6.
THE YEAR OF THE TRUTH
19th September, 2006.
Blaise was languishing at her kitchen table, twirling his wand between his fingers and looking blissfully contented.
Hermione herself felt exactly the opposite as she strode from one end of her kitchen to the other, cutting vegetables, depositing things in pans, and stirring various pots. The sound of sizzling and chopping filled the room, as well as the scents of the dishes she was preparing.
"Why don't you just use magic for all this?" Blaise asked blithely from his seat.
"Blaise!" she snapped in response, "I am a nationally respected lawyer, when do you think I would have had time to learn any basic household charms?! By rights I should be fucking paying someone to do this for me!"
He shrugged, "You could always get a house elf."
Hermione glared at him and he quailed slightly under her vicious gaze.
She knew she was throwing a bit of a tantrum, knew that she was being somewhat ridiculous. But it was, after all, her birthday. Wasn't this the one day she was allowed to behave like a child? The one day she didn't have to pretend that nothing affected her?
At that moment, Blaise appeared at her elbow, wand in hand. With a few casual flicks, the vegetables were cutting themselves, the pans were stirring themselves and she suddenly found she had absolutely nothing to do.
She rounded on him, a look of surprise adorning her face, "Where on earth did you learn to do that?"
"Oh, you know," he replied with a casual sigh, "Between getting married and being a nationally respected Auror, one picks these things up…"
She blushed. He was pulling her up on her own arrogance. As he should.
"Sit down," he said, "I'm making you birthday tea."
Hermione sat and, moments later, picked up the tea he rather suddenly produced. He sat opposite her and gazed at her levelly over his own cup.
"What's really bothering you? I know it's not that you had to cook your own birthday feast because I know for a fact that there is a veritable hoard of helpers picketing your front lawn…"
Hermione grimaced, her fingers quivering a little around her mug. Blaise was far more perceptive than was good for him, though of course she would not reveal to him the reason behind her insistence at cooking. She'd woken that morning with a strange sense of disturbance, she wanted to cook because she didn't want to give her mind the opportunity to come alive.
"The numbers are odd," she answered feebly after a moment.
He looked at her blankly, "I'm sorry, what?"
Hermione sighed. She'd already started down that path, she may as well see it to the end. "The number of guests. It's an odd number. Seventeen. Everybody was bringing someone except Susan and Draco. But now… now he's bringing… bringing Astoria Greengrass."
Blaise gave her an uncomprehending look like he'd entirely missed her point. Hermione jumped to her feet, her hands gesticulating wildly as she attempted to explain again.
"Astoria! Blaise, I've never even fucking met her! And now she's coming to my birthday party! And he just… just presumes that I'll be ok with it. Like it's totally normal that he's introducing everyone to his girlfriend!" she ranted. It wasn't the whole truth behind her feelings, though it did play a part. It was good enough for that moment though.
"Hermione, I was there when he asked you if she could come. I heard you say yes. That's hardly a presumption," said Blaise levelly.
"Well I couldn't say no could I?! Can you imagine how that would have made me look?"
"Like you didn't want Astoria at your birthday party. Which is the truth."
"Yeah… well…" she mumbled grumpily.
"I don't see what your problem is, Hermione. She's nice."
"WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP SAYING THAT?!" she shrieked, throwing her hands up in the air.
Blaise looked nonplussed, "Because she is. And she makes Draco happy."
And that was the straw that broke the camel's back. She makes Draco happy.
It was those words, happy and nice. Positive words, easy words, much easier than shame and guilt and cruelty. Much easier than all the things Hermione was feeling. That's probably why Draco was with Astoria and not Hermione. Because the former was easier and the later had a mind that was in a constant state of chaos.
She sat down heavily at the kitchen table. "I don't know what's wrong with me today…"
It was a statement meant for her more than him. She didn't know. She hadn't felt this bad in a very long time. It felt like it had come up suddenly, out of nowhere. But had it? She'd always felt like that, every time her depression finally found her again, like it had sprung into being over a period of days, but in hindsight she always saw it had been coming on for a lot longer than that…
"You're stressed," said Blaise simply, "That's understandable, Hermione. Practice a little bit of self-acceptance here."
She sighed with weight, "Yeah. I'm trying."
"You know what I think you should do?"
"What?"
"I think you should go upstairs, take a long hot bath, have some alone time and let us finish all this up."
"Do you think anyone would mind?" she asked quietly, feeling far too defeated to put up any more of a fight.
He rolled his eyes, "Hermione, we wanted to do it all from the beginning but you're such a control freak you insisted on doing it all yourself! Of course no one will mind…"
"Ok," she said with resignation, "I'm… I'm sorry for me today."
I'm sorry for me every day.
"It's alright, I understand. And anyway, it's your birthday, you can cry if you want to, right?"
"Thanks… Is Ebony upstairs?"
"Yep, eagerly awaiting a call down to the kitchen, just like everyone else."
"How's wedded bliss going anyhow?" her voice sounded hollow in her own ears, she hoped Blaise wouldn't notice.
She was in luck. A brilliant smile lit up his face then. It was a little bit infectious.
"It's fucking brilliant."
"What happened to, 'I'll die a bachelor', huh?" she asked, grinning.
"I never thought I'd live to be married," Blaise laughed.
No one else had thought it either. Blaise, like Susan, had seemed perfectly happy to remain forever single, meaning that absolutely everyone had been more than shocked and surprised when Blaise came back from a holiday in Spain with his new girlfriend, whom he'd only been seeing for a whole three months, with the news that they had eloped and were now married. The way that he and Ebony were with each other, even then, would have made people think they'd been together for years. They were always so familiar, so comfortable, after Blaise had gotten over his initial shell shock that is.
Hermione was happy, unbelievably happy for them. She loved having Ebony around all the time, loved that she was now as much a part of the tovarasi as Blaise was.
It was strange really, what had initially started out as a group of ten incredibly damaged teenagers, was now a group of sixteen adults, all of whom were closer than any friends could ever be. Hermione had, of course, brought Ron, Ginny had brought Harry, Luna had brought Dean, Isobel had brought Bo, Blaise had brought Ebony and more recently Juliet had brought George after the former had finally come forward and told her how he felt. The family grew and evolved with each new member.
And now, would Draco bring Astoria?
"So when are you and Ron crossing over to the dark side then?" asked Blaise, dragging Hermione from her contemplation.
"Huh?"
"When are you getting hitched?"
She laughed uncomfortably, "Uh… We haven't really talked about it. There's no need, is there?"
He shrugged, "Well, it's in the air. Half of us are married already. Me and Ebby, Harry and Ginny, Padma and Eli, Luna and Dean… Isobel and Bo have been engaged for ages…"
"Well… I don't know. I guess it'll happen sometime. Eventually…"
She didn't want to think about it. Why? Why would she? Of course, there was that girly part of her, the one that had been a part of her since she was very little, the one that dreamed of the perfect wedding, that dreamt of the colour of the flowers and her blue dress and her knight in shining armour. But that little girl was far away from the woman she'd become. She didn't want to get married just because everyone else was doing it. She wanted to get married because it felt right.
Did it feel right then? On her twenty sixth birthday? When she and Ron had been together for six years? She didn't know…
Hermione stood up abruptly. "Ok, well I'm going to go and have a bath. Are you sure you can manage everything?"
"We'll be fine!" Blaise responded with a long suffering smile.
He escorted her to the top of the stone stairs that led to the kitchen and into the sitting room, where Ginny, Harry, Ebony, Padma and Susan were all sitting, nursing bottles of butterbeer. They looked up expectantly when Hermione and Blaise entered.
"Are we allowed to help now?" asked Susan.
Hermione smiled and nodded.
All five of them immediately leapt to their feet as Ginny said, "Thank fucking god."
Hermione left them to it and began to ascend the stairs up to the top floor where her and Ron's bedroom was situated.
For some reason, it felt like a long walk. The echoes of her friends preparing her birthday feast down in the kitchens followed her up the stairs and into the bedroom where she disrobed, feeling disassociated and a little frightened of herself. She made her way into the ensuite bathroom and ran the bath, taking a moment to try and sink into the tranquillity of the scene. She loved her bath, had handpicked it herself a year ago. It was long, wide, and deep, and stood up on ornately carved legs. The ceramic was a sort of sea green, making her feel like she was swimming in a creek every time.
Hermione languished in the hot water, feeling it sink through her muscles and into her bones. Everything around her felt slow, lethargic, blissful. She was glad Blaise had suggested this. Her body had needed to relax.
Her mind though, as per usual, did not switch off. She was thinking about what Blaise had said, and how everyone in the tovarasi had seemed to have paired off quite neatly.
Blaise himself was obviously still giddily swaying through the honeymoon phase of his own marriage, but Hermione had the feeling that he and Ebony were the sort of people who'd never come out of that properly. They were too happy together. Even when they fought, it was with smiles on their faces.
Harry and Ginny were model parents, obviously, in a way that was almost sickening. Their one year old James was everything that was perfect about both of them, the image of Harry with Ginny's fierceness. After the birth, it seemed that they'd both taken lessons in Zen. Nothing could stress them out.
Luna and Dean were just hilarious in every possible way. She was insane while he was so normal, but they complemented each other perfectly. Hermione could not imagine them ever fighting, they were both so damn tolerant of each other. Their wedding had been huge, not in the sense that there were a lot of people, in fact there were only about forty, but it was such a production. This was Luna though. Hermione couldn't have imagined it any other way.
Isobel and Bo were… well… they were IsobelandBo. A force to be reckoned with. Full of passion and fire and emotions. Hermione had heard them have the most fantastic screaming matches. The sort where she kind of wanted to grab a bucket of popcorn and sit down to watch it play out. But they were so in love. Their fights never lasted long.
Padma and Eli, Hermione was a little worried about. They were both always at work, barely saw each other. Despite the fact that they'd gotten married at a small ceremony earlier in the year, Hermione almost thought they were husband and wife in name only. Eli was always at Hogwarts and Padma was always at St Mungos. The only time they got to see each other during term was when a Hufflepuff student had gotten seriously injured. That or when Eli specifically took time off like he had for Hermione's birthday. Though, when she did see them together, they seemed happy enough.
Juliet and George were… they were odd. It was almost like they were together specifically because of Fred. Juliet was like a female version of George's dead twin, and of course George was a carbon copy of Fred. Was there anything wrong with that though? Hermione didn't know. On the one hand, it was sort of sad, two people brought together by the death of someone they'd both loved in the deepest of ways. But on the other, it she thought it was nice. They clearly made each other happy, had this wonderful way that they bounced off each other. Neither of them had that awful funk of grief hanging around them anymore. They weren't lonely. They made each other laugh. She liked them together, no matter the reasons.
And then, of course, there was her and Ron, wasn't there? Completing the set. And they were content in a slow sort of way. They'd fallen into that routine now, surprising that it had taken so long, where they were so familiar with each other that they rarely even needed to speak. Was Hermione bored? No. She was comfortable. Ron's scent still had the same effect on her, his hugs still made her feel warm and safe. Was she sexual unfulfilled? Not in the slightest. Was she happy? That was a somewhat more difficult question.
She was glad, ultimately, that after all the hurt she'd been through, all the trauma she'd suffered, Ron was reward she got at the end of the day. With Ron, there was no more suffering. Except, of course, on the days they argued. That was hard. But what couple didn't argue?
The question of their happiness, she knew, relied more on the question of her own. And her own was where the doubt sunk in. It wasn't Ron, he was great; it was just her. She was still making the money she hated, still defending the Death Eaters who deserved prison, still being pressured about the marriage she didn't know if she wanted and the children she didn't think she could raise…
It was all a bit overwhelming. A few years ago, she'd been able to wave her hand dismissively and say she'd marry Ron eventually, start having kids eventually, but here she was, at twenty six, all her friends married, getting married, pregnant, having babies, and where was she? Still standing on the sidelines saying eventually? It was the same with work; of course, when she'd started, she'd been able to convince herself that she was doing good by the world because she took on far more cases she believed in than she represented convicted Death Eaters who should remain in prison. Now, it was the other way around; the worst Death Eaters paid the most, but since when had money become such an issue anyway? In the beginning it had been nothing more than an added perk. She'd grown too used to it now.
Something had to be done. Otherwise Hermione would lose herself entirely. She didn't want that.
She was frightened of herself. This darkness reminded her a little too heavily of the darkness she'd experienced in the past. But, fortunately, the fear was not as all-pervading as it once might have been. It didn't consume her. Because she knew, in the end, she had her mind healer, Maya. Yes, after all these years, Maya was still there, holding Hermione together. And this was her purpose, to be there in the moments when Hermione fell apart, moments like this.
They'd talked about the eventuality that her life would be hard at times. When Hermione was happy, she found it hard to think that life could ever be that bad again, but Maya insisted that the darkness would never clear entirely, that Hermione was no different to any other human being on the planet. She'd always get sad, and she'd always smile. It was how she chose to deal with those moments.
And how was she dealing with this moment? She was allowing herself to feel fear, to shame herself.
Hermione realised then that she must have been in the bath for over an hour. The light outside had faded into dusk and her fingers were wrinkled. She found it fascinating that she could spend that long simply staring off into space, lost in her own thoughts. Were they really that interesting?
She decided she would put all of this yuckiness, all of the darkness, out of her mind until her next session. She'd try to do exactly what Blaise suggested. She'd try to accept herself. And if she failed at doing that, she'd try and accept that too.
That's how the dance went.
With a sigh, Hermione hoisted herself out of the bathtub, pulled out the plug and began to dry off. As she wandered back into the dark bedroom and lit the lanterns she decided she'd like to make an effort on her appearance that night. While it was sorely tempting to just stumble down stairs with her hair half dried in track pants and a tee-shirt and begin demanding wine, she thought she could do better than that. Not that the tovarasi wouldn't have embraced her choice, they would have applauded it. But she wanted to feel pretty, wanted to do something for herself. At least for tonight.
Hermione threw open the doors of her armoire and began leafing through clothes. Eventually she decided on a black cotton dress that fell to her ankles, with sleeves that reached her elbows. It was casual, just a sun dress really, but the colour suited her skin and with some makeup and a few accessories, she could glam it up a bit.
After slapping on some hasty eye liner, some earrings and a long silver necklace, she deemed herself done. She decided against shoes and didn't even bother with her hair. Wild and curly suited the dress and her bare feet. She was working the hippy look.
Perhaps if she looked the part, her heart would follow.
After that, Hermione went downstairs and found the entire party draped around her sitting room. Evidently, the rest of her expected guests had arrived while she was in the bath. She spotted Astoria, holding tight to Draco's hand over in the far corner.
While she would have loved to invite many other people to her birthday dinner, such as Dawn or Teodora or her parents, it seemed more economical to just have a subdued dinner with her friends. Anything larger than the already over large group of seventeen would have stressed her too much.
The moment the company noticed her, a great cheer filled the room, accompanied with cat whistles from George. The attention had a mixed effect on her. On the one hand, she felt buoyed by it, allowed it to fill her with light and confidence, but on the other, she wanted to hide in the linen cupboard until everyone left.
Ron came forward and gave her a long hug, "Happy Birthday babe, sorry I wasn't here when you woke up," he said into her hair.
"That's alright. Was everything ok at work?" she responded in an affectedly light tone, knowing that under no circumstances would she share with him what the beginnings of her day had been like.
"Yeah. Just some of the new auror recruits not taking too well to their training," he responded, rolling his eyes.
Then, someone pushed a glass of wine into her hand and music began to drift out of Remus Lupin's old record player. She resisted the urge to guzzle gracelessly at the alcohol she held. If anything, she wanted to remain somewhat sober that night, not least because she had such a fantastic time watching everyone else get drunk but because she didn't want to give herself any excuses to be a drama queen. Alcohol had that effect on her. Still, the pull to get herself properly smashed was tempting. But she'd learnt that oblivion tended to be much more trouble than it was worth in the end.
Hermione allowed herself to be metaphorically passed around the room from person to person as she was wished a happy birthday and participated in far too many meaningless conversations than her mind could really handle.
It was only a matter of time though, before Draco was tapping her on the shoulder and saying, "Hermione? This is Astoria."
The moment had arrived and Hermione noted the tiny amount of suspense that seemed to come off certain members of the company then, such as Ebony and Isobel, Hermione's most loyal companions. She braced herself as she took in Astoria's appearance up close.
The younger woman was pretty. In a typical sort of way… Thin. Dark brown hair. Tanned skin. Pouting lips. This was the sort of woman that the handsome-even-when-howling-like-a-child Draco Malfoy was supposed to be with. And Hermione hated her for it.
"Hi Astoria," said Hermione in what she hoped was a warm tone. Heads were turned in their direction. She hoped that she was the only one to notice, and wished her friends could behave with a little more tact.
"It's so nice to meet you, Hermione. Thank you for saying I could come," said Astoria, actually pulling off the warm tone Hermione had been going for. "I've been so looking forward to finally spending some time with the tovarasi! Draco talks about you all the time!"
Hermione resisted the urge to say that the only reason Draco himself was even there was because he rounded out the numbers.
"That's no problem. It's great to have you here," said Hermione instead, smiling. She thought she heard Isobel snort into her glass.
Their social exchange was steeped in awkwardness and it didn't take a mind healer to see that Astoria felt it too. What made it almost endearing to Hermione, in a strange sort of way, was that the younger woman so clearly wanted to get along with Hermione. She was making the effort.
They were fortunately spared from having any further conversation then as Blaise entered the room.
"Oi! Dinner's up!" he shouted and Hermione had to giggle. It wasn't quite as courteous as 'would you all please follow me into the dining hall' but it would do.
She was pushed forwards and Ron put his hands over her eyes. They led her down the hallway, the chattering voices of the group all around her, soft in her ears. Having her eyes covered almost allowed her a moment of semi solitude. It felt nice to hear all their voices around her, but be separate from them for a second. It was a moment in which she allowed herself to be comforted, when she allowed a little of the darkness in her head to flit away, even if just for the evening.
She was led into the dining hall where Ron removed his hands. Hermione gasped at the array of platters that covered the long, medieval looking table and her heart glowed as she took in the decor. They had enchanted candles to float in the air above the room and, rather miraculously, charmed the high ceiling to look like the night sky. Her birthday dinner was Hogwarts themed. There were even ties draped over every chair she noticed, eight red ones, three blue ones, four green ones and two yellow ones. A tie for each guest, according to their Hogwarts house.
She loved it. She loved every single bit of it. It brought into sharp relief that the people around her really knew her. They knew what she liked.
And then the darkness was gone altogether. Even if just for the night.
Hermione took a seat at the head of the table at one of the high backed chairs, letting herself smile unabashedly as everyone joined her. They spent a happy few minutes each putting on their ties. Ron tied his red one around his head, Bo wore her blue one like a scarf, Astoria looped her green one through the belt holes of her jeans and Juliet used hers like a red ribbon in her hair.
Hermione rather dangerously wrapped hers around her thigh like a garter amidst many catcalls. She felt freer for some reason, lighter. She wanted to make sure her friends had a good time, and she wanted to have a good time herself. It felt so nice not to be feeling bad that the relief alone boosted her mood even more.
This, she thought privately days later, was what had probably started the evening off. She'd set the tone.
Dinner spanned almost an hour and a half, and the mood was jovial and raucous, the exact sort of mood a party should have really, but there was another feeling in the air, something odd. There was a kind of tension hanging over the guests, Hermione could sense it. Excited anticipation. She wondered what they were hiding from her. By dessert, the feeling was making her jumpy. Her laughter was getting more and more high pitched and maniacal as time dragged on.
At the end of the meal, the table was cleared and presents were brought out, stacked in front of Hermione on the table, much to her embarrassment. When she unwrapped them, her heart grew even larger and warmer as she discovered that every single one was perfectly suited to her. From Ron, she got a long silver chain with an opal pendant, from Isobel she received black lingerie and a cheeky smile, from Susan she received a collection of hard back Jane Austen novels, from Padma and Eli, a collection of rare potions ingredients. And from Draco she got a stack of records, though the card was signed 'with love on your birthday, Draco and Astoria'. That may have pissed her off. But only a little bit.
When the final gift, which was the largest, sat alone on the table, she felt the tension in the air stiffen.
"This one's from all of us," said George, grinning wickedly.
"Why am I worried right now?" she responded wryly.
No one answered and so Hermione set about unwrapping the large, square package.
Inside, she found an ornate wooden chest, the lid to which she immediately lifted to reveal a bottle of tequila and a set of shot glasses, sitting atop yet another wooden box.
The company around her giggled.
Hermione opened the second box without preamble, her curiosity getting the better of her.
It contained seventeen tiny vials, full of a clear liquid that looked very much like water.
"What is this?" she asked suspiciously.
"It's Veritaserum," Harry supplied in a low, cheeky voice.
Isobel grinned wickedly, "We're going to play a game."
"Uh-huh. A game?" asked Hermione wryly. "Explain."
"Truth," said Ebony.
"We're all going to have one shot of the tequila, mixed with a vial of Veritaserum. Then we ask each other questions. And no one will be able to lie," Blaise said, looking jubilant.
"Right," Hermione responded. Of course, among any other crowd of people, this might be rather innocent. Sort of like truth or dare in the muggle world, without the dares. But with the tovarasi… she didn't know if she liked the idea. There was too much history. All someone needed to do was ask one wrong question…
"Come on babe," said Ron then, responding to her silence, "We haven't got anything to hide in this group. It'll be fun."
Fun. Right.
After a moment's thought though, in which Hermione reminded herself that she had been masochistically hoping for a little more danger in her life, she decided to go along with this little game, acknowledging that this decision was probably spurned by her slightly manic mood, "Alright… But under one condition! No one is to ask each other about their work! I can't divulge things about my clients, and I know that many of you have sensitive information under your hats too. So no work questions. Understood?"
The group all agreed before letting out a triumphant cheer.
With a feeling of resignation and masochistic glee, Hermione pulled out the bottle of tequila and shot glasses and began filling each tiny glass with half a shot of the alcohol. When she had filled all seventeen of them, she began adding the vials too.
With this achieved, she handed the shot glasses out to her friends.
"One! Two! THREE!" cried Harry and Hermione downed the entire glass along with the rest of the group.
She grimaced as the alcohol burnt down her throat, despite its slightly diluted state. "I fucking hate tequila," she said, without thinking, "Really good way to get my clothes off though,"
The group roared with laughter as she slapped her hands over her mouth.
Once the mirth had died down, George said, "Alright Hermione, it's your birthday. You go first. Ask one of us a question,"
"Hmmm…" she said, scratching her chin and looking around at them all. Put on the spot like that, it was hard to think and so she asked the first thing that came to her head. "George, what's the first thing you notice about women?"
He grinned and leant sideways into Juliet, taking a length of her hair between his fingers, "Her tits," he said, before looking shocked. Juliet batted his hand away, looking amused and scandalised. He laughed, "Fucking hell, this stuff really works. I meant to say her tits. I mean, her tits! FUCK!"
Hermione was beginning to think this had been an excellent idea. Already, she was in stitches.
Once the group had hiccoughed themselves to silence George said, "Ok, ok… My go," his eyes turned to Padma who looked alarmed, "Padma, if Eli wasn't around, who here would you prefer to kiss?"
She did not even have time to think before she said, "Harry. But only because I missed out after the Yule ball. He was a lousy date!"
"Hey! You went off with some guy halfway through!" cried Harry, looking suitable outraged.
"Only because you wouldn't dance with me!" she responded, laughing, "ANYWAY! My question isn't it? Alright… Hmm… Isobel, who's the oldest person you've slept with?"
Isobel rolled her eyes, grinning and looking slightly disappointed at getting such an easy question, "Well of course, it's Bo! She's six years older than me!"
"Oh!" said Padma abruptly, "I always thought you would have slept with one of the professors at Hogwarts!"
Isobel cackled, "Padma! Fucking hell! What kind of reputation did I have!?"
"A pretty good one by the sounds of it," said Blaise wryly.
"Shut up, Blaise! My rep is nothing on yours!" Isobel exclaimed, "My question! Astoria, would you rather casual sex or meaningful sex?"
Hermione wanted to roll her eyes. And because she had just taken a huge dose of truth serum, she didn't have much of a choice in the matter. But she hid it behind her hands.
"Oh! Good question," Astoria giggled, before laying a hand soppily on Draco's arm, "I think, meaningful. Meaningful is so much better."
"Aw!" some of the girls chorused.
At that moment, Hermione tried very hard not to think of anything at all else she either laugh at Astoria's sappiness or become violent.
The younger woman seemed intent to stay on that same line of questioning when she asked, "Eli, when was the first time you told Padma you loved her?"
Eli smiled fondly and took Padma's hand. "The night before we all went to Private Drive in seventh year, when we were sharing a bunk beside Hermione's bed."
Astoria looked politely confused. But everyone else looked uncomfortable. That question had hit just a little too close to home. Especially considering the traumatic and disturbing events that followed that night.
Eli seemed to sense the change in atmosphere though. He swiftly slapped his hand on the table in front of him and said loudly, "I've a question for Dean! Have you ever had a threesome?"
Dean grinned, "Nah… If only."
Hermione could tell he didn't mean to say the second part of that sentence. Dean looked like someone had hit him in the face with a brick and it was that hilarious expression which brought laughter rolling across the table in his direction.
Luna, in true character, undid the whole room entirely moments later. "I wouldn't mind," she said vaguely, "I've always wanted to know what girls taste like."
Dean blushed furiously as the group guffawed. After a moment, seeming as if he would very much like the heat taken off himself, he said, "Bo, what was your earliest lesbian experience?"
Bo smiled cheekily, "A Christmas party at my cousin's house. I was cornered in the bathroom,"
Padma suddenly let out a loud cry of indignation, "YOU TWO FUCKED AT MY CHRISTMAS PARTY!?"
Hermione turned her eyes to Isobel, her mouth open in shock. She'd always known that Bo and Padma were related but Isobel had always been very tight lipped about how she and Bo had begun their romance. Now she knew why. And it made sense too; after all, Isobel had said she'd met her new auror friend over the Christmas holidays all those years ago…
"When I want something, I go for it," said Isobel, giggling and shrugging.
Padma continued to look scandalised before Bo rolled her eyes, grinning, and said, "Get of your high horse, cuz, or should I bring up what happened last Christmas?"
Padma shook her head vigorously as Eli guffawed.
"Oh, I really think you should bring it up, Bo," said Ginny mischievously, "What happened last Christmas?"
Bo shrugged, attempting to look innocent, "Oh, nothing, I just caught my virginal cousin over here being screwed in our grandparents broom cupboard by a certain potions master…"
The whole table erupted in laughter as Padma's head fell into her hands in an effort to hide her embarrassment.
"Anyway!" cried Bo, "I should probably ask my question before she dies of shame, huh? Susan, are you sleeping with anyone right now?"
All eyes turned to the blonde haired Hufflepuff as a slow, sly grin crept up her face, "I could say no, technically, because the word anyone would imply that you're asking whether I'm sleeping with just one person and that… is untrue."
"You're sleeping with more than one person?" demanded Juliet, laughing incredulously.
Susan shrugged, "Not at the same time… But seeing as you asked, Juliet, I want to know, how much money would it take for you to fuck a stranger?"
Juliet giggled and twirled her brown hair lazily around her finger, "Define fuck…"
Blaise chuckled, "Fuck, Juliet, like sex."
"I know what fuck means, Blaise, but I need specifics if I'm going to set a price!"
"Ok," said Susan quickly, "Straight sex, missionary."
"I'm offended by the usage of the word straight here," Isobel supplied, grinning.
Juliet giggled, "Ok, normal sex. I guess I would charge… like… three hundred galleons?"
The group laughed as Blaise said, "Whoa! That's a bit steep?"
Juliet raised her eyebrows in challenge, "Are you suggesting I am worth less than that, Blaise?"
"I wouldn't know, I haven't slept with you," he responded, grinning impishly.
It was several moments before Juliet's question could be heard over the loud mirth of the party.
"Luna!" she finally managed to yell down the table, "I've always wanted to know, do you have any fetishes?"
Luna tilted her head to the side and gave Juliet an unnerving smile, "You've always wanted to know? Does my sex life fascinate you, Juliet?"
Before Juliet could answer through her blush, Harry said blatantly, "To be honest Luna, I think your sex life fascinates everyone."
The rest of the party all nodded in agreement. It was only then that Hermione realised Dean was blushing furiously.
"Really?" asked Luna, "Oh… That's interesting… Well, I guess I do. In a way. Sometimes me and Dean take polyjuice potion so that I can be the man and he can be the woman… That's quite fun."
A shocked silence met this confession. Dean had sunk so low in his chair that he was almost obscured from view.
"Um… What?" said Ron blankly after a moment.
"Wait," Isobel chuckled uncertainly, "Where exactly are you getting the hairs for these… activities?"
"Oh, we don't take them from any of you, just each other. But we'd be open to donations if any of you…"
Luna was cut off by the resounding "NO!" that flew at her across the table.
She shrugged, "Alright. My question isn't it?" she looked around at the party, "Hmm… Ok… Ebony, describe your husband's cock."
Ebony giggled and leant back in her chair, looking thoughtful, "I would so love to tell you all that it's tiny, but that wouldn't be possible. As it isn't. It really isn't. I guess… It's sort of long and thin, in a way. And it curves upwards and stands to attention like a little soldier. I mean, not little… Just little in comparison to an actual soldier…"
Blaise groaned as the rest of his friends cackled.
"Yeah, that's the only way I can think to describe it," said Ebony, patting Blaise's arm reassuringly, "It's very satisfying darling, don't worry. Anyway, my question is for Ron."
"Oh no," said Ron, looking sheepish.
"Are you dominant or submissive in bed?"
Hermione giggled as George's head fell into his hands, "This is my brother! I don't want to know that!"
"Yeah, let's not and say we did, shall we?" suggested Ginny looking a tad green.
But Ebony continued to look expectantly at Ron, paying his siblings no attention whatsoever.
Ron grimaced, "I… uh… I guess I'm dominant. Yeah, definitely dominant."
Ebony adopted a look of contrived innocence, "Why's that?"
Hermione shook her head and groaned, knowing what his answer would be before he even gave it.
He shrugged, smirking wickedly, "Because Hermione likes to be dominated."
Ebony's mouth fell open in amused shock as she stared between Ron and Hermione.
Hermione knew what was going to happen, was entirely ready to be reminded of her tyrannical work personality, ready for the jokes about how the know-it-all needed a bit of discipline. But before anyone could even utter a word, Draco suddenly spoke, his voice all astonishment.
"Really?" was all he said, looking so politely shocked that Hermione wanted the ground to swallow her up.
The laughter that followed shook the walls and Hermione joined in, if not a tad hysterically. That response had thrown her a little. And she wasn't alone in her feelings it seemed, Ron's smile was a little strained too.
Ron held up his hands in an attempt to placate the raucous group, "Yeah, yeah, don't all of you act surprised! Anyway, Blaise, I want to know how many people you've slept with. Men and women."
The smiled fell from Blaise's face and he looked pained, "Uh… I might need a minute…"
Hermione chuckled as he bent his head and began counting his fingers.
"This looks like it'll take a while," said Harry, laughing, "Would anyone like another glass of wine?"
Hermione immediately offered him her empty glass as he grasped one of the many bottles still sitting on the table and began topping them up while Blaise continued to mumbled quietly to himself.
Hermione sipped thoughtfully on her wine, feeling significantly cheerier than she had hours previously. It was nice to see how open everyone was. She knew, of course, that they were forced to be open by the potion they'd all taken, but there hadn't been any genuine embarrassment really and she liked that. She knew that they'd all probably be able to discuss this stuff without the Veritaserum, knew they were all comfortable enough with each other to do that. She'd never really had friendships like that growing up, especially as her two main friendships had been with boys, who were both shy about sex in their teenage years. It had turned sex into something of a taboo subject as she'd grown up, which wasn't good. But it seemed they'd all gotten over that now.
The table had split off a little into their own conversations as Blaise counted, until eventually he lifted his heads and said, "Alright. I have the answer!"
Everyone looked expectantly in his direction as Ebony mumbled in amusement, "This ought to be good…"
"Sixty three," he said proudly, "Yep… I think that's right."
Isobel giggled, "Just out of curiosity, can anyone here beat that number?"
Susan smirked, "If I counted, maybe."
Blaise grinned and held up a hand in her direction, "Maybe we should just move the game along. We don't want the potion to wear off now, do we? My question, is for Ginny! Which girl here do you think would give the best blowjobs?"
Ginny leant back in her chair, looking between her female companions thoughtfully, "Hmmm. Honestly, I think it's a toss-up between Luna and Hermione."
Hermione almost choked on her drink, "What?! Why me?!"
"Dunno," Ginny answered pensively, "You kind of have the mouth for it. And Luna's… well, I think her enthusiasm would lend her quite a bit of talent."
The party erupted into gales of laughter as Ron and Dean gave each other the thumbs up across the table.
Ginny then turned her head to Draco who looked alarmed and she giggled, "Don't look so scared Draco, I won't be too mean! Ok. I want you to describe to us, in detail, what your first kiss was like, where and how it happened."
Hermione groaned and Ginny's eyes snapped to hers, an air of realisation in her face. Hermione could tell that the younger woman had not known the answer to this question before she'd asked it. But she knew now. And Draco had no choice but to answer. Ginny had asked him to describe it in detail. And he'd have to do just that.
He looked pained, his eyes firmly planted on the table as he spoke, "It was, uh, new years in our seventh year…"
Of course, the moment he admitted this, the rest of the table, aside from Astoria, adopted Ginny's uneasiness. There was, after all, only one person Draco had kissed in seventh year.
After a moment, he continued, the words halting and uncomfortable as if he was trying to keep them in, trying to fight the potion's compulsion, "It was my first time out in muggle London and we had gone to the banks of the Themes to watch the fireworks. Me and… and this girl had been having a pretty heavy conversation I guess, and I just sort of made the decision to kiss her, because I wanted to and it felt right and… yeah. I just remember this feeling like there was nowhere else in the world I'd rather be than there with her and… and we'd been spending all this time together. I knew her scent so well. But I wanted to taste it, because it always smelt like it would taste good. And… and it did. She seemed hesitant at first but she didn't pull away… Yeah."
His speech wound down to an end and the whole table remained under the same tense, deathly silence. Hermione could see Ron's fist clenched in his lap, his mouth a thin, hard line. Only Astoria seemed entirely unaffected.
"That's really sweet," she said softly to Draco, putting her hand on his arm, "You sound like you really liked her."
Hermione wanted to bash her head on the table top. It was lucky Ginny had not specified that Draco say whom he'd kissed…
"I did," Draco responded tightly, as if he really did not want to speak any longer.
"You're question, Draco," Isobel declared, in a clear attempt to change the subject.
He nodded and downed his glass of wine in one before looking between Harry and Hermione, the only two people who had not yet been asked anything. Hermione felt her stomach turn as his eyes lingered on her for a moment before turning to Harry.
"Alright, Harry, how many of the girls in this room have you pictured naked?" he asked stiffly.
Harry chuckled, "Uh, I'm a man, Draco, I've pictured all of them naked."
Blaise laughed loudly and slapped the table. Ginny batted Harry's arm in mock outrage and the tension was broken.
"Harry!" cried Ginny indignantly.
He nodded and raised his glass, "True story. Some even at the same time."
The party erupted in laughter as Isobel said, "Three guesses who that was…"
Harry raised a suave eyebrow, "Wouldn't you like to know?"
Hermione giggled. Harry was such a lightweight, she could see he was already on his way to being quite drunk.
"Alright! Last one up, Hermione! Ready for your question?" cried George.
"As I'll ever be," she responded, raising her glass in his direction and turning to Harry who was looking at her shrewdly.
"Arighty then!" he shouted, taking a long swig of wine, "Hermione. Tell the group here, which people present you have kissed?"
Hermione gave him an entirely dumbfounded look. A look so full of hurt and shock that at first, his expression was confused. Then he seemed to realise just what he'd done.
"Oh uh, that's not my question, I take it back, uh…" he floundered.
But the damage had been done. He'd asked the question and now she had to answer it, could feel the words rising in her throat like vomit. She held up her hand in Harry's direction to stop his stream of stuttering reparations.
"It's alright, Harry," she said in a voice that was far too calm.
"Hermione, you don't have to, I didn't mean it…" he responded, grimacing.
"You do understand the principals of the Veritaserum potion, don't you? I do have to," she said, with just a hint of accusation in her tone.
"Uh, maybe we could all just leave," put in George, looking panicked, "And you could just tell Harry the answer."
Ron chuckled in confusion, "What's the problem? We all know anyway!"
Isobel and George both opened their mouths to respond to this but Draco cut across them, "Not everyone," he said darkly. Astoria gave him a confused look.
Hermione couldn't contain it any longer, the potion was forcing her to comply and it had taken all of her willpower to remain silent as long as she had.
"There's Ron, obviously," she said over the top of the rising conversation, "And, uh, Dean. Once. In fifth year…"
Luna did not look exactly angry about this but her blue eyes narrowed slightly. Dean wore a troubled frown.
The mood of the evening was crushed. Entirely. And Hermione knew it.
"And, um, Isobel. Again, only once…"
"I'm sorry, what?" said Bo, looking angrily between Hermione and Isobel.
Hermione ignored her, she had to finish giving her answer, "And Draco, quite a few times…"
Draco had his hand up to his brow, Astoria looked stiff.
"And, finally," Hermione gave a hysterical sort of chuckle, "George."
The silence that followed was the most uncomfortable of her life.
"You kissed George?" asked Ron quietly, looking totally bewildered.
Hermione nodded.
"When?" he demanded, his voice beginning to rise.
"Seventh year… After I left the Burrow," she answered, her eyes cast down into her lap.
Ron nodded, his jaw working as his teeth ground together, "Right… right… And was this all you did?"
Harry and Draco both groaned as Hermione whispered, "No."
Ron lifted his hands to his face, rubbing his temples before he looked between Harry and Draco, "And you two both knew about this, did you? And you didn't tell me?"
Both men nodded, looking guilty.
Ron then spoke to the group at large, "How many of the rest of you knew?"
"Me," said Isobel stiffly.
"And me," put in Susan weakly.
"Me too," Blaise admitted lowly.
Ron laughed cynically, "Right. Awesome. So Hermione, was this before or after you fucked Draco?"
"Ron…" Harry growled angrily but again, Hermione had to answer.
"Before," she responded quietly.
He gave her a look then, one that she could read like a book. It said, is there anyone you haven't fucked?
The look crushed her. It was a striking picture of everything she'd been feeling all day, all week, all month, all year. She'd been feeling like she was a horrific person, like she was worthless. And the look Ron had just given her had confirmed it.
Hermione looked around at her friends, the people she was closer to than anyone else on the planet. Everyone looked either hurt, angry or confused.
But what could she do to fix it now? Stay and wait for Ron to ask her more questions she had no choice in answering? Wait for someone else to say something they couldn't take back?
Hermione stood abruptly and all eyes turned to her.
"I'm going out for a smoke," she said, avoiding the gazes of her friends as she stepped out from behind her chair and began to walk the long walk down the table towards the dining hall doors.
They closed with a loud bang behind her.
Hermione's hands were shaking as she set off down the hall, taking up her cloak from the hanger beside the front door and pulling it over her shoulders. She felt for her cigarettes and lighter in the cloak pocket before stepping out of the front door, into the chilly spring night air.
As she closed the door behind her, she heard the voices of her tovarasi raised in anger, echoing down the hall and she felt like an even worse person for leaving them all to deal with that. But what else could she do?
She walked a little way down the deck that stood in front of their house to take a seat in one of the low wooden benches that sat there.
Her body felt heavy, her mind even heavier.
Her lighter flickered in the dark night as she shakily lit her cigarette and inhaled that first, calming drag. She could feel the last of the potion seeping out of her system, hadn't been aware she could notice it there at all until she felt it dispersing.
Strangely, the fear she'd felt that morning had been replaced by numbness. A million possibilities presented themselves to the forefront of her mind, and each had less effect on her feelings than the one it proceeded. What if Ron couldn't get past this? What if he left her? What if she lost Luna and Juliet and Bo as friends because of her actions? What if their partners shunned her because they valued their romantic relationships more than her? What if Isobel was angry at her for telling? What if George or Dean were angry? What if all of them respected her less now? What if they thought she was a slut?
And why couldn't she care about any of that? Why couldn't the idea of losing all her friends, her partner, make her feel something more than detached indifference?
She'd become so cold. But hadn't she always been that way? Maybe none of them were surprised. Maybe they all considered her past actions totally in line with her dilapidated character…
Light suddenly spilled out onto the porch as someone opened the front door. Hermione did not look up. She didn't care who it was that had come to find her, didn't care whether they wanted to scream at her or comfort her. She was past it.
A moment later, light footsteps approached her seat before someone sat down next to her. Fire flared in the darkness as the person lit their cigarette and Hermione's head finally lifted, expecting to see George there beside her. But she was surprised.
"Astoria?"
The younger woman took a long drag of her cigarette and gave Hermione a sideways look, "Hi."
"What are you doing?"
"Same as you. Getting away from the screaming."
There was something incredibly heavy about the way Astoria said this, something that made Hermione think the younger woman wasn't just talking about the tovarasi.
"I know that feeling," she responded wearily.
"I know you do, Hermione," said Astoria.
They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sounds being the wind and their breath.
"Has your potion warn off?" asked Hermione eventually.
Astoria nodded, "Yep. Yours?"
"Thankfully, yes," Hermione responded with a weak sigh.
"Are you alright?" asked the younger woman.
Hermione shook her head, "No. No, I'm not. Are you?"
Astoria did not answer right away, instead she took a few seconds to think about this. When she finally spoke, she spoke quietly, "I'm not sure… This is all, I don't know. It's very heavy."
"I guess you're finding out quite a few things about Draco tonight that you didn't know before…"
"Oh no, I knew about you two," said Astoria simply.
"You did?" Hermione asked, shocked, "But the way Draco spoke, he made it sound like he'd never told you…"
"He didn't tell me. Draco isn't a big talker. He gives out information in little snippets. But I knew…" Astoria sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "You know, Hermione, I first met Draco at Harry and Ginny's wedding, three years ago. And from the moment I met him… I knew he was going to be… to be my best friend. I knew I wanted to be with him. But then… he left with you," Astoria looked up into Hermione's eyes then, as if to see whether she was listening, "I saw you two dancing, and I saw you leave. I could tell you were troubled, that he'd upset you. Then neither of you came back for a long time. And when he finally did, without you, he looked different somehow. He looked more damaged. He was looking for me too, I could see his eyes flitting about all over the place. But I didn't go to him…" her voice became a little stronger, "Because I didn't want to be someone's Band-Aid. I didn't want to be the cold shadow of another woman… But I didn't forget about him after that night, I knew I still wanted something from him. But he needed time, so that's what I gave him. And now here we are."
Hermione did not know how to respond to all this. There was no jealousy in Astoria's tone, only the desire to impart information but it was lost on Hermione just why she was choosing to impart it. All she could think to say was, "Wow. That's… commitment."
Astoria nodded and took another drag of her cigarette. As she exhaled, she said, "I don't know if you're aware of this, but he talks about you far less than the rest of the group. When we first started seeing each other, he gave me all these long character profiles of every single other person in the tovarasi, but when it came to you, he just said, 'And then there's Hermione. She's a lawyer,' and that was it. How he thought I wouldn't have figured out that there was history between you is beyond me."
Hermione felt tired by all of this, she'd heard this stuff about Draco before, from Narcissa, from Blaise… She was tired of knowing about Draco's feelings. But then, she had a part in that too. And how must all that seem to Astoria? She was a stranger who'd just stepped into a world she wouldn't understand for a long time. Hermione felt a bit sorry for her and really, the younger woman seemed to be dealing with it all pretty well, considering. After a few moments, she sighed, "I'm sorry."
"What for?" asked Astoria, bemused.
"I don't know. This is a mess."
Astoria gave a cynical laugh, "Very much so. But it's our mess, isn't it?"
Hermione nodded, sort of liking the fact that the younger woman had described it as their mess rather than just Hermione's, "Yes it is… I just… I really don't know what to do here. We're not kids anymore. We can't just have a screaming match and get over it. I may have ruined people's lives with the answer I gave to that question," her tone was heavy.
"I think if they were the sort of people to get scared off by a few old flings coming to the surface, they probably would have fucked off years ago," Astoria responded, giving Hermione a protracted look.
"Yes, you're probably right…" Hermione acknowledged, and then said, "Are you really ok though? You said this stuff was heavy, and I can totally feel that, but I can't imagine what it must all look like from an outsider's perspective…"
Astoria shrugged, "It looks like a fight between a group of friends who have a lot of history together. Aside from that… I don't think I am ok, no."
"Talk to me," Hermione urged, feeling a little taken aback by her own words.
Astoria hesitated, as if unsure about what she wanted to say, "I'm scared. I'm scared Draco's feelings for you are too strong, I'm scared of living in your shadow. I… Hermione… You remind me of myself."
This statement hit Hermione like a slap in the face and not just because of the refreshing honesty. Of course, she and Astoria didn't look alike, not in the slightest, but even this short conversation had given her the unnerving feeling that she was talking to herself. She just hadn't thought about it like that up until this point. Why else would she have felt comfortable enough to be open with this girl? Someone who'd she'd been cultivating a budding resentment for over the past month?
Hermione wanted to offer comfort, reassurance. She wanted to offer Astoria the same honesty the younger woman had given her. After a moment, she turned to the side, so that she was facing Astoria, rather than the darkness beyond the porch, "Astoria, listen to me. In all the years I've known Draco, he's kept every dalliance or relationship quiet, very quiet. If you were living in my shadow, you wouldn't be here. Because Draco does not like me. Once, maybe, there was something between us. But that has been so thoroughly obscured behind six years of cold conversations and indifference that I don't think he even knows who I am anymore. He looks at me the same way I look at him, like an ex that still hangs around, that it's easier to ignore. We'll never be friends and I can promise you, we'll never be together. Maybe what you're seeing is his tastes, that's all. He's a smart guy who wants an equal. And you and I are both his equals," Hermione chuckled ruefully, "Maybe he's got mummy issues and enjoys the company of women who are cold and somewhat emotionally damaged… My point is that it's obvious you and I have a lot in common. But that doesn't mean anything more than that he has good taste in women."
Astoria smiled as she exhaled smoke through her nose, "That's putting a rather flattering spin on it."
Hermione shrugged, "We both know it's true… Look, when you marry into the tovarasi, you marry into the history. And the history is actually pretty good, for the most part."
"Then how could you think they'd shun you for what you said?" the younger woman asked, astutely guessing Hermione's very thoughts before they'd begun talking.
Hermione shrugged, "It's just my head talking, I guess. I haven't been in the best of places lately. Logically, we've been through worse and really, kissing Dean was in fifth year, before Luna even started thinking of him, kissing Isobel was entirely platonic and what happened with George was something we did because we were both in pain, and while both of us were single."
"Exactly."
Hermione laughed cynically, "Like I said, that's thinking about it logically. I can think it, but I can't make myself feel it right now."
"That's fair enough. But it'll make sense in time, won't it?"
Hermione nodded, "That is the inevitable conclusion."
The two women finished the rest of their cigarettes in silence before depositing the butts into the dilapidated milo tin Hermione kept under the seat.
"Should we go back in?" asked Astoria with a weak smile.
Hermione nodded, "I think we might have to."
They stood up together and Astoria put a hand on Hermione's arm.
"It's going to be alright you know."
Hermione looked down at her feet, feeling for the first time, that the tears were coming, "I'm not so sure," she said with a sniff.
"Why are you crying?"
"Because I'm scared," her voice was cracking. She sounded like a little girl again.
"That's a good thing, Hermione. If it didn't hurt, it wouldn't mean anything. The reason those people in there are crying and screaming at each other is because they care about one another, and they care about you," said Astoria.
Hermione whipped her eyes and gave the younger woman a long, sideways look.
"Cards on the table Astoria, you're dating my ex. The way my fevered mind interprets that is to say he prefers you over me, is choosing you over me. And I was jealous. I was ready to hate you. But you're an incredibly decent woman… And… if you ever want someone to smoke with, well, I'm here," she said, finally finding that warm tone she'd been going for in the beginning.
Astoria didn't speak, but she smiled and her hand squeezed Hermione's arm for just a moment and Hermione felt stronger.
As the two of them walked back into the house together, pulling off their cloaks, the voices of the tovarasi continued to echo through the hall.
Without hesitation, Hermione and Astoria walked back down the hall, through the doors of the dining room and into a veritable warzone. Ron, Draco, Harry, Isobel, Bo and Blaise seemed to be at the centre of it, each standing up in their seats, hands on the table, veins popping out of their necks as they screamed at each other. Eli and Padma seemed to be trying to intervene, to bring some calm to the situation while Ginny and Ebony were flitting along the sidelines looking panicked. George remained in his seat, talking quietly to Juliet who looked on the verge of tears. Susan was sitting close to Luna, an arm around her shoulders as if trying to sooth the younger woman while, next to her, Dean watched the two of them, looking hurt and confused.
When Hermione and Astoria entered, all eyes turned to them and the yelling abruptly stopped.
"Alright," said Hermione evenly into the silence, "I'd like it if everyone could please sit down. I have something to say…"
To her shock, those that were standing sat down and the silence prevailed. Astoria left her side to resume her seat beside Draco. She smiled at Hermione who took a deep breath.
Her mind was blank, she had no idea what to say, only that she wanted to heal the breach. She wanted to fix what she'd started. And after a moment, with this in mind, the words came.
"It may not shock you guys to hear the real reason we've had a fight tonight. It wasn't about our history or what has taken place between… certain members of the group, although we all have some unresolved issues there… Look. Here it is. Caring about a person can be scary. Caring about sixteen people can be a horrifying, embarrassing nightmare. And that's what it turns into, eventually, because we do have all this history. And that history is fucking messy, not just mine but everyone's. And if we can't accept each other for what we've been through then this fighting will never stop. Resentments are like cancer, they'll grow and fester and kill you if you let them. And… and I don't want to do that. I'm embarrassed and horrified and feel every possible kind of shame about what's taken place tonight, about the information that has come to light. But… well, if I can't say it today, when can I say it? I love you guys… and I love that we're fighting about this. I love that we're hurt. Because if we weren't, then our friendship wouldn't mean anything. I love that it means something. I love that you all care about me and each other enough to spend all night screaming. And I love that I care about all of you enough to cry about that," Hermione smiled a watery smile, even though she felt like doing that might get her cursed, "Now… I'd really like it if… can we just have some coffee and talk?"
There was a moment of tense silence while Hermione stared pleadingly at them all before Draco stood up.
"I'll help you make it," he said, stepping out from behind his chair and laying a kiss on Astoria's head.
Before Hermione left the room, she caught Ron's eye. There were words in his look. It said, I love you.
It wasn't fixed, wasn't healed. She could still feel all the anger and the accusations there. But it was enough. She'd opened the door to acceptance and forgiveness. And that was more than what she could have hoped for.
A/N Oh my god guys, I am SO sorry for taking this long to update! The stomach flu may have taken a rather dark turn. But I'm alright now! Healthy and able to write again! It's been absolute fucking torture not being able to these last few weeks!
Anyway, hoping you like this chapter. It has been one of my absolute favourites!
Love to you all, and thanks to all my reviewers! I'll get around to replying soon!
xx
Desdemona