Author's Note:
Thank you to all who've read and subscribed to this story! I put out some microfics and answer any questions on Tumblr as well honeydukesheroine. I don't check FFN unless I post a chapter, so if you'd like to keep in touch between chapters, I'm happy to chat there.
Response to Reviews:
- flutterbye123 I'm also looking forward to when Hinny finally gets together - just a few more events before that can happen!
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- TheaMama Don't you worry, I WILL be finishing this story. It's been a blast to spend time with these characters and live in their world. Who knows how long it'll take to get through all 35 chapters, but I've been able to finish about one per month. If I quit overthinking so much it'd be faster :)
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HERMIONE
As unpleasant as Apparating was, it was preferable to spending two hours clutching the wheel of her father's Volvo, shoulders tense, car hanging in silence but for Crookshanks' mewls of displeasure. If only the Apparition licensing examination had been two weeks earlier, this whole situation of driving to the Burrow might've been avoided.
Hermione had hoped for more familial bonding this week. In fact, she'd planned on it.
At first things seemed to be going well. The first night home, her father had eagerly shown her the new bulky expanse of off-white plastic that now consumed her treasured mahogany writing desk. He sat her down in front of it - excusing the electronic beeping and screeching - so they could send an E-mail to Aunt Lorna in New York City.
But then, why did it have to be in her room?
Even powered off, she couldn't shake the feeling of the monitor's blank, inscrutable eyeball staring at her while she slept.
The pronouncement that her father would conduct daily driving lessons came after her request to spend the final days of break with the Weasleys. Her parents would drive her there, giving them an excuse to take a holiday on the coast. Her father insisted she keep current in the Muggle world. "To give yourself more opportunities for the future," he'd said. So every day after work, he sat her in the driver's seat and lectured her to "focus on the horizon, where the road meets the sky," rather than the portion directly in front of the hood.
Based on his knee jerking reactions, frequent reaching for the door handle, and harried sighs, he enjoyed the lessons as much as she had. Ultimately, being encased in heavy machinery with frequent, urgent pronouncements of her inadequacy was not her ideal way of bonding with her father.
And now, Hermione focused on the boot of the car in front of her - she currently couldn't see where the road met the sky.
Her mother cleared her throat.
"Did I tell you that I ran into Susan Pensy's mum in the supermarket the other day?" her mother asked in the hesitant way people do when calling to see if anyone's home. "It was so lovely to catch up with her. She suggested that the four of us get together again. Perhaps we'd arrange an afternoon tea together, something special, go into London… Remember like we did for Susan's eleventh birthday?"
Hermione remembered.
Susan Pensy, her best friend before Hogwarts. More accurately - her only friend. But that'd been okay. Because they went everywhere together and had everything in common. Living just two streets away, they recited study material together on the walk to primary school, then to the ballet studio, and back home every day.
They'd spent so much time together that sometimes Hermione couldn't tell what traits were uniquely hers or which had been influenced by Susan.
Without Hermione knowing when it began, an evolving rivalry tunneled under their facade of friendly collective efforts. The final blow: Susan Pensy being cast as the Sugar Plum Fairy in that year's rendition of the Nutcracker.
Hermione quit ballet after that. It'd always been a part of the plan, anyway.
Because after Professor McGonagall had come to deliver her Hogwarts letter on her eleventh birthday, her parents had decided to pull her out of extracurriculars to focus on her studies and research this new, hidden world that had reached out to accept her.
"I remember," Hermione said. "We're actually not friends anymore, Mum."
"You don't keep up with her?"
Hermione shook her head. "Not since Hogwarts."
She could remember Susan's eleventh birthday tea. It'd been just weeks into the new year. The year that Hermione would go to Hogwarts. Those fine flower arrangements, the well-dressed ladies with purses to match their pastel tea hats, delicate chinking of china… the golden initial on cloth-like disposable hand towels in the women's restroom which Hermione used to wipe away her tears.
For Susan's success in the production had estranged them. And sitting down to birthday tea with their mothers had been unbearable.
"Right…" Hermione's mother said. In the rearview mirror, Hermione saw her look out the window. "She mentioned, quite proudly in fact, that the two of them still carry around matching purses," her mother said, leaning closer with her bit of gossip. "Cute, I suppose, when she was younger, but a bit tawdry now. Don't you think?"
"Really?" Hermione said, making eye contact with her mother in the backseat. "How strange."
Her mother nodded, smiling, and gave a disparaging roll of her eyes. She paused before adding, "You know, Ginny is more than welcome to stay at ours over the summer. Maybe we can even take her to tea instead. Her and her mum."
Hermione tried to keep her face neutral, imagining a scene where Mrs. Weasley and Ginny joined them for afternoon tea at the Savoy.
For years now, Hermione had led her parents to believe that Ginny was her Hogwarts friend equivalent to Susan. And other than some mention of the rising tensions against Muggles and Muggleborns, they had no awareness of anything strange happening at school apart from that group of foreign exchange students during fourth year. Hermione was sure that to go into any further detail would prompt another discussion about pulling her out of Hogwarts.
"That'd be lovely. But it's as I've said," Hermione replied, repeating her specious explanation from the other day. "Her parents are extremely protective. Especially of her. Seeing as she's the youngest… and their only daughter."
She sensed rather than saw her parents exchange a glance with each other. The car submerged, again, into silence.
Twenty minutes later, the Volvo's wheels crunched along the Burrow's uneven driveway and the teetering vertical house came into view. They were greeted by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Hermione was glad she'd told her parents to expect security questions upon crossing the boundary of protective enchantments.
"Blimey!" Ron said as he, Harry and Ginny exited the house. "Harry, look! Hermione drove here!"
"And with permission, I might add," Mrs. Weasley said pointedly at Ron and Harry with a twinkle in her eye. She explained to Hermione's mother how the boys had stolen the Ford Anglia their second year.
It was odd, seeing her parents here. Putting on personalities in such contrast to the mood from the car ride here. It'd almost made her wish she could speak to them like this, as if to meet them all over again.
"Ron's been rushing about the house the last two days, trying to tidy up," Ginny whispered in Hermione's ear when pulling away from their hug. "Why do you suppose that is?" She said with a wicked grin. They peaked around the side of the car, where Ron was shaking hands with Hermione's parents. He'd assumed his full height, his voice dropped several octaves than usual. His hair was shorter, clean cut, its warm tones shining in the sunlight. The combined effects made her kindle with giddy embarrassment.
"How was your drive, Mrs. Granger?" Ron asked her mother. Hermione didn't know he could speak to adults that politely. She clutched Ginny's wrist as they continued to eavesdrop.
"Oh, uneventful. Hermione's been tense about it all week, but it ended up perfectly fine in the end."
"That's strange. It doesn't sound like her at all," Ron said, making Hermione's mother laugh.
Ginny snorted, saying quietly, "It'd be cute if he wasn't so pathetic about it."
"Never mind that. How's it been here?" Hermione asked, seeing Harry approach them.
"Good. Other than Harry challenging himself to break as many Weasley items as he can in one week.
Harry stepped around the car to greet Hermione and laughed. "For the record, the hammock was not my fault."
"I meant my ankle."
"Oh," Harry said, grinning down at Ginny. "Also not my fault." Ginny rolled her eyes so they landed on Hermione. She gave her a meaningful look, which Hermione took to mean We'll talk later.
They all headed in the direction of the house. Ron came up beside Hermione, took her bag from her hand and shouldered it. The two of them fell into step together, their elbows brushing lightly.
He leaned down to her and said, "I'm so glad you're here." His closeness since his birthday still sent a thrill of contentment through her. She'd forgotten about that feeling during all those weeks apart, it was like rediscovering her favorite story through fresh eyes. "My family's been taking the piss out of me this week."
"About what?" She asked.
"Just the usual," he grumbled, shaking his head, making his feet shuffle more than normal in the freshly cut grass. "They never take me seriously."
Despite what he was saying, a warmth spread through her just to hear him confide in her like this again. They reached the perimeter of the Burrow's garden, where his parents were giving hers a tour of the vegetable patch and chicken coup.
Ron dropped his voice further to a whisper. "And something funny is going on with those two," he said, nodding several paces away where Ginny was goading Harry to pet a ruffled-looking chicken. "Every time I turn my back, they're running off and getting themselves hurt."
Hermione watched Harry and Ginny, hiding her smile from Ron. Clearly, there was a lot to catch up on.
She whispered back, remembering what had been on her mind the entire drive there, "Did you ask your parents not to mention anything? You know about the Ministry, or Voldemort?"
"Yeah, they agreed..." Ron said, shifting his weight, looking concerned. "Mum seemed a bit suspicious, though."
"Why, what'd you tell her?"
"I just said it could really upset them."
"Ron. We agreed on what you'd say."
"I know, but it's true, isn't it? Besides, I can't lie to Mum. She always knows."
When it came to lunch, they all shuffled around to find seats at the table. Her parents smiling nervously at the enchanted chaos of the Weasley's kitchen.
Back home, Hermione's parents had a strict orderly dining routine. It ran smoothly and predictably. Hermione answered different versions of their same questions, punctuated by stretches of silence. Dishes were used judiciously as to limit the clean up process, leftovers boxed, then stacked in the fridge. The whole procedure was usually finished within a half hour.
Her parents' eyes roved over the Burrow's cramped kitchen and their body language seemed to relax the longer they spent among the Weasleys, whose banter bounced off the walls, filling the space of the warm kitchen.
Hermione couldn't help but notice that Harry and Ginny had sat next to each other, intermittently breaking for their own side comments. The two of them were determinedly avoiding her eye contact.
"So you write a letter into the box, and someone can read it instantly. Across the world?" Mr. Weasley asked Hermione's father. They two had kept a near continuous stream of conversation since Mr. Weasley had complimented the Volvo's motorized engine.
"Essentially. And you can type any word you like, and it instantly searches thousands of sources. You'd never have to go to a library again."
Hermione sniffed, resenting this on principle. But Mr. Weasley's eyes grew wide, trying to comprehend. "Fascinating."
"Diane," Mrs. Weasley said, addressing Hermione's mother. "Tell us about your work, Hermione says you care for people's teeth. Is that an enjoyable experience for them?"
Hermione's mother opened and closed her mouth, "Oh…" she paused, thinking how to answer the question. "Well, they're certainly happier when they leave, aren't they, Stephen? Perhaps Harry can even tell us. You were raised by Muggles as well, correct?"
"Oh, erm, yeah, I was… But, sorry, no," Harry said, giving a resigned smile, then staring down at his plate.
"You've never been Harry?" Hermione asked curiously. "Even before Hogwarts?"
"My uncle never really saw the point," Harry shrugged.
Hermione's father tilted his head with clinical curiosity, "Never checked for cavities?"
"No… Oh, it's alright though," Harry said, catching his expression. "I never really had sweets. And I brush my teeth and everything..."
There were mixed reactions to Harry's statement. Hermione turned to Ron, but he seemed to be trying to catch up with the conversation. Mrs. Weasley suddenly looked stern, but for her soft eyes examining Harry.
Ginny had an expression similar to Ron's, but had caught Hermione's father's appraising look of Harry.
For a flash of moment, Hermione saw Harry as if for the first time, as her father must be seeing him now: tiny holes in the seams of his shirt, the slanting I must not tell lies across his hand, a break in his uncombed hair displaying edges of the lightning-shaped scar. His eyebrows furrowed and jaw set giving him a darkened, clouded impression.
"An optometrist?" Hermione's father asked.
"Once," Harry replied flatly, still studying his plate, pushing food around with his knife.
"Well, those must be magical glasses, anyhow," her mother said politely, an attempt to neutralize the line of questioning.
"Interestingly, they haven't bothered with them. More trouble than it's worth, some say," Hermione laughed nervously. "Similar to the treatment of most other genetic conditions," she continued, unable to stop herself. She was met with blank stares. "W-well, remember in Charms earlier this year? Flitwick mentioned it's often dangerous to tinker with genetics because you can't know how the magic may impact generational damage."
"We must've been absent that day," Ron directed at Harry, and they both snorted on their laughter.
"I suppose this is genetic, or else we'd've solved it," Mr. Weasley said, pointing to the balding crown of his head. After a moment, his face lit up, "Perhaps we can ask the internet!"
Thankfully, there'd been no mention of the current climate of the Wizarding World whatsoever. But Hermione still couldn't relax, sitting on the edge of her seat, making continuous attempts to control the flow of conversation away from revealing any details that she'd kept hidden from her parents.
"Are you fully recovered, Arthur?" Her mother asked politely.
"Oh, yes, thank you for asking. Freak incident," Mr. Weasley replied. "In some ways, security is much tighter at work now… of course, particularly with the ambush at the Ministry at the end of last year."
"Ambush?" Hermione's father asked.
Mr. Weasley blanched. "Sorry to mention it. I just meant when - when the kids had gone to London, of course."
A shock went through Hermione. She grit her teeth.
Hermione's mother asked, "You mean on the train?"
Mrs. Weasley's eyes narrowed suspiciously, looking from Hermione to her parents. "Surely you are aware that the kids flew to the Ministry in London?"
"You … flew to London, Hermione?"
Hermione placed her hands in her lap and began wringing them under the table. She pulled in a shuddering breath and tried to think of how to divert her question, "Yes, we did."
"I don't understand," her father directed at Hermione. "Why? How? Why didn't you say?"
"W-well …" Hermione said, heart racing, but her mind had gone blank. "To s-save …" she'd never even told them that Sirius Black existed. Hermione looked to Ron for help.
"We went to save Harry's godfather," Ron said, stepping in. "We flew there on threstrals. These sort of horse-like things."
"Let me get this straight. You flew to London on a pegasus to … save Harry's godfather from an ambush?" Her dad said incredulously, a protective harshness in his tone. His eyes flicked to Harry, then back to her.
Tears began prickling in the corner of Hermione's eyes. She opened her mouth as if to answer, but didn't trust her voice not to break.
"Perhaps you three should take dessert outside," Mrs. Weasley directed at Ron, Harry and Ginny. None of them moved. Hermione's parents continued to stare at her as if she were under investigation.
"It was my fault…. My plan…" Harry said, cutting through the silence. "I had this kind of vision. The one like I'd had when Mr. Weasley was being attacked by that snake. I saw that Voldemort had captured my godfather."
Hermione's father looked at Harry as if he were appraising a shady-looking stranger he might've just encountered in an alleyway. Tears began to fall and Hermione buried her face in her hands.
"Voldemort?" Her father repeated. "The one who -"
"Killed my parents, yeah."
"But we were under the impression that he'd gone."
The air in the room had been sucked out by vacuum, it became hard for Hermione to breathe. She knew her reaction was only making matters worse, but she couldn't stop the onslaught of tears, old memories of the Department of Mysteries picked fresh.
Mrs. Weasley then directed others to leave. Their chairs scuffed backwards and seconds later the door closed behind them. At first, Hermione they'd all left, but then she heard Ron say, "I'll stay" and she felt his hand on her back.
Tears continued to come as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley calmly answered her parents' questions regarding the details of the Department of Mysteries, burgeoning war efforts, security measures taken on the school, the Order of the Phoenix, and Sirius' life and death. It seemed to go on forever until her parents demanded to know why they were not informed of their daughter's whereabouts, by the school or other parties.
Hermione then confessed that she'd put an anti-owl ward on their names sometime during third year.
"I- I didn't want you to worry," she explained, and squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation of their anger.
"About what, that we'd find out you were at the center of some magical war? That you left school grounds for a rescue mission involving some psycho murderer? And you're apparently best friends with the boy he's bent on killing?"
"I was afraid you'd consider pulling me out of Hogwarts," Hermione said, her voice gaining some power. "Like you did after I was petrified."
"And we'd have good reason."
Her mother was desperately shaking her head, eyes wandering over the table as if searching for something she'd dropped in the dark. "Hermione, this is not what we wanted for you," she said, voice agonizingly soft. Her bottom lip quivered and cut open Hermione's heart. "Th-thank you for the meal, Molly, but I think we'll …" she didn't finish the sentence.
Both Hermione's parents stood from the table, gathering their coats from the rack. Hermione forced herself to follow them to the car, keeping several paces behind. Her father turned to her before getting in the car, his lips were thin as blades as he looked at her with resigned disappointment.
"I'm sorry I lied," Hermione choked out.
"We'll talk about it on the way home, make a plan for what to do."
"A plan?"
"We're pulling you out of school … or let you finish out exams at Hogwarts… I don't know, Hermione … We'll have to see if you can still qualify to apply for university."
Her heart hammered in her chest, panic forcing her several steps backward. "No," she said, shaking her head.
"Darling, please, get in the car so we can talk about it," Her mother said, her voice still quiet.
"I can't."
"It's too dangerous," Her mother pleaded, trying to make her see reason. "You're seventeen. And these people are dying. We don't want you involved, that's final."
"I have to be involved," Hermione insisted. And saying it out loud brought on a new ream of memories: lying to Umbridge about the weapon in the forest, spinning the Time-Turner to save Sirius, the Muggles dancing like deranged puppets at the Quidditch World Cup. It'd been becoming more clear all the time - it was too late to turn back now, particularly with everything she knew about Harry, Voldemort and the prophecy. Even Dumbledore must've known, she and Ron would be there to help Harry. He needed them, the two of them. "It's too important."
Her mother shook her head disbelievingly and looked to her husband for support. "Stephen?"
It was like seeing all his familiar features on some else's face. His straight and narrow nose, his gel-controlled hair, the gathering wrinkles around his eyes … yet his expression seemed like he barely recognized her, as if she were a stranger to him.
"Let's go, Diane," he said despondently, dropping into the driver's seat. Her mother seemed on the threshold of saying more, but the intention seemed to crumble. She got in the car in slow motion and Hermione would never forget the look on her face in the dusty window as they drove away.
Ron was there in an instant and he wrapped his heavy arms around her as scaffolding, ushering her to sit on the low stone wall. She sobbed into his shoulder, burying her face in the collar of his shirt for what seemed like hours. He didn't draw away, not even when her gasping tears grew quiet.
Hermione sniffed, wiping her eyes. "I can't go back in there."
"Sure you can," he said, pushing her hair out of her face.
She shook her head. "I can never face your mum and dad again."
"You're right, you probably should just sleep out here tonight. I'll bring you a few blankets, if you put some moss on this rock… Looks cozy."
"Please be serious."
"We all mess up sometimes, Hermione. Honestly, I wondered when it'd be your turn."
"Oh, don't do that."
"What?"
"Be nice to me," she spat. "You're making light of it."
"What do you want me to say?" Ron shot back, pulling away from her. "That you were wrong? How's that going to help?"
"You could at least acknowledge the seriousness of all this. If you'd only stuck to the plan, maybe this wouldn't have -"
"Really, Hermione? What'd you think was going to happen?! If you ask me, you should never have lied."
"I didn't have a choice! I knew they'd want to pull me out of school!"
"Can you blame them? Look how they just found out! They might've understood if you'd explained it, or told them the truth three years ago."
"You don't know my dad, he would've -"
"You're right, I don't," Ron interrupted her. "And he doesn't know my parents, or me, or Harry. And whose fault is that, Hermione?"
Her bottom lip quivered and fresh tears filled her eyes. "I'm sorry."
"C'mere," he said, his voice soft again, his arm assuming its place around her shoulders.
"I'm so sorry… this was a c-complete disaster."
"Oh, I dunno, your mum liked my jokes."
Hermione gave a watery laugh and shook her head, "Even she doesn't really get it… Guess who she wants to set up tea with."
"Who?"
"Susan Pensy."
"Blegh. Not the Sugar Bum Fairy," he said. Hermione laughed again and dropped her head to his shoulder. "Maybe you can spike her tea with the Puking Pastilles that I confiscated from those second years."
"You were supposed to give those to McGonagall."
"Yeah, well, maybe you can omit that piece of information too."
She elbowed him in the side and tried to move away, but he pulled her back against him so she was surrounded by him, gently squeezing her with consistent pressure.
Eventually they did go back inside, Ron muttering comforts in her ear. She moved through the house carefully, trying not to make a sound, thankful that she didn't encounter anyone else. She washed up and changed out her dusty clothes before curling up on the edge of Ginny's bed.
Part of her still listened, straining to hear the sound of tires over gravel making their way up the driveway. But Mr. Weasley had likely restored the protective enchantments by now.
Even if she hadn't lied, this day might've been inevitable. The ultimatum to turn back or stay in the Wizarding World had always been there, particularly after being petrified. Better that it culminated today, now that she was of age and could make her own choice.
Among the specters of guilt and humiliation again loomed fear. She considered the possibility that she'd hid it all from her parents to preserve a haven of safety and childhood, a place where magic rarely happened.
Hermione jumped at the knock at Ginny's door.
Barely waiting for a response, Mrs. Weasley entered the room carrying folded linens. The camp bed hovered in behind her and set itself up with a flick of Mrs. Weasley's wand.
"How are you feeling, dear?" She asked, not sounding angry, exactly, but not exactly sympathetic either.
Hermione quickly shot up to help her put linens on the bed. "I'm alright, thank you." The two of them unfolded the sheets, dressing the bed Hermione was to sleep in in silence.
"You're a smart girl, so I know you don't need a lecture about lying. I understand what you did, even if I think there were other ways to go about it, " Mrs. Weasley said, stuffing a pillow in its case.
Mrs. Weasley then turned to face Hermione. Being the subject of her undivided attention was like staring into the sun on a summer day: warm, yet unyielding. No shade under which to hide. She radiated with a type of understanding that couldn't be earned from books.
"You'll always have a place here," she said definitively. "However, after this, I do hope you understand the importance of trust among family - both chosen and blood."
With no idea on how to respond, Hermione looked down at her hands. After a long pause, Mrs. Weasley squeezed her arm and left the room without another word.
Hermione woke several hours later to the last dwindling hours of daylight. She hadn't meant to nap so long. Upon descending the stairs, Mrs. Weasley told her that Ron, Harry and Ginny had taken a picnic style supper outside near the apple orchard.
She joined them, casting a crackling blue fire in the center of their circle in the fading light. Harry seemed to be avoiding eye contact with all of them, that same hooded expression from last year, not speaking more than a few words.
What's going on? Hermione mouthed to Ron.
He shook his head. Tell you later.
Is he alright?
"Will you two cut it out?" Harry asked. "I can always tell when you do that."
Hermione looked from Harry to Ginny, who shook her head quickly.
"Hey, you four," Fred called and they turned to see him and George striding across the grass.
"Doesn't quite have the same ring, does it, Fred?"
"Hey, you three. Plus Ginny," Fred amended.
"Hilarious," Ginny muttered, pushing remnants of a sandwich around her plate.
"Sorry to interrupt this joyful gathering," George said, reading the mood of their group. "But we have a new product line we'd like to try on - sorry - with you."
"Introducing our brand new - drumroll, please - Blitzed Kit!" Fred announced, brandishing a prototype packaging with their logo stamped across in large purple letters.
"There's Butterbeer Pong, Rolling Cauldron, or Honesty Shots."
"Games sold separately or in the Blitzed Kit for fifteen percent off."
"Ingest responsibly."
Ron looked intrigued, but said, "We don't have any alcohol. Unless you count Dad's stash."
"Don't bother, it hasn't been alcohol since the summer before Bill's fifth year."
George raised up an overlarge bottle, displaying a burgundy red label of Old Ogden's Ale. "If you tell Mum, we'll deny everything."
"How does Honesty Shots work?" Ginny asked, holding the packaging up to read in the light of Hermione's blue flames.
"You'll say 'Honesty Shots for…' and whoever it's true for must drink."
"But the cups are enchanted."
"They float - indicating to all others that you must drink," explained George.
"That's horrible!" Hermione exclaimed. "What if you don't want to say what you've done!"
"That's the fun, Hermione!" said Fred, pulling out six narrow, mirror plated shot glasses.
"But Old Ogden's is a lot stronger than Butterbeer."
"You didn't use a Doubling Charm on it, did you?" Ginny asked, eyeing the contents of her glass. "Because you know it's not as strong when you do that."
"No, we'd never," said George, sounding offended. "Wait, how do you know that?"
"Erm … class," Ginny said, taking an experimental sip of the ale, recoiling at the taste.
Hermione eyed Ginny, knowing full well that the Doubling Charm on consumables was a N.E.W.T. level charm. "I don't know about this."
"C'mmmonn Hermione, it's just an innocent little game!"
"We've never drank more than Butterbeer," she replied. "It might not be safe."
"Safe? You're among friends. What could be more safe?"
Hermione considered the glass in front of her. The frothy bubbles, dancing, collecting towards the surface. The creamy foam and toasty aroma were much more inviting compared to when she'd poured similar contraband substances down the drain.
This is what the other older students did. They thought it was fun. Maybe her parents had even done this when they were her age. The hours since their departure had had an assuaged numbing effect; but now the thought of her parents once again slashed through her.
Fleetingly, she wished the secret they'd uncovered was simply this: underage drinking. Innocent enough when stacked up against dangerous covert missions and plans to undermine the genocidal ideations of powerful wizards.
She looked across their circle of friends, instinctively seeking comfort from Ron. His deep blue eyes were soft, a mixture of concern and gentle encouragement. He wanted to play. Likely Harry and Ginny too. If she refused, they'd play without her. She'd traveled this far to be with them, after all.
Hermione drew a breath in through her nose and said, "Alright."
"There she is!" Fred exclaimed in approval.
Hermione felt an excited thrill, but hastened to add: "But all Voldemort questions, prophecy questions, Chosen One questions, Dumbledore lesson questions, or generally any Harry-related questions are off limits!"
"Of course! It's meant to be a good time. We don't need the details of Harry's depressing life."
"Cheers," Harry said flatly, leaning forward to take a sloshing Honesty Shot glass from George.
"But Harry participates, right?" Ginny asked, sitting cross legged between Ron and Harry. "If it's none of those things."
"Obviously."
"Go on, then Fred. Show us how it's done," George filled his twin's glass, ensuring everyone had done the same.
"You place the glass in front of you, and what you say is something like this… Honesty Shots for… let's see… for cuddling with the ghoul in the attic."
Ron's mirrored glass rose soundlessly and hovered before him. "Mum told you not to try out that sleepwalking potion on me," Ron grumbled, reaching for his glass.
"It all looked completely intentional to us," said Fred.
"A very tender scene, indeed," said George.
"Drink up, Ron, that's the game."
Ron sunk back the contents of his glass and said, "I'm already regretting this."
His glass refilled instantly upon setting it down. It was now his turn. His face faintly flushed, making his freckles seem darker. "Blimey… okay… Honesty Shots for… dropping out of Hogwarts."
Fred and George's glasses floated into the air.
"Fair enough," they said in unison.
"And we'd do it again," George added.
"Ginny, your turn."
"Hmm, Honesty Shots for supporting the worst Quidditch team in the league."
"Oi! Stop singling me out!"
"You make it too easy, Ron," Ginny giggled as Ron took his second shot of beer. "Harry, your turn."
"Erm…" Harry said, glumly regarding his glass. "Honesty Shots for growing up with parents."
They all groaned as their shot glasses rose.
"Fucking hell, mate. That's bleak."
"Did you hear us? The game is supposed to be fun."
"Lay off him," Ginny said. "He's only playing by your game."
Hermione's glass began slowly rotating, reflecting the calming light of her flames. She took hold of the cool glass and sipped on it, allowing the bubbles to pop and fizz in her mouth before swallowing. To her surprise, she liked the taste better than the usually tooth-aching sweetness of Butterbeer.
All eyes were on her, it was her turn. "Oh, alright… Honesty Shots for… Being on the Gryffindor Quidditch team?" With some satisfaction, she watched every other glass rise but her own.
"See, Hermione, isn't this fun?" Fred asked, grinning at her. "Just wait until we put it on the packaging that it's 'Prefect Approved'."
Hermione rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself. "You will not."
"Honesty Shots for…" George said, squinting at Hermione. "Stalking a house elf around the castle."
"It was for gathering data on their daily living conditions! I thought if I could report it to -"
"We need no explanation. Drink."
"Round two!" Fred said, reaching behind his back slowly. "What'd'you say, Georgie, now that we've warmed up a bit…" He pulled out large bottle of Dragon Barrel Brandy with a golden waxed cap and bottleneck.
"We can't!" Hermione cried. "We'll stick to beer," she said, looking to Ron for support, but he was already reaching for the brandy. "Ron, I would've thought you of all people … after what happened on your birthday."
"That was mead," Ron shrugged, passing the bottle of brandy to Ginny, "Entirely different."
"It's brandy sans poison," Ginny said, filling her glass.
"We hope," said Harry.
Concerned, Hermione bit her lip and asked, "Exactly how many rounds are there?"
"As many as there needs to be, if you know what I mean," Fred answered.
"I don't."
They accepted Hermione's choice to remain with Old Ogden's Ale and continued the game. "Honesty Shots for being personally rescued by Harry Potter," said Fred.
All but the twins' glasses rose.
"On the subject, Harry. We're beginning to feel a little left out."
"Count yourself lucky," Harry said. "Wait, why'd mine go up?"
"Ohh, you don't think it means when you rescued yourself? Third year?" Hermione suggested, grateful that Harry's face had broken out of its darkened mask. He looked curiously between her and his glass.
Fred and George's inventions had always been inspired, if not borderline dangerous. But she reached to examine the prototype packaging, wondering at the charms placed on their shot glasses. "This is really advanced magic! How did you-"
"A wizard never reveals his secrets," said George, and for the hundredth time, Hermione wondered how they had only earned three O.W.L.s each.
"Honesty shots for… blaming your pranks on accidental magic."
Fred and George clinked their glasses together and drank.
"Hmm, let's make Harry even…" Ginny said, narrowed her eyes at him and said, "… for taking Luna Lovegood to Slughorn's Party as more than friends."
Harry's glass remained stationary, sitting innocently upon the blanket. Hermione noticed he seemed to smirk.
"Interesting," Ginny said, sitting up straighter.
"Honesty shots for blaming your pranks on the twins," Harry said.
Ginny's glass rose and she let out a loud-mouthed laugh. "You're on to me," she said and her face glowed.
"… for cheating on an examination."
Fred and George's glasses rose.
"We're identical," George explained. "One person studies for Charm's O.W.L., the other for Transfiguration. One takes it twice. No harm done."
"Honesty Shots for having a peep at someone in the Quidditch locker room."
Fred, George, Ron, Harry, and Ginny's glass rose together. "Oh, ho, ho! Do tell."
"That's not part of it," Harry said quickly.
"Well, we all know Ginny's, of course," said Fred.
"Fuck you! Dean's on the team too," Ginny countered back, but Hermione saw that she pushed her hair to the side and blushed a deep scarlet.
"Mhm, riiight," Fred replied, nodding exaggeratedly. She took her shot and looked at Harry out of the corner of her eye.
"… for saying 'I love you' to a significant other."
No glasses rose.
"Bunch of heartbreakers," said Fred, swaying to the side.
"I'm so proud," said George, hand to his heart.
"Honesty Shots for performing a dance in front of an audience," Ron said with a wide, sloppy grin directed at Hermione.
Hermione groaned in embarrassment as her glass floated into the air. Thus ensued a round of forceful goading from her friends for a demonstration. She eventually gave in, encouraged by the ale, and got to her feet.
Blood rushed to her face and her limbs felt looser. She took a steadying breath, trying not to laugh, and fumbled through a shaky pirouette. When she caught her balance, Ron was on his knees, clapping for her and beaming widely. Their circle erupted in hoots and applause. She hid her face in her hands with giddy pleasure
"Honesty Shots for fantasizing about your brother's fiancé," Ginny said, and added with an excited shriek, flapping her hands, "Daydream or otherwise!" Fred, George, and Ron's glasses floated up.
"Fuck you, Ginny," Ron mumbled and took his drink.
"AH, HA! BILIUS! I KNEW IT!" she said, hair swirling as she clambered clumsily to her knees, pointing at Ron triumphantly.
"It was BEFORE she and Bill! And I was 14! I had no control over anything!" Ron bellowed back, waving his hands wildly.
"That's an outright lie. And you two, that's disgusting," Ginny said, sitting back on her heels and shooting a withering look at Fred and George.
George shrugged and replied, "Veela magic, sis. A bloke can't help it."
"They say the same thing about the Imperius Curse, but look at Harry - he threw it off from a Death Eater AND You-Know-Who!" Ginny said, now gesturing toward Harry beside her, who'd suddenly become very interested in the plaid pattern of the blanket.
"Ginny Weasley, if you think that the righteous Boy-Who-Lived has kept his thoughts pure about Fleur Delacour, then you're Confunded," said Fred. Ron burst out laughing at the look on Harry's face.
"Harry?" Ginny asked, dropping down into a slumped position and peering at him.
"Well… it's a bit different, isn't it?" Harry said in defense of himself. "Old, wandless magic - harder to control."
"I wouldn't say wandless, Harry," Fred winked at Harry, earning a snigger from Ron and George.
"Yeah, well, at least she's not about to be my sister in law!"
"There's always Gabrielle."
"Honesty shots for dating a professional Quidditch player."
Hermione gasped when her glass rose.
"We didn't date, we just -"
"The glasses don't lie, Hermione!"
Ron's face grew red, screwing it up in response to the question. It reminded Hermione of the time they had to sort through processed dragon dung for Herbology.
She felt her cheeks flush. And feeling defensive, she retorted without a second thought, "Honesty Shots for dating someone purely out of spite." She eyed Ron's glass, expecting it to rise. But it remained still. Unsure what it meant, she archived this information to assess later when her head was less fuzzy.
"Honesty shots for stealing my date to the Yule Ball."
"You had plenty of time to ask her first," Fred said to George, reaching for his raised glass.
"… Seen anyone else here naked."
Harry and Ron's glasses rose.
Hermione shrieked and covered her mouth, dissolving into giggles.
"I always knew you two were a little too close," said Fred.
Harry began talking fast, nearly yelling, "IT WAS AN ACCIDENT! Before the Quidditch Cup, Ron came in from the bathroom and dropped his towel, he didn't remember I'd just arrived from the Dursley's and -!"
"YEAH?! Wull you didn' SAY anythin' did you? Could'a warned me, but juss sat there all quie' and -"
"I was ASLEEP!"
"YOUR EYES WERE WIDE OPEN!"
The group had burst out in raucous laughter - Hermione felt tears of laughter in her hands as she again covered her face. Ginny, red in the face, was clutching her stomach while rolling around on the ground. Fred and George clapped their hands loudly, falling backward, hooting with laughter.
"YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO STALK ME TO THE SHOWERS EVERY NIGHT!"
"For RETRIBUTION, Harry!
George, still gasping for air, asked, "Is that what caused the great Harry-Ron feud in fourth year?"
"Forget Voldemort, I lived my whole fourth year hiding from Ron trying to ambush me."
Ron, having had the most to drink in the group, was beginning to slur his speech. "Had imp-proper thoughtss 'bout a teacher."
Hermione's glass rose, and she gasped, "How dare you!"
"Juss think 'Mione, thass legal now!" She picked up a slice of bread and chucked it at him, but missed.
Ginny's turn now, and her eyes were narrowed on Harry, "Honesty Shots for being so desirable that you caused a traffic jam in the hall outside of Charms the first week of school."
Harry sank back his shot. "You won't ever let that go, will you?" She shook her head wildly from side to side.
She then proceeded to twirl her hair in a mock impression of the girls in the hall. "Harry! Take me to Slughorn's Party! Harry! Take me for a ride on your Firebolt! HARRY! Sign my chest!" She pulled down on the collar of her jumper, puffing out her chest and leaned toward him. His eyes lingered on her exposed collarbone and down.
"Steady on, Potter," George warned. Harry blinked rapidly, rubbing his neck so his elbow blocked his view of Ginny.
Ron was now clutching his stomach, "I don't feel so good."
"Honest Shots for …" Harry was interrupted by a loud, sustained belch from Ron.
"Ron, are you okay?" Hermione asked, his face had now gone pale and sweaty, eyelids drooping, shoulders rocking side to side. They'd clearly taken the game too far. "We should stop there."
She looked back at Harry to see his eyes darting between herself and Ron, face slipping into a soppy grin. She anticipated his question, and feeling a jolt of panic, she threatened Harry by hissing his name before he said, "Having romantic feelings for someone you-" Ron shot up, staggering sideways towards the orchard's tree line "- fought a mountain troll with in the girl's bathroom first year."
Ron caught himself on the trunk of an apple tree and seconds later they heard an awful retching sound.
Ginny was overcome by a shock of giggles. She leaned into Harry, hand cupped around her mouth and said in a whisper loud enough for them all to hear, "Good one, Harry." Her head dropped clumsily to his shoulder, hand slid down his chest, and sighed, "You've always smelled so nice."
"Alright, that's enough!" George cried. "Getting too touchy-feely for us." He and Fred got to their feet, Fred shouldered Ron back to the house while George pulled an unwilling Ginny off Harry.
It all seemed to be happening far away from her as Hermione sat frozen in place, registering the two floating glasses floating in front of her reflecting silver traces of starlight.
Hermione woke up the next morning to a full assault of sun streaming through the window of Ginny's room. The twisted blankets around her felt confining, so she pushed them down, trying to cool off. She rubbed the sleep from her puffy eyelids. All of her felt sensitive, like someone had scrubbed her skin and eyes with sandpaper. She briefly wondered if it was the alcohol that made her heart feel so heavy.
She stared at the ceiling, listening to hear if anyone was awake. Her stomach churned, a bloated mixture of beer and compunction. She wondered if her parents had taken their holiday, and debated whether or not to write them. Would they expect her to? Would they respond? She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, blocking it out.
Realizing her throat was parched, she looked around for her glass of water from the previous night and noticed Ginny's bed was empty. Before her suspicions got ahead of her, the door opened and Ginny entered, whispering morning greetings.
"Where were you?" Hermione asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.
"I woke up a few hours ago, nearly puked my guts out, then went downstairs. Fred and George just left," she said before collapsing on her bed. Instead of going home to the flat above the shop, Fred and George had stayed at the Burrow the night before to take turns checking on Ron. By her count, they'd had nearly as much to drink as Ron, but still chose not to inebriate and apparate. "They were offering hangover cures for five Sickles and three Knuts, if you're interested," Ginny said, rolling her eyes, and dissipating Hermione's momentary admiration for the twins.
The events of last night slipped into place once again, along with traces of the relief and anticipation she'd felt last night. She'd lain awake for nearly an hour, replaying the moment her and Ron's glasses rose together, a veritable sign of his feelings for her.
"How's Ron?"
"They said he'll be fine. He ate something early this morning," Ginny replied, and turned on her side to face Hermione, her face bright, inquisitive. "So?"
"So what?"
"Don't play dumb, you know what," Ginny said, grinning slyly. "Shame he didn't see it though. Are you going to say anything?"
"No, and you'd better not either," Hermione said forcefully. "Harry really shouldn't have asked that."
"Well, you and Ron should have fessed up ages ago. He was doing you a favor."
"And what about you and Harry?"
"What about us?" Ginny said, blush rising to her cheeks.
"You are going to break up with Dean, aren't you?"
Ginny's eyebrows drew together, "Yeah, planning on it. Why?"
"Because the way that you and Harry were behaving yesterday came dangerously close to … well, I don't think Dean would be too happy."
"And what about when Ron had himself wrapped around you yesterday?" Ginny shot back, a fire igniting behind her eyes. "How do you think Lavender would take that?"
"That's different. He was just ... " but Hermione's mind stalled. Given how last night had ended, she couldn't honestly say that he was merely comforting a friend.
Ginny continued to glower down on Hermione from her bed. "And I must be losing my mind, because not five days ago I could've sworn it was you who told me to go for it with Harry."
"Ginny, I'm really sorry. I - I didn't mean to accuse you, or anything…" Hermione said, sitting up and coming eye to eye with her, attempting to control the panic in her voice. "I'm happy for you and Harry. Truly, I really am, I'm only trying to look out for you."
"From here, it looks like you're judging me," Ginny said, crossing her arms, looking down at her in contempt. "And besides, after lunch yesterday, I'm not sure it's me who needs looking after."
Hermione blinked rapidly. The lingering wound of her parents' departure under the pressure of Ginny's hardened stare brought forth a rush of new tears. Hermione looked down at her hands, laying limply on her knees.
A few moments later, she heard Ginny sigh and quietly tip toe over to join her on the camp bed. "I'm sorry… I know you're right. It's just that I've been trying really hard all week not to let it get like this… I haven't really been sleeping... And I think what you did yesterday was really brave," her voice was soft now, Hermione barely heard over her poorly controlled sniffles. Ginny leaned closer and rubbed small circles on Hermione's back. "What do you want me to do, Hermione? Break up with Dean over owl?"
Hermione breathed out a weak laugh and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her jumper. "Can you send one to Lavender too? Ron's handwriting shouldn't be too difficult to forge."
Ginny laughed softly, pulled Hermione into a hug, and said, "Gladly, I'll just write with my right hand." And she spent the next hour recounting details of her holiday so far, the dilemmas and signs of reassurance regarding Harry's reciprocated feelings. Hermione couldn't help but think, as much as they'd deny it, how similar Ginny and Ron really were sometimes. It was infuriating, watching Ron scamper off to spend months in her arms. But, and she couldn't believe this was her reasoning, the Honesty Shots didn't lie. For goodness sake, he'd even said it the other day, a flippant comment that'd echoed through her mind on repeat.
"I love you, Hermione."
So he'd really meant what he'd said.
The knowledge gave her a wholesome security, a sense of rightness. Particularly in light of yesterday's emotional turbulence, the severing of her tightrope of lies. He was her place of comfort and strength, holding her despite the damage she caused. And now here was Ginny, spurred towards breaking it off with Dean all because Harry finally came to his senses and made it achingly obvious to her how he felt.
So perhaps there was a lesson to be learned from all this, an insight into the inner workings of the Weasley's minds. Hermione had screwed up her courage once before to ask Ron to Slughorn's Party over Snargaluff stumps. How things might've been different, if they'd actually gone…