Coping Mechanisms

7. Hermione

"Anything interesting from the hospital?" Harry asked, breaking Hermione from her thoughts.

She immediately thought of Draco but stopped herself. He surely hadn't asked her to keep his secrets, but she still felt traitorous revealing his business.

"Not really," Hermione shrugged, deciding it wasn't her story to tell. "Same old, same old." She caught sight of Ron from the corner of her eye, taking a generous swig of his drink. No one else seemed to notice.

"They've been keeping you busy over there," Molly said. "I hope you've had the time to get your school things together." Molly eyed Harry accusingly.

"I'm going tomorrow, Mrs. Weasley," Harry laughed, catching her look. "I promise."

"You better," Ginny interjected. Hermione was grateful the attention had moved elsewhere, though she could still feel Ron's eyes on her. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he turned away.

Dinner continued smoothly after that. Mr. Weasley informed them all of his comings and goings at the Ministry. The conversation drifted to Percy for a while. Their relationship with him had been strained for some time before the battle, but it had been slowly mending over the summer. He still lived elsewhere, but he made visits often, to the delight of his mother. She'd already lost one son. Hermione knew it would break her to lose another.

They never broached the subject of Fred. The pain was still too fresh for all of them. Hermione noticed George's constant head tilt, as if he were turning to say something to the missing twin. He'd catch himself, and his face would fall. Hermione found it utterly heartbreaking. Ron hid his feelings better, his face composed. But she watched him nurse his drink all night, and Hermione suspected he'd spiked it. She couldn't say she condoned his actions, but she knew how tempting it was to accept anything that numbed the pain.

To an outsider looking in, this could have been any old family dinner on any old Thursday night. Though the family tried their best, Hermione saw every crack, every fracture in their façade. Hermione wondered if the magic that held up the house could also bear the weight of the broken people inside.

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Mr. and Mrs. Weasley didn't hang around long after dinner was finished, and the table was cleared. They both said their goodnights, along with George, who'd been the first to trudge back upstairs.

"We'll see you at the station then," Molly had said as she hugged Hermione one more time.

"Thank you again for the lovely dinner."

"Anytime dear."

"Keep your chin up," Mr. Weasley had whispered, before following his wife upstairs. That left just Ginny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who now had moved to the living room, taking their seats in front of the fireplace. Ron filled the armchair, while Hermione and Ginny took the loveseat, Harry on the floor at Ginny's feet. She absentmindedly played with his hair while Ron took another unceremonious sip of the drink he'd carried along.

"I'm going to miss your mothers cooking," Harry chuckled.

"Hogwarts has the best pumpkin pasties though," Ron laughed.

"I wonder if they rebuilt it the same as it was," Ginny added.

"I'm sure McGonagall changed a few things," Hermione said.

"I hope she finally got rid of Filch. Or Peeves." Ron scoffed.

"You know she wouldn't."

"I wonder who the new Dark Arts teacher is," Harry whispered, his eyes focused on the flames before them.