Love and Other Misfortunes

Chapter 15

The quiet clatter of dishes and low voices made their way slowly into Hermione's consciousness. Wandering to the kitchen, she found Molly Weasley and Harry cooking breakfast. Ron, Dean, Neville, and Luna were seated at the kitchen table eating.

They all turned and stared at her and she suddenly felt self-conscious. She hadn't had time to think about the fact that the whole world knew she had mated with Draco Malfoy. But now, meeting their stares, it suddenly occurred to her: the papers were probably filled with speculation over her sex life and details of what was known about bonding rituals.

She wasn't a prude but it still felt like a strangely intimate thing to have as public knowledge. She tried to steel herself. It wasn't any different than coming back from a honeymoon, she tried to tell herself. But it felt raw, especially standing there alone.

She wavered. Trying to rally and make herself walk the rest of the way into the room.

"Hermione." Mrs Weasley bustled over to her and enveloped her in a crushing hug. "What a mess the Ministry has made of things. Are you alright, dear?"

Hermione clung to the motherly embrace.

"I'm alright," she said quietly.

"Let me get you some breakfast. Harry realised this morning you haven't eaten anything since goodness knows when."

"There were some biscuits in the cupboard," she said, giving a quick smile of reassurance to an apologetic looking Harry as she allowed herself to be served a heaping plateful of food.

No one was trying to conceal their stares. She tried to focus on eating but she could feel her face growing hotter and hotter.

"Just ask!" she finally said.

They all jumped.

"Are you really alright, Hermione?" Ron asked quietly.

She stared at him.

"No. I'm not," she said, looking down at her lap. "But not because of Draco, if that's what you're thinking. None of this was his fault... well, I suppose it is his fault in some ways, but he didn't mean for any of it happen. Everything is awful and I don't know what I'm supposed to do to help him."

She stabbed an egg.

"You're not alone, Hermione," Ron said, his expression resolute. "I'll alway think of him as a ferrety tosser, but if you're determined to live with a ginormous, pointy-faced bird-person for the rest of your life, you know I'll help you."

Hermione knew he was trying to cheer her up but she couldn't muster the will to smile.

"Thank you, Ron," she said.

She meant it. The Weasley family's dislike for the Malfoys was legitimately rooted. Even before the War, Ginny had almost died because of Lucius. Draco's insults toward Ron in school had tended to hit their mark more frequently than when they had been directed toward herself and Harry.

"He isn't the same person he was," she said after a moment. "I don't know if that matters for you all, but I want you to know."

What might have been asked next was lost when George suddenly bustled into the room carrying an armful of boxes.

"Hermione, my love," he cried. "Gone and broken my heart you have. I thought we were destined for each other. Was I not enough of a lost cause for you that you had to choose Malfoy instead?"

His face was woebegone.

"What did you bring?" Harry said, setting down a spatula.

"A bunch of old merchandise. Some of our old shield charmed clothes, a few temporary wands. They'll shoot off about ten small jinxes or three stronger spells. Not the most useful, but handy backup if anyone loses a wand during a duel. You could summon your wand back with it at least."