“Happy Christmas, Herms. A pretty girl deserves a Yuletide kiss. Fred promised his to Angelina, so I drew the short straw and had to kiss the woman who saved my life.” He placed a hand across his heart and smiled beautifically.
Hermione shook her head. “You're awful. What if that had been my first kiss?”
George donned an expression of elaborate despair. “It wasn't? Been snogging other patients of yours before me?”
Hermione felt the tips of her ears grow warm and looked away. “Actually my first kiss was with Viktor.”
“Crushed my heart, you have.” George stumbled back overdramatically with his crutches. “It's because I'm not surly enough, isn't it? Or maybe you only like Seekers.”
Hermione shook her head and tried not to think about surliness or Seekers. “I'm going back in. If you must risk your neck after all I've done healing you, at least do it when I'm not looking.”
She went back inside and seated herself on the couch in the corner, watching the festivities with a sense of bewilderment.
Charlie was teasing Ginny and Harry, he tilted his head back and laughed. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she'd heard Charlie laugh. Or Ron or Harry.
They were all happy. Happier than she had seen them in years.
As Hermione observed it, a creeping sense of horror came over her.
The cheerfulness brimming inside the cottage was more than Yuletide merriment and alcohol. The house was bursting, nearly vibrating with a sense of hopefulness.
Hermione wouldn't have understood it if not for the conversation with Angelina.
It wasn't just the Resistance. The Order members also believed they were on the way to winning the war.
As Hermione sat in the corner absorbing it, she felt as though she were trapped inside a daydream charm while the world around her burned down.
The Order would never change tactics now; they would never agree to use the Dark Arts. She had done this.
If Draco ever turned on them, or achieved whatever atonement he was in pursuit of and ended his service, the Resistance would start to free fall, and there would be nothing to catch them.
And if the Order ever found out about Draco, in any context… it would likely break the entire organization. The trust in Kingsley and Moody would be shattered.
Hermione felt like she might be sick. She wanted to leave.
She sat in the corner like a statue.
Harry came and dropped down on the couch next to her. They watched the room. Ginny was with Arthur. Ron, Fred, and George appeared to be in the middle of a prank of some sort. Molly was bustling about, setting out food and Charlie was helping her.
“This — is everything I ever wanted,” Harry said after a minute. “This is what keeps me going. Every day.”
Hermione was silent.
“Are you thinking about your family?” Harry studied her carefully. Hermione gave a short nod. Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “Someday your parents will be here with us too.”
Hermione watched Molly pause to press a kiss on Arthur's forehead and admire his duck.
“They — they won't; they'll never come back from Australia,” she said quietly. Harry looked at her with confusion. Her eyes dropped down to her lap. “Extensive obliviation only has a certain window for reversal. Otherwise there is a high risk of acute brain damage. If I were going to reverse the memory charm, it needed to be done before Christmas last year; before the five year mark.”
There was a long silence.
“You never told me that.” Harry's voice was devastated.
Hermione fidgeted with the sleeve of her jumper and didn't look up at him. “It was easier to just focus on work than to think about it. I knew the risk when I decided to hide them.”
“I'm sorry.” Harry squeezed her hand. “I'm so so sorry, Hermione.”
“It's fine. I've come to terms with the fact that protecting people may mean losing them.”
“Well, not me. You'll always be my family.”
Before Hermione could say anything, Molly bustled over, holding a camera and dragging Ron with her. “Let's get a picture of you three. Hermione, you scoot over a bit, dear, so Ron can sit next to you. There now. Arms around each other. Harry, try to smooth your hair. Oh, never mind. Smile…”
Hermione couldn't quite manage a smile. The corners of her mouth curled faintly as Ron and Harry's heavy arms wrapped around her shoulders. There was a blinding flash.
“That will be lovely. We haven't gotten a picture of you all together in years.” Molly went over to take a picture of Bill and Fleur.
Ron snorted as he watched his mother posing Fleur and then tugged at one of Hermione's curls that had slipped free from her braids. “A hair out of place; I guess you aren't a Slytherin after all.”
Hermione gave a faint smile. “That must have been why the Sorting Hat stuck me in Gryffindor. It's probably why Harry didn't get sent there either.”