𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨

chapter thirty six

Christmas Eve, London

It'd been days since Hermione had returned to Grimmauld Place for winter break. She'd never thought four days of hell would've been caused by her closest childhood friends, but for the entirety of the trip, both Ginny and her were wishing they'd accepted Pansy's request to stay at her own home in Knockholt.

Sometimes Hermione had debated up and leaving, but Ginny persisted she wanted a friend, but didn't want to leave her family behind during the holidays.

It would be their first Christmas without Fred. Hermione was wracked with guilt when Ginny recalled this to her, so she decided to stay despite the judgement from her family and friends.

Ginny always had her back, and that was what mattered. It would only be nine more days. How bad could it get? They would settle down eventually, leave her alone about it.

"Hermione," Mrs. Weasley called from three floors down, voice echoing up the staircase, "Lunch is ready."

She was wrapped in a grey blanket by the fireplace in her room, hair braided messily to one side with a cup of homemade hot chocolate between her fingertips.

"Coming," she answered, putting out the fire with her wand before heading down the stairs.

She walked in with timid steps, mug between her fingertips that were covered by her sweatshirt. It was Draco's sweatshirt. Ron gave her his continuous stank eye when she walked through the archway to the kitchen. She returned it with thrice the force.

Harry, despite being the one she had cursed at the ball, was trying his best to be civil. As much as she wanted to try and force pettiness, she appreciated him trying. It merely reminded her how much he cared about her.

"I made fresh cookies with Ginny this morning," Mrs. Weasley sighed with a thin smile, leading her to a chair at the table with the others. Arthur sat at the head of the table with his wife by his side, George on the opposite side. Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione occupied the remaining space.

There was an empty seat for Fred at the opposing head of the table.

Mrs. Weasley had scolded her the moment she walked through the door on her first night of being back at Grimmauld Place, but after Hermione broke down crying, she realized it was not her place to intervene.

'We're just concerned for your safety, sweetheart,' she'd said, to which Hermione responded with a flood of blubbers.

'He's changed,'

'He's taking muggle studies,'

'I love him.'

George had told her she sounded like she had Stockholm Syndrome before scampering up the stairs.

They nearly spit their drinks out over dinner when they found out her and Ginny would be attending the Parkinson's Christmas bash.

Warmth enveloped her as she bit into goodness, chewing through melted chocolate chunks and baked cookie dough, sprinkled with white, red and green.

It helped cure both her hangover and her current state of sadness, having seen him only yesterday and knowing it'd be nine more days until their train ride back to school.

"So... how was... the event last evening?" Arthur pried carefully but curiously, and both Ginny and Hermione choked on their crumbs.

Hermione looked to her best friend, confused as to why she had a reason to be so taken aback by the statement. Hermione at least had the fact that she'd been thoroughly fucked by her boyfriend in a host house's library.