A/N: I wish I could add emojis to these. I very nearly lost 80% of this chapter by somehow managing to save over both save files, and I would love to emoji dump a bunch of frustrated faces for you all. It took me the better part of an hour before I was finally able to revert the dropbox file into an older version- I nearly cried in relief! Anyway, I'm posting now before anything else can go wrong.
Chapter 32
Hermione couldn't sleep.
She knew why. It was Christmas eve. Though, not for much longer.
She had retired to her rooms earlier than normal when she felt her despondent ruminations begin to surface. This was the second year she would not be celebrating with her family in any way, and that reality was hitting her particularly hard. She hadn't spent every Christmas with them since attending Hogwarts, but there had always been letters, phone calls when possible- even a belated celebration when next she saw them.
But last year, nothing. This year... nothing.
The lack of celebration left a hollowness in her chest. She knew her parents were safe, and she told herself that was all she needed. But now, staring at the moonlight reflecting off the ceiling, she couldn't be convinced that it was enough. She wanted her parents, more than ever. Wanted to decorate a tree, to bake cookies with her mother, to dance to Christmas carols in front of the fire with her father. She wanted to sip apple cider as her parents drank something stronger, becoming more and more jovial as the holiday went on.
Her pillow was damp with silent tears. Crookshanks had given up kneading her hip, curling tightly against her back instead. She wasn't sure when she moved last. Her body was paralyzed with the weight of her heartache.
A door closed downstairs. Had Severus finally gone to bed? What time was it? Reaching under her pillow for her wand, she cast a tempus.
12:43.
It was 12:43 in the morning. It was officially Christmas.
Hermione shoved her face in her pillow. She should have asked Severus for a potion. She could tell sleep was far from her reach.
She lay there for another half hour, eyes tightly closed, forcing her breathing as she tried to relax her body enough to sleep. When that failed, she groaned and threw the covers off of her, inadvertently tossing them over Crookshanks, who really did not seem to mind. Snorting, she scooted around him and stood up from the bed.
Taking care to be quiet, she tiptoed down the stairs and re-entered the living room. It was cold- the harsh winter winds outside had already sucked out all the heat that had once emanated from the now-cold fireplace. She rectified that with a swish of her wand, and sighed in relief as the fire warmed her skin.
She had foregone her nightgown for a pair of red flannel pajama pants and a grey t-shirt, a green and red flannel christmas tree donning the front- she always wore Christmas pajamas to bed on Christmas Eve. Despite the warmer clothes and the fire, when she sat on the couch she pulled the fluffy white blanket over her, hugging one of the golden pillows to her chest.
She had been staring at the fire for what may have been ten or so minutes when she heard a door open in the hall and footsteps approach. She turned her head as Severus appeared in the doorway, wearing an untucked white button-down over black sleep pants. "Did I wake you?" she asked.
"No. Did I wake you?"
She shook her head, turning back towards the fire. "No. I couldn't sleep."
He shuffled behind her, and when she looked over again, he was leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb, arms crossed. "Are you having bad dreams again?"
"I'd have to have slept for that to be the case."
"Hmm." Shoving off the wall, he entered the room properly and sat in his chair. Her eyes followed him as he crossed in front of her, and rested on his face as he asked, "Would it help to talk about it?"
"No." She fidgeted with a corner of the pillow. "Maybe? I don't know."
He sat there silently, waiting for her to say more. Sighing, she dropped her hands and said, "This is the second year I won't be celebrating Christmas with my parents in any capacity. I'm just..." She stared into the fire as she thought about what she wanted to say. "I can't stop thinking about what I'm missing."
A pause, and then he asked her softly, "What are you missing?"
She shrugged. "Traditions, time spent together, Christmas letters if I weren't with them at the time. Gods, I wasted so many opportunities by not celebrating with them when I had the chance." Her eyes burned, and she rubbed them quickly, wiping away the tears before they could fall.
When he remained silent, she told him, "Every year I was there, we would decorate the tree together. My mother would ask for my help making the best frosted Christmas cookies you'd ever tasted. She would make the frosting from scratch, and we would decorate them together." Chuckling, she said, "You should have seen how atrocious mine always came out. I am many things, but an artist is not one of them."
A soft smile graced his lips as he listened, and she continued. "Christmas Day usually consisted of presents in our pajamas before eating a huge breakfast spread that always included one Christmas cookie- and my dad always made a point to pick the ugliest cookie I had made. When I was little, he would make a big fuss about how it was the best tasting cookie out of the bunch. It always made me feel better about my attempts, and I started to love those ugly cookies more than anything.
"When Mum would go off to cook the Christmas ham, he would turn the radio to a local Christmas station, and dance with me to carols and jingles. He didn't care what song it was; he would keep me dancing for hours if I let him." Sniffing, she added, "His favorite was It Came Upon a Midnight Clear. He said it reminded him of how he felt when I was born- like the skies themselves were singing in joy."
When she stopped, swallowing past the lump in her throat, he asked her, "What about after dinner?"
She smiled sadly, looking down at her hands. "Someone was bound to have been gifted a board game or something else we could do as a group- cards, or a puzzle, or something. One year, we each got a board game, and we played all three back to back."
His voice was so soft, so soothing, when he asked her, "When did you last celebrate with them?"
"Two years ago." Her voice croaked. "Before that, I had spent most of the Christmas holidays with Harry and Ron. Even during my fifth year, when they wanted to take me skiing..." She shook her head. "I had heard about Mr Weasley's attack, and I couldn't imagine not going to the Burrow."
Her face twisted in a grimace as the guilt washed over her. She knew when she had left that her parents, while acting supportive, were incredibly disappointed. That was to be their first Christmas together in four years, and she practically ran out on them at the drop of a hat. What was her presence at the Weasley's going to change? She should have stayed with them, and gotten updates from afar.
Her tears flowed freely now, silently sliding down her cheeks. She didn't bother wiping them away. "Why didn't I prioritize them more?" she whispered. "I would do anything to see them again- why did I think all these other things were more important?"
The prolonged silence was finally broken by his voice, still gentle but much stronger than his softly spoken questions had been. "I imagine it was because you were involved in a massive war that threatened your very existence." Leaning against the armrest, he said, "Your parents love you. From the sound of it, they love you more than life itself. No missed holidays will change that."
"They don't even remember me," she muttered, forlorn.
"Perhaps not," he admitted, "but they will know you once again. And that love will remain."
"How do you know?" She wiped furiously at her face, and said, "I give them their memories back, and the first thing they're going to do is demand an explanation. I'm going to have to admit to attacking them unknowingly with a memory spell and shipping them out of the country. They're going to want to know about their practice- the dental office that shut down weeks after they disappeared. They're going to ask me what happened to the house. They'll want to know why I took away their freedom of choice, why I made such a huge decision on my own, and they'll be furious with me."
"They very well may." Summoning a handkerchief, he handed her the bit of cloth and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "It is likely they will not take kindly to having their world pulled away from them by force. You are forgetting one major factor, however."
Dabbing her eyes, she sniffed. "What is that?"
"You're forgetting that your parents are intelligent human beings capable of seeing the bigger picture." Shifting slightly to better face her, he continued, "Do you honestly think your parents are going to listen to you tell them about the entirety of our war and the danger you all were in and not be thankful you're still alive?"
When she didn't answer, he pressed on. "Everything you have told me about your parents has convinced me that they are extraordinarily compassionate people. Houses, practices, those are things that can be replaced. You cannot be. They will understand."
Sniffing again, she offered him a weak smile. "I hope you're right."
He smiled at her in return. "I know I'm right."
When Hermione re-emerged from her rooms at a much more reasonable hour on Christmas morning, she was still wearing the same flannel pajama pants and T-shirt. Thank the gods, he told himself as he turned to find her in the kitchen entrance. I don't think I could handle another nightgown appearance. "Good morning," he greeted.
"Good morning." She smiled at him, and he was relieved to not see any of the sorrow of the night before. "And Happy Christmas!"
Smirking, he replied, "Happy Christmas." Studying her face, he could see slight dark smudges under her eyes. "Did you manage any sleep?"
She walked over to the table as she answered, "A little. I tossed and turned a lot."
"You should have let me give you something." He turned back to the food he was preparing- a full English breakfast. Adding the tomato halves to the pan, he glanced over at her. "It wouldn't have had to be a Dreamless Sleep; a regular Sleeping Potion could have-"
"I appreciate the thought," she interrupted, "but I really didn't want to oversleep."
"I would have woken you when it was time for you to go."
"That's..." Looking her way once more, he frowned. She was staring at the tabletop, her cheeks flushed. "That's not what I was afraid of."
Realization hit him in an instant. That's right. She wanted to celebrate with me, too. He cleared his throat. "Did you have anything in particular in mind for today?" he asked as he began loading her plate, placing a single biscuit on the edge before setting the food down in front of her. Filling his own plate, he joined her.
She was staring at her food, and seemed to have forgotten he had spoken to her. With hesitant fingers, she reached up and plucked the biscuit from where it rested between the mushrooms and tomatoes. "What's this?" she asked, her voice hushed, before looking up at him.
"It's no Christmas cookie," he shrugged, hoping he hadn't overstepped, "but it's the closest we have here."
Her eyes, wide and watery, stared at him in shock. Then, in an instant, she was on her feet, circling the table, and throwing her arms around his neck.
The hug was awkward, as he was still sitting, but he wrapped his arms around her just the same. "Thank you," she whispered, and her breath tickled his scar, sending shivers down his spine. He closed his eyes briefly against the sensation.
"It is a small gesture," he replied, and she snorted as she pulled back.
"Well, it meant a lot to me." She lingered before him, her smile shining in her eyes, before she backed away and returned to her seat. "I- it's just-"
He chuckled softly at her floundering for words, and picked up a fork. "Eat your breakfast, Hermione."
She did, periodically taking small bites from the biscuit while doing so.
After they were finished eating, Hermione insisted on doing the washing up. She sent him forcibly out of the kitchen, going so far as to shove him across the threshold into the hall, before he acquiesced.
He settled down in the living room with an old potions text, and soon found himself lost in its pages. He wasn't reading for research, but occasionally he would come across something that he would wish to take a note of; soon after he had settled in, he moved to his desk, pulling his quill and some parchment near him. Parchment, he found over the years, was a cleaner form of note-taking than writing directly in the books, and by the time the floo activated behind him, the entire sheet was filled with his findings.
Minerva McGonagall dusted ash off of her bright Christmas-Green robes as she stepped from the fireplace. "Research?" she asked, peering over his shoulder. "On Christmas? My, aren't we a bundle of joy today."
"Over the many years you have known me, Minerva, have I ever been the sort to go out of my way to celebrate anything?" Spinning his chair to face her, he looked her up and down. "You, on the other hand, remain as garish as you usually do at this time of year. I'm surprised- I had thought you were merely humoring Albus."
"Oh, this isn't half as bad as the things he would wear." Raising her wand casually, she tapped it against his shoulder. "Shall I show you?"
He batted her wand away from him. "Get that away from my person or I will see to its removal myself."
Smirking, she took a seat in his wingback chair. "Where's Hermione? I need someone pleasant to visit with today."
"I'll be right there, Professor!" the young witch called from the other room. "I'm just about done."
Finding that acceptable, Minerva pulled a sack from an inner pocket of her robe and returned it to its original size. Pulling out a small stack of gifts, she handed him a thin rectangular package wrapped in silver paper, about the size of a wand box. "What's this?" he asked, even as he reached for his bottom desk drawer and removed a small square present wrapped tastefully in gold.
"Typically people open the present to find that out," she smirked as she accepted the gift.
Severus turned his present over, glancing her way as he slowly slid a finger under the tape sealing the top edge. Gently unfolding it, he turned the present to do the same to the other end, careful not to tear any of the wrapping. It took a while, but he managed to do so flawlessly, and he began to gently pry away the remaining bits of tape holding the paper together, stubbornly refusing to allow even the smallest rip to mar the silver wrapping.
"Oh, just tear it open already!" Minerva shouted, pausing her own unwrapping to watch his painfully slow technique.
Mouth quirking, he continued as he had been until every bit of tape had been removed from the package, the paper perfectly intact.
"Very impressive," his companion muttered across from him, rolling her eyes.
"Things worth doing are worth doing well," he quipped as he lifted the lid on the long wooden box and looked within.
Resting on black satin was a long, cylindrical stirring rod, the various light sources of the room casting over its translucent material in astounding brilliance. Carefully lifting the rod out of its box, Severus held it up to the light, eyes dancing over the reflections on its flawless surface. "Please tell me someone owed you a favor."
"Do you not like it?" The way she said the words, the way her lips twitched, showed him she knew exactly what he meant.
"Diamond stirring rods are inordinately expensive and difficult to produce. The magic required-"
"I know what I purchased, Severus," she interrupted, "and I know its worth."
"It's excessive," he argued.
"Yes, well, I figured that since I am responsible for your Hogwarts and St Mungo's contracts, I should at least ensure the quality of the brews." She nodded towards the rod he still held reverently between his fingers. "I may not be a great potioneer, but I do know the value of pure diamond. The wolfsbane potion in particular will benefit from its magical effects, and I know you would never buy it for yourself."
"You aren't wrong," he muttered as he looked over the rod again. Rods of this quality cost more than he could ever stomach spending on himself. The fact that Minerva felt the need to do so... Finally resting it gently back in its box, he set it on the desk behind him. "Thank you, Minerva. I cannot imagine what brought you to make such a purchase on my behalf, but it... it certainly means a lot."
"You're very welcome." Smiling, she turned to the doorway as Hermione entered, dusting off her hands. "Happy Christmas, Hermione! Come, sit. We just began with gifts."
Still in her pajamas, Hermione returned the Headmistress' smile and practically bounced to the sofa. "Did you already open one?" she asked Severus, looking over and seeing the immaculately preserved bit of wrapping paper on the coffee table.
"I opened what had better be my very last Christmas gift from Minerva, yes," he answered, staring pointedly at the older witch. Hermione laughed.
"That bad?"
"Not at all," he replied. "It was that good."
"Oh hush," Minerva said as she finished opening her own gift. Tilting her head, she studied the contents of the chunky box in her hand. "Is this what I think it is?"
"That depends on what you think it is."
Sending an annoyed look his way, she reached in the box and pulled out a white organza bag with what appeared to be a bundle of herbs inside. "It looks like Blooming Tea."
Severus nodded. "It is. It was made by a herbologist in the east that I have held correspondence with for a number of years. He consults me on various potions concoctions to improve the quality of his products, and I purchase some of said products." Pointing to the bundle Minerva held, he explained, "That bloom is made with ingredients that have been soaked in different healing potions. It is specifically made to ease joint pain and energize the body, as well as sharpen the mind. I have arranged it so that you will receive one bloom each month for the entirety of next year."
"So in other words, someone owed you a favor." She was looking down fondly at the bundle of herbs in her hand.
"I'm still paying the man." Shifting in his seat, he explained, "Normally, Dai refuses long-term, long-distance orders. He's making an exception."
Minerva looked at Hermione then, a glint in her eye. "Did you two coordinate?"
Severus looked at Hermione as well. The witch was grinning. "No, we didn't," she said with a laugh. Noticing his perplexed stare, she explained, "I had put in an order for an enchanted tea set a while back. Harry picked it up and delivered it for me."
"It's painted like the Scottish Highlands," Minerva boasted, and Hermione ducked her head bashfully. "Thank you to you both. They are both lovely, thoughtful gifts. And Severus," she added, looking his way, "I insist you give me your friend's contact information. I would like to thank him myself."
Hermione excused herself briefly, and Severus pulled out a spare bit of parchment as she hurried out of the room. "Just don't call him my friend in the letter," he warned as he jotted down Dai's address. "Dai doesn't have friends."
She took the parchment with a thanks. "I see why you two get on well."
Before he could retort, Hermione came back in the room, holding a rectangular gift that looked suspiciously like a hefty book of some sort, wrapped in a dark green. With a bit of color in her cheeks, she smiled and handed the present to him. He took it from her, eyebrows raised. "Happy Christmas," she said, twisting her fingers together as she returned to her seat.
Instead of opening the gift, he pulled open his desk drawer again and removed the present he had carefully wrapped in violet wrapping paper. He handed the present to her silently, and she took it with wide eyes.
She stared down at the present in her hands, and Severus could feel his throat tightening as he glanced uneasily at Minerva. He hadn't thought of what it would be like to give her the gift in front of an audience. Perhaps he should have waited.
After a moment, Hermione looked up at him with a cheeky smile. "You go first."
Smirking, he made it a point to tear through the paper with hardly a care, making short work of the endeavor. Minerva muttered under her breath, the words "Numpty Bawbag" coming through perfectly clear. He grinned at her before looking down at the gift in his hand.
His smile faded, only to be replaced by complete and utter shock. He sat up rigidly in his seat.
He tore his eyes from the book he held and stared at Hermione, eyebrows furrowing in question. She bit her lip, watching him carefully. "What-" Looking back down at the book, he blinked a few times at the faded blue cover. In his hands, in his hands, he held a copy of Aequationes Temporum, an ancient Arithmantic text highly sought after by Arithmancers all over the world- and a book he had coveted for many, many years. "How did you get this?" he whispered, taking in the book's intricate border, the embellished words.
"It wasn't easy." He looked back up at her, and she was fidgeting, her hands twisting again. "I don't know how many letters I sent, asking around. I finally found a bookstore in Belgium that knew of someone who may be willing to sell their copy. It was the longest bit of bargaining I've ever been a part of, but I managed to convince them in the end."
He just stared at her. He was... completely speechless.
Minerva leaned forward in her seat, trying to get a look at the book. "What is it?" she asked. "What's the significance?"
When Hermione reluctantly looked away from him to address Minerva, he shook himself and took a deep breath. "It's an old Arithmantic text we had been discussing a few months ago in our letters. It's quite a rare book."
"Hermione, I..." When she looked at him again, his words fell away. He had to clear his throat in order to continue. "I cannot possibly accept this knowing what it must have cost you."
She laughed, and the sound did nothing to help clear his mind. "It didn't cost me as much as you think it did," she admitted.
Instead of pressing the point he asked, "When did you even manage this?" They hadn't been writing even two months before she moved in here, and everything would have had to go through Minerva after that. There was no way she would have been able to keep up that level of correspondence under this roof.
She glanced at Minerva again. "The agreement was settled late in October. Professor McGonagall intercepted the delivery on my account and slipped it to me last Sunday."
"If I had known what it was, I would have tracked it down for you sooner," the Headmistress told her.
Severus shook his head, staring at Hermione again. When she noticed, she gave him a sheepish grin. "You can ban me from giving you future Christmas gifts too, if you'd like."
"You wouldn't listen," he mumbled, looking down at the book once more.
Minerva laughed at that. "No, she wouldn't." She turned towards Hermione, smiling kindly. "I didn't think it was possible to outshine a diamond stirring rod, but you seem to have proven me wrong. Well done, Hermione. You are quite the impressive gift giver."
The younger witch gaped. "Is that what you gave him?" Turning quickly to Severus, she glanced at the space around him. "How you think my gift tops that is beyond me. A diamond stirring rod?"
Severus shook his head. "I don't know what possessed the two of you to do this. I'm not-" With a guilty glance at Minerva, he cut himself off. I'm not worth this, he had almost said.
Minerva leaned forward, holding his gaze with a forceful stare. "Yes, you are," she said firmly.
He was unsure of what to say to that, so he said nothing.
The Headmistress stood from her seat. "If you'll excuse me, I'd like to make a pot of tea. Please, continue without me," she assured them.
"I can make it, Professor," Hermione argued, standing as well, but Minerva simply nodded at the gift she still held in her hand.
"You still have a present to open, my dear," she said with a smile, and walked out the door as Hermione looked down at said item.
Her eyes flickered to the alchemy book he still held before moving to his face. He swallowed. "Hermione-"
"Please accept it," she interrupted him, falling back onto the sofa. "It would mean the world to me if you did."
Having no words, he simply nodded.
Hermione, beaming, exhaled in relief. "Thank you."
"I should be thanking you," he said. "I am thanking you. This was..." He looked down at the book once more, still amazed to see it in his hands. The fact that she would give him something this valuable, that she valued him as much as she did... "This is a wonderful gift."
Clearing his throat once more, he finally set the book down on the desk next to the stirring rod. The diamond stirring rod. Bleeding heart Gryffindors, he thought fondly to himself before turning to Hermione once again. He waved his hand towards the gift she still held, wondering how it was supposed to hold up against the Aequationes Temporum, and she flipped the present over, exposing the slit in the paper.
He watched her as she carefully tore off the wrapping, watched as her eyebrows furrowed and she frowned in confusion at the familiar item in her hand. "I don't understand," she said, looking up at him, and he gave her a tight smile as he nodded towards the book- her book, the book she had returned to him weeks ago, and hadn't asked to be given back.
"Open it."
Frowning further, she did as he instructed and flipped open the front cover.
As a last minute decision, Severus had penned one of his favorite quotes- a quote that had stuck with him since childhood- to the inside cover before wrapping the book: "Wisdom is not a product of schooling but of the lifelong attempt to acquire it." These words were what she stared at now, trying to decipher their meaning, to piece together what the gift meant. Slowly, she turned the first page.
And then the next.
And the next. Where the first annotated scribbles had been written. She gasped.
Flipping rapidly through the pages, her eyes darted over his added notes. His heart raced as she looked, hoping she understood; that she realized he was reaching out, trying to heal the bridge he had burned. He watched, chest tight, as she looked up at him with wide, shining eyes. "What...?"
His voice was soft, his throat so tight he couldn't manage more. "You wanted to read my notes."
"Not-"
"Not all of them, no. But," he gestured vaguely to the book in her hand, "I added new ones, ones my original copy lacks. It's not much-"
"Not much?" Hermione stared at him in disbelief. "Severus, this is... this is all I've wanted." She lifted the book up for emphasis. "You're letting me in. That's all I've ever wanted from you."
His chest loosened with relief, even as his stomach roiled with emotion. "I'm sorry it's taken so long."
Hermione stood, looking down at the book in her hands before setting it gently on the coffee table. She approached him, reaching out and taking his hands, pulling him to his feet. "Hermione, what-"
"I prefer standing hugs," was all she said before she wrapped her arms around him. Letting out an amused huff of air, he smiled as the tension broke around them and returned her embrace gladly.
"Happy Christmas, Hermione," he said softly into her curls, and he could feel her smile against his shoulder.
"Happy Christmas, Severus."
When she floo'd into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place later that evening, the first thing Hermione noticed was the lack of a long table running down the middle of the space. Without it, the room looked... entirely too big, if she were being honest. Or perhaps, the smaller rooms of Severus' cottage may have left their mark upon her- she was so used to having to walk around obstacles, to not have anything in her way was definitely a change.
Why the first thing she noticed was the space and not the two young men sitting at a smaller table at the other end of the room, she did not know. They had certainly noticed her.
Chairs scraped as both of her friends flung themselves up from the table and rushed over to her. Harry was quicker, and he threw himself against her with such a force that she backed up into the Headmistress, who had followed her through the flames. Over his shoulder, she met Ron's eyes, and the two of them smiled awkwardly at each other.
"Please be careful, Potter!" McGonagall huffed as Harry pulled away, dusting off her robes.
"Sorry, Professor," he apologized, unable to hold back a grin.
"Yes, well..." Her shrewd gaze scanned the kitchen before turning towards Hermione. "I'm afraid I must leave you now, but I've been informed to tell you that should you three experience any danger, any spelled attack whatsoever, the wards around the house will trigger and alert myself and the Minister. Offensive spells are strictly off limits while you are here." Pausing to give each of them a look- and lingering on the boys- she continued, "I think it goes without saying that dueling is out. Do try to mind your manners and behave."
"Do you want us in our rooms by curfew, Professor?" Harry asked merrily, and though the look he earned from his former professor was scathing, she couldn't keep her lips from twitching.
"That'll be ten points for your cheek, Potter," she scolded with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, before turning towards Hermione. "I will see you tomorrow. I do hope you enjoy your time away, as brief as it may be."
Pushing down a slowly rising panic that she was out of the protection of the fidelius charm for the first time in over a month, she simply said "Thank you" before McGonagall turned and floo'd back to Hogwarts.
She stared at the fireplace as the flames settled, hardly believing she had left the safety of the cottage. This was the first time in- had it really been 42 days?- that she was truly separated from Severus, and she hadn't considered the level of fear that would follow her. "Distract me," she said aloud, feeling a rising panic fill her chest.
"Er... what?" Ron's voice came from her left shoulder, and she almost turned her head.
"Talk to me. Tell me something- something trivial."
"Erm..." Harry. Harry was to her right. She heard him shift, could see from the corner of her eye that he looked back at Ron before saying, "Ron didn't like the present I got him."
"I did too!" The offended tone in the redhead's voice echoed through the kitchen, and Hermione grasped ahold of the sensation.
"No, I know when you're faking it," Harry said, turning fully towards his friend. "You do this weird scrunchy thing with your nose."
"I do-" Ron's voice became muffled, and Hermione could tell he was rubbing his nose when he continued, "I do not."
"What did you get him?" Hermione asked, still not turning away from the fireplace, the only way back to safety.
"A self-tying scarf."
"In maroon."
"I knew you didn't like it!"
"Maroon clashes with my hair!"
"Oh come off it- that doesn't stop you from wearing Chudley Cannon Orange!"
Hermione couldn't help the strange peal of laughter that escaped her. Her chest unclenched with the action, and she took a deep, calming breath in between her mirthful giggles. Finally turning around, she looked first at Harry, then at Ron, then started to laugh again. "You have no idea how much I've missed this," she said as the laughter died down. She moved towards the table. "Come, sit with me. I want to hear everything I've missed. Where's Ginny?"
The youngest Weasley would not be joining them after all, Hermione was disappointed to learn. She had been at Grimmauld Place this morning, but had received an invitation from Luna to accompany her on an outing that Harry hadn't bothered to pay attention to, much to Hermione's displeasure. "You would think you'd listen to your own girlfriend!" she admonished, shaking her head as they all sat around the kitchen table. Between them lay a plate of fudge, some small cakes, and an assortment of holiday themed Hogsmeade candies. She reached for a red and green striped licorice wand as she asked, "Did you get her a self-tying scarf, too?"
His resulting blush confirmed her suspicions and she snorted. "Was it at least in a different color?"
"It was navy blue," he mumbled.
"Yeah, hers was actually quite nice," Ron admitted.
"You do know you're a wizard, don't you?" Hermione asked him. "Or have you forgotten? You can just change the color to whatever you'd like."
Ron was about to snap back a reply when Hermione asked him, "What did you get Harry?"
His glance at the table told her enough. "You got him candy. You know you're an adult, right?"
"In his defense," Harry said, "I love candy."
Snorting into her teacup, Hermione chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind for your birthday."
"I didn't just get him candy." Ron's petulant frown caused her to stifle another laugh.
"What else, then?"
Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a bronze pocket watch, emblazoned with the logo of the Holyhead Harpies, a harpy eagle's clawed foot extended towards a flying snitch. "Oh, that's quite nice!" Hermione stated as Harry pocketed it once more. "Well done, Ron!"
"It certainly beats a scarf," Harry agreed, and to Hermione's surprise, Ron laughed.
"But it doesn't beat a room," he replied. "I told him not to get me anything this year," he explained to Hermione, "since he's letting me live here for free."
"The scarves were on sale," Harry added, "so I got two and gave him one."
"Well, that makes more sense," Hermione admitted. "I thought you just got worse at buying presents."
"Hang on- worse?"
As Ron's laughter echoed around the kitchen, Hermione allowed herself a moment of contemplation. While she was no longer panicking about having left the cottage, she still felt strange knowing Severus was not just a room away. It was almost like she could feel the loss of that security, like a vast hole was lingering somewhere nearby. She couldn't shake it, but it wasn't smothering her; she did not regret coming here. She would be back there soon enough.
It helped that she had missed her friends so dearly, and that it hadn't felt like anything had changed between them- well, aside from the fact that her and Ron were avoiding eye contact more than usual, and the conversation was very obviously kept lighthearted and safe. She knew they needed to talk about more serious matters, and she planned to soon, but for now, it was nice to simply get along.
A short while later, during a conversation about what Fred and George were planning when they returned to London, Harry fell silent and stared at a spot on the wall. He held a piece of taffy in his hand, and he rolled it absentmindedly between his fingers. Ron stopped talking, giving Hermione a significant look before turning to Harry. "You all right there?"
"Hmm?" Turning back to his friends, Harry blinked at Ron.
"What's wrong?" she asked, and he shook his head.
"It's nothing." When she stared at him expectantly, he sighed and stood. "I'll be back," he said as he made his way to the door, and Hermione whipped her head around as he walked past her. The door opened and shut, and she turned to Ron. "What was that about?"
Ron watched the door with concern as he rubbed the back of his neck. "He's been doing that a lot," he admitted quietly. "Ever since the attack on London."
"Oh." Frowning, she looked over at her friend and asked, "I never got to hear your version of the night."
"That's because I didn't see much action," he told her. "I pulled a few people to safety, put up a couple wards... by the time I saw a werewolf, it had already been killed."
"That's good isn't it? That you weren't more involved in the fighting?"
Ron shrugged. "I guess. I just can't really relate to what he's going through. I haven't..." He shook his head. "Nevermind. How uh... how are you doing?"
She had wondered how long her and Ron would be able to speak as if nothing had happened. She saw in his eyes the uncertainty she herself had been feeling the moment Harry stepped out of the door. Looking down at the table, Hermione shrugged. "I miss everyone. I miss the school. But Severus... he's been letting me brew potions, which is helping me keep my mind off of the other stuff."
"He's being all right then?" She glanced up at his face, and would have been amused at how uncomfortable he was feeling if she hadn't been feeling the same.
"Severus has been nothing but- well..." She had nearly said he had been nothing but kind to her, but that wasn't entirely true. They had made up since their explosive argument, but it certainly wasn't kind of him to overreact as he did, regardless of what she had done. Understandable, yes, but not kind. She amended her statement. "Severus is Severus. He's wonderful for the most part, but there have been some tense moments. Nothing we weren't able to handle, though." With the help of a certain Headmistress.
Ron was frowning. "What kind of tense moments?" he asked, and she waved it off. "No, Hermione, what happened?"
She set her teacup purposely down in front of her before turning fully to look at her friend. "Before we talk about that, I think we need to talk about us."
He blinked in surprise. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that the last time we talked about Severus, we said terrible things to each other, and I'm really not in the mood to repeat that."
Ron contemplated for a moment, frowning, before he sighed. "Right. That makes sense. What do you want to talk about?"
Biting her lip, Hermione looked over at the fireplace before asking, "Can we move to another room? I just... it's silly, but I don't..." Giving up explaining, she shrugged. He took pity on her and stood.
"The drawing room?" he asked, and she nodded.
They didn't talk as he led her up the two flights of stairs to the drawing room and lit the fireplace before heading towards the long plush sofa in the middle of the room. Collapsing on the far end, he nodded towards the other end for Hermione to join him. She did so uneasily, sitting gingerly.
Looking around the space, she noticed the changes that had happened since she had last been here with a curious eye. There were tall bookshelves framing the fireplace where once there were glass-fronted cabinets, though they were cluttered with various items rather than books. She could see a number of displayed Chocolate Frog cards, a golden snitch on a stand, and a few framed photos amongst some other, less familiar items. The couch they sat on faced two matching armchairs, a small table between them. The piano was still there, though now used more as a shelf for stacks of parchment than an instrument. The curtains were drawn, but instead of feeling drab, the room felt like an actual home. It was comforting.
Next to her, Ron cleared his throat. "So, what did you want to talk about?"
"Oh, uh..." Turning back to face him, she considered his question. "I guess... we could start with where we are?" At his confused frown, she explained, "I mean in our relationship with each other. Where do we stand?"
"Oh." His frown became less confused and more contemplative. "You mean, are we still friends?"
"Yeah." Scratching her temple, she said, "I know on my end that I would still like to be your friend. I guess I was just wondering if you were ready to... move past everything."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he sighed. "I won't lie and say I'm not still upset. I know you didn't mean it this way, but you have no idea how it felt watching you chase after Snape while we were together. Finding out you were writing to him instead of me..." He scratched his head agitatedly, and Hermione forced herself to breathe through the tightness in her throat. "I'm not mad anymore, as much as it still upsets me. I understand why you were drawn to him now."
"You do?" Her words were soft, and her eyes widened in surprise. He looked over, and huffed out a laugh.
"Harry gave me that look when I said the same thing to him." Sitting up straight again, he continued, "I was never the right person for you, Hermione, and you were never the right person for me. I still care about you, but I can admit that much. We just..." He sighed. "You were right; we are not what either of us needs right now. I needed someone who wanted distractions and fun, and you needed someone who could help you face what you were going through. How was I supposed to help you when I didn't want to acknowledge any of it?"
"I suppose it didn't help you any that I kept talking about things like replacing the wards and recovering my magic."
"No, but that's my point," he said eagerly. "You weren't doing anything wrong, but it irritated me regardless, because it wasn't what I needed. And every time I forced you to do something fun or to joke off a serious situation, you would get mad at me. And yes," he said as she opened her mouth, "a lot of that had to do with Snape, but it became pretty obvious that you were drawn to him from the beginning, and... well, we know I'm a jealous person. I only now realize it was because he was giving you what you needed. What I couldn't."
Hermione was staring at Ron as if he had grown an extra head. "Since when did you become so intuitive?"
He blushed, and from the way he looked away, she quickly understood. "You met someone."
"Erm... yeah," he admitted, rubbing his neck. He still wouldn't look at her. "In a way, at least."
Hermione had considered the possibility of Ron finding someone else, but she hadn't expected it to be so fast. It was barely two months since they had broken up- was he already with this other person? Or was he simply enraptured, as she was with Severus? And why, out of all the emotions she felt she should be feeling right now, did she feel nothing but an immense sense of relief?
"Oh Ron, that's great!" she cried, and- thrown by her approval- Ron's head whipped around to stare at her.
"You're not mad?" he asked, watching her warily, though he relaxed when she shook her head. "Oh. Well... Cool."
"Are you..." she started, but Ron shook his head quickly.
"We aren't together- not yet, anyway. I... Merlin, this is weird, talking to you about it." Letting out an awkward laugh, he shifted and faced her a bit more. "I was so afraid you would resent me for moving on. I thought you'd call me heartless, and... I wanted to talk to you before anything happened."
Hermione sat up straighter at that. "Ron, you don't need my permission. We aren't together anymore."
"I know that," he agreed, "but everyone seems to think we're going to get back together. I didn't know if you agreed with them or not."
"Oh." Looking down at the loopy pattern of the couch, she cleared her throat. "No, I don't."
He was silent for a moment, and though she was afraid of his reaction, she looked up.
He just looked relieved. "Neither do I."
"It's nobody's business but our own, anyway," she said assuredly, and he nodded. "We make far greater friends than we do anything else."
"Do you regret it?" he asked suddenly, and she frowned, confused. "Any of it. Us. Do you regret trying?"
"No, Ron," she admitted, reaching out and taking his hand- a hand so unlike the hand of a Potions Master, unblemished by nicks and calluses. "I think we needed to try," she told him, "or we would have always wondered."
"Yeah," he agreed, squeezing her fingers. She squeezed back. "Do you..." a blush crawled slowly up his neck and in his cheeks as he looked at the floor. "Do you regret... anything?"
A blush spreading over her own face, she dropped his hand. He was really asking her about that? "Oh," she chuckled nervously. "Er... no, I can't say that I do."
Ron breathed out a relieved sigh. "Me neither."
Patting her cheeks- she could feel the heat of embarrassment burning through her- she stood. What he was asking her... no, while the two of them were not meant to be, that was absolutely not something she looked back on with regret. "Shall we go find Harry?" she asked, and he stood as well.
"He'll be in his bedroom," he informed her, and led her out of the room.
Following behind him once again, Hermione took a deep breath. She had been dreading having this conversation, but all things considered, it had gone very well. She and Ron were on the same page, after all; breaking up, as hard as it was, had been the right thing to do. A newfound sense of comfort washed through her as she looked at the back of her friend's head and knew, with complete certainty, that there would be nothing more than that.
A/N 2: For all the Ron-haters out there, I know you might not be happy with my decision to make him... well, halfway decent, but I feel it's very in-character for him to get over his conniption fit (especially after Hermione was attacked) and remember how to be a friend again. I'm getting him out of the way regardless, and their relationship has finally gotten closure, so don't you worry about him being a romantic interest in this story! I'm not saying he's going to be great from this point on, but... anyway, sorry if any of you hated that lol, and I'm very excited to see what you think about this chapter!
