Hermione held perfectly still as Ginny directed a spell at her eyelid.
"Not a twitch, this is very precise," Ginny murmured. Hermione felt a damp line place itself just above her eyelashes. "Now for the other. Yes! Totally even!" Ginny leaned back on her heels in triumph. "Took me all summer to perfect that spell."
Hermione put her face close to the mirror, admiring the dark brown eyeliner. "Very nice," she said, pulling back and poking at her hair. "But I didn't think rural Ireland would be the place to learn makeup charms?"
"Oh, there was this one girl who was just very knacky with it," Ginny said, peering at Hermione's hair. "Want me to help with that too?"
"No, I can do it," Hermione said. Ginny's words conjured an image of Lavender: leaning against the counter in the kitchen of the flat in San Cipriano, stirring something delicious and telling Hermione she really should experiment with darker lipstick shades.
Hermione smiled at the memory, but slid almost immediately toward melancholy. She spoke quickly to head it off, reaching up to pin the sides of her hair back. "Tell me more about the village and the football team and the boy."
"Right. Might not have another chance before mum ropes me into the first of million things we 'have to do before the ceremony,'" Ginny said with an eye-roll. "And it was boys, plural." Her rogue grin appeared as she sat and launched into a rapid monologue about her summer, which sounded as if it had been action-packed—especially after she had walked onto a spot on the local muggle football team.
"Never played a muggle sport in my life!" she crowed, but Hermione listened with only half an ear. Despite her best efforts, her mind had wandered quickly from Lavender and San Cipriano to Draco. She wondered where he was and what he was doing right now, unable to prevent a sigh from escaping her lips.
Ginny paused in her narrative and Hermione plastered a smile on her face.
"Enough about me," Ginny said slowly. "Tell me more about your Italian holiday. The weather alone makes me extremely jealous. Was there any other excitement?" She wiggled her brows up and down as she looked in the mirror and fastened a necklace around her throat.
"Other than getting to be friends with Lavender Brown?" Hermione asked, faux-innocence in her tone.
Ginny laughed. "I still cannot believe that. I'll have to see it in person, I think." She turned, smoothing her dark blue dress. "And you just... stayed away from the others?"
"Yeah." Hermione got up and twitched a ruffle on her bodice. "Didn't see a lot of them." As much as she wished she could tell Ginny about Draco and even Theo, she didn't want to spoil the short time they had together.
"Well, I always thought it was naff. How Ron treated Lavender after their break-up." Ginny shook her head. "I would have been upset too. Just because I'm more likely to punch something than cry about it…"
"Agreed. And on that note. How are you doing? Er, how are things with Harry?" Hermione didn't know how, or even whether, to bring up all of Harry's developments this summer, but she wanted to make sure she checked in with Ginny.
Ginny met Hermione's eyes in the mirror. "Fine, I guess? A little weird. Part of me is still in some stupid sort of love with him. You should have felt my heart gallop when I saw him last night." She grimaced and Hermione gave her a sympathetic smile. "But he's got to go save the world, hasn't he? And I can't put my whole life on hold while he does that."
"Absolutely." Hermione nodded.
"It's mad. All just utterly mad." Ginny blinked and stared out the window to the field beyond, where someone was spelling white chairs into orderly lines. "Maybe if we make it through this whole thing and get a few years under our belts, we can revisit it. In the meantime, I plan to be as happy as I can in the time that I have."
Hermione placed her hand on Ginny's forearm. "That's really wise, Gin."
Ginny patted Hermione's hand. "And Harry has a lot to figure out."
"I know," Hermione said quietly.
Ginny's eyes cut to her. "You know?"
"Yeah."
Ginny nodded. "Good, I'm glad. So you can see how I don't want to be an obstacle to that. Hell, I may have things to figure out myself!" She flashed a quick look at Hermione. "Ron doesn't know yet though, right?"
"No, and I think Harry wants to wait until after today to tell him." Hermione and Harry had discussed it and both decided that their bombshells could wait until they were alone with Ron, preferably far away from civilisation and behind a silencing spell.
"GINNY! I need you!" Molly Weasley's distinctive tones floated up the stairs, making Hermione jump.
She saw Ginny twitch before shouting back down to her mum that she'd be right there. "Haven't missed that this summer," she muttered, running a hand over her hair one last time and heading for the doorway.
"I'll be down to help in just a moment," Hermione said.
"Take your time. There'll be plenty to do before they make it down the aisle." Ginny gave a short laugh before trundling down the stairs.
Hermione stood in the suddenly silent room and looked at herself in the mirror. The vibrant red of her scoop-neck dress glowed against her deeply tanned skin and her hair gleamed gold, lighter than it had ever been. The effects of a summer in the Italian sun... She sighed, an intense longing for Draco to see her like this, looking pretty, shooting through her.
She touched the wood of Ginny's vanity and looked down. It felt surreal somehow that he was still in San Cipriano. What was he doing right now? Riding his motorcycle to Blaise's? Drinking an espresso in the piazza? Packing?
Maybe he was lying in bed, shirt off, drowsing in the afternoon sun. Hermione's breath quickened and her fingers twitched with a physical ache to touch him, be with him.
Or maybe, she shook her head and frowned, he'd already left to come back to Britain. Maybe he was sitting in a cold safehouse war-room or a death eater hideout. Hermione shuddered—she didn't actually know, and the not knowing made her sick.
She made a face in the glass. She'd have to get used to this feeling, wouldn't she? And it didn't help anything to stand around here feeling sorry for herself when there were preparations to be made—for the wedding and the upcoming departure.
Crossing the room with an impatient noise, she fetched the small, beaded bag she'd picked up in Diagon Alley yesterday and held it against her dress. Not a perfect match, but it would have to do. She shifted it over her shoulder and it rattled ominously, so she silenced it with a touch of her wand. Extended and filled with most of the basic supplies she and Harry had discussed, it still lacked a few essentials. She'd go see what Molly could spare from the pantry and storage shed.
Hermione ducked out of Ginny's room, catching a glimpse of Charlie's dark red head as he disappeared up another flight of stairs to the Burrow's extensive attics, calling something over his shoulder about glassware. She needed to find Ron and Harry so they could go over next steps. Ron, whom she'd only seen for a loud, crowded couple of hours yesterday, hadn't even known about the plan at all until Harry had filled him in late last night. Hermione figured Harry's significant look and nod toward him at breakfast meant Ron was apprised and onboard, though.
So it would be the three of them again.
Hermione gripped the worn newel post at the top of the steps and started down. Three against the world. Not for the first time, she wondered how a few teenagers were going to actually do anything to affect this war. And how were they going to survive alone together for the next several months?
Shaking her head and tamping down these depressing thoughts, Hermione slipped through the dark hallway at the foot of the stairs and out to the garden. The chairs were all set up now, and a charm appeared to be erecting a large tent on the lawn next to them. She could hear Molly and Ginny in the kitchen, having words over seating arrangements, and see Fred and George down the garden, ridding the plot of gnomes. Someone whizzed by on a broom, trailing ribbons and flowers, and Hermione had a moment of being totally overwhelmed by being back in the magical world. She longed with a sudden, passionate intensity to be alone with a book and coffee in the flat in Italy.
She turned away from the noise and activity and walked around the side of the house to the shed, forcing her mind to blankets and tea kettles and potion ingredients. She was soon so lost in thoughts of supplies and organisation that she started when Ron poked his head out the pantry window.
"Psst!" he whispered, gesturing to her.
"Ron! What are you doing?"
"Making a getaway," he said, pulling back inside. "Wait right there." A few seconds later his lanky frame appeared in the kitchen doorway, which he exited with a furtive glance over his shoulder.
"Come on," he said in a low voice. "Mum's on the rampage." He inclined his head and started moving rapidly down a path that skirted the side of the garden, well away from the chairs and Fred and George. Hermione realised he had a paper sack in his arms, which was clinking as he moved.
"Where are we going? What is that?" She pointed at the parcel.
"Let's just get over the rise where they can't see us," he said, speeding up. Hermione hurried after him, taking two steps for each of his and marveling at the fact that he seemed to have gotten even taller over the summer. The path dipped up and down and Hermione saw that they were heading for the creek that ran along the lower boundary of The Burrow. She spotted Harry's dark hair through the branches of thickly trailing willows that lined the bank.
"Hey!" Harry called quietly, waving to both of them. "You found her," he said to Ron.
"Found some beer and crisps too," Ron said. "Nice to have so many supplies in the house." He settled on to a patch of grass at the edge of the creek and opened the bag.
Harry was sitting against the trunk of a willow. Hermione dropped down next to him, carefully arranging her skirts, and accepted a cold bottle of beer from Ron. It was only early afternoon, but she found she didn't care.
Ron took a huge swig from his bottle and looked at Harry and Hermione, a smile lifting his features. "Three of us finally back together, eh? Hardly got to talk to you two last night."
"I know. Yesterday was a bit mad," Hermione laughed. Any gathering where all nine Weasleys were together at the same time—especially after a long separation—had a certain energy, and this one had been no different.
"So. How was your summer?" She turned a little awkwardly to Ron. Part of her still felt uneasy with him, although he seemed determined to act like nothing strange had happened between them last term, which was welcome. She'd take any chance to build camaraderie between them. She knew she'd need it as soon as she told him about Draco.
"It was ace, yeah." Ron smiled. "I think dad told you I was in Norway, right?" He glanced at Harry.
"Scandinavia, yeah. He didn't say which country, but that's great." Harry nodded.
"It was bloody gorgeous," Ron said. "Good food and strong drink. Big lakes and meadows. Quidditch pitch in the peaks."
"Wait, you were in a magical place?" Hermione asked, greatly surprised.
"Yeah, weren't you?"
"No! We lived like muggles all summer! In a muggle village. The group I was with."
Ron stared for a moment then started laughing.
"What?"
"Just Malfoy and all those Slytherins." Ron's shoulders shook. Hermione felt Harry's glance at her but didn't dare meet his eyes.
"Oh right," she said. "Yeah. Totally." She gave an unconvincing laugh and Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Harry talked over him.
"Well, you both had it better than me," he said, rolling his neck against the tree. "I was in a dingy little room in Manchester for two months and then a village in Cornwall, which was nothing special. Although it did have a nice beach. And some nice people." His voice trailed off.
"Did you meet anyone cool in your village, Ron?" Hermione asked, reaching for one of the bags of crisps and ripping it open.
"Well, er." Ron passed a hand over his neck and Hermione saw color stain his lower jaw. "Yeah, I uh, met someone. I mean, a lot of someones. But one person in particular. Annika." He shot a quick look at Hermione. "That's not weird, is it?"
"Not at all," Hermione said, shaking her head vigorously, a feeling of relief sneaking over her. This would make it so much easier. She looked to the side and saw Harry nodding. He gave her the briefest of glances before leaning forward.
"What's she like?" he asked, putting his elbows on his knees and dangling his beer between them.
The corners of Ron's lips went up. "Six feet tall, blonde, better Keeper than me. Funny in a smart-mouthed kind of way." The flush spread up over his cheeks. He seemed happy and Hermione was glad for him. Ron had always needed something of his own.
"She'd never even heard of you, mate." Ron's next words seemed to reinforce this thought. He barked a short laugh in Harry's direction and Harry reared back in mock surprise.
"Shocking."
They all three laughed and then there was a silence in which Hermione could hear George shouting Fred's name and someone beginning to tune a fiddle.
"Are you going to keep in touch?" she asked Ron.
"Oh yeah," he said quickly. "When this is all over." The happiness that had lit his face seeped out slowly until he was frowning. He squinted away toward the other side of the stream bank and picked up a stone, throwing it in the trickling water.
Hermione's sympathy for his feelings was profound, although she wondered if Ron would be able to reciprocate once he knew about her choice of partner.
"Enough about me, though." Ron straightened and peered at Hermione. "How did you and… Lav get on? Must have been rough for you two."
He said it as if he were about to pour rubbing alcohol on a cut and Hermione couldn't help but laugh.
"We got on really well, actually." She stared at him with a grin on her face. Harry started to chuckle next to her.
"You did?"
"Yeah, I'd say we're good friends now. As close as Ginny and I are." Ron was looking at her with a sort of shocked disbelief. After a moment he shook his head.
"I can't believe that."
"Believe it," Hermione said, dusting crisp crumbs from her hands. "Harry saw it. He can vouch for me." She nudged Harry with her shoulder.
"Yeah, it's true, mate. Lav's cool."
"Wait, when were you there!?"
"I, ah, visited once and you know I went to pick Hermione up and bring her back," Harry said.
Ron's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth but then shut it. "Did you become friends with the rest of them?" he sputtered at Hermione.
Hermione felt Harry tense and she looked over her shoulder back toward the house. She didn't actually want to lie to Ron if she could help it.
"I think I hear your mum," she said, cocking an ear.
Ron took on an attitude of listening, but of course the fake call didn't come. "I don't hear anything," he said.
"We're going to have a lot of time to talk about our summers coming up," Harry said, beginning to stand and stretch. "Why don't we run over our plans just now before Molly does find us."
"Right," Ron said. "Good idea."
Hermione breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Thank you, Harry. Outwardly she said, "So our first stop is Grimmauld—at least for a few days."
The boys nodded and Hermione continued, "I've got most of our basic supplies here." She patted her beaded bag. "Tent, blankets, cookery gear, reference books, extra clothes, potions and potion ingredients, some tinned food."
Ron's eyes went wide. "All in there?" he said, pointing to her tiny bag.
"Yeah." She lifted it. "Extension charm."
He shook his head. "Bloody brilliant, you are."
"Thank you, but we still need a lot more if we're really going to be ready for anything." She turned to Harry and lowered her voice. "I know after Grimmauld we're planning on Godric's Hollow, and then hoping that will lead us to the other Horcruxes—and I'm assuming that means we may be living rough for a while."
"Yeah," Harry said. "I think that's a good assumption."
"So we have the wedding, and then supply collection. I need to see my parents as soon as possible." Hermione ticked their next steps on her fingers. "We need to be ready for the will reading," she said, her eyes darting to Harry's, "when it happens."
Harry nodded tightly. Dumbledore was hanging on, but by the slightest of threads. They expected news of his death any day or hour, although in many ways Hermione felt like he was already gone.
"I hope we learn something solid from it," Harry said. "I hope he left us a plan or at least a clear next step."
"I know," Hermione said. She wasn't sure what they were going to do otherwise.
"I spoke to mum and dad this morning," Ron said. "They are not happy that I'm going with you—or that any of us are going at all." He shook his head. "Only the wedding preparation has kept mum from cornering you to try to talk you out of it."
Hermione grimaced. She wasn't surprised.
"What are you going to do about your parents?" Harry said, directing a sharp look at Hermione. Ron also turned toward her, a crease between his eyes.
She sighed. She had thought and thought about this, talked it through with Draco, and come to only one conclusion—a painful and difficult conclusion. "It's going to have to be full obliviation," she said quietly.
"What, of you? From them?" Harry sounded shocked.
"Yes. I've told them too much. I need to erase all of it and replace it with a different story. New identities. New place to live. Somewhere far away. I've decided on Australia," Hermione said, looking from Harry to Ron, both of whose mouths were hanging open.
"But Hermione—" Ron said. "Those kinds of spells. They can be irreversible."
"I know." Hermione felt tears well in her eyes. "But I have to protect them. And us." The tears spilled over and fell down her cheeks.
Harry was instantly there, his arms around her. Then she felt Ron on her other side, his big hand rubbing her shoulder.
"I'm so sorry," Harry was murmuring and she could hear the guilt in his voice, clear as day.
"Yeah," Ron said. "Sorry, Hermione." She could hear concern and pain in his.
Hermione let herself cry for only a bit before straightening up. "Thank you both. And do not blame yourself," she said, drawing back and pointing at Harry as she wiped her eyes. "This isn't your fault."
Ron kept behind her, but she felt him nodding along.
Harry closed his eyes and tipped his head back. "I guess this is just one of the many of who-knows-how-many awful things we're going to have to do." He blew out a huge sigh.
"Right." Hermione turned to Ron, who was looking up the path.
"I think I do hear mum calling now," he said. "We should probably get back."
"The plan is to leave for Grimmauld tomorrow mid-morning, correct?" Hermione looked to Harry for confirmation.
"Yeah," he said, nodding as they started back up the path, Molly's tones clearer and more strident now as she called Ron's full name at high volume.
"Coming, mum!" Ron shouted, shaking his head. "God, she does my head in," he said, but the words lacked bite. Harry fell into step with him and they started discussing a recent Quidditch match.
Hermione trailed behind, her mind going over and over the plan and what she would need to do in the next few days. Her parents. God. She stopped, squeezing her eyes shut and taking a ragged breath.
The Quidditch discussion got more technical and the boys' steps got faster as they walked away up the path and a familiar sense settled over Hermione of feeling left out and more than a little alone in the old, familiar grooves of this friendship. That this would be her life for the foreseeable future filled her with a sudden, intense loneliness.
She braced her palm against a slender sapling, suddenly missing Draco so much that it almost robbed her of breath. And Lavender. And Theo and even Blaise. Her world had expanded this summer—in the most satisfying of ways. And while she loved Harry and Ron and believed in what they were doing, the idea of being the third wheel of the golden trio again felt stifling.
A memory came over her, of being face to face with Draco, so close she could study the elegant jump of his nose and the darker flecks in his light grey irises. Feeling like the only two people in the world; his focus intense on her and hers lasered on him. Their breaths mingling and their fingers entwined.
Would she ever have that again? Would she be anyone's first thought and first priority? Were such thoughts selfish and petty in the face of what she, Harry and Ron had to do?
Hermione shook her head and pushed off the tree. There was nothing to be done now. It was all in motion and there was nothing, nothing she could do, but help win this war so that it would all go back to normal in some way.
She swallowed down the constriction in her throat and put her chin up, cresting the path and raising a weak hand to wave to Molly in the distance.
"We haven't danced yet." Ron appeared in front of where Hermione was leaning against a post in the giant tent, watching Bill and Fleur as they swayed slowly under the twinkling lights. The white tent had been truly transformed into a warm, jewel-like room, its deep, gorgeous colors and textures reflected in candlelight and the happy faces of the guests.
"She's the most beautiful bride," Hermione murmured, glancing up at Ron. "And are you asking?"
"Yeah, I am." He held out his hand. Hermione let him lead her to the middle of the floor, realising with surprise that she and Ron had never danced together before. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she breathed his familiar scent and let her eyes travel up to his face. He looked back at her and they moved in silence for a while, the air between them a little fraught, but not nearly as bad as it had been before summer.
They turned in the dance and suddenly Molly and Arthur were there, Molly's eyes running over them avidly. "How well you look," she trilled, and Hermione noticed her cheeks were very rosy.
Ron chuckled nervously. "Sure, mum." He turned them again and raised his eyebrows at Hermione. "Going to be a blow to her when we don't get married the second we're out of school and present her with a grandchild nine months later."
"Ron!" But Hermione was laughing.
He laughed too, but then his face sobered. "Look." He glanced around. "I wanted a minute alone before we set out and we're... never alone." Hermione frowned up at him and he took a deep breath. "Like I said earlier, I hope we're OK. But I want to apologise for what an arse I was at the end last school year. And before."
Hermione felt her eyebrows shoot up.
"I know." He shook his head. "I'm not great at this. But I feel like I learned a lot this summer. I talked about it—with Annika. She pointed out a few things to me. About Lav too."
"Wow. Can't wait to meet this Annika. And thank you," Hermione said a little incredulously—it was hard to believe this was Ron she was speaking to. "And yes, you definitely owe Lavender an apology the next time you see her."
Ron nodded and they moved silently for a few moments. "Does she hate me?" he asked suddenly.
"No!" Hermione said. "You hurt her, but she's, uh, moved on." Another bombshell coming his way in due time.
"I still can't believe it. You and her friends," he said. "I mean, even aside from our history, you're just... really different!"
Hermione laughed. "Yeah, but complimentary. That's something I learned this summer. Also, other than Ginny, I've never really had a female friend. And it's nice." She shrugged. "We talk about different things."
"I bet."
The look on Ron's face made Hermione laugh again. She caught Molly watching them again too. Ron followed her gaze and sighed at his mum. "She's going to be a handful."
Hermione shook her head. "She'll get over it. We're clearly much better as friends, and anyone with an ounce of sense should see that." She let her eyes linger on Ron's familiar features: his long nose, dusting of freckles and the startling blue of his eyes—dear to her still, but in a different way now. "I do accept your apology, though," she continued. "And I'm sorry too."
"For what?"
"That we let it get like this. I don't know what I'd do without your friendship, and I thought I was losing it there for a while."
"Never," Ron said, squeezing her waist lightly. Hermione breathed out, feeling like she was releasing something that had been tight and constricted. Her mind flashed again on the bonds she'd forged this summer and it occurred to her that this might be growing up—an expansion of social circles, thoughts, ideas…not always easy or without pain, but good and worth it. She hoped again that Ron would be open to the changes in her life.
"Tell me more about Annika," she said after a bit. "Seems like you're pretty serious."
"I am. She is. I'm thinking of moving there or having her come here after… well, if we get through all this and come out on the other side."
"Does she know you'll be out of touch?"
"I told her communication would be spotty. She knows how bad it is here. Bloody worried about it, in fact."
"I'm sure." Hermione grimaced. "But, it sounds like it's worth it." The same equation she'd worked on with Draco all summer.
"Absolutely," Ron said as the song came to an end. He kept her hand as they walked off the dance floor and Hermione now saw several pairs of curious eyes on them.
"Can you believe Annika had never heard of Harry before?" Ron was saying. "Things are just kind of different up there." His voice took on a faraway quality and Hermione murmured something indistinct as she scanned the room for Harry, realising she hadn't seen him in a while. She finally spotted him at a small table, deep in conversation with Ginny. She hoped that was going well.
Gently disentangling her fingers from Ron's, she looked up to say something to him when several things happened at once. A wind seemed to whoosh through the tent, making heads raise and eyes meet. Hermione felt a sharp stab of fear that she saw reflected in Ron's face. They both looked to Harry, who started up out of his seat toward them just as a silvery shape billowed into the room.
Harry stopped and Hermione clutched at her beaded bag, then Ron's hand. The shape unfolded into Kingsley Shacklebolt's distinctive lynx patronus and spoke in a low, carrying voice that seemed to drown out all other sound.
"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgour is dead. They are coming."
The lynx vanished and the tent was utterly silent for a beat, then two, before erupting into utter chaos. Families shouted for each other and people ran for the door even as dark, swirling figures started appearing in the crowd. The crack of disapparation sounded from all around. Hermione and Ron surged forward as one, trying to get to Harry, who had disappeared behind the frantic wall of people and sound.
Hermione opened her mouth to shout Harry's name, but just then someone grasped her other hand and she whipped her head around to see it was Harry, his face anguished as he watched the dark figures resolve into robes and hideous masks. Hermione felt a scream building in her throat as one spotted them and started to draw its wand. She saw Lupin and Tonks appear on the side of the dance floor take aim at it.
"NOW!" she shouted, looking frantically from Ron to Harry. Harry's eyes were on Ginny, and Ron's tortured gaze roved between the various members of his family, who were fanning out in defensive positions across the room. "We have to go NOW!" Hermione yelled again, pulling the boys to her and focusing with all her might on the shadowy halls of Grimmauld Place. She felt each of them crush her hands as they began to swirl into darkness.
Her last thoughts as the room vanished along with the screams and ozone scent of magic deploying, were strangely of Draco and a quiet afternoon in the San Cipriano sun: one last spot of brightness before she disappeared into the void.