Chapter Text
Hermione looked down at her glass of firewhiskey, wishing that she could fit her entire head into the vessel so as to drown out the annoying, if well intentioned words of her best friend. Unfortunately there were things even magic couldn’t accomplish.
The brunette stretched slightly in her chair as he continued to drone on. Their table was just to the side of the massive fireplace, and its warmth willed her to feel relaxed and content. The Leaky Cauldron had seemed slightly shady and just this side of sleazy in her youth, but in the years since Hannah Abbott had taken over as landlady, the pub had transformed into a warm and cozy haven. Not to say that the lighting wasn’t still dim. Darkened corners still offered anonymity, but the candles and sconces seemed to glimmer and wave in a decidedly friendlier way. Hermione let out a small snort. As if candles could emit emotion. She was apparently maudlin tonight.
“Hermione, are you even listening to me?”
The question drew her out of her ruminations and pulled her gaze away from the flames. The green eyes searching her face when she returned her attention were concerned and a bit annoyed. “Sorry, Harry. No, I wasn’t listening. Have you moved on from the many reasons why I should have pity on Ronald, and give him another chance to break my heart?” At Harry’s frown, she smirked. “I thought not.”
“Hermione, he knows it was the biggest mistake of his life. It’s been six months and he’s still in misery.”
“If he’s so miserable, why is it that I keep hearing about his out-and-abouts with Gabrielle Delacour?” Hermione took a sip of her whiskey. “Honestly Harry, I think you’re the only one who’s still miserable over the whole affair.”
“She’s his sister-in-law! He’s only been keeping her company and showing her around London.”
“Did you really just float that lame excuse out loud?” Ginny tossed from over Harry’s shoulder as she rejoined the table. She gave his arm a squeeze before taking the seat next to him. “As if a Delacour ever needed a relative to act as escort or tour guide.” Ginny rolled her eyes. She’d eventually warmed to Fleur, and even fully accepted her, but her change of heart didn’t diminish her intimate knowledge of what the Delacour women were capable of. “Is he still trying to convince you to take Ron back?”
“Indeed he is.” Hermione gave Ginny a wide smile. Despite the youngest Weasley’s engagement to Harry and blood ties to Ron, she was one hundred percent on Hermione’s side.
“Harry I thought we talked about this?” Ginny patted her fiancé on the thigh. “Leave the poor girl alone already.”
“I just wanted…” Harry trailed off, running a frustrated hand through his already mussed hair. “I thought we’d all be family.”
Silence reigned at their table for several moments. Hermione swallowed several times and refused to look at either Harry or Ginny. Didn’t he understand that she’d wanted that too? That Ron’s infidelity hadn’t just ruined her relationship; it had changed the very fabric of what her life would become. Ron had broken her heart. It wasn’t something he could take back, and it wasn’t something that she could just ignore, going blithely back to the way things were before. It was probably true that she’d already forgiven him, but Ron’s cheating had changed her, caused her to pause, and made her realize that she’d simply taken the path laid before her without question or critique. It was a path she no longer wanted to follow blindly.
“What makes you think that we aren’t family already?” Hermione said finally.
“I know… it’s just…” Harry began.
“Apparently you don’t know,” said Hermione. “If you think that I don’t worry about you constantly, that I wouldn’t do anything to ensure your happiness. If you think that I don’t see Ginny as my sister.” Her voice steadied, taking on the know-it-all tone that Hermione was famous for. “If you believe for one moment that I don’t love you and every single Weasley, even Ron, stupid prat though he may be, as if I was born into their family, then you, Harry James Potter, do not know a single damn thing.”
Hermione leaned back in her chair and picked up her glass.
“Well said,” Ginny chimed in, lifting her own glass and clinking it.
Harry’s eyes shone brightly, and after a moment he let out a large sigh. “Consider me well and truly educated then.” He leaned over and kissed Hermione’s cheek.
Hermione smiled. Perhaps she had finally gotten through to him.
The sound of glass breaking, which drew the attention of most of the pub patrons, brought grins to the faces of the three Gryffindors.
“Neville’s here,” chorused Harry and Hermione, while Ginny just shook her head and chuckled. Sure enough, Neville Longbottom was leaning over the bar, blushing furiously. He’d obviously been trying to give Hannah a kiss hello when he’d accidentally knocked over a tray of drinks. Fortunately, the blonde didn’t seem to mind too much, judging by the kiss she planted on Neville’s chagrined face.
“You reckon Hannah’s started factoring Neville into her supply orders yet?” Harry wondered out loud.
“If she has, it must be love,” answered Ginny with a smile. All of them were absolutely delighted by Neville’s relationship with Hannah. The Hufflepuff had purchased the Leaky Cauldron with the money her mother had left her, and in the post-war, Wizarding world, it had been one of the first clear signs that life was getting back to normal. Harry and Neville had both taken rooms at the pub almost immediately after it’s reopening, and although Harry and Ginny were now residing back at number 12 Grimuld Place, they all considered it a home.
Hermione herself had moved in several months ago, after packing her beaded purse and fleeing the Burrow. For the time being it was the perfect arrangement. She was close to work, surrounded by those she knew and trusted, and Hannah and Neville were always around in those few times that she found herself lonely.
The three watched as Neville made his way over to them without incident. Though it was touch and go for a moment as his cloak came rather too close to the candles on another table.
“’Lo,” Neville said cheerfully, taking the remaining chair. There was almost no trace of the chubby boy Harry and Hermione had met on the train to Hogwarts so many years ago. Neville had grown tall, topping all of them but Ron, and his dark hair always seemed in need of a trim, lending him a somewhat dangerous and brooding look; until he tripped over something, or broke out into his typical good natured grin. Neville was irrevocably clumsy, but somehow it worked for him.
It was only a moment after the newest arrival was seated that plates of food started arriving at their table. Neville caught Harry up on a particular case that he’d been working, while Ginny asked about the new House Elf legislation that Hermione was overseeing.
All too soon Ginny was stifling a yawn, and Harry was gathering their things together.
“Dawn practices all this week,” the redhead managed through another yawn. “Finally catching up with me.”
Hermione rose and hugged and kissed each of them in turn. “The match is at two this Saturday?” she confirmed with Ginny, as Neville and Harry walked toward the bar, their heads bent together in hushed conversation. A moment later, they clasped hands and said goodbye.
The table had been cleared and fresh drinks were waiting for them when Neville and Hermione resumed their seats. Neville leaned back in his chair, sketching a wink at his girlfriend behind the bar. “Fancy a game?” he asked.
It was hardly late, and although Hermione had work waiting for her upstairs, she wasn’t quite ready to abandon the cozy fire or Neville’s company. “Why not.”
The Wizard pulled his wand from his breast pocket, gave it a slight wave, and conjured a chessboard. It was not the animated Wizard version of chess, but a plain ordinary muggle chess set made of wood. Hermione had given it to Neville several Christmases ago knowing that he shared her distaste for the violence of Wizarding Chess. They usually managed a game or so each week.
“Got an owl from Luna today.” Neville stated an hour later. Hermione had put him in check two moves ago, and he knew it was but a matter of time before she trounced him.
A fond smile made its way across Hermione’s features. “Is she still in Brazil?”
“Guatemala.” Neville moved his king once again, running from a pursuing bishop. “Apparently she’s found some new species in the rainforests there.”
“Truly? That’s brilliant!”
“It is. Supposed to be home in time for the holidays. She mentioned passing on some of her findings to you.”
The brunette raised her eyebrow at that. She’d asked Luna to keep an eye out for any problematic situations involving magical creatures while she was abroad. If Luna had things to tell her, then she’d found something.
“I doubt it’s terribly serious. Otherwise she’d have owled you, eh?”
Hermione nodded. Neville was right. No sense in borrowing trouble before its time.
“Think she’s found her Crumple-Horned Snorkack yet?” Neville asked with a smirk.
“Don’t even joke about that!” Hermione shuddered. “Do you have any idea the amount of told-you-so’s we’d be forced to endure?”
Neville chuckled. “I certainly do.” His eye danced merrily at the thought of Hermione being forced to endure a bit of I told you so by Luna.
Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Just for that…” and in a move that stunned Neville, the brunette picked up her rook and moved it across the board. “Check mate.”
“But…” Neville spluttered. He hadn’t even realized he been doubly checked. His attention had been on the bishop. “You’ve been toying with me for the last quarter hour then?”
“Not toying. I was giving you the opportunity to get out of it.” Hermione patted his hand. Neville was getting better the longer they played. In several of their recent games she’d been forced to scramble to stay ahead of him. “Next time, try to take out the bishop first.”
Neville nodded, replaying the game in his head.
“I should head up. I’ve two more briefs to finish before morning, and they aren’t going to write themselves.” She gathered up her cloak and finished off the last of the firewhiskey. Neville stood when she did, giving her a quick hug.
“Night then, Hermione. Thanks for the game.”
“Goodnight.”
Later that evening, tucked up in her favorite sweater and flannel pants, Hermione was putting the finishing touches on the last of her briefs when she heard Hannah’s voice from the room next door. She couldn’t make out her friend’s words through the thick wall, but assumed the blonde was settling a guest. Until now the room had been vacant, but apparently no longer. Hermione largely ignored the sounds of inhabitation; the scrape and thud of a heavy trunk, doors opening and closing. It wasn’t until much later, after the candles had all been extinguished and she was moments from sleep, that something Hermione heard gave her pause.
Coming from the next room was the unmistakable sound of someone weeping.