Poison and Wine

December 25, 1998

Hermione pressed the earring through her ear, wincing slightly. It had been a while since she wore a pair of earrings, and her earlobes weren't too happy about it. However, Ginny had insisted that they ‘dress up’ together for the Christmas party at The Burrow. Hermione would have been content to wear an old jumper and a pair of jeans, but Ginny needed a little encouragement. So, she went along with her friend’s idea.

“You have to promise that you won’t say anything,” Ginny said for the sixth time that afternoon.

“Gin,” Hermione looked at her friend who was putting on makeup in a hurried fashion. “I won’t say a word about you and Harry. You need to take a breath. Molly won’t sniff it out, she’s got so much else to worry about.”

Ginny gave a small nod as she cast a spell that sent her hair up into an intricate knot at the top of her head. “I know, I know,” she let out a breath and gazed at her own reflection. 

“It’ll be alright,” Hermione insisted as she began to braid her hair. “It’s just Christmas.” The moment the words came out of her lips, she regretted them. 

It wasn’t just Christmas. It was the first Christmas since the end of the war. It was the first Christmas without Fred, Remus, or Tonks. Despite winning the war, the holiday had brought all that was lost to the forefront of Hermione’s mind. She stared at her reflection, barely recognizing herself--and it wasn’t because of the makeup Ginny had helped her apply.

“It isn’t just Christmas, is it?” Hermione asked quietly.

Ginny’s hazel eyes flickered over to her in the mirror. “Not this year.”

“Maybe…maybe I shouldn’t go,” she said suddenly.

“What?” Ginny looked scandalized. “You have to.”

“What if I accidentally touch someone? I kinda have to take off my gloves when I eat and what if-”

“Hermione, it’ll be alright.”

Hermione wasn’t entirely pleased about having her own words said back to her. However, it helped a bit. 

No one was quite in the holiday mood, but they would do it together. Molly would make a grand array of food; they would eat together and reminisce. Likely a game of Quidditch would begin along with Wizard's Chess. They would have hot chocolate and mulled wine and return home before midnight. It would be alright.

The Burrow was alive with holiday spirit but just as Hermione predicted, the ghosts of all that was lost hung in the air. Despite the sorrow that was mixed in with the holiday spirit, Hermione could tell that Harry was excited. Much to everyone’s surprise, Andromeda made an appearance, bringing Teddy with her to see the family. Harry was elated to see his godson and touch base with Tonk’s mother.

Molly was clearly doing her best to keep up with traditions. She made a lavish meal, along with dessert. Gifts sat under the tree, waiting to be unwrapped. The Burrow was so busy with people that Hermione did her best to ignore the melancholy in the air. She found it was best to focus on what wasn’t gone. After everything, the Weasleys (and extended family) stayed strong with love and devotion to one another. Even a war couldn't change that. That thought alone got her through dinner.

After an incredible meal, Hermione found herself in the living room while Harry and the Weasley men went outside to play a round of Quidditch. Ginny had been annoyed that she couldn’t participate but eventually settled in beside Hermione.

Arthur was helping Molly clean up (despite Hermione’s protests that she ought to do something to help). This left Hermione and Ginny alone with Andromeda and Teddy. The young boy sat on the floor playing with a collection of enchanted wooden blocks that changed shape every few minutes. 

Hermione felt the desire to start a conversation with Andromeda since they were all sitting together but struggled to find a topic. She thought through all the typical ways of starting a conversation, wondering if certain things were off-limits because of her past. Despite knowing better, Hermione couldn’t help but see Bellatrix in the woman sitting across from her. Andromeda lacked her sister’s wild hair, but she had the same almond-shaped gray eyes and high cheekbones. 

“Have you decided on a name yet?” Andromeda spoke up. Her eyes lingering on Ginny’s belly before rising to meet her eyes.

“Not yet, Harry and I are struggling to decide,” she let out a sigh. “I didn’t realize picking a name would be so…hard.”

Andromeda was not the most expressive individual, but she gave a small smile. It softened her otherwise severe features. “I know the feeling. Ted was adamant that we name our daughter Nymphadora,” she gave a small laugh. “The girl hated it from the moment she was born. Most of the time I called her Dora--I suppose that’s the nice thing about long names. You can always shorten them.”

Ginny gave a nod of understanding. “If anyone called me Ginevra--other than my mum--I might strangle them.”

Andromeda laughed again. It wasn’t a wicked laugh like Bellatrix, but something softer and kinder. She looked at Teddy on the floor. “I appreciate that your mother invited us,” her voice was quiet. “It would have been…lonely at home.”

“You’re family,” Ginny said easily--just as Molly would have done.

The older witch smiled softly. Her eyes slid over to Hermione. “Harry says you’ve suddenly become a Legilimens, how fascinating.”

She bit back the intense desire to tell Andromeda just how exciting it was. She took a breath and instead said, “it’s not quite Legilimency. From the research I’ve been doing, I’ve come to understand that it’s something called Tactile Empathy.”

“Oh,” a look of surprise crossed her features. “I haven’t heard about that in ages.”

“You’ve heard of it?” She perked up a bit at the thought. Andromeda was the first witch to mention having heard of it, apart from Snape.

“Many think it’s a myth but supposedly a witch or wizard who’s gifted with the Soft Arts is something of a saint--someone who is meant to do good things.”

“I…I hadn’t heard that,” Hermione admitted. 

Snape had given her a collection of books to read, and they had been helpful. However, he had shared very little about how Tactile Empathy and the other Soft Arts were viewed by the Wizarding World.

“Not many people talk about the Soft Arts. Since Voldemort first…took power, the world has been far more focused on the Dark Arts. Merlin, maybe we’ve been focused on the Dark Arts since Grindelwald.” She let out a sigh and glanced at Teddy again. “When I was a child I alway liked the idea of the Soft Arts more than the Dark Arts.”

Hermione couldn’t imagine what it would have been like to grow up beside Bellatrix and Narcissa. 

“What are the Soft Arts?” Ginny asked suddenly.

Hermione felt a pang of guilt for not including her friend.

“While the Dark Arts were created to gain power by killing and harming others, the Soft Arts were created to help others. Werewolves, Dementors, and such were created using Dark Magic, but Empaths were created using Soft Magic,” Andromeda explained in her lofty tone.

Hermione knew the information already, after reading it in the book Snape had given her. However, hearing it explained in such a kind way sent something warm into her gut. 

“You never told me all that,” Ginny said to Hermione.

“I suppose I didn’t,” she looked down. “I might not be using Dark Magic, but my skills are not exactly welcomed. I’m…struggling to control it.”

“I would expect as much,” Andromeda agreed. “I don’t suppose you’ve sought out someone to help? Perhaps a skilled Occlumens?”

“I am…seeking help. I’m learning...or attempting to learn about my new ability.”

“That’s good to hear,” Andromeda said.

Ginny made a face. “Kinda, the only one willing to help her is Snape.”

“He’s skilled,” Hermione wasn’t sure why she felt the need to defend her mentor. 

He was rarely anything but cruel and icy towards her. However, she hadn’t stopped thinking about the night she showed up at his house. Despite all odds, he had let her in. He made her tea and let her vent about what had made her so upset.

“I have no doubt Severus is a skilled instructor,” Andromeda said. “He was always the top of his class when he was at Hogwarts.”

“You went to school with him?”

“He was a few years younger than me, but yes. He was close with Lucius and Narcissa.”

“I can’t really imagine him young,” Ginny admitted. “I somewhat assumed he hatched from an egg fully clothed in black robes.”

At that, Andromeda laughed again. “Surprisingly enough, he was young, once. He was quiet and bookish when I first met him. I suppose after spending some time with Lucius, he became a bit more…cold.”

Quiet and bookish. She found that description interesting considering how isolated Snape had chosen to make himself after the war. Before Hermione got a chance to ask more about Andromeda’s time at school, the doors opened. The living room was soon filled with everyone who had gone outside to play Quidditch.

Ron and George were in a heated argument about what qualified as a goal and what didn’t. Harry laughed at the two of them as he walked over to the couch and sat down on the floor beside Teddy. He helped the young boy stack the blocks into a wall before shooting a glance up towards Ginny. Ginny returned the smile. Hermione couldn’t help but wonder if it hurt her friend to look at Harry with a child, knowing that he would soon be a father, yet he wouldn’t be her husband.

Feeling a bit embarrassed about watching the two so closely, she looked away towards the fire. Her gaze was captured by the flames lapping idly at the wood. Despite its warmth a chill hung in the air. Hermione thought about her previous Christmases. She thought about the warmth of her parents' house and the Gryffindor common room. She thought about waking up with Ron and Harry while hunting for Horcruxes.

Suddenly, the breath in her lungs felt like too much and not enough all at once. Her heart began to beat rapidly, and she stood quickly.

“You alright?” Ginny asked her with a confused expression.

“Yeah, just gonna get some air,” she replied quickly.

Hermione weaved her way through the crowded room and exited quickly out the back door. She could only hope that her sudden escape wasn’t too noticeable. 

Outside the air was cold and harsh. Wind blew across the backyard, sending the dusting of snow up into waves through the air. The yard was covered in a small amount of snow–the kind that would likely melt in a couple days’ time. 

She used to love snowy Christmases.

She used to love when her parents roasted ham and prepared the table for a big family dinner.

She used to love sitting beneath the tree.

“‘Mione,” a voice interrupted her breakdown.

Hermione turned to see Ron slip out through the back door. His eyes searched over her in a quiet panic.

“I’m fine,” she lied. “I just needed a little air.”

“You’re not fine,” he said incredulously. “Even I can see that.” Ron stepped closer. “What’s going on?”

She tried hard to keep the tears from falling, but they fell anyway. She wiped them from her cheeks angrily. “I didn’t realize Christmas would feel so…” For once, she was at a loss for words.

“Empty?” Ron finished for her.

Hermione looked up at the boy--now man. Ron, much like Harry, had begun to grow into himself in the last few months. He was still tall and gangly but there were signs that he would not always be this way. His face had aged. Auburn stubble was beginning to grow along his jaw and upper lip. 

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I suppose that’s one word for it. It used to be so fun and now…it feels wrong.”

He nodded and sat down on one of the porch chairs. He ran a hand through his red hair. “I didn’t really want to come here tonight, honestly. But I didn’t wanna disappoint Mum.”

“I felt the same,” she collapsed into the chair beside him.

“I’m sorry,” Ron said softly.

“What for?”

“Freaking out a while back and…ending things.”

She gave him a sympathetic look. “I understand. I…I can’t even touch you. That’s hardly grounds for a healthy relationship.”

“I’m sorry about that, too. I wish…I could help you somehow. I wish you didn’t have to deal with all that.”

There wasn’t much she could respond with. She shared a similar sentiment. 

“But if it makes you feel any better. This year, the holidays have been rough on all of us. I know your situation is…unique but the rest of us feel it too.”

“Feel what?”

“All the loss.”

Hermione reached out and laid her gloved hand over Ron’s arm.

“I suppose you know about Harry and Gin?” He asked.

She was surprised by the change of topic and even more surprised that he knew. “They told you?”

He nodded.

“Does your mum know?”

Ron laughed. “Merlin, no. She’s an understanding person but I think it’s smart they’re choosing to wait to tell her.” He took a deep breath. “I…still don’t really know what to think of it myself.”

Hermione nodded. Had she not seen inside Harry’s mind and felt the feelings he had buried deep; she also would have been shocked. 

“Ginny took it well,” was all Hermione could think of to say.

Ron nodded. Silence fell upon the porch. The winds continued to send snowflakes dancing through the night skies. 

“We haven’t spoken much lately,” Ron said, finally breaking the silence. “But I want you to know that if you ever need anything or want to spend a night away from Grimmauld Place, my door is always open.”

“Thanks, Ron,” she smiled over at her friend. “Would you wanna grab a coffee in the New Year? Just as friends?”

“I’d like that.”

Upon returning home, Hermione felt more tired than she had in a long time. She collapsed onto the couch with Ginny. Her friend looked just as exhausted. Harry, however, apparated back with a new sense of energy that Hermione couldn’t help but envy.

“Do you two plan to be awake for a bit? I think I’d like a bit of Firewhiskey. Can I get you both something?”

“I’ll take a cocoa,” Ginny said as she lounged back on the couch, her hands placed atop her belly.

“Same for me,” Hermione said.

Harry disappeared into the kitchen for a moment and reappeared with each of their drinks floating in the air around him. He let the two hot cocoas drift over to Hermione and Ginny as he took a seat on the chair across from them.

“Thanks,” both Hermione and Ginny said.

“No problem. Tonight went better than I imagined,” Harry replied. “Somehow I thought that Molly would question us about our relationship, but she didn’t say anything about it.”

Ginny shrugged. “Like I told Hermione, my mum’s got enough to worry about. Yeah, she’ll be shocked when we finally tell her the truth, but she probably won’t figure it out on her own.”

“I suppose with as many children as she has, she can’t possibly pry into all of their lives,” Hermione agreed.

“Exactly,” Ginny paused. “We should invite Andromeda and Teddy to more family events,” Ginny said.

“Yeah, I love seeing them,” Harry agreed.

“It doesn’t sound like they have many people in their lives,” Hermione said. She felt sorry for the older witch when she explained she hadn’t wanted to be alone on Christmas.

“Yeah, I mean Ted, Andromeda’s husband is dead. One of her sisters is dead and the other dying. It’s not like-”

“Narcissa’s dying?” This was news to Hermione.

“Isn’t that what you said a while back?” Ginny looked at Harry.

“Yeah,” he looked strangely guilty. “I overheard Draco talking to Snape about it once.”

Hermione held no warmth towards the Malfoys; however, she was surprised to hear that the matriarch was supposedly dying. “Is she ill?”

“Something like that. I think her ill-health mostly has to do with Voldemort living in the Manor,” Harry let out a sigh and sipped his Firewhiskey. “I can’t imagine that was easy on any of them.”

“Then they probably shouldn’t have joined his army,” Ginny said. There was no sympathy in her voice.

Hermione wanted to feel the same as her friend. She wanted to have righteous anger towards the Malfoys and the other Death Eaters. However, all she felt was pity.

“I mean, you’re right,” he said. “But sometimes when I’m at that house I feel…sorry for them.”

“Don’t waste that feeling on them,” Ginny said before Hermione had the chance to agree with him. “They don’t deserve it.”

“Gin,” she looked over at her friend. “I think it’s perfectly fine to feel contempt towards them, but don’t you think everyone deserves…the chance to redeem themselves.”

Ginny paused. Her fiery gaze was fixed on Hermione. “They tortured you.”

She tried not to flinch at the mention of Bellatrix’s torture. “The Malfoys didn’t torture me, Bellatrix did. And that’s kind of beside the point, anyway. I think if the world is ever going to get past the war, we need to be the bigger people. We need to give people grace.”

At that Ginny paused her argument. A long moment passed. Hermione listened as the grandfather clock in the hallway ticked loudly.

“You’re probably right,” Ginny said softly. “But I’m not ready to forgive them.”

Hermione nodded. “I don’t think I am, either.”

Harry had fallen silent as the two women talked. His gaze was fixed downwards on his glass. Hermione wanted to know his opinion in the matter, but she decided it was best to ask. It was Christmas after all. The talk of Death Eaters and second chances could wait until a more suitable time.