Coping Mechanisms

7. Hermione

"Food's nearly done," she said, gesturing back in the direction she'd came. He inclined his head and gave her arm a squeeze before heading off to the kitchen without another word.

Hermione watched him go, trying hard not to dwell on memories of all the failed attempts to distinguish the twins from behind. It had always been impossible, and even now she could hear their teasing remarks, and the split sentences they'd always finish for the other. Hermione didn't need to wonder why George didn't talk as much anymore.

She turned back to the stairs, forcing one foot in front of the other. She could hear muffled voices as she climbed higher, and soon, the voices became distinct. Her footsteps echoed across the landing, and Ginny immediately flew out of Ron's doorway.

"You came!" Ginny flew towards her, arms outstretched. Hermione caught her in a firm hug.

"Of course I did, Gin. You'd never let me hear the end of it if I didn't."

"You're damn right," the fiery, red head laughed.

"Is that Mione?" Ron yelled.

"Who else would it be?" Ginny mocked, moving aside as Ron bounded out from his room, Harry close behind. Ron wrapped an arm across her shoulder, pulling her close.

"I've missed you," he whispered, softly kissing her hair. She offered him a feeble smile in response.

"Molly told me to bring you all down for dinner."

"Brilliant," Harry gleamed. "I'm starving." He grabbed Ginny's hand and rushed back down through the house. Hermione hesitantly looked up at Ron. He gave her a quick wink and led her back down to the kitchen.

Molly was flicking her wand around like an orchestrator. Hermione ducked her head as plates floated seamlessly down to the table, silverware following close behind. The table was set for seven, and Hermione sat in the open seat next to Ginny and Harry, forcing Ron to sit opposite her by George. She casually avoided his eyes.

The food was the last to appear on the table, as Molly pulled the last pie from the oven. The scents that filled the room were mouthwatering, and Hermione fully comprehended how empty her stomach was.

"Eat up," Molly beamed, taking her seat next to George.

"What about dad?" Ginny asked as everyone began to fill their plates.

"Should be here any minute."

An apparition crack echoed in from the front lawn.

"Ah, speak of the devil," Molly laughed.

"Sorry I'm late," Arthur Weasley marched into the kitchen, giving them all a lopsided grin. "Got tied up at the Ministry." He threw his briefcase on the counter and strode over to his wife, placing a thoughtful kiss to her temple. A chorus of hello's wafted from the table as he took the seat at its head and began filling up his own plate.

"Ah, Hermione," he said, catching sight of her. "I'm glad you're here. I have word from Kingsley."

Hermione felt her body go rigid, the fork in her hand stilled. All eyes at the table turned to her.

"He made it there safely and is doing all he can. There's not much else to update, but he said to not lose hope yet." Mr. Weasley gave her a sympathetic look. "He'll reach out again soon."

Hermione swallowed and nodded, her eyes focused on her plate. She felt Ginny pat her leg.

"Everything will work out," Ginny whispered. Hermione plastered on an appreciative face.

They ate in an awkward silence, the only noise the scraping of silverware against their plates. If they'd had any questions, Hermione was thankful they kept them to themselves. She'd been keen in keeping her thoughts off of Kingsley Shacklebolt, and the task she'd asked of him. The task that had sent him to Australia.