Out of Time

Chapter 17

Later on, tucked snugly back into her own bed at last, Hermione muses on how easy the memory charm was to cast. She'd told Ron that nothing had happened that night except that he and Lavender had split, and that it was amicable. She suggested he take a shower (in his fuzzy-headed state, he paid no notice to his sweat-soaked clothes or hair and she considered herself doing him a favour with the directive) and go to bed.

The look of immediate serenity that had overcome his features had made it all worthwhile. She hadn't been fully convinced she was doing the right thing. Did she have the right to tamper with his memory this way?

But he was so humiliated and so miserable. It was obvious it would have made things awkward and horrid between them, and Harry would have never understood. Hermione could have never explained and she doubted Ron would have.

Instead, she'd sent him upstairs with a peaceful expression. A little dazed, perhaps, but content. Relieved. And unmistakably consoled by the mutual split from his girlfriend without a fuss.

Sometimes there's no perfect solution to a bad situation. Sometimes it's all about... mitigating the damage.

Hermione wishes she could also be obliviated, but she would prefer not to have someone else mucking about with her memory. She'll just shove the experience as far down as she can get it. In the hierarchy of horrifically mortifying memories, this one would be at the bottom in the ditch of wretchedness. She can't even think of a comparable one to stack right on top. Nothing else even gets close.

* * *

Ron's attitude at breakfast validates her actions. It's up to her to act natural and Hermione does her damndest. She scoops eggs onto her plate, reaches for the pepper (which Neville is hogging), and pretends it's just another weekday morning before Arithmancy.

It's beyond bizarre to see Ron now in contrast to the night before, and she spends an inordinate amount of time watching him from the corner of her eye. He's sitting next to Harry on his bench with his tie both crooked and a little loose, and a small stain on the cuff of his shirt. His hair is rivalling Harry's for messiness and length, although Ron's has that bit of wave to it while Harry's is ramrod straight. He's loading his plate with so much food it becomes a small mountain all mixed up together.

If she can pile on enough regular 'Ron' imagery, surely she can drown out last night. This is Ron, not the unfortunate wizard trapped in/outside the broom closet by the Runes classroom - which will pose a whole other set of unpleasant and unwanted recollections later this afternoon. She walks right past that thing twice a week. One thing at a time, though.

This is her oldest friend Ronald Weasley, right here. He's joking around with Harry, happier than she's seen him in ages. Harry's similarly caught off-guard, but pleased at the reemergence of his jocular best friend. Evidently, the tedium with Lavender had been dragging him down far more than anybody realised, even him.

Lavender keeps shooting him odd looks from her position next to Parvati and Dean, no doubt stunned to see the normalcy at their side of the table. Hermione gives her head a quick, almost rueful shake, as if to say, 'don't worry about it.'

Harry and Ron stand to leave and Ron tips his head towards Lavender in a cordial way. "Hey, Lav," he drops casually, walking right on by. Lavender's jaw drops and Parvati elbows her when he's well out of earshot.

"I thought you broke up."

"We did -" Lavender starts at the same time as Hermione.

"They did, but Ron told us he's keen to not make anything awkward. I think he's trying quite hard," she explains with a meaningful look at Lavender.