Chapter Text
May 26th, 2006
“I still don’t understand why you’re all going to this.” Ron complained in the doorway of the third floor bathroom appearing particularly annoyed. “It could be a bloody trap or something.”
Harry rolled his eyes and had another drink of firewhiskey from his seat on the edge of the tub. He’d been sitting there for the past hour chatting with Hermione and Ginny while they went through their extensive skin, hair, and makeup routine and sipped his drink while peering at the Marauder's Map. Hermione noticed he did this at least twice a day, keeping an eye on Hagrid and some of the other professors. It was nostalgic for him watching the kids and professors move around the castle that had been his first real home.
“I’m the Head Auror of the DMLE, and I’m bringing my wife-” he gestured with his glass to Ginny who winked in his direction, “-who is absolutely terrifying that new beetle swarm hex.” He visibly shuddered before nodding his head at Hermione. “And this one who kept us alive for seven entire years and withstood torture. Really mate, we can handle this.” Hermione bit back her smile. She hadn’t thought he was listening to Ron prattle.
Ron frowned and ran a freckled hand through his ginger hair. “But they tortured her in their house! Why would we want a truce with bloody Death Eaters?”
Hermione leaned closer to her side of the mirror and padded a bit of blush on her cheekbones, and Ginny caught her eye and gave her a sly grin. They were used to this from Ron. He had moved out of Grimmauld Place when Hermione and Harry had testified in favor of Narcissa and Draco after the war, attempted to lead a rogue team of Aurors to Malfoy Manor in an attempt to start a fight with them (and was further thrown out of the DMLE), and had immediately turned down the Slytherins’ invitation to reconnect and put the past behind them. Ginny and Harry had both spent time with Theo Nott and Blaise Zabini at the Ministry’s yearly winter solstice ball, and they made quite the impression. Apparently both parties apologized and the group mingled pleasantly with the help of dry champagne and The Weird Sisters. Afterwards Ginny had curled in bed with Hermione (after waking her up at an ungodly hour) and described the event in detail, recalling that Blaise had the “body of a dark Eros and the soul of a broken-hearted poet” and Theo grew into a “tall, muscular version of Harry with the chaos of a young Sirius.”
Hermione let out a small sigh and moved away from the mirror and shook out her mane of hair. It had become manageable in the past five years and had grown down to her waist. Today it danced along her spine in bronze curls. Her skin had once been golden, freckles formed constellations on her body, and she used to have slightly toned muscles, but now she appeared to be a ghost of the Golden Girl everyone assumed her to be. She had lost weight since the war, and her bones now seemed to push against her skin, begging to be released from their fleshy prison. It wasn’t as if Hermione tried to lose weight, she had merely lost the desire to consume food for anything other than survival. Coffee, muggle protein shakes and bars, and calming potions had become staples in her daily life as she maneuvered her failing position at the Ministry and her failing relationship with Ron.
“Are any of you listening to me?”
Ginny spared him a glance in the mirror as she spread red lipstick over her lips. “No.” She finished and turned to Hermione, eyeing the fit of the dress she had picked out earlier this week. Ginny had a taste for fashion and rarely was she able to dress in anything besides her Quidditch robes. So logically, she took advantage of this invitation. She had dressed herself in a soft white wrap dress and ankle high boots, displaying her perfectly toned legs. Her hair was nearly as long as Hermione’s now, and she let it flow over her shoulders in glossy sheets.
Hermione’s dress was deep blue with a neckline that fell below her breasts and had a cinched waist. She had protested at the amount of skin on display but agreed because it was long sleeved and fell to her ankles. Her scars were covered, and that’s what mattered.
“Honestly Hermione, what I wouldn’t give to not wear a bra-”
“Ginny !” Ron gasped in a rather comical way. “Don’t talk about her-” he stopped, apparently at a loss for the correct word.
“Her what? Tits?” Ginny gave a dramatic gasp and put her hand to her mouth before rolling her eyes. “Honestly Ron, it isn’t our fault you haven’t matured past snogging Lavender in the back of Divination class-”
Ron reddened. “We never did that!”
“-and it also isn’t our fault it didn’t work out with Hermione.” She turned to the tub and patted Harry’s tousled hair, returning to her normal state of ignoring Ron when he was present. “My love, are you ready to go?”
He glanced up and gave her a smile before murmuring “ mischief managed ”, folded up his map, and tucked it into his black tweed pants. Ginny drew him up by his black suspenders and pulled him into a passionate kiss.
Hermione grinned and looked away. Truly the only time she felt happiness was through her best friends. At one time she could have said that receiving eleven Outstandings on her NEWTs, working for the Ministry, or even spending time with Ron made her happy. But now, not one of her proposals had made it through the Wizengamot regardless of the innumerable hours she spent working on them. She was banking on LUPIN (Liberation for the Underprivileged, Partially-Integrated Individuals of the Night) passing, but it lost by one single vote. Wilfred fucking Wickers. He was truly the most patriarchal, misogynistic, antiquated man she ever had the displeasure of meeting. Her werewolf proposal would have produced groundbreaking results, cultivating many new opportunities for those infected such as special programs at Hogwarts and job opportunities as liaisons and researchers. But old boy Willy Wickers made like a dementor and sucked out her soul at every chance he got.
In all reality she had wanted to quit a year after starting. But she was made the director of the department and fell into a routine of forming brilliant ideas which were later deemed worthless. She also didn’t want to feel like a failure or be assumed to be a failure by the press after the way Rita Skeeter thoroughly destroyed Ron (rightfully) after he was dismissed from the DMLE.
No, she wasn’t going anywhere within the Ministry. That much was clear. Of course Charlie Weasley had reached out about her visiting the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, but that was out of pity and maybe even alarm after seeing her in such a diminished state. Ginny and Harry both knew Hermione needed a change, something that nourished her soul. But Hermione didn’t desire to be merely nourished and kept alive by occasionally stoked embers. She desperately yearned to be set aflame.
They made it out of the bathroom and down to the main parlor. It was a most cozy place to live now. Kreacher had aided in redecorating, brightening the walls with fresh paint, buying cozy beige settees and dark wooden accent and coffee tables. Hermione had chosen new plush grey throws and thick woven rugs, and strings of magically preserved wildflowers draped around the fireplace as a gift from Luna.
Ron had stormed out with a stream of barely muffled obscenities after he realized that no, they weren’t going to change their minds on attending the get together, and yes they were open to friendship. Hermione had no reason to despise the Slytherins, not even Draco. He was a child in the War, and whenever she saw him when she was alone at Hogwarts, he only swept past her with nothing besides a silvery glance. She had firmly placed her judgement in the past, although she would be forever haunted by the thought of interceding, even offering friendship to the cold boy. What if she could have saved him?
Nevertheless before Narcissa and Draco had left to see Lucius off to Azkaban, they had thanked Harry and Hermione and since then, they’d both received apology letters from Draco himself. Of course Draco also donated countless galleons to each one of her projects before they fell flat, so she could only assume that he was, at the very least, trying.
Harry took it all in stride, visiting Malfoy Manor with Bill Weasley when Gringotts sent him over to cursebreak all sorts of hidden dark objects Lucius left lying (and buried) about. He was also the one who answered Draco’s emergency patronus when Ron and the other Aurors attempted to gain entrance. Harry had even gone out for drinks with Draco on the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts last year, stating nobly that “nobody should be alone today.”
Ginny was very supportive of Harry making new friends especially after she was reunited with Blaise and Theo at the Gala. Hermione suspected she wanted Harry to discover what it would be like to be friends with wizards his own age that were successful, able to communicate, and have matured past their Hogwarts education. Namely, friends that were not Ron.
Harry was knotting the ties on his leather trainers, and Ginny gave Hermione’s curls a loving pull.
“Did you remember to pack the-”
“Gin of course I’ve got the wine,” Hermione patted her beaded bag and smiled at her friend. She would never ever forget the wine.
“And your-”
“Yes I also have three vials of calming draught and two protein bars.” She reassured her friend. Ginny nodded and slipped her wand into the holster on her thigh.
Hermione was admittedly beginning to get a bit nervous. It had been five entire years. What would they think of her now? Would they even want to become her friend, the annoying swot of Hogwarts and now the failed Golden Girl? She pinched the inside of her left arm, hard enough to bruise and let out a deep breath.
She looked up to see both of them watching her with concerned expressions. Damn it all. “So, uh, where are we going again?” She asked with hopes of removing the attention off herself.
“Moonshadow Manor,” Harry responded, moving closer to the fireplace. “I think it’s in western Cumbria from what I’ve heard from Luna. I’ll, uh, see you both there in a few.” He threw a wave at them both before grabbing a handful of floo powder and disappearing into the green flames.
Hermione moved behind him, but Ginny pulled at her boney shoulder to stop her. She turned and Ginny grasped one of her hands. “It’s going to be okay, you know that, right?”
“I suppose.. I suppose I’m a bit nervous to see him.” Hermione said softly, glancing at the floor. “I didn’t even open his letter, did you know that? It hasn’t ever felt like the right time.” She padded her bag again. “It’s been with me for the past five years. What if he’s been waiting for a response this entire time?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Will I fail him again?”
Ginny wrapped her in a hug, and Hermione let her face lay against her shoulder. “Things happened like they did for a reason. We would all go mad if we considered ‘what ifs’ for the rest of our lives. We have all lost so much, Hermione. I think we should enjoy and love who we have left. That’s what they would have wanted.”
Hermione nodded and pulled away to wipe at a tear under her eye. She knew the ‘they’ Ginny referred to was all the loved ones that had perished.
“Thanks, Gin. I love you, you know that?”
“How could you not?” She dropped a sultry wink, and then wiped at the smudge of mascara under Hermione’s eye. “Alright. You are gorgeous, and I am gorgeous but of course I’m taken by The Chosen One, but I think between the two of us we can make all those Snakes do a double take. What do you think?”
Hermione took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m ready.”
Her heels clacked along the wood floors to the fireplace with Ginny right behind her. She grabbed a handful of floo powder, threw them in the flames, then climbed in and said, “Moonshadow Manor!”