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By the time Harry arrived, Hermione had already spent two weeks learning how to make herself smaller in a house that seemed determined to swallow her whole.
Not physically. That would have been easier to fight.
It was the little things that got under her skin. Molly’s tight smile when Hermione entered a room. The way her eyes flicked over Hermione’s clothes as if she were measuring every seam for evidence of poor character. The way she would speak to Ron with warm, familiar affection and then turn to Hermione with a cool politeness that never quite reached the same place.
And Ginny was worse in the way only a girl who wanted to hurt you could be.
Ginny made it look effortless. A comment about Hermione “always knowing everything.” A laugh when Hermione corrected a date or a fact. A look at Ron that suggested Hermione was only there because she had nowhere else to go.
At first, Hermione had tried to ignore it. She had endured far worse than a few snide remarks and cold shoulders.
But Grimmauld Place was crowded in a way that made every sharp edge impossible to escape. Every meal, every hallway, every room she turned into had someone in it.
Sirius noticed first.
He noticed the way Hermione’s shoulders went rigid whenever Molly’s voice went too sweet. He noticed the way she stopped eating when Ginny sat across from her. He noticed the way she always sat where she could leave quickly if she needed to.
So he started being loud.
Loud enough to interrupt Molly before she could begin one of her speeches. Loud enough to drag Hermione away from a conversation with a “C’mon, Hermione, come help me with this,” as if his request were urgent and important and impossible to refuse. Loud enough to make it clear that she was wanted elsewhere, even when she was being made to feel unwelcome.
Remus noticed, too, in his quiet way. He never confronted Molly directly. He never made a scene. He simply appeared beside Hermione with tea, or a book, or a question about schoolwork no one else had thought to ask. He made room around her like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And the twins… Fred and George were merciless.
They turned every one of Molly’s pinched little remarks into a joke before it could settle. They answered Ginny’s barbs with exaggerated compliments that made her splutter. They placed themselves, very casually and very deliberately, between Hermione and anyone who might decide she was easy to corner.
Ron, to Hermione’s surprise, had been the one to notice most when it came down to it.
He was awkward about it. He never said anything elegant. But he would sit beside her at dinner without being asked, or shove a plate of food toward her when she had forgotten to eat, or mutter, “You all right?” with the kind of tone that meant he already knew the answer and was waiting for her to decide whether to lie.
That was enough to keep her steady.
Enough to keep her from snapping.
Almost.
The moment Harry stepped through the door, the atmosphere changed.
Hermione felt it before she saw him, like a pressure shift in the room. Then there was the sound of footsteps, Sirius’ voice booming a welcome from the hallway, and Harry appearing in the doorway looking thinner than she liked and tired in the way only Harry could look, as if he had already been carrying too much before he even arrived.
For one bright, suspended second, Hermione’s heart lifted.
Then Molly saw him and the entire room rearranged itself around that fact.
“Harry, dear,” Molly said at once, her face melting into soft concern. “Come here, let me look at you.”
Ginny was there a heartbeat later, bright-eyed and suddenly sweet. “Harry,” she said, and Hermione watched the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Watched the way her smile sharpened when her eyes flicked, just for a second, toward Hermione.
Harry greeted them both politely, a little warily, and Hermione saw the minute he noticed the change in the air.
He always did.
At dinner that night, it got worse.
Molly fussed over Harry’s portion, over his sleeves, over whether he was eating enough, and every time Hermione tried to contribute to the conversation, Molly somehow turned the topic away. Ginny laughed too loudly at Harry’s jokes and barely looked at Hermione unless she was making a point of not looking at her.
Then Molly said, “Well, at least Harry is here now. It’s good to have someone sensible in the house.”
The words landed like a slap.
Ron’s fork scraped against his plate. Fred went still. George’s mouth twitched in a way that never meant anything good. Sirius leaned back in his chair, expression shifting from amused to dangerous.
Hermione kept her face calm through sheer force of will.
“Sensible?” Harry repeated, sounding blank.
Molly waved a hand. “Oh, you know what I mean. Some people are… very clever, but not always practical.”
Hermione’s fingers tightened around her knife.
“That’s enough, Mum,” Ron said abruptly.
Molly blinked at him, offended by the interruption. “Ronald, I’m only saying-”
“No, you’re not,” Ron shot back, his ears going red. “You’re being rude.”
Ginny’s eyes flashed. “Honestly, Ron, no one asked you.”
“I’m asking,” Fred said pleasantly, setting his goblet down. “And I’m answering that Mum has crossed into extremely tedious territory.”
George nodded. “Tedious. Perhaps even tragic.”
Molly bristled. “I do not know what you boys are talking about. I am simply concerned with the atmosphere in this house.”
“The atmosphere?” Sirius echoed, incredulous. “Molly, the only thing fouling the atmosphere is you treating Hermione like she’s hexed the wallpaper.”
Molly turned sharply to him. “I am talking about manners.”
Remus spoke before Sirius could. His voice was mild, but there was iron underneath it. “Then perhaps we should begin with courtesy.”
The room went silent.
Hermione could feel Harry’s gaze on her now, moving from Molly’s outraged face to Ginny’s smug one and then back to Hermione’s carefully composed expression. His brow furrowed.
“What’s been going on?” he asked.
“No one has done anything,” Molly said at once.
Ginny folded her arms. “Really, Harry, Hermione is always so sensitive. You’d think we’d done something terrible.”
Hermione laughed then, once, without humor.
That got everyone’s attention.
She put down her fork, very carefully.
“No,” she said, and her voice was much steadier than she felt. “You haven’t done anything terrible. That would require subtlety.”
Ginny’s face changed.
Hermione looked at Molly first, because that was the real wound. “You believe anything written about me if it makes me sound difficult. You speak to me as if I’m a problem to be managed instead of a person standing in the same room.”
Molly’s mouth opened.
Hermione didn’t stop.
“And you,” she said, turning to Ginny, “have spent the entire summer acting as though my existence is an inconvenience you have to endure for Harry’s sake.”
Ginny flushed. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” Hermione asked. “Because I’ve heard every little comment. Every whisper. Every smirk. I’m not imagining those.”
Sirius looked delighted in the way only Sirius could look when someone he disliked was finally being cornered by the truth. Ron stared at his plate as if he suddenly found it fascinating. The twins were both looking at Ginny now with open interest, like spectators sensing a particularly satisfying explosion.
Harry was still watching Hermione. He looked angry now, but not at her.
Molly recovered first. “Hermione, I never meant to insult you.”
“No,” Hermione said quietly. “You meant to dismiss me.”
That struck harder than shouting would have.
Molly’s face tightened. Ginny’s expression went cold, and for a moment Hermione saw it clearly: the jealousy, the resentment, the petty little satisfactions of being mean to someone she thought could never hit back.
Then Harry spoke.
“What is wrong with you?” he asked, not loudly, but with such blunt fury that even Sirius glanced at him.
Molly looked stricken. “Harry—”
“No,” Harry said. “No, I want an answer. Hermione’s been here for weeks and you’ve treated her like she’s done something wrong just by existing.”
Hermione’s throat tightened.
Harry looked at Ginny next. “And you’ve been nasty from the moment I walked in.”
Ginny’s face went scarlet. “I have not.”
“Yes, you have,” Ron said, and he sounded almost relieved to say it aloud. “You’ve been horrible.”
Ginny stared at him as if he had betrayed her personally.
Ron met her glare without flinching. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ve been watching, haven’t I? We all have.”
For once, there was no joke from the twins. Just agreement, quiet and immediate.
Molly pushed back her chair with a sharp scrape. “I will not have my own family speaking to me this way in my own house.”
Sirius stood too, slower, but with unmistakable intent. “Good thing this isn’t your house.”
The room went dead silent.
Molly stared at him in open disbelief. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Sirius said coolly. “Last I checked, Grimmauld Place belongs to the House of Black. Not the Weasleys.”
Remus closed his eyes briefly like he knew exactly how badly this was about to go.
“Sirius,” he warned quietly.
“No,” Sirius said, gaze fixed on Molly. “I’m done pretending not to notice it.”
Molly drew herself up sharply. “I have done nothing except try to keep this household functioning while you—”
“While I what?” Sirius cut in. “While I let a fifteen-year-old girl be cornered in my kitchen every day?”
“I have never cornered Hermione!”
“You’ve made her feel unwelcome since she arrived,” Ron snapped.
Molly turned on him immediately. “Ronald, do not speak to me like—”
“Like what?” Ron demanded, face red now. “Like you’re being unfair? Because you are.”
Ginny shoved back from the table too. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake, everyone’s acting like Mum’s torturing her.”
“No one said torture,” Fred replied flatly.
George leaned forward, eyes narrowed in a way Hermione rarely saw directed at family. “But you’ve both been nasty enough that we noticed. And honestly, Gin, that takes commitment.”
Ginny flushed scarlet. “You always take her side!”
“Maybe ask yourself why that keeps happening,” Fred said.
Harry was still standing beside Hermione now, rigid with anger. “Is this because of those articles?”
Molly hesitated.
That hesitation was answer enough.
Harry looked genuinely appalled. “You believed Rita Skeeter?”
Molly’s expression hardened defensively. “I think some of her behavior with boys has been inappropriate-”
Hermione laughed.
Everyone stopped.
It wasn’t a pleasant sound. It was sharp and exhausted and months of frustration finally splitting open.
“Inappropriate?” Hermione repeated. “Because Viktor Krum asked me to a dance? Because Rita Skeeter decided I was manipulative enough to print it?”
“You were holding hands with Krum one week and Harry the next,” Ginny snapped.
Hermione turned to her slowly. “Harry was grieving Cedric.”
Ginny faltered.
“I held his hand at a funeral,” Hermione said, voice suddenly deadly calm. “I’m sorry if that offended your sensibilities.”
Harry looked furious now in a way Hermione almost never saw directed at people he loved.
“Ginny,” he said sharply.
Ginny crossed her arms, eyes bright with humiliation and anger. “Well excuse me for noticing she always has to be the center of everything.”
Hermione stared at her.
And suddenly, horribly, she understood.
Not the jealousy over Harry - that part had been obvious for years.
No, this was uglier.
Ginny hated that Hermione mattered.
Hated that Harry listened to her. That Ron prioritized her. That the twins liked her. That Sirius and Remus respected her. Hermione had walked into the Burrow years ago and somehow became part of things without asking for permission, and Ginny had never forgiven her for it.
“Oh,” Hermione said quietly.
Ginny’s face tightened. “Oh what?”
“You really do resent me.”
“I do not—”
“You do,” Hermione interrupted. “And honestly, Ginny, I could almost respect it if you weren’t such a coward about it.”
The table inhaled collectively.
Ginny went white with outrage. “Coward?”
“Yes,” Hermione said. “Because you never say anything directly. You just make little comments and sneer and try to embarrass me in front of Harry.”
“That is not true!”
“It is,” Ron said miserably.
Ginny whipped toward him like he’d slapped her.
Ron looked sick to his stomach, but he held firm. “You’ve been awful all summer.”
Molly looked between her children, clearly realizing this had gone far beyond one argument. “You are all ganging up on her,” she said sharply.
“No,” Remus said at last, quiet but firm. “They’re being honest.”
Molly turned to him in betrayal. “You too?”
Remus met her gaze steadily. “Hermione has spent weeks trying to avoid conflict while being treated with suspicion and hostility. She has not raised her voice once until tonight.”
Hermione looked down at the table because suddenly her eyes burned.
It was one thing to endure something quietly. Another entirely to have someone witness it.
Sirius folded his arms. “Frankly, she’s handled it better than I would’ve.”
“That’s because you encourage disrespect,” Molly snapped.
“No,” Sirius replied. “I encourage people defending themselves.”
Harry stepped fully beside Hermione then, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched.
“You owe her an apology,” he said.
Molly looked stunned. “Harry!”
“You do,” Harry repeated. “Both of you.”
Ginny looked furious enough to explode. “You’re taking her side?”
Harry stared at her. “There aren’t sides to take when someone’s being treated badly.”
Hermione could see the exact moment it hit Ginny, not just that Harry disagreed with her, but that he was disappointed in her.
Fred broke the silence first, voice unusually gentle. “Bit hard to come back from that one, Gin.”
George nodded solemnly. “Tragic, really.”
Ginny glared at them, eyes glassy now. She looked like she wanted to flee, but there were too many people between her and the door.
Then Molly looked at Hermione, and for the first time all summer, there was no righteousness left in her expression. Only discomfort. Perhaps even shame.
“I never intended to hurt you,” she said stiffly.
Someone, likely Sirius, snorted and attempted to cover it with a cough.
Hermione swallowed. “You still did.”
Molly flinched.
And somehow that felt more satisfying than anger ever could have.
Arthur Weasley had been having an excellent day.
Work had run later than expected, a complicated mess involving an improperly charmed kettle and three separate complaints from bewildered Muggles in Croydon, but he hardly minded. The Ministry had been busy in an almost cheerful way for once.
And he had taken the Tube.
The Tube.
Arthur still wasn’t entirely certain how underground trains managed to feel so organized while also seeming one sharp turn away from catastrophe, but he adored them. He’d spent nearly twenty minutes studying the route map while pretending not to so the businessman next to him wouldn’t think him odd.
By the time he reached Grimmauld Place, he was tired, pleased with himself, and very much looking forward to dinner.
The smell hit him first the moment he stepped through Number Twelve’s front door.
“Molly’s pot pie,” Arthur said happily to himself, hanging up his coat.
A perfect evening.
Then he noticed Kreacher.
The house-elf was pressed beside the kitchen door like a particularly malicious gargoyle, ears twitching toward the voices inside. The old elf looked up at Arthur with a nasty little scowl before disappearing with a crack.
Arthur blinked.
That was rarely a promising sign.
Then he heard the shouting.
Arthur’s smile faded immediately.
He pushed open the kitchen door just as silence slammed down over the room.
Every head turned toward him.
The tension in the room was so thick it practically crackled.
Molly stood rigid beside the table, face flushed with anger. Ginny was red-eyed and furious beside her.
And opposite them—
Everyone else.
Fred and George leaned against the counter with expressions far too serious for Arthur’s liking. Remus sat very still at the table, which Arthur had learned usually meant he was carefully restraining himself from saying something devastating. Sirius stood with his arms folded and the kind of cold expression that meant a fight had already started and he was prepared to continue it.
Ron looked miserable.
Harry looked angry.
And Hermione—
Arthur’s heart tightened painfully.
Hermione sat wedged between Harry and Ron as though the boys had placed themselves there deliberately. Her hands were clenched tightly in her lap, eyes bright with unshed tears she was clearly fighting with every ounce of pride she possessed.
Arthur had known Hermione Granger since she was twelve years old.
He knew how fiercely composed she tried to be.
Seeing her look close to crying made something protective rise in him instantly.
“What’s all this then?” he asked carefully.
No one answered.
Which, frankly, answered quite a lot.
Arthur looked from Molly to Ginny, then around the room again.
Finally, his eyes landed on Hermione.
“Hermione?” he asked gently.
That did it.
Not fully. She didn’t burst into tears or break down. Hermione Granger had too much control for that.
But her face crumpled for half a second before she mastered it again, and Arthur felt his stomach drop.
“Oh, hell,” Sirius muttered under his breath.
Arthur straightened slowly.
“Molly,” he said quietly. “What happened?”
Molly lifted her chin defensively. “This has been blown entirely out of proportion.”
“Not really,” Fred muttered.
“Not from what I've seen,” George agreed.
“Mum’s been treating Hermione terribly all summer,” Ron said suddenly, words tumbling out in a rush like he’d been holding them back too long already. “And Ginny’s been worse.”
“Ronald!”
“No!” Ron snapped, startling everyone slightly. “No, because every time someone tries to say it you make them feel guilty!”
Arthur stared at his son.
Ron almost never raised his voice at Molly.
Harry spoke next, jaw tight. “She believed Rita Skeeter’s articles.”
Arthur blinked. “You’re joking.”
“She was concerned-” Molly began.
“About what?” Sirius cut in sharply. “That Hermione was secretly orchestrating teenage boys for fun?”
Molly flushed. “I was trying to protect my family!”
“From Hermione?” Remus asked quietly.
Arthur looked at Molly then, really looked at her, and saw enough guilt in her face to understand this wasn’t some misunderstanding blown up by tension and crowded living conditions.
This had been going on.
For weeks, apparently.
And Hermione had endured it quietly.
Arthur turned toward her again.
“Hermione,” he said softly, “why didn’t you say something?”
She gave a tiny, miserable shrug that somehow hurt worse than tears would have.
“I didn’t want to cause problems.”
Arthur closed his eyes briefly.
Of course she hadn’t.
Because Hermione, for all her brilliance and stubbornness, still carried herself like someone afraid her place in a room could be revoked if she asked for too much.
And perhaps worse, She had expected to endure it alone.
Arthur felt deeply, suddenly ashamed that he hadn’t noticed sooner.
“She shouldn’t have had to say anything,” Harry said angrily. “You should’ve seen it.”
That landed hard because Arthur had, in pieces.
The quietness at dinner. Hermione disappearing upstairs for long stretches. Ginny’s sharp little remarks. Molly’s cooler tone whenever Hermione entered a room.
He had noticed.
He just hadn’t wanted to think badly of his family.
Arthur rubbed a hand over his face tiredly.
“Molly,” he said finally, “did you truly believe Rita Skeeter over Hermione?”
Molly looked affronted immediately. “I never said I believed everything.”
“But enough of it,” Arthur replied.
Silence.
Arthur rarely got angry.
His children knew that. Molly knew that. Even Sirius looked mildly surprised by the edge creeping into Arthur’s voice now.
“Hermione has stood beside our family for years,” Arthur said. “She has protected Ron and Ginny. She stood with Harry through things no child should have survived. She is one of the kindest girls I have ever met.”
Hermione looked down quickly at that.
“And you treated her as though she needed to earn the right to sit at this table?”
Molly’s expression cracked slightly.
“That was not my intention.”
“No,” Arthur said gently. “But intentions matter a lot less than actions when you’re the one causing hurt.”
The room stayed utterly still.
Ginny crossed her arms stubbornly. “Everyone’s acting like we committed a crime.”
Arthur turned to her.
“Ginny,” he said quietly, “have you been cruel to Hermione?”
Ginny opened her mouth immediately.
Then closed it.
Arthur watched realization creep over her face — not necessarily remorse yet, but the uncomfortable awareness that she no longer had anyone backing her version of events.
Even Ron looked disappointed in her.
Especially Ron.
Arthur sighed softly.
“Oh, Ginbug.”
Ginny’s eyes immediately filled with tears at the childhood nickname.
“You don’t have to like everyone,” Arthur said. “But you do have to be kind.”
Ginny looked away.
Arthur turned back toward Hermione then and, after only a second’s hesitation, rested a hand gently on the top of her head.
It was instinctive. Fatherly.
Hermione froze like she didn’t know what to do with the gesture.
Arthur smiled sadly down at her.
“You are one of ours,” he said simply. “No article will change that.”
Hermione’s eyes finally overflowed. She ducked her head at once, mortified.
Harry immediately shoved a napkin at her while Ron glared at the rest of the room like daring anyone to comment on it.
Fred cleared his throat loudly. “Right then.”
George nodded. “Who wants pie before this becomes even more emotionally devastating?”
And just like that, the room breathed again.