Chapter Text
When I was still attending Hogwarts, I used to love summers at the Burrow—the sweet smell of grass and the dew in the evenings accompanied by the quiet solitude of being tucked away in the countryside, with only the crickets chirping and frogs croaking disrupting the peace. It’s the opposite of the hustle and bustle I grew up with on the outskirts of London, and as much as I hated abandoning my parents in the summer after attending Hogwarts all year, I couldn’t imagine not spending part of my summer with the Weasleys.
It feels so good to be back after three years working with MACUSA’s Magical Law division following my graduation from Hogwarts. Ron and Harry joined the three year Auror training program in the UK, and while I hated being away from them, I knew I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.
I wrote to my best friends regularly, and any time they had time off, Ron would take a portkey to visit me, or I’d go to London for a few days if I could manage to take the time off. Those short visits helped me get through the bouts of homesickness and missing the two people who I’d been almost inseparable from for seven years.
But now I’m back in England, and the boys are officially full-fledged Aurors. My transfer to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry will take effect at the beginning of August, so I’m enjoying my time off. And by enjoying, I mean I’m spending my days organizing my new flat in London and reading up on all the cases I’ll be aiding with once I do start.
Tonight, though, I’m taking a break from all of that to attend Angelina’s Hen Do at the Burrow. She didn’t want a big fuss, so Ginny suggested hanging out in the garden, playing games and drinking copious amounts of wine and firewhisky. So, that’s what we’re doing—Angelina, Ginny, Katie, Luna, Fleur, and me.
It’s amazing to see how far my relationships have come with all of these women. Ginny and I have always been close, but I used to resent Fleur to the highest extreme. That was when I was jealous of her Veela charm and couldn’t stand how ridiculous the boys acted around her when we were in Hogwarts—um, okay, maybe it was just one boy. I couldn’t have cared less if Harry made a fool of himself around Fleur, but seeing Ron succumb to her beauty was like a swift kick in the gut.
I used to wish he’d look at me like that. And maybe sometimes I still do, even though it’s clear we’ll always only be friends. I know, I know, jealousy has never been my best colour, but I didn’t know it was jealousy at the time. At least, not at first. How many people fall for their best friend? I thought that only happens in films. Though, in films, the best friends always end up together. Too bad my life isn’t a movie. I’m sick of being single.
Sometimes I think he may have felt the same way about me during our sixth or seventh year, but neither of us ever said anything. We were always stuck in this endless loop of toeing the line and subtle flirting. I remember hoping something would happen at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Like we’d dance and be swept up in the magic of the moment and he’d kiss me and—yeah, that never happened.
Get a grip, Hermione .
Maybe I’m still carrying around some unrequited feelings for Ron, even after I tried to get away for three years to get over him. Clearly, that worked so well, considering I’m getting caught up in daydreams right now. The last thing I need is for the girls to find out I’m still hopelessly in love with my best friend.
So, instead of fixating on a specific redhead who’s off celebrating his brother’s stag, I finish off my glass of wine and admire how the floating fairy lights illuminate the garden with a soft glow. The other girls are giggling about something, but I’m too far off in my own world to know what it is.
“Hermione, do you need a refill?” Fleur asks as she sashays around the circle with a newly opened bottle in her hands.
Ginny holds up her glass. “I do!”
Everyone laughs and Fleur tilts the bottle to pour another full glass for Ginny. “Good! Someone might as well drink and enjoy the alcohol.”
“Hermione could use another glass too. She’s staying here tonight, so no worrying about being too drunk to Apparate or Floo home!” Ginny encourages.
I really don’t need another, but there’s nothing I can do to stop Fleur, and I’m not drunk yet. At least, I don’t think I am. The night is still young. One more glass can’t hurt, right? And Ginny makes a good point, I’m staying over at the Burrow so I suppose I can let loose.
Once all our glasses are full again, Fleur settles back into her chair as Angelina sprawls out in the bridal ‘throne’ Luna transfigured for her when we were setting up earlier. Angelina and Katie are whispering about something. When they’re done, Katie turns immediately to Luna.
“Luna, your necklace is beautiful!” Katie points to the silver pendant around Luna’s neck which sparkles as it catches the dim light. It draws my attention to it as well, and I notice there’s some swirly insignia on it that sort of looks like a P and an M, but it’s hard to make out in the darkness.
Luna’s fingers rise to touch the piece of jewellery and she smiles brightly. “Thank you. Daddy says it should be worn during the new moon so the Wrackspurts can’t overtake your mind.”
An awkward silence fills our circle, and I look at Ginny. She’s always the one who knows how to respond to Luna’s outlandish beliefs and remarks. I’ve gotten used to Luna’s ways, but this one seems especially odd. Maybe it’s because I’ve been away for so long, or maybe it’s the wine relaxing my inhibitions, but I decide to call her out on it.
“Luna, you can’t be serious.”
I can see the whites of everyone’s eyes as they bulge out of their heads at my retort. Angelina hides a snigger behind her glass as she takes a long swig. At least she’s enjoying this. I can’t help but wonder if she prompted Katie to ask in the first place.
“Why ever wouldn’t I be? Wrackspurts can wreak so much havoc on our thoughts and actions if we aren’t careful. You know, Hermione, you might benefit from its use more than me. You’re more than welcome to try it if you’d like.”
My first instinct is to tell her thanks, but no thanks. It’s a load of rubbish! But then, just as I’m about to scoff and dismiss the offer, a thought occurs to me. What if I do wear it? Just to prove her wrong.
A slow smile creeps over my lips and I catch Ginny raising an eyebrow at me out of my peripheral vision.
“You know what, Luna? Sure, I’ll wear it.” Katie and Angelina both choke on their drinks.
Luna doesn’t pick up on my sceptical tone or any other hidden meaning behind my agreement, which triggers a sprinkling of guilt as she lifts the necklace over her head and uses her wand to hover it over to me. But then, before I can admit I’m only doing it to prove her wrong, Luna speaks up.
“I know you don’t believe in its powers, Hermione, but I’m glad you’re giving it a try anyway. You’ve become much more open-minded since we first met.”
I don’t know if I’d go that far, but even so, my cheeks heat up when she calls me out—even if it’s done so politely.
“Um, okay,” I agree as I place the necklace around my neck, feeling the weight of the pendant. It’s heavier than I expected. “But, if it doesn’t repel any Wrackspurts, will you at least be open to the idea of this being a myth?”
Luna contemplates me for a moment before responding. Her voice is light and airy despite the polite declination. “We all believe what we want to believe, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
I open my mouth to respond, then close it. She’s not incorrect. Everyone has their beliefs, no matter how deranged they are—and I’ve witnessed a lot, working in law since graduation—but even through the clouded fog of alcohol I know now is not the time to debate the definition of a fact or myth.
“Who wants to play a game?” Katie intervenes, saving me from having to answer.
Angelina thrusts her arm in the air, her drink sloshing at the sudden movement from her excitement. “Me! Hermione, what are some fun Muggle games? It doesn’t matter if they’re ones we can drink to or not, I don’t care.”
I’m the last person to ask when it comes to questions about Muggle parties, but I do have enough knowledge to suggest the staples such as ‘truth or dare’ and ‘never have I ever.’ So, we spend the next hour or so playing those games, asking each other ridiculous questions, all while drinking more and reminiscing about our days at Hogwarts.
When people start to lose interest with truth or dare, Ginny pipes up and asks, “Hey, Hermione, what’s that game we played with your friends in New York? You know, the one where you have to pick three people or something?”
I try to focus on her question, but I am thoroughly drunk at this point. Focus, Hermione . What’s the game where you pick three people? Hmm, I remember having to choose someone for each one…
“Oh!” Somehow, the words come to me. “It was Fuck, Marry, Kill!”
Whoops and hollers erupt with my answer. “Did Hermione Granger just drop an f-bomb?” Angelina shouts so all of Stoat’s Head Hill can hear.
“Shhh. It’s the wine! I prefer Shag, Marry, Kill.”
“Yeah, but Americans don’t say shag, do they?” Ginny tuts. “Besides, I think fuck is much more fitting. Implies no strings attached.”
“So does shag,” I retort.
“Okay, okay, how do you play?” Fleur interrupts.
“It’s simple really, though there are a couple of versions. You have to choose people you’d want to shag, marry, and kill.”
“Oh, let’s play that!” Katie agrees and looks to Angelina. “But what does our bride think?”
“Let’s do it! But I have two stipulations.” Angelina slurs the word ‘stipulation,’ which makes us all giggle before she continues. “One: you have to choose the people you would have chosen in Hogwarts. And two: if someone uses a name, you can’t reuse it.”
Ginny snorts. “You expect us to remember who everyone else has picked? Yeah, okay , Ange.”
“I will keep track,” Fleur pipes up, summoning a quill and blank piece of parchment.
I almost forgot Fleur isn’t drinking with us because she’s expecting her second child. Molly probably trusts her to keep an eye on all of us while she’s at Shell Cottage watching Victoire. It’s a good thing Molly isn’t here. I’d hate for her to see me this drunk. Same with the boys. Ron would never let me live it down.
Once Fleur’s settled, we all wait for Angelina to either start us off or tell someone to go. A mischievous grin that could rival George’s spreads across her face when she looks at Katie.
“Katie Bell, you’re up first.”
Katie scrunches her nose up and she sticks out her tongue at her best friend. “I knew you were going to do that.”
“I want to hear you admit it!” Ange says with a hearty laugh.
“Okay, FINE. I would kill Pucey, marry Diggory, and shag McLaggen.”
“McLaggen?!” I spit out the swig of white wine I was taking, not expecting to be surprised at all by her choices. Mainly because I wouldn’t have known any of them well to begin with. Or so I thought.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. He’s a right dick but was hot as hell in school. Don’t tell Fred.”
“Nope, everything we talk about tonight stays in our little circle,” I affirm, holding up my glass. Everyone agrees with hearty ‘cheers’ from their spot.
“Diggory is not a bad choice for marriage, though,” Fleur admits with a smirk. I wonder if she had him pegged for her marriage response before Katie used him.
Katie nods, knowing she snagged a good one and points back to Angelina. “Now, it’s your turn, Miss Bride to Be .”
“Alright, alright. I’d probably kill Warrington, marry Wood and fuck Fred. Sorry, Katie.”
“None taken, I’d be interested to see which twin is better in bed for sure.”
Squeals of laughter erupt around the circle while Ginny makes gagging noises. I seriously wonder if they’d be admitting any of this if they weren’t drunk out of their minds right now. Not that I’m any better. Of course, I’ll need the liquid courage to admit my answers when it’s time. For now, I’m just hoping no one steals any of my options. Stupid rules.
“Fleur, what about you?”
“Hmm, I suppose I would shag Viktor Krum, kill Roger Davies, and marry Jean-Luc from Beauxbatons. He was not at Hogwarts for the Tournament, unfortunately.”
“Viktor?” I gasp. There goes one of my options.
“Oh, yes, I have always been interested in the quiet, mysterious type. I would have liked to go to the ball with him, but it was clear his eyes were set on you, mon chérie. So, I settled with Roger, who was a complete arse. I was like a prize to him.”
“Gross, but sounds like Davies,” Ange admits. “Luna?”
Luna looks toward Angelina, though with a dreamy, far-off gaze. “I’d shag Neville, I think. And marry Terry Boot. I’d rather not choose anyone to kill, but if I had to, I think I would go with Pansy. She was so cruel to everyone and we don’t need that kind of hatred in the world.”
This does not surprise me at all. Luna is such a kind, unique, gentle soul. Though I always suspected she had a crush on Ron. I’m surprised she didn’t choose him despite the tidal wave of relief washing over me since she hasn’t.
“Ginny?” Fleur keeps the game moving before my loose lips can ask.
“Can I choose to shag and marry Harry?”
“You’re supposed to pick someone from Hogwarts, not who you’re currently with,” Angelina whines, but I intervene on Ginny’s behalf.
“Um, not sure if you’re aware but Ginny’s been in love with Harry since before Hogwarts. Her choice is completely valid.”
Ange rolls her eyes. “Fine, but you really wouldn’t pick anyone else for a random shag? Who’d you date before Harry? Michael? Dean?”
“Ew, no, absolutely not. Dean was far too overbearing and Michael was a dick. I’m perfectly happy choosing Harry for both. He never disappoints.” She winks at everyone and I roll my eyes at her blatant honesty. Those two were made for each other. “Oh, but I would kill Draco Malfoy. Fucking little ferret.”
Everyone raises their glasses again in solidarity with that choice, but now I have no idea who I’m going to choose. I’ve lost both my original kill and shag. Then again, if Ginny used Harry for two…
“Alright, Hermione, you’re up,” Angelina calls me back to the present, and I can feel five sets of eyes staring at me expectantly.
“I don’t know why you’re all so interested. You probably know who I’m going to choose.”
“Yes, but we want to hear you say it,” Ange goads me along.
I’ve been prepped and ready to play along with a light-hearted attitude, but seeing all their knowing looks causes something inside me to snap. It was easier to deal with my feelings when I lived in New York and I didn’t have to be reminded of what never transpired between Ron and me because I was too much of a coward to say anything. But now, being back here, and seeing him multiple times a week, I’m reminded of everything I wish we could have had. And it’s exhausting holding it in all the time.
The alcohol helps open the floodgates, allowing me to be honest with myself for once in my life, though I’ll probably regret the admission in the morning.
“It’s Ron, okay? It’s always been Ron. I’d shag him if that was all I could have, even though marrying is the more appealing option! Hell, why stop at marrying? I’d betroth myself to Ronald Bilius Weasley given how long I’ve been hopelessly in love with him! Yes, me, Hermione Jean Granger, proponent of championing equal rights for everyone would willingly enter a formal agreement if it meant he and I could be together. Even though he infuriates me at times, he’s my best friend and I don’t know how I’m supposed to eventually watch him fall in love and go through life with someone who’s not me.”
I drop my head into my hands after I’ve finished my over-the-top declaration. Merlin, I need a glass of water or something.
“Does the infuriating part mean you’d choose to kill him, too?” Ginny asks, attempting to break the weighted silence with light humour.
A laugh bubbles up to my throat. “Yeah, probably.”
“Hermione, why don’t you tell him how you feel?” Fleur asks, her voice matching the solemn atmosphere now settling over the party.
I’ve been asking myself the same question for years. It’s not like I haven’t tried. I have, countless times, but something would always come up and the moment would be lost. It seems so ridiculous to admit now, even if it’s true.
Luna pipes up to answer for me, and I’ve never been more appreciative of her. “Isn’t it obvious? She’s afraid of losing her friend. I understand, Hermione.”
“Thanks, Luna.” Luna smiles, but then her face morphs into shock.
“Look! The pendant is lighting up. It’s working! You must be warding off the Wrackspurts, Hermione.”
“What?” I look down, and sure enough, the necklace is glowing in a soft pink light.
“It is midnight,” Fleur confirms, though disbelief is etched across her face as well. “And on that note, I should be heading home to relieve Molly from her babysitting duties. Thank you so much for including me, Angelina.”
Fleur stands and begins to wave her wand to clean up the garden as the rest of the girls also get up, deciding it’s best to call it quits too. It’s probably better for them to look as though they were the responsible ones when the boys come stumbling home at two in the morning. Luna takes care of her glass and disappears with a quick pop, and Katie and Angelina head for Fred and George’s old bedroom.
Ginny and I stand up to help Fleur, but we’re both wobbly on our feet. The world starts spinning around me too.
“Do not worry about it. I will finish cleaning up here. Off to bed with you two.” She shoos Ginny and me into the house.
We somehow manage to make it up the steps to the first landing where Ginny’s room and the bathroom are. I pop in to use the loo first, noticing the necklace still around my neck. I can’t believe I forgot to give the stupid thing back. Looks like I’ll have to drop it off to her in the morning.
Once I’ve brushed my teeth, I head back to Ginny’s room, prepared to settle onto the old camp bed I used to use when I stayed here during the summers. But Ginny stops me before I make it into the room.
“Why don’t you go sleep in Ron’s room? He and Harry aren’t coming back here tonight. You might as well be more comfortable.”
“I don’t know, Gin.”
“Just go. I’ve already sent your things up there. Enjoy using his bed,” she urges with a sleepy wink.
I want to argue, but the exhaustion is kicking in and a slightly larger bed does sound appealing. It’s not the way I ever imagined getting into Ron’s beloved orange Chudley Cannons sheets, but it’s the best I can do.
By the time I manage to crawl up to the attic bedroom, I’m barely able to change into pyjama bottoms before I lay my head on the pillow that still smells inherently of Ron. I fall asleep almost instantly, with sweet dreams of a world where he and I are together.