Manacled (dramione)

Chapter 46: Flashback 21

Christmas 2002

The Weasleys spent their Christmas at Shell Cottage. When Padma arrived to take over the hospital shift, Hermione changed her clothes and apparated to join them.

She stood outside in the snow for several minutes as she tried to brace herself. The conversation with Angelina had knocked her off-kilter, and she felt as though she were grasping for a sense of control.

She stared at the front door and mentally rehearsed the day. Christmas would be quiet; a far cry from past holidays. Every year everyone was a little quieter and a little more drunk. The year before, Arthur had become overwhelmed by the number of people and had a fit until Molly was forced to leave with him.

Hermione could go through the motions. Smile. Sing carols. Check on Arthur and George. She took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Oi! Hermione's here!" Fred bellowed when she walked in.

Everyone turned and descended on her. They were all in surprisingly high spirits, cheerful and buzzed. A mug of wassail was shoved into her hands before she'd gotten across the room.

Everyone was decked in Christmas jumpers from Molly.

Hermione surreptitiously lined up vials of hangover potion along the top of the mantel.

Bill was sitting in one corner, quiet among the bustle. Fleur was seated on the arm of his chair, running her fingers through his hair.

Harry and Ginny were squished into an armchair, whispering together. Harry and Ron had returned from another horcrux hunt only a few days before.

"Hermione dear, so glad you made it. This is for you," Molly pressed a gift, wrapped in tissue paper, into Hermione's hands.

Hermione perched on an ottoman and opened it. A green jumper with an H in the middle.

"Thank you, Molly," she said. "This is beautiful."

"Mum! Why are you sticking Hermione in Slytherin green?" Ron said, peering over.

Molly smacked him, wearing an expression of offense. "Ronald! It's emerald green and it's a lovely colour for her skin tone. It reminded me of Harry's eyes."

"Looks like Slytherin green to me." Ron grimaced as Hermione pulled it over her head. "Ugh. Gives me nightmares just looking at it."

Hermione and Molly's relationship was somewhat strained. When Arthur was first cursed, there had been a great deal of hope that Hermione and Bill would collaboratively be able to reverse or break it. Molly had been effusive in her appreciation of all Hermione's efforts. However, as time passed and hope dwindled, Molly withdrew. It wasn't blame, per se. It was simply painful. Hermione represented a deep hope that had failed.

Their interactions were still warm, but they kept them limited.

Hermione knew from second-hand accounts that Molly had vehement objections to her advocacy for the Dark Arts, but it was not a conversation they had ever actually had together.

Hermione wasn't sure if Molly had chosen the colour on the basis of skin tone, or if it was a form of reproof. It wasn't really worth thinking about. She was so tired of pointlessly arguing about it.

She left Ron and Molly to argue and went to find Arthur.

Mr Weasley was sitting on the floor in the corner, going through a lift-the-flap book. Hermione watched him carefully and cast a diagnostic spell on his brain. Arthur Weasley as an adult was still locked away somewhere. The curse Lucius used hadn't driven Arthur mad or scrubbed his memory. The magic had suspended Arthur's mind at a specific point in early childhood. The rest of Arthur was still inside, waiting to get out; Hermione could see it in the diagnostic. But she didn't know how to break through the magic without causing real and severe brain damage.