Not In Kansas Anymore

Chapter Four: Healing Scraps

Hermione waded through the halls of the Manor, trying to find her way about, she asked a few of the portraits lining the walls but most of them only had a rude gesture or curt words for her troubles.

It was by sheer accident that she walked into Draco who was carrying a cup of thick black coffee and an open newspaper, reading as he walked, clearly not expecting to run into anybody.

She landed on the floor with a dull thud just as some of the scalding coffee splattered over the marble floor. "Sorry," she said quietly as Draco, who had not fallen, offered her a hand.

"Not a problem," he said easily waving his wand at the brown puddle of rapidly cooling coffee. "Come and eat breakfast with me."

Hermione let him lead her through the maze; glad she had put on the fuzzy blue slippers the wardrobe had produced. They passed by columns of closed doors and paneled walls of windows with superb views of the grounds. She was a bit surprised when they walked into the library where two trays of steaming eggs and kippers were waiting. "Do you always eat in here?" she asked cautiously, folding herself into a spare chair.

He shrugged. "I eat wherever, today its in here, tomorrow it could be on the run while I'm off to tend to some screwed up financial mess my father left, and then the next week I could be eating outside."

Biting into a piece of buttered toast Hermione looked at him thoughtfully. "What do you do Draco?"

"Do?" he echoed faintly through a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

"For work," she clarified.

He looked a bit taken aback at this, and for a long moment he settle back in his chair looking thoughtful, finally he answered in what Hermione thought might not be the whole truth. "Nothing for the next few months."

Hermione nodded, she pushed her food away and took to looking at the library again, drinking in the literature and the mass of literary legacy that surrounded her.

Draco looked her over, studying her as he sipped his coffee glanced at the business section, abruptly he folded his paper away and settled his cup on the table where Hermione's discarded food already sat. "When did you stop eating again?"

She jumped in her seat and turned to look at him, "I eat."

"Two bites of toast is not an adequate breakfast," he said sternly, his cold eyes boring into her.

Briefly Hermione peeked at the remnants of her breakfast, the eggs untouched, kippers that hadn't been moved, and the lone piece of toast with only two miniscule bites missing. "Don't worry Draco," she said stubbornly.

Draco raised an eyebrow and continued swiftly, "The papers were right weren't they?" he challenged.

Crossing her arms Hermione looked away at the towering shelves and the sliver of the window she could see. "You never asked questions before."

"I didn't have to, you saved yourself before I had to," he said remembering that faithful eve in the kitchens.

Hermione snorted. "Saved myself, did I?"

"It started with your parents, didn't it?" pressed Draco, knowing full well he was dancing on ominously thin ice.

"Don't go there," breathed Hermione, her eyes flashing.

Draco saw her eyes dart testily, but he skated on, "Then you got a grip on yourself, but then it was Weasley and the wedding." When Hermione didn't answer he knew he was right so he went on. "Hermione you just need to stop, I realize the stress--"

"NO YOU DON'T!" Hermione shouted at him, turning in her chair, sitting on the edge precariously. "YOU have no idea what its like to lose your parents because you never loved yours! And you don't know what its like to be ENGAGED to a man just because everyone always said you were supposed to be!"

The words hit Draco like a ton of bricks and he looked out the window, Hermione's anger quickly subsided and she saw the damage she had left. "I didn't mean..."

A dry smile lifted one corner of his mouth, "Yes you did. Come here, and bring your plate."

Uncertainty Hermione lifted the plate, still piled high with food and sat on the edge of the table facing Draco. She looked disgusted as she examined the breakfast, and gagged as Draco gestured for her to eat it.

She bit into the toast; it tasted like rough and abrasive carpet fibers. When she had finished the two slices of toast she looked up at Draco hopefully but he just shook his head and handed her a fork. For a few minutes the eggs were nothing more in her mouth than a soggy weed, but a few more hurried forkfuls and the flavor returned despite the fact they were stone cold. When the eggs had all but disappeared Draco pointed her attention to the kippers, but she looked at them sickly and whispered, "I can't."

Sighing Draco took the plate and fork. "It's a start, go change and we'll get your stuff from Weasley."

*

The voices at breakfast were subdued that morning, hurried whispered flitted from ear to ear, eyes furtively sparked in her direction, as though she wouldn't know people were talking about her.

She really didn't care what they were saying, the rumors didn't matter, false opinions were arbitrary, and Hermione disregarded them all accordingly.

Harry and Ron had put kippers and grapes on her plate, filled her goblet with pumpkin juice but she just gazed at the plate, not really seeing it. Her body was sitting on that bench, but her mind was absent, missing, lost, searching desperately for two people she wasn't going to find.

Fred and George were on either side of her, if she had all been there she would have wondered why they were there instead of at the flat in Diagon Alley. Ron was sitting directly across from her, holding her hand unnaturally tight, as though she was going to float away.

Her hair was still damp, and when she wouldn't eat her food Fred and George lead her away. That was the morning she started to starve herself.

*

Hermione stacked all her boxes on top of one another; Draco carried the towering piles to the fireplace where he sent them back to the Manor. Inside she was grateful that Ron wasn't here. The only traces she could see of him having been here at all were the mussed bed coverings and the drained bottle of firewhiskey.

She gave the flat a once over and wiped some of the dust off her hands before following Draco into the fire.

Chapter Five: Seven Days With Malfoy, Eternity With Potter

"We just moved these horrible boxes in here last weekend!" whined Draco.

Hermione laughed happily. "It's a good job offer, the Department of International Cooperation is very prestigious, the hours are nice, the pay is a little on the low side but I get full benefits and a small flat in the same building as Harry. It's got a derived order; I'll have a schedule. I need order in my life right now."

Draco nodded in agreement behind a box tower. "Too right," he mumbled into the cardboard.

"What was that?" she asked, distractedly from the fire where they were sending the boxes away again.

A blush threatened to creep up in his cheeks, but he stopped himself before that could happen. "I got you a gift."

"Ooh!" said Hermione, no longer distracted.

Draco picked up a smaller box from the floor, a plain green bow was all that adorned it, "Here."

Hermione squealed and shook it, the things inside it jostled about and Hermione glowed as she tore the ribbon off and took the lid off, a half smile perked her dimples up. "I can't believe you!" she said, batting him playfully with the broken ribbon.

"I thought it was fitting," he said, looking down at the large box of assorted sweets.

"Thank you," she said politely.

Suddenly very serious he added, "You're loads better Hermione, but you've still got to fight. I'm going to write to Potter so he watches you like a hawk."

Hermione glared at him through silted eyes and Draco thought for a moment that she was really mad until she pecked him on the cheek and then tore away after her luggage into the fire with a final, "Bye Draco, and thanks so much for everything."

Her last few words lingered after her with the soot and smoke from the green fire.

*

The sun was high in the sky over Diagon Alley and Hermione tripped cheerfully down the paved walks of Diagon Alley watching as shop owners opened doors welcoming business and waved greetings at her.

She returned the greetings in good cheer and unlocked the door of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, she flipped the sign from closed to open and checked the counter for any mail, but the surface was empty. She danced around a bit as she straightened displays and wondered when Fred and George would be back, they had just asked her to fill in for the morning and she had to dash off right after lunch for Flourish and Blotts.

A few teenage boys trickled in, brought some smaller trick bags, and entered the contest the twins were sponsoring for a shop intern. Secretly Hermione felt sorry for whatever poor soul excepted this job; intern was just a polite and dignified code for Product Test Fool.

As the crowd fizzled a bit she spread a book out on the counter and casually scanned the pages for information she might have missed the first ten times. It startled her a bit when she heard the fire behind her roar to life, she checked her watch and confirmed that it was too early for the twins to be here, let alone awake.

She was shocked even further when Harry stepped out of the fireplace, coughing and waving smoke out of his face. Behind him three boxes collided with one another, fighting for a place in the grate. "Hi," he said shyly, brushing soot from his robes and removing his glasses from a pocket.

"Hello," said Hermione, not entirely sure she wanted to know what was in the boxes.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, breaking the awkward silence.

"Filling in for Fred and George, and you?"

Harry gestured to the boxes behind him and looked to be measuring his reply. "Going to the bank for work."

To a typical person it might have sounded as though Harry were a banker with a shipment to deliver, the typical person would have further wondered why he would use the fireplace of a joke shop as opposed to the far more convenient ones in the bank.

Hermione knew he was not a bank worker and she also knew she was no typical person. Harry was an Unspeakable, whatever was in those dusty cardboard boxes was probably valuable, and he didn't want to arouse suspicion by using one of the fireplaces reserved for workers when he was lugging around three shabby parcels.

"Come back around for lunch!" called Hermione after his retreating back.

*

Harry walked into Hermione's office at the Department of International Co-op. She was behind her desk, scribing to her quill while she filed away papers in tall, already bursting cabinets. "You've been here a week and you look right at home," he observed.

"...Furthermore the Treaty of Mon Petite Chou is vital to the Parisian Department of Magical Agricultural Experimentation and should not be treated lightly. This is the best advice I can offer you, sir. Sincerely Hermione Granger, British Department of International Cooperation, August 5, 1997." Hermione finished talking to her quill and turned to Harry, "Hi. Sit down...if you can find a place." She said, diving back into her files and gesturing to a chair stacked with scrolls with the heel of her shoe.

Pulling her out of her cabinets Harry held her shoulders and gave her a careful look. She was wearing a pair of plain office robes that were bulging with quills, the corks of empty ink bottles, and regulation letters that she need to fold into airplanes. Her cheekbones, not as prominent as they had once been, were tinged lightly with a healthy glow, and her hair was back to its bushy mass, barely retained by the chopsticks she had poked into it.

"You need a break," Harry diagnosed, he pulled her robes off her shoulders to reveal a denim skirt and white shirt, taking her hand he pulled her out of the office and led her away to a fireplace.

The green smoke removed her to the Leaky Cauldron where she saw Harry had already staked them a claim on a booth. "Miss Granger, would you care to join me for lunch?" he asked with mock formality.

"Why Mister Potter that would be delightful," said Hermione with a flimsy curtsy before sliding into the booth next to Harry.

Tom hobbled over to them with a little stained notebook in his hand, "What'll it be today?"

Hermione opened her mouth to say, "I'll just have a salad," but before she could get the word salad out Harry clamped his hand over her mouth and said "We'll both have fish and chips with a lemonade."

"Coming up!" said Tom cheerfully, talking directly to his little notebook.

"Owe!" said Harry, removing his hand to look at the two impressions of teeth he had on his hand.

"You shouldn't do that it hurts," advised Hermione.

"Malfoy told me to make you eat but he didn't tell me you'd be violent about it!"

*

He was the most infuriating thing she could imagine! He might be a brilliant spy but he was a crap Potions partner, he wouldn't do any of the work! This was the first mark they were getting for N.E.W.T. Potions and she would rather get a very high grade as opposed to a T. In fact she decided not to settle for anything short of an O.

Malfoy looked at her over their cauldron. "You're very slow about all this aren't you, a meticulous type."

"Yes."

"Do you really have to be so slow though?" he asked, looking at his fingernails.

"Shut up Malfoy!"

"What Granger? Too fabulous for the likes of you?"

She smacked him and Snape took fifty points from Gryffindor.

In smug satisfaction Hermione said, "Muggleborn 2, pureblood zip."

*

"The usual?" asked Tom as Harry and Hermione walked out of the fireplace in late September.

"Yes," said Hermione as she sat next to Harry in their booth. Then she started chatting with Harry, telling him about the wonderful book Draco had mailed her, about the Cannons game she had gone to see the weekend before with Ginny where she and Ron had tolerated each other, and then finally about a very successful deal she had gotten for her Department.

When Harry only nodded through her plethora of conversation she put the back of her hand against his forehead. "You feel fine, what's up, you've been kind of off the past few days?"

"I was just thinking," he said distractedly, not realizing how unconvincing this was.

"What is it Harry?" wheedled Hermione.

She was interrupted when Tom put their baskets of fish and chip on the tables with their pitcher of lemonade. But as soon as he was back behind the bar, tending to the few other groups coming in for lunch she started in on Harry again. "Tell me Harry, I'm right here."

Harry could see the worry in her eyes and that was far from his intention, he didn't need her to worry about him. "I was wondering..." he began, "if you would want to go to dinner with me tonight...like on a date."

Hermione was a bit shocked, though not at all disappointed, nor appalled. "I think..." she started slowly.

Harry immediately misinterpreted this and hurriedly added, "But if this is too soon then I can wait...forever." He finished quietly.

Hermione answered Harry's question very quickly, making a split second decision. She turned his face toward hers and pressed her lips to his. It sent a little shock up her spine when Harry returned the kiss, tentatively he ran his tongue over her bottom lip and she replied by opening her mouth every so slightly so he could enter. When oxygen became a distinctive need they both pulled away, breathing a little heavier than necessary, they looked into each other's eyes for a moment, Hermione still holding Harry's face.

"Pick me up at seven?"

*

Gently Hermione pulled away from Viktor; he looked so handsome against the moon. It was weird to think that because in a normal light setting he was duck footed and his shoulders were rounded down. Almost a hunchback, but here, in this rose garden with spying fairies he was perfect for the moment.

He opened his mouth to say something, but she silenced him with a kiss. His harsh voice would ruin the moment. For the next several minutes they were each occupied with each other, until a gust of wind sent a shiver up Hermione's spine through her thin and floaty dress robes.

Hand and hand they walked back into the warmth of the Great Hall.

*

The bracelet on her wrist jingled faintly as Hermione followed Harry into the restaurant, it was thin silver, studded with diamonds, a birthday gift from Harry. Her mind was quickly taken off her jewelry as she looked around at her surroundings, a tiny Italian café buried in a back nook of Hogsmeade complete with rock hard bread, checkered table cloths, and dripping candle wax. Hermione was instantly glad Harry had chosen this place for their one-year anniversary.

*

Ron watched Harry and Hermione closely as they sat on the floor of the Burrow with Christmas paper around them. They seemed so happy, laughing and bumping elbows more than necessary, exchanging glances and holding hands.

His mum walked in and whispered something into her husband's ear before gesturing to Harry and Hermione with a knowing nod of approval, and then she wiped her hands on her apron and trotted back into her kitchen.

Ron looked at the chess game he was sharing with Charlie and ordered one of his pawns around, making it take a bishop that his brother had recklessly left vulnerable--thinking he wasn't paying enough attention to win.

A rush of icy air and flurries of snow made Ron turn to look at the front door. Fred, George, Bill, Ginny, and Reamus walked in bundled in winter clothes but still damp under all their handmade knits. Once the group was huddled at the fire Ron noted that Bill and Ginny pressed reluctant change into the twins eager palms. Shaking his head he decided that he wanted to remain ignorant to this bout of gambling.

"Check!" said Charlie triumphantly.

Ron gave the board a side-ways look and wiggled his second castle forward a square before saying, "Checkmate."

Aghast Charlie gaped at the board where his white pieces were shouting obscenities at him. Ron didn't notice him shouting back...he was still watching his two best friends with a kind of fascination.

Harry was his friend before Hermione's...

Hermione was his girlfriend before Harry's...

Irritated he tapped his fingers against the arm of his chair, re-accounting all the times Harry had assured him that he and Hermione were meant to be, all the tender moments he had held Hermione, and then he saw it...saw his selfishness.

They were happy together, and if they were happy then who was he to intrude upon that? If they were happy then he was happy...no matter how hard that would be.

"So Charlie...best seven out of nine?"

*

It was so pretty; Hermione nodded in a daze, her right hand over her opening and breathless mouth, her left hand extended to Harry...who was down on his knee. Her hand vibrated ever so softly in the air just below his collar bone, and a shiver of what might have been anticipation jolted through her as the ring passed on to her left hand. She examined it with adoration, a gold band with a sparkling set of diamonds; abruptly she threw herself around Harry, sobbing into the crook of his neck. Tears that were for herself, for joy.

Harry was a bit taken aback but he embraced her nevertheless and anybody who had been looking into his emerald eyes would have noticed they were welling up too. Hermione pulled back and wiped away the droplets falling unbidden from her eyes, and they were no sooner gone than they were replaced with fresh ones. So that was how Hermione Granger came to eat an entire pasta and breadstick dinner with a soaked napkin.

*

Hermione knew she was being foolish, she had known Harry since they were eleven, but she had never dreamed of dating The Boy Who Lived (a total of six times, counting that ridiculous diary). Nervously she ran her hands over the dress robes Parvati had loaned her, "Are you sure I look okay?" she asked her friends anxiously.

"Fine!" coursed Parvati, Lavender, and Ginny shrilly.

Self-consciously she turned to look at herself in the mirror again, sucking her tummy in she regretted gaining any weight. The robes were a pastel blue that Parvati insisted complimented her complexion, and Lavender had preformed some nifty little spell on her hair so it was staying pinned up in nice calm curls.

Ginny stepped in front of the mirror, blocking Hermione's view, she thrust a ripe red apple in Hermione's face and said sternly, "Eat. Because you'll never do it on a first date."

For a second after that order was issued Hermione tried to look at the mirror around Ginny but the red head was just not having it so she snatched the apple and bit into it resentfully. "Yummy."

"Mind you eat the whole thing," replied Ginny, watching her to make sure all but the core remained.

Hermione looked at the core and called out to Crookshanks who gratefully accepted the offering, darting away with it under Hermione's bed.

Parvati looked at her watch and said, "You'd better get going or you'll be late."

"Where are you going again?" asked Lavender blankly, her brow furrowed as she slumped on to Hermione's bed.

"The pizza place in Diagon Alley."

Parvati and Lavender shared equal looks of disgust. "Not terribly romantic," said Parvati.

Ginny shot them both a very pointed glare before pushing Hermione toward the door. "Go! Go! You'll have a marvelous time! We'll just tidy up here and lock the door behind us!"

The door closed behind her and all Hermione could do was shout, "Bye," to the tall wood slab in a meek voice.

*

Hermione skidded into Madame Malkin's, passing the open door of the pizza restaurant with its inviting aroma. "Hi," she said breathlessly to the young girl behind the counter, " I need to pick up a set of groom's men's robes under the name Potter."

The girl's eyes got big as dinner plates and she shrieked, "You're Hermione Granger! You're getting married to Harry Potter!"

"Yes, I know," she said dryly, "and Mrs. Potter-to-be is running late so could you make it snappy."

"Sure Miss Granger!" the young girl squeaked showing no inclination to turn and shuffle through orders.

Looking at the rectangle pinned to the front of the girl's robes Hermione said, "Eloise, I can call you Eloise can't I? Harry is really expecting me to drop these off at his office and I'm rushed, can you do me a favor and be quick?" she begged, coating her voice with a sugar she thought tasted rather bitter.

"Oh yes miss!" Eloise jumped up and quick as a flash returned with several plastic bags of the black robes Harry had ordered.

Hermione shelled out the proper amount of money, marveling at the price. The rare collection of scrolls she had recently purchased written by the Priory de Sion had cost less.

Eloise watched her saunter out, smacking a piece of gum in her mouth and twirling her hair around a plump finger. She saw Hermione look quickly both ways before running into a tall blond man.

*

Hermione ran into Ginny. She hadn't quite expected to find her three friends sitting on the floor of her loft playing with her Magic Eight Ball. So it came as a bit of a shock when she stumbled over Ginny's lanky form.

She felt immediately like she was being interrogated as three bodies pressed against her asking questions...

"Did he bring flowers?" Hermione held up a single white rose.

"Did he pull your chair out for you?" She gulped and nodded.

"What did you talk about?" She opened her mouth to answer but Parvati cut in.

"Did he look hot?" Hermione smiled, a glazed look claimed her eyes and Ginny was instantly envious.

"So..." started Lavender in a honey dipped voice, "is it forever?"

Hermione's eyes lit up and she dove for the Magic Eight Ball.

*

Draco looked down to see Hermione struggling to her feet, he was reading the Evening Prophet and carrying a steaming cup of warm cider with the hope that it would ward off some of that late autumn chill. "We've got to stop meeting this way," he said easily.

"Draco!" she said gleefully, brushing off her derriere and bundling the robes back into her arms.

He took in her appearance, she looked healthy, she was still smaller than he would have liked but she was not malnourished like she had been before. Her face was bright and an aurora of happiness radiated from her, not to mention from her glowing ring. "The most anticipated wedding of the year?" he said, pointing to the front of the paper.

Hermione looked at her shoes rubbing the scuffed toes together. "Yeah."

Deciding that this was clearly not the best topic in the world he plowed on with it, "Are you sure?"

Hermione looked up at him, hurt burning in her eyes. "Of course I am, I wouldn't be doing this if I weren't."

"I didn't mean--" he started.

"I know what you mean Malfoy, good day," she pushed roughly past him into the crowd of people enjoying the cool weather. The waves of shoppers pressed upon her as she bowed her head so as not to be recognized and her lithe body was swallowed up before Draco had a chance to follow after her.

"Since when did I become Malfoy?" he muttered to himself.

*

Hermione was sitting patiently in her common room, keeping a vigil in front of her fire. Her body stretched out over the sofa, an open book on her lap not turned past the copyright date, a blanket over her shoulders, and her crossed arms biting into the thin flesh just under her breasts.

Draco came through the fireplace on time, he pulled off his Death Eater robes and threw them at the wall in frustration. "A Saturday of rites and chants and not one drop of information as to his plans." He collapsed into his chair leaning forward and running his hands through his hair letting out a sound that might have been a strangled moan of dejection. He fell back into the chair and waved his wand so a bottle of red wine graced his hand, it was half way to his lips when Hermione tore it out of his hands.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" she spat vehemently, pitching the tall bottle into the fireplace where the red poison seeped off the brick and into the carpet.

Draco looked up at her, bewildered. When he had left that morning she had wished him luck and bade him to be careful all the while making sure he had eaten enough at breakfast even though he knew she herself had touched nothing. "Tell you what?" he asked cautiously, cowering further back in his chair.

Hermione spun away from him, her head tilted upward and her hands clutching at her fringe, growling she spoke, perhaps to the heavens, perhaps to herself, or perhaps even to him. "What? He asks what?" She pulled her hands free of her fringe and strode back to his chair, throwing one hand on each of the arms of the chair she looked him in the eye and asked, carefully, enunciating each word. "When-were-you-going-to-tell-me-your-father-killed-my-parents-?"

Her face was so close to his that he could see the wild gleam in her eyes, hear the barbaric notes lacing her voice. He made no attempt to get out of the chair, knowing it would be futile to join the mad lion in the cage. "You weren't supposed to find out," he said quietly, not looking at her face.

Roughly she grabbed his chin and made him look her in the eye. "They were my parents!"

"He was my father. You killed him," he said, still holding her pained stare.

Pulling back a look of humanity struck her, but it didn't last long. "How could you keep that from me Malfoy?"

The cold, indifferent tone stung at him, pulling at threads he didn't know he possessed. "When did I become Malfoy?"

"You were never Draco to me," she whispered so quietly and so viciously, that he was surprised he heard her.

For an unmeasured period of time they stood there, each appalled by the other, seething, gauging the other, counting weaknesses, and finally after what may have been less than a breath Draco straightened up and gathered his robes from the corner. Nodding to Hermione, in an oddly domestic way, saying as he opened his door, "Good night Hermione."

*

The door of Harry's flat banged shut behind her, she didn't bother to turn on the lights and fell into a chair with the airtight bags of robes on her lap. She put her hand on her forehead, her key ring jingling dully at the movement, sighing deeply she closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the chair. "Hermione, love, are you here?" called Harry's voice uncertainly from the door.

"I'm here," she replied huskily from her chair, not making any movement to sit up or let loose her death grip on the robes.

Harry was at her side in a flash, dropping the box of what she suspected to be monogrammed matchbooks and napkins. "Are you alright?" he asked fervently, prying the robes out of her hands and letting them fall in a mass to the floor. He took her keys and she heard the hit the floor with a vibrating and violent clank. Smoothing back her hair he peered at her gaunt face. "What is it? Do you feel ill?"

Her eyes fluttered open to meet his and she smiled grimly. "I'm not sick," she croaked to his lined and worried face.

Relieved his shoulders slumped as he let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, putting his forehead on her shoulder he said forcefully, "I don't want to loose you."

Hermione raised herself a bit from her seat and whispered, her warm breath ticklish, in his ear, "You won't." She paused for a moment letting Harry's relief pass to her, then she added sarcastically, "Not that the female population of the magic world isn't going to try and stone me first."

"You'd look better in tar and feathers," he laughed, picking her up off the chair and sweeping her on to his bed.

*

The feathers were flying in the masses, spouting from pillows and duvets, fluttering out of the mattress, egged on by giddy squeals of protest and encouragement.

Hermione felt her legs loose their balance and fell thickly on to the mattress laughing as she went and panting lightly into her quilt. Hope landed next to her on her stomach. Somewhere inside Hermione wished more of her life was spent in moments like this, moments of foolishness, thirteen-year-old mass hysterics with her best friend since childhood.

Hope rolled over on to her back and looked up at the ceiling fan, dumping her defeated and wilting pillow on the floor with the pile of already disregarded ones.

The bed sighed as Hermione got off of it and pulled a feather out of her shirt, giggling at the sensation. She tugged at the two feet that were hanging off the side of her bed only to here Hope wheeze, "Hey!"

Stiffly Hermione walked toward the door, dragging a blanket around her ankle. "Be that way, I'm going to get ice cream now!"

*

The cake melted in her mouth, she never thought it would taste this good, nor did she expect it to be so messy. Harry softly dabbed the white crumbs off her chin with his tongue and she smiled as his lips moved over hers.

Harry pulled away slowly, lingering on her bottom lip before holding up a glass of ruby red punch. "Cheers," she whispered, pouring some of the liquid down his throat.

Around them a cheer went up, flashbulbs blinded them, and claps flew up from the huddle of friends and reporters. The band struck up a slow harmony that Hermione didn't recognize and Harry grasped her hands and led her out on to the square dance floor. They drifted together, her long skirts sliding over the smooth wood surface and the heels making tiny clicks as they wavered in time to the music.

"Reamus told me this was my parents' song," said Harry, leaning his forehead against Hermione's. They were so close she could make out the tiny scratches on his glasses and he could see the lines of amber hiding in her otherwise monochromatic eyes.

Hermione's jaw dropped a little bit, forming a perfectly round circle. "It is beautiful," she supplied.

"So are you," he kissed her again, though this time it was far more passionate.

Fred Weasley watched from the sidelines and elbowed his twin in the gut, pointing at the newlyweds. George shook his head sadly. "We should be mourning the loss of a fellow bachelor."

Shrugging Fred said tactfully, "Or, we could just liven this sap and mush up a bit." George looked at his brother for a moment and then nodded his head in agreement, catching on. Together they strode, their hands thrown into their pockets casually and their swagger distinctive, their footfalls rung of plots and chaos. Covertly Fred hissed something discretely to the pianist and then something else to George who nodded his approval and wrote it all over his face with a satisfied smile.

Hermione was startled to her the swing song magically spouted over the dance floor, Harry's grip on her waist loosened and he took her hand, and the next several minutes were of whirls and low dips. Needless to say they weren't alone for long, Ron and Hope plowed a badly timed tango through the growing crowd--Ron oblivious to the fact he was tangoing to the wrong music and Hope giggling at his mistake.

After a whirlwind of very quickly paced dances Hermione tipped into a lawn chair, taking her heels off and allowing relief to rush through her feet. Harry followed a bit later balancing two plates of dinner from the large selection Mrs. Weasley had provided. Hermione looked glumly at the pile of food in front of her and politely tasted a bit of each before shuffling it around on her plate.

A hand collided with her shoulder and she looked up to see Fred glowering at her...

*

She turned her face back to the barren wall, not having the will to tell him to bugger off, not have the desire to ask him why he was there, the drive to get off that sofa, nor did she have the presence of mind to realize that Fred and George weren't going anywhere.

George watched his twin try to bring life to Hermione; he sat partially in the shadows...just watching. This had always been his place, he thought before he barged into a room; Fred barged in and thought later. Hermione hadn't changed since the night before, her hair still damp and mud still caking her fingernails.

His little brother's girlfriend was in a state and Ron didn't know what to do, Harry couldn't save Hermione, Ginny couldn't make her smile, and so that was how it was left to them. Not that they knew what to do either, officially they weren't supposed to be on the campus, but Dumbdlore had made an 'over sight'.

Fred looked Hermione in the eye and got nothing back, her face wasn't lined with worry, her tears were dry, but she hadn't healed any in the time since the previous evening's events had begun.

It was as if Hermione was in a dream where everything was on automatic and fast forward, first her parents, then the rain, the tears, that quite breakfast where no food passed over her lips, and now this vague state of invisible inner chaos with two jesters as her comfort.

George beckoned Fred toward him. "Why are we doing this?"

It took Fred a moment to answer, and when he did they both knew he was perfectly correct. "Because its her turn to be saved and we're the only others who have never needed that lifeline."

"Exactly."

*

Moodily Hermione munched the roll Fred had shoved under her nose, "Was that all you wanted? To make sure I wouldn't fit in this thing thirty years from now?" she asked with her mouth full as she pointed to her skirts.

"No, we just wanted to thank Harry for promoting us to England's Most Eligible Bachelors," the twins said in smug unison as they held up an advanced copy of the morning paper.

Harry smiled sheepishly before saying, "You're welcome mates, but I think I get a better deal," he then proceeded to plant a featherweight kiss on each of her knuckles.

Hermione blushed into her roll.