't say that. Actually, I argued quite strongly through most of the afternoon that Ron should let you skip the party."

"I can't do that," Hermione said, her brow furrowing. "I've embarrassed him enough already."

"No, you haven't," Ginny scoffed.

Hermione glared at her. "Yes, I have. He made that quite clear when he woke me. Come hell or high water, I'm walking into that room with him."

Ginny frowned. "That's just ridiculous. You're exhausted."

"Yes," Hermione sighed. "But as Ron would point out, it's my fault I'm exhausted. I never should have bottled those memories in the first place. If I hadn't, I wouldn't be in this mess. While we're on the subject, I never should have gone to Viktor about the bond. I should have owled him and had him come here where I could have broken the bond in private. Ron's furious with me. He's furious about a million things, and unfortunately, they've all come to head tonight, and they're all my fault."

Ginny shook her head. "Have you been taking personal responsibility lesson's from Harry? Because for a moment there, you sounded just like him."

Hermione snorted. "Please, if I had a shred of Harry's sense of responsibility I wouldn't be in this mess."

Ginny frowned; it was clear there was no point in trying to talk sense into her. "Alright then. Let's get you into your dress robes."

Ron kept looking at the clock and taking deep breaths to try and remain calm. People would start arriving any moment and Hermione still hadn't come downstairs. Ginny had come down five minutes ago and had said Hermione was right behind her. Just as he was about to bellow her name, she appeared on the landing.

Ron opened his mouth but didn't have the words. She looked like herself, which he really couldn't have said for the last month. Instead of an emaciated bag of bones with sallow skin and hollow eyes, he had his wife back. Her skin was rosy and her eyes sparkled. Her hair was pulled up in a cascade of chestnut curls. The deep brown velvet dress she was wearing hugged what were the curves she was supposed to have. As she walked down the stairs he noticed the dress would hint at red as she moved. She was beautiful and he couldn't believe how much he'd missed that.

"You look fantastic," he said, as he took her hand.

Hermione shrugged. "Your sister and Padma and Parvati are all very talented witches."

Ron leaned down and kissed her forehead. "They've only managed to make you look like yourself." He tilted her chin up and looked her in the eye. "All set?"

She pulled away from him, but nodded.

He took her hand and together they walked into the ballroom.

It was two hours before Ron consented to let Hermione leave his side and go out on the balcony for some fresh air. The night was cold and crisp and the balcony was blissfully empty, or at least it appeared so at first glance. In the corner, Clive had done a rather decent concealment charm in an attempt to hide the fact that he was snogging some girl senseless.

She'd hoped to have a few minutes alone. Apparently that was not to be. Hermione rolled her eyes, and cleared her throat.

The two separated and held still, clearly hoping she didn't see them.

"Clive," Hermione finally said. "Send your guest inside."

The concealment charm fell completely apart then and the startled girl skittered inside. Clive watched longingly as she left. He walked reluctantly over to where Hermione was standing. "You're killing me Auntie H."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Hmm, if I really wanted to kill you, I would just tell your mother."

"Oh, please don't do that," Clive begged, giving her his most pitiful face.

"I tell you what, let me bum a fag, and I'll keep this to myself."

"A fag?" Clive said innocently.

"Please, Clive, I can see magic. For that matter, I can smell it and taste it too. Do you honestly think I don't know you smoke?"

Clive looked vaguely alarmed, but he reached into his robes and pulled out a small black case and handed her a cigarette. "I didn't know you smoke."

"I don't," Hermione said. "Anymore. I just need a break, and whiskey seemed like a bad idea. I need to clear my head not cloud it."

Clive nodded and lit the cigarette for her then lit one for himself and casually leaned back against the railing. "Smashing party," he said.

Hermione took a deep satisfying drag on the cigarette and surveyed the dancing couples through the balcony doors. "You really think so?"

"Sure, although it was a bit better before you chased off my bird."

Hermione gave him a withering glance. "Please, wasn't that Margaret Perry? You're better off, she's a dolt."

Clive laughed. "That's a bit harsh, don't you think?"

"No, I don't. I've seen her essays. If she had a thought in her head, it would die of loneliness."

Clive shrugged. "You never said anything about her when you were at Hogwarts?"

"Because, when you're a professor, it's considered bad form to tell a student she's a dolt, even if she is one."

Someone opened the balcony door. Hermione waved her hand and their cigarettes disappeared.

It was Seamus who looked around the deck and asked, "Have you seen Lavender?"

Hermione shook her head, "Not for awhile, last I saw she was headed to the loo."

Seamus nodded and went back inside.

Hermione waved her hand again and their cigarettes reappeared. She took another deep drag, reveling in the comforting familiarity of the smoke entering her lungs.

"How did you do that?" Clive asked.

Hermione blew out a long stream of smoke. "Years of practice."

"And a lot of raw power?"

Hermione shrugged again. "That too."

"You're really surprising sometimes, you know that?"

Hermione smiled. "I should be getting back in." She crushed out her cigarette on the balcony railing and then waved her wand over it, making the mark and the butt disappear. "You shouldn't smoke, Clive. It's a disgusting habit."

Hermione made her way back inside through the throngs of people. Clive was right. Everyone did seem to be having a good time. She could see Ron in the middle of a crowd telling the thrilling tale of his last Quidditch match against Ginny's crew from the inn. The whole group was laughing. She really didn't want to wade into that, but it was too cold to go back outside. She decided she wouldn't be missed if she took a few moments to herself in her study.

She had just sat down when there was a knock at the door. Hermione sighed. It was probably Ron come to chastise her for leaving the party.

"Come in," she said, resigned to her fate.

She was surprised to see Michelle come into the study, sliding the pocket doors closed behind her.

"Hullo," Hermione said.

Michelle had a plate of appetizers in her hand. "I saw you come in here," she said. "You look terrible. You should eat something." She set the plate on Hermione's desk and sat in one of the wing chairs.

"By all means, have a seat," Hermione said tightly. She wondered if Ginny was counting Michelle when she said there were only five people at the party who could see through charms. "Thanks for the food." She reached for a shrimp puff.

"Are you eating enough? You don't look as though you've put on any more weight." Michelle continued.

"I eat all the time, Ron has me on a three hour feeding schedule. It's like I'm a bloody infant."

"Then you're doing too much magic. You need to cut back until you've put on some weight and have a little reserve."

Hermione glared at her.

"But that's not why I came in here."

Hermione arched an eyebrow at her and took another shrimp puff.

"I know it's none of my business, but that gossip column this morning--"

What had been a delicious shrimp puff turned to sawdust in Hermione's mouth. It was all she could do to choke it down.

"Was it true?"

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She took a moment to school her thoughts and then looked Michelle in the eye. "No," she said firmly. "I mean seriously, you of all people should know, I'm in no condition for an illicit affair." Hermione had been reaching for levity, but the hard look in Michelle's eyes told her she'd failed to achieve it.

"So if you felt better, it wouldn't be out of the question?" Michelle's tone was absolutely venomous.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, don't be ridiculous," Hermione snapped.

Michelle gave her a look of contempt. "How is it ridiculous? You seem to have your choice of men."

Hermione couldn't help herself, she laughed.

Michelle's mouth tightened to a thin angry line.

"I assure you," Hermione said, sobering, "I have only ever wanted one man. The fact that I briefly had another is practically incidental."

"Incidental to you maybe, but it wasn't to Ron," Michelle said quietly.

"Look, I'm sorry if--"

"Don't!" Michelle interrupted. "Don't you dare apologize to me for what happened between us. I don't need that from you."

Hermione relented. "Of course not."

Michelle stared at her for a moment. She sighed. "When I left him--"

The words hit Hermione hard. She'd left him. He would have stayed with her then. Michelle must have read the reaction on her face.

"Yes, I left him. I'd hoped at the time to snap him into some kind of realization of what I meant to him, what we had together."

Hermione nodded sadly. "I know that feeling. Didn't work for you either?"

Michelle sighed. "Not quite. My leaving did make him realize what I meant to him, which was nothing."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, something soothing. Then she realized there wasn't anything, so she closed it again.

"Men like Ron aren't exactly a dime a dozen. There isn't one on every street corner," Michelle continued.

"No," Hermione agreed, but then she smiled. "You know though," she touched her breastbone, "there are good men out there."

Michelle looked skeptical.

"I got the scar on my chest during a fight at the Ministry of Magic."

Michelle nodded. "Yes, I know." It was clear from her face that she didn't know where Hermione was going with this story.

"It wasn't Ron who carried me, unconscious on his back, through the Ministry, but a boy name Neville, not because he loved me, but because he's just a damn fine bloke."

Michelle continued looking at her.

"He's a botanist now and only just back from three years in the Amazon rain forest where he's been cataloguing native magical species with tribal healers."

"What--?" Michelle started.

"Would you like to meet him?"

Hermione smiled as she made her way back to her study. Michelle and Neville were chatting amicably and Michelle seemed at least mildly impressed. After all, while not exactly what Hermione would call handsome, Neville was no longer the round-faced, pudgy boy of their youth. He had a certain rakishness about him since he'd come back from the Amazon. His hair was a bit long which suited him and he was tan from long hours in the sun. He'd shot up some four or five inches since school which turned his pudginess into a strong sturdy build. All of that was for the better, but more importantly, he had an air of confidence about him now, and yet he was still sweet, dear Neville. Michelle could do a lot worse, Hermione mused.

She sat down at her desk and polished off the remaining appetizers on the plate Michelle had brought in. She was trying to decide if she felt like conjuring pumpkin juice when there was another knock at the door. This time she was sure Ron had caught her.

Wrong again. It was Harry. Hermione felt an instant flood of shame.

"Hullo," Harry said, sliding the doors closed behind him. "Taking a bit of a break?"

"Just for a tick. I needed a moment away from the throng." She couldn't look at him.

"The party's going well though, don't you think?" Harry said, taking a seat in one of the wing chairs.

"People seem to be enjoying themselves if that's what you mean."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "What else would I mean?"

"Oh, I don't know," Hermione said. "I suppose you could be referring to the rumor mill. I've only been confronted about that damn column once to my face, but there does seem to be a great deal of whispering when I walk by. Then again, perhaps I'm just being paranoid."

"I don't think I'd worry too much about the rumor mill if I were you," Harry said. "I think you'll find between the three of them that Padma, Parvati and Lavender have pretty much squelched all that."

"What?" Hermione said, surprised.

"Oh, yes, Ginny overheard Padma tell Lavender and Parvati what rubbish that whole article was. She went on and on about what bad shape you're in and how that couldn't possibly have happened. Then Lavender concluded that you and Ron were clearly in love and always had been and the papers ought to just let you alone. Apparently, they've been spreading this throughout the party whenever the subject comes up. I myself heard someone say you looked fantastic tonight, and Parvati called him a fool and told him the dress was charmed and that you were just skin and bones."

"Well, that's good, I suppose. I mean better to be called out for wearing a charmed dress than to have people think I'm shagging Viktor again."

Harry looked at her over the rims of his glasses. "I should think so."

Now that Viktor had been mentioned, Hermione felt even more awkward. She hated that Harry had been there and yet, she was so grateful that he was. "Thank you," she said quietly, "for this morning. I am sorry you had to see that."

Harry took his glasses off and wiped the lenses on his robes. "I'm sorry you had to go through all that in the first place, but I'm most sorry that you didn't feel you could come to me at the time. I treated you shabbily when you were with Viktor. You didn't deserve that."

Hermione shook her head. "I was the one who walked away, Harry. That's on me and the subsequent messes I got myself into, those are on me as well."

"You shouldn't have had to go it alone," Harry said firmly.

"But I didn't, did I? Viktor was there. We may have had our faults as a couple, but we were there for each other."

Harry shook his head. "That's not the same."

Hermione smiled sadly. "No it wasn't, but at the time it had to do, and that's alright."

"Would you really have…?" Harry paused.

"What?"

"Nothing," Harry shook his head again. "It's neither the time nor the place."

"Ask," Hermione said firmly. "It's been my experience that there is never a good time or place for awkward questions. If you want to know something, ask. I'm through with secrets. Ask and I'll answer."

Harry nodded but looked at the carpet. "Earlier today you said, well, you implied…" He looked up at her with a pleading expression. "Would you really have offed yourself if Viktor hadn't shown up that Christmas Eve?"

Hermione took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This hadn't been the question she'd expected. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but not this. Finally, she answered as honestly as she could. "I don't know. It had certainly crossed my mind to the point that I had considered methods."

Harry shook his head. "Why didn't you come to me?"

"What was I to do, Harry? Send you an owl, 'Oh Harry, I know you just got engaged but I'm thinking of slitting my wrists in the bath because I simply don't know what else to do with my time.' How could I have done?"

Harry's horrified expression tempered her sarcasm.

"I'm sorry, that was off sides," she said quietly.

Harry put a hand over his eyes. "Hermione…" his voice cracked.

"Harry," she said soothingly. "It was a million years ago. Another lifetime. I look back on that whole time period and I barely recognize myself." She chuckled wryly. "And yet, no matter how much time passes, decisions I made back then do have a tendency to resurface. But you know, I can't control that. What I can control is my reaction and that's where I need improvement and believe it or not what we did today with the memories was a big step in the right direction. I have to stop running from things I find painful or distasteful."

Harry put his hand down and looked at her.

"I had those experiences, and for better or worse, they shaped who I am now."

Harry nodded. "Actually, sometimes I think my bad decisions are the ones that shaped me the most, or at least they seem to have the most significant impact."

Hermione smiled. "Isn't that the truth?"