It was still raining when Hermione arrived at Harry and Ginny's house for their weekly dinner. In the divorce, it was not mentioned that Hermione would get to keep this weekly ritual, but nevertheless, Hermione always showed up, Ron did not, and that all but settled the matter in her opinion.
Conversation flowed easily amongst the friends, their laughter giving Hermione more nourishment than any amount of food could provide. They exchanged Ministry gossip ("I heard Michael Corner was promoted to Head of the Department of Mysteries!" Ginny gushed with pride while Harry cleared his throat, embarrassed by his still lingering jealousy), stories from Ginny's recent travels for the Daily Prophet ("Whoever decided to hold the World Cup in Phoenix, Arizona must have been mental!"), and reports from the kids at Hogwarts ("Neville told us James got detention AGAIN for tying a firecracker to Ms. Norris' tail!").
After dinner, Hermione scrubbed the dishes at the kitchen sink. The cleaning could be done by magic, of course, but she always washed them by hand as a sign of gratitude for their hospitality. Her mind drifted back to memories of Ron, standing behind her at that very sink, running lazy fingers along her spine and whispering about a dessert that just the two of them could share later. A single tear fell into the soapy water, a silent offering to whichever sudsy god could remove pain from a memory.
Ginny appeared next to her and grabbed a towel from the rack beside the wash basin.
"Harry won't pick sides, but I am not speaking to Ron after what he did to you." Ginny took the plate Hermione had been rinsing and began drying it with quick circular swipes.
"Neither is mum. She's letting him stay at the Burrow, you know, but she won't even look at him."
"He's your family. You all don't have to do any of that for me." A quick breath, a pause. "I'll be fine on my own."
"And you're not family?" Ginny demanded.
Ginny slouched against the counter as Hermione continued dunking dishes into the warm water. The mindless motion of cleaning was all Hermione could manage without risking more salty sacrifices to an unyielding household god. Abruptly, Ginny straightened.
"Come. I need to show you something."
Ginny turned on her heals and headed toward the sitting room. Hermione sighed a resignation. She knew by the fierceness in her friend's voice that disobeying would land her on the wrong side of a world-famous bat bogey-hex. The women made their way through the house until they found themselves in front of a rather stately grandfather clock. This clock, however, was not the usual sort that told time, but had locations instead of numbers and names of family members scrawled on the hands. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had gifted it to the couple as a wedding gift, with Mrs. Weasley dropping many not-so-subtle hints about filling it with names of grandchildren, and quickly.
Hermione read the clock. Ginny and Harry rested at "home", Albus and James at "school", and Teddy at "work". Ron's clock hand, she noted, was pointing at "Diagon Alley", which at this time at night, Hermione could only wonder if he was at The Leaky Cauldron, and with who. But she also saw her own name nestled safely among the bunch, and she found the heaviness in her chest replaced by relief.
"We don't choose the names that appear on the clock. The clock reads us just as we read it," Ginny whispered.
Hermione studied the clock longer than required, squinting at the names in an unsuccessful attempt to hold back tears. Then she noticed something new, something that was not there before. She was sure of it.
"Ginny...has that blank hand always been there?"
Hermione, perplexed, turned toward her friend's soft smile. Ginny's face glowed brightly even in the dim candlelight. She moved her hands down to caress a bump so small beneath her shirt that Hermione had managed to miss it.
"Our family will only grow, Hermione. Please, don't ever forget that."