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Hermione stayed away from Knockturn Alley at all costs. Yet she found herself doing exactly the opposite as she weaved through the dark alley, cursing as she nearly tripped over a loose cobblestone only to almost face plant when she spotted a bunch of skulls in her peripheral vision. She cursed Merlin’s name to hell for the thousandth time within five minutes of winding through zigzagy streets. Stupid cat. Stupid rat. Why did she run after Crookshanks again?

She should’ve just gotten an owl. But no. They all simply refused to click with her. Hermione had to go falling in love with the cat’s grumpy demeanor and immediately wanted to get him on the spot. It didn’t matter that it had hissed at her icily when she’d tried to approach it before it ran after Scabbers like his life depended on it. If Crookshanks was playing hard to get, well congratulations, he got her. She shouldn’t have run after it like the idiots that some people were. Sometimes being a Gryffindor really sucked.

Gripping her wand tightly, she glanced back to find the main road, yet to her horror she realized she’d wandered in far enough. To the point that… oh. Oh no. Was she…? She. Was. Completely. Lost. Looking around her, she did not like how dead silent it was. The din of the crowd had faded completely out of hearing range save for the sound of scuttling tiny animals under the sewage. If she stepped on a rat… or worse a human bone… ughh!!! It was dark in here too. And cold. Hermione could see her breath fogging in dim light, which only came from the shops besides her. No sunlight reached the ground. Something crunched underneath her shoes and Hermione froze mid step. Was that actually a—?

“You’re a witch, idiot,” she snapped at herself in a tone usually reserved for Ron and Harry. “Lumos!”

She refused to look down, didn’t want to find out what it was, but when she cautiously raised her eyes to look around Hermione wished she’d just kept herself in the dark. It was like she was smack in the middle of a haunted house. Cobwebs everywhere… broken cobblestones… a huge spider hanging from the wall… creepy artifacts on window sills… to top it all off, a human skeleton suddenly appearing in the creepily lit window just as she slid her eyes over it. Did she mention just about everything here was creepy?

She froze.

Refused to react.

Ha, take that. Can’t scare me.

Only to drop her mouth dropped open in a silent shriek as a second human skeleton appeared over its shoulder. She hastily backed away, frantically searching in her memory the spell that was used to locate missing objects fast. She needed to get the hell out of here.

She nearly cried in relief when cat paw prints appeared—she wasn’t completely off track after all—but that relief only lasted a second. Because… as her eyes followed its direction… she realized it only led further in and not further out. Groaning, Hermione’s knuckles whitened around her wand as she cautiously shuffled forward, swerving when a huge cobweb nearly hit her smack in the face.

“Crookshanks, Crookshanks, wherever you are? Come out, come out… I promise I don’t bite…” she hissed as she turned another corner. She felt rather like a lion hunting down its prey.

Another corner… and another…

And… there!

But just as she darted towards Crookshanks who was calmly licking its fur like there wasn’t a bowl of what suspiciously looked like human bones besides him, Hermione felt herself being pulled back with a bony hand. She slowly looked up… up… up into a face that was the stuff from horror movies. His teeth were blackened around the edges and his nose was crooked and his hair was sticking up all over the place and his breath smelled like rotten eggs…

“Ahh, not so fast there, pretty girl,” the crooked man with the crooked nose said in a husky voice. “Care to keep an old man company in this ‘ery lovely alley?”

Hermione struggled, trying to get away, only to have the hand tighten even harder on her shoulder and the other reaching towards her wand and flinging it away. She gagged. Dots were starting to appear in her vision when—

“Let the girl go, immediately,” a voice snarled behind her.

The man froze and shoved her back into the arms of her savior, and Hermione stared in surprise as brick walls opened to let the man through. No wonder he came out of nowhere.

“Are you alright?” The voice had softened.

Slowly turning around, Hermione was about to thank her savior when the words died in her throat. Did he finish his job and she was in heaven? Because the sight that greeted her was more angelic than Hermione had ever seen. Her blonde hair almost glowed in the dark, and her eyes were the brightest of blues. She was dressed elegantly, her dress fitting her curves. Blankly stared as perfectly sculpted eyebrows raised. What was the question again?

“Are you alright?” she asked again, handing her back her wand. She must’ve performed a silent accio to get it back.

When their hands curled around her wand, hands barely grazing, Hermione gasped as something rushed through her. Not uncomfortable. But… warm. Light. Magical. Her wand seemed to think so as well. At least, judging from the warm beam of white light that shot out from its end, lighting up their faces and casting shadows on crooked walls. The air around them seemed to simmer with powerful magic and for one second Hermione swore they were glowing. Or at least the blonde was, she couldn’t tell if she herself did as well. But before she could puzzle it out further the blonde hastily withdrew her hand and the glow disappeared instantly. Hermione blinked. A feeling of lightheaded dizziness swept through her. Swayed unsteadily on her feet.

What just—?! “Um, y-yeah, thank you for that… Miss…?”

“—What were you doing here?” the blonde cut in hastily. She looked like she was trying to school her features but failed, looking equally just as shocked as Hermione. And something told her she wasn’t shocked easily. 

Oh right.

Glancing over the blonde’s shoulders Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Crookshanks still sitting there. He didn’t seem to have the urge to run away anymore. If anything, he had completely stopped grooming and was staring at Hermione. With a… tilted head. If cats could look amused Hermione would’ve sworn…

“There you are, Crookshanks,” Hermione muttered, hurrying over and scooping him up. To her surprise the cat didn’t even bother to protest. Just merely snuggled into her arms and started purring. At least he wasn’t running screaming. “Trying to make me chase after you, were you?!” She tried to stay mad but Crookshanks’ unexpected doe eyes had her instantly scratching him behind his ears. The cat purred. Even more loudly, as though agreeing one hundred percent and butted her hand. Hmph. Cheeky cat.

The blonde woman reached out to scratch Crookshanks, prompting Hermione to say, “Careful!” only to stare when Crookshanks nuzzled into the witch’s hands without resistance. Even… eagerly. Hermione was a bit jealous.

“Wow. What’s your magic?? He tried to hiss at me when I first tried to approach it!”

The blonde smirked. “Sounds like something a half-Kneazle would do. Yours?”

“Not yet. He belongs to the Magical Menagerie.” Then Hermione glanced around nervously. “Speaking of which… I might be a bit lost…?”

The blonde glared at her. “A bit?!!! A. Bit! You’ve just wandered into the part of Knockturn Alley that would happily trap you in here forever. Let this be your lesson to never wander in here alone. Even an experienced witch or wizard can barely make it out of here alive, much less find their way back out once they’ve gotten lost.”

A dark expression came over her before she hovered a hand over Hermione’s shoulders. At the questioning glance she gave her Hermione nodded, and she placed it softly on her shoulders. That same feeling coursed through her, like it did when their hands curled on her wand. For a second she could see the witch falter, the next her expression closed off so quickly you couldn’t even get out a one-word syllable like ‘no.’

“Come, I’ll walk you out,” she muttered.

Now she was carefully looking away from Hermione, though she kept her hand on her arm. Hermione was never more grateful for that. Because as they passed through a series of left turns, right turns, sharp 90 degrees corners, and paths and alleys that suddenly appeared without warning to the point that she would’ve lost sight of the blonde if she wasn’t tagging along right behind her. Not to mention, it seemed as though the way in was completely different from the way out. She shuddered. She would’ve been lost in here forever if not for her…

Hermione almost regretted it when they came out into bright sunlight a few minutes later. Somehow walking in the dark with the blonde next to her made it feel… less scary. She was able to even raise a middle finger towards the human skeletons that she swore were the same ones who popped out at her, and to her surprise they disappeared instantly out of sight. Snowflakes. Blinking furiously, Hermione had barely let her eyes get used to the light when she heard her name being shouted.

“Hermione! I’ve missed you! How was your summer?” Neville, with his grandmother across the street. 

Hermione waved, about to turn back to the blonde and thank her for saving her, only to find her gone. She cursed Neville for his timing. But she put on a happy face regardless, she was genuinely happy to see her friend. As she chatted with Neville on the way back to Magical Menageri, Hermione made up her mind.

She was going to get this cat. Kneazles were known for their instincts, after all, which were pretty much always on point. If what just happened had any relation… Even if not, no matter. She still wanted Crookshanks. She didn’t even care when the witch told her he had been unwanted for ages. It was only when they were back at the Leaky Cauldron that Hermione realized the blonde woman never told her her name.

***

After that Hermione rarely crossed paths with the blonde again. The few times it happened she could almost count on one hand. Sometimes at Platform Nine and Three Quarters when Mrs. Malfoy was seeing Draco off, sometimes at Diagon Alley when they were shopping for school supplies. The bare minim of contact? Brief glances. It seemed as though the blonde was avoiding her at all costs.

Why shouldn’t she? After all, they were fighting on opposite sides of the war. Dark versus light. Light versus dark. And yet… Hermione somehow didn’t believe it was as simple as that. Yes, there was that time when they first met at the Quidditch World Cup. (Despite Mrs. Malfoy looking regal and icy, all Hermione could think of was that time when she’d saved her in Knockturn Alley.) And yes, that encounter with the Malfoys prior to their sixth year, when Mrs. Malfoy had looked down on them and clearly implied that they were ‘scum.’

But Malfoy Manor happened. And that was when Hermione understood. Hermione was determined not to feel the pain, determined not to give Bellatrix the satisfaction that she was hurting her. Because as scared and terrified as she was, she was able to feel a warmth digging into the back of her mind, and in her moment of panic Hermione couldn’t push it away in time.

She was glad she didn’t. In the midst of chaos somehow she trusted it, though she wasn’t sure who it was from. Especially when she felt it blanket her mind in a soft protective cocoon as Bellatrix raised her wand, as though it was promising to shield her from whatever pain she was about to endure. It was different than the attacks that Bellatrix had been raining down upon her since she started questioning her. This felt safe and warm and comforting.

Not daring to glance at who she thought would be the culprit for fear of giving them away, Hermione gritted her teeth when crucio hit, but to her surprise instead of blinding pain like she’d expected there was nothing. No pain. No flesh eating her bones and limbs ripping apart kind of pain. Just… void. She was protected both by her own attempts at shielding herself and this strange tingly feeling soothing her. At least, that was until Bellatrix’s knife penetrated her skin, and that was when the real screams began.

Which was… as confusing as it was not. Especially as she hadn’t felt that type of calm since… since her childhood. And the fact that it happened whilst she was being crucioed? That told her everything she needed to know. At least, she was fairly certain who had saved her from insanity in the drawing room, because who else would’ve done it?

Doubly more so, when after the chaos ended Hermione closed her eyes and remembered the way Narcissa hesitated when Bellatrix had demanded that they take them down to the cellar. The apology she’d seen in her eyes despite the cold mask of indifference she’d been wearing the entire time they were captured. Hermione wanted nothing more than to tell the court how Narcissa had likely known all their secrets that she’d discovered whilst shielding her and had yet kept them safe, but Narcissa didn’t take credit for it, nor did Hermione want to air out something that felt like it was just theirs.

And yet, Luna’s and Harry’s testimonies were powerful enough to save Narcissa from a sentence, as Luna had told the court how the blonde had treated the prisoners with more dignity and respect than most other death eaters. Had fed them with just enough food to keep them from starvation, yet not too much to blow her own cover entirely.

Not to mention that Hermione had found a coin in Dobby’s pocket when Harry was digging his grave. A coin that was still warm by the time Hermione had made her way outside, and the flash of gold she’d caught in the elf’s clothes had her shakily reaching out a hand to rescue it from the elf before he was buried, and she’d looked down to see a message. What seemed to be the magical coordinates of Malfoy Manor was confirmed by a quick search in Ministry database, after she discretely asked Kingsley to do her a favor. It didn’t take much for Hermione to put two and two together.

When Luna finished talking Hermione had stood up to testify. “Do you recognize this, Mrs. Malfoy?” she asked, holding the coin. “You made a plan with Dobby to get us out of here, haven’t you? Far before Aberforth sent him to us?”

If Mrs. Malfoy looked surprised that Hermione had figured it out she didn’t show it. She inclined her head in a wordless nod.

“Dobby, the free elf, had apparated into the Manor whilst we were captured and sacrificed his life to get us out of there,” Hermione said, now addressing the court. “I found this in his trousers. This coin was imbued with the protean charm. You can still see the magical coordinates of Malfoy Manor here.” Hermione slid the coin towards the jury, and a quick diagnostic spell identified a mix of Dobby’s and Narcissa’s fingerprints all over it. “She helped in anyway she could given the circumstances she was in. There was kindness in a place where I—where we—least expected it. Shouldn’t that be more than enough?”

And it was that which acquitted Mrs. Malfoy instead of the 10 years of sentence Mr. Malfoy received. At least dementors weren’t guarding Azkaban now? She wondered what would happen to the blonde after the trial. Or what community service she’d chosen to do for a year. For the next few months, all she heard was that Mrs. Malfoy had divorced her husband. That the Ministry had granted her a rapid divorce. Hermione wondered why. Or… if she’d see her again and ask her all the whys that had erupted since her magic reached out to the blonde’s. Disastrous attempts at dating Krum and Ron (the latter which lasted a whopping week of one) did nothing to quell the blonde from her dreams.

Which.

Had been… a consistent problem since that happy little stroll down Knockturn Alley. At first it was innocent dreams of that moment they first met in Knockturn Alley, a halo simmering around them as they held hands. Then that turned just simply… spending time with her.

But its manner completely changed in her sixth year. To. You know. Dreams-that-should-not-be-named. Because of course that was where it was all heading. She’d had to cast privacy spells around her bed just in case… and hadn’t been able to look Draco Malfoy in the eye since then. She shuddered. What would Draco think if he knew? At least this would be the perfect revenge for the all horror he wreaked upon them. She smirked just at the thought of torturing him a little.

Careful usage of the dreamless sleep potion stopped working after a while. As did the anti-libido potion. Hermione was half a step away from crowning them the most useless potions in the world. The only thing she could do now?

Resign to her fate.

***

Hermione yawned and rubbed her eyes as September first dawned after a dreamless sleep that was thankfully the case whenever she shared a room with someone. At least her subconscious was able to control it, even slightly, but it went wild when she had privacy. Rubbing the remnants of sleep from her eyes, she glanced at the clock and groaned at the time. She loved Molly, she really did, but why did they always have to wake up so early??

She, Harry, Ron and Ginny had decided to return to Hogwarts for their eighth year, after Professor McGonagall’s letter arrived just last month, telling them that the castle had been completely renovated. She was surprised that Harry and Ron had elected to return to Hogwarts—she’d been completely sure that they would just jump straight into Auror training. When she asked them why they shrugged and told her quietly that they’d had enough of fighting. That they needed a year at Hogwarts to figure out what to do with life.

Hermione understood. Despite the multiple job offers thrown her way she resisted all of them. Didn’t want to earn them without the work, when after all she’d missed out on their last year of education.

“Wake up, sleepy head!” Ginny jumped onto her bed just as the alarm rang. Hermione groaned. Tried futilely to push her off. “It’s 8 am! Mum’s going to be besides herself when she realizes you’re still not up. She’s knocked twice already!”

“Oof. Gerroff me, Ginny,” Hermione pushed her aside as she struggled off. “I’m up, I’m up.”

“About time! Come on, mum’s made your favorite bacon and eggs for breakfast. Her treat to see us off.”

That did the trick. Stomach grumbling Hermione dashed down only to stop short to see Ron and Harry there wolfing down a sausage. Hermione froze in her tracks, almost ran back up to her room, but Ginny stopped her with a gentle hand to her back. Things between her and Ron were a little awkward. Fine, but awkward. Though things were getting better over the summer, it seemed, for Ron smiled at her and pulled out a chair next to him instead of ignoring her like he used to.

“Sausages, Hermione?” Molly said as Hermione hurried over to grab plates from her.

“Yes please!”

Hermione hurried over to the table, plonked herself down next to Ron and started shoving huge bites into her throat.

“Careful there, Hermione,” Ginny chuckled as she wolfed down a piece of pancake smothered in syrup. “And here I thought Ron was the one with the big appetite!”

“I blame Ron. It’s contagious!”

“And that’s my fault how?!” Ron exclaimed, glaring at her.

A clatter of feet down the stairs had them turning around to see Harry rubbing his eyes and yawning. “Morning guys.”

“Morning,” they chirped back.

Molly buzzed over and shoved a pile of eggs, bacons, sausages and bread at Harry.

“Thanks Molly, looks delicious,” he said whilst taking a huge bite.

Hermione wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, you’re as bad as Ron.” Boys.

Harry swallowed and grinned. “Can you blame me when the Dursleys have been starving me for years?”

Hermione whacked him on the arm with the Daily Prophet lying next to them whilst Molly, Ron and Ginny all turned to glare at him.

Harry held up his hands. “Ugh. Ok ok! Jeez. I was just joking!”

Shaking her head, Hermione shoveled the last piece of bread in her mouth and with a flick of her wand, the dish was clean. “I’m going to go double check I have everything,” she called over her shoulder just as Ron, Harry and Ginny got up to clear their dishes as well.

“Seriously? She’s never forgotten anything even if she just single-checked,” she heard Harry mutter to Ron and Ginny as she ascended the stairs, who both burst into giggles as Molly rounded up on them.

“She’s right though! Why do you think I make you guys wake up this early? Ron and Ginny, you guys always forget something and we have to drive back and guess what. There goes another hour!”

“Ugh ok mum! Keep your hair down, we’ll make sure we’ve got everything!”

Hermione shook her head and heaved a sigh. Trudging back downstairs with her luggage and Crookshanks (who was surprisingly eager to get into his cage today—usually she had to struggle and suffer several scratches before she managed to wrangle the cat in), she waited with Arthur and Molly until the others were ready as well.

“Ready?” Molly barked. “We’d better not come back when we’re nearly there!”

They headed to Arthur’s car and got in. Miraculously no one forgot anything. But the morning traffic was so bad that they were at a complete standstill in the middle of a high way, and by the time they managed to make their way off it, Molly was in hysterics as there were only 10 minutes until the train took off. And there was still half an hour drive. Pity they couldn’t apparate into Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Though that was probably for security reasons. After all, you had to have a ticket to get in, limited to only other members connected to ticket holders.

“Molly, if I could just—” Arthur motioned towards the Invisibility button on the dash board.

“No, Arthur. Remember what happened to Harry and Ron when they’d tried to use your car in their second year? Muggles spotted it and we had to cast a memory charm on the whole of London to make them forget it! Not to mention you received a strongly worded note of caution from the minister himself!”

“Not to worry, Molly dear, it’s come with an improved engine and I’ve invented this thing called magical oil, oh dear what do they call it? Not the type you use for cooking—”

“Fuel,” Harry and Hermione supplied together, then grinned at each other.

“—Yes that. I’ve also improved the Invisibility Button so that it’s linked to the fuel box as I mixed an invisibility potion into it. It’ll stay out of sight for a day. I’ve been testing it this week,” (“You what?!” Molly shrieked), “and it’s worked flawlessly for 5 days before it needed refueling. Which is way longer than it took for Harry and Ron to drive to Hogwarts!”

“Oh alright,” Molly snapped. She glanced at the sky. “At least it’s completely overcast. Otherwise I wouldn’t say yes.”

“It’s been overcast a lot lately,” Ron muttered nervously as they pulled up into an empty street. “In the middle of summer, mum?”

They all looked uneasily at the sky. Hermione knew what they were thinking. No one knew what happened to the Azkaban guards after they disbanded. It was like they were lying in wait… unusually silent. And the weather had been gloomy not just in England but all over the world. There hadn’t been news of any dementors attacking, but Hermione felt as though they were waiting for the other shoe to drop…

“Maybe it’s nothing, mum,” Ginny said. “The Muggle news has been saying something about climate change?”

“They always say that, Gin,” Ron scoffed, sharing an uneasy look with Harry. “Maybe mum’s right. We should stick to the ground?”

“Well we haven’t a choice.” Arthur craned his head distractedly to make sure the street was really empty (it was), his hand hovering over the invisibility button. “Unless you want to miss your train.”

Molly huffed. “Oh alright, Arthur, just this once, but get your wands ready incase a band of dementors are indeed waiting for us up there.”

That was apparently all the permission Arthur needed. He jabbed the silver button, and the car instantly vanished. Hermione could feel the vibration humming against her seat as they all disappeared. Arthur pressed on the gas peddle and within seconds, they were high above the clouds, the whole of London beneath them. Hermione hated flying, but even she couldn’t help but admire the view. It was nothing like flying on an airplane. They were flying low enough to pass through the first layer of clouds, but not high enough to break completely free of them, as there were still plenty of dark angry clouds above their heads.

“Wow, dad, you’ve added shade to the car windows too!” Ron exclaimed. “Thank god, because after hours we spent in the sun—remember, Harry?”

“We were both a sweating mess by the time we crash landed against the Whomping Willow,” Harry grinned. “This is so much—”

But before he could say ‘better’ the clouds around them turned darker and darker. What—there better not be a hurricane forming! But it turned out to be way worse than a hurricane. The hair strands on Hermione’s arms started standing up, her breath starting to fog. They glanced at each other uneasily, and as if to confirm their worse fears the first tendrils of fear was starting to creep in. Then the darkest, angriest cloud floated towards them, only they didn’t turn out to be clouds—they were—oh. Fuck.

“Dementors!” Molly yelled as Arthur made to reach for his wand. “Keep driving! Don’t you dare take your hand off the wheel!”

Quickly drawing out their wands, they yelled “Expecto Patronum!” and Hermione’s otter joined the others in charging at them, the clouds lightening as they disappeared. They breathed shaky sighs of relief and looked at each other nervously, no one dropping their wands yet. The last five minutes were much less relaxed after that. Their Patronuses led their way so the dementors never came near them again, but the silence in the car was now completely tense.

“We’re there, Molly,” Arthur said tersely when he dipped the car just low enough to see the train station ahead. “There’s an empty street nearby. Hang on!”

A swooping sensation passed through Hermione’s stomach as they descended. It was rather like that feeling you’d get during air turbulence on a plane. Gripping the edge of her seat, Hermione held her breath, only releasing it when they landed. Arthur pressed the silver button again after he parked. Hermione felt the oddest sensation as her solid form reappeared.

Glancing up uneasily at the sky, Hermione noted with relief at least the clouds had parted and now the sun was shining through. Perhaps they’d warded off the dementors enough for now… Shaking off feelings of unease they loaded their bags onto their carts, then after heading through the barrier to Platform Nine and Three Quarters they all gave Arthur and Molly a hug.

“Be careful at school this year, won’t you all?” Molly said anxiously. “Arthur, you’ve got to tell Kingsley about the dementors. He’ll at least warn the public to be careful, even if we don’t know what they’re up to—”

“I will, Molly,” Arthur soothed. Just then the whistle sounded. “Listen to your mum, won’t you? Don’t go looking for trouble. V-V-Voldemort is gone but that doesn’t mean you should completely let your guard down.”

“Relax, dad,” Ron reassured. “After the year we’ve had being on the run, well the years we’ve had, really, we’re eager for some down time. And anyways, trouble usually finds us, not the other way around!”

“Finds me and then I drag you guys into it, I think you meant,” Harry muttered. “As headboy I better not get into any more trouble. Golly, Hermione would slice me into pieces in ways Avada Kedavra never could’ve!”

Hermione snorted and smacked him on the arm, though they all laughed as they clambered aboard.

“See you next summer!” Arthur and Molly yelled, waving at them from the platform.

Hermione sat down next to Harry with a contented sigh. It was good to be going back. Even if… there were bound to be lingering shadows. At least dementors didn’t attack again. Curiously enough, neither did Draco Malfoy.

***

Awed whispers erupted as they pulled up at Hogwarts.

Over the summer Hogwarts had been completely restored with help from both the professors, the Ministry, students and former students, as well as those who fought in the war. She, Harry and the Weasleys had helped in the first month of the summer, but Hermione hadn’t been around to see the rest of it after she found herself having a panic attack where Fenrir Greyback nearly bit her. Professor McGonagall had forced her to take time off after that, and Harry too when he had a similar panic attack the week later.

Hogwarts didn’t just go back to its former glory. Somehow… it was just as old as it was new. There were even more turrets and towers than Hermione remembered, and a magical fountain that wasn’t there before stood tall and proud in the entrance courtyard, bewitched so that water and stars tumbled out of its center high into the sky. The stone walls, instead of looking like pieces of broken bricks, had been refurbished so that they stacked shabbily (but somehow neatly) atop each other.

When they entered the Great Hall through a fancy double oak door whispers turned into gasps of awe and excitement. The Hall was even more larger and grander than before. Instead of candles, chandeliers floated over head, hanging from the ceiling which, of course, was bewitched to look like the night sky. But instead of merely just showing stagnant stars the milky way expanded across the ceiling. The sun lay smack in the middle as nine planets rotated slowly around it, whilst shooting stars flashed lazily across.

They sat down at their respective tables, waiting until new students were sorted into their houses. Hermione’s stomach started grumbling even before the first name was announced. It’d been a while since hasty sandwiches aboard the Hogwarts Express and she was rather looking forward to the Welcome Feast. After Zaine, Edan was sorted into Ravenclaw, and after they had eaten a delicious feast of roast chicken, baked potatoes, garlic bread and green salads soaked with Italian dressing, Professor McGonagall got onto her feet.

“Students, I’d like to welcome you back to a newly rebuilt Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”

Cheers and whistles broke out across the Hall and Professor McGonagall rapped the table sharply to call for silence.

“A reign of terror has just ended in the Wizarding World. Not without tragic events and losses that have happened not only across the world, but also in these very grounds. Let us remember the sacrifices made by those who fought so valiantly in the war.”

Heads bowed. The hall became so still as even ghosts froze mid air, so too did the flickering flames from chandeliers.

“However,” Professor McGonagall continued after a minute of silence, “danger will always be present. For those of you not aware, the weather has been oddly cloudy lately—not just in England but all over the world. Minister Kingsley had just issued out a warning that dementors are at large now that they aren’t guarding Azkaban anymore. The wards around this school will stop dementors from entering it, but I urge you all to remain vigilant, especially those who have yet to learn how to cast a Patronus. For that reason I am making it mandatory for all students, including first years, to learn this spell. All of us instructors will help you practice the spell for 5-10 minutes at the beginning of your first class of the day. This will speed up the process with which you master this spell. This is not normal procedure, but the Ministry has required all schools to begin teaching its students this spell from the first day. Especially as they are well aware that some of our own had an encounter with them just before boarding Hogwarts Express.”

Professor McGonagall’s eyes slithered gravely towards where Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny were sitting. They looked at each other nervously.

“On a lighter note, the future we have in front of us is no doubt brighter than the past. I urge you all to work together as a whole, and try to set aside the differences that the war has wrought upon us. All houses are welcome here. I’m just going to outright state this. Yes, even those who fought on the opposite side. I understand you, I see you, and I will try not to judge you for it.”

Murmurs, but she couldn’t detect outright hostility from those around her. Even Ron was nodding in agreement, as were a few others across the tables. She glanced at the (sadly few) Slytherins sitting on one end of the table, and at Draco, who were looking guiltily uncomfortable.

“I know you are all eager to go to your dorms, but before we do so let me announce the staff who will be returning, both old and new. First, Professor Trelawney, who will return as the Divination teacher.”

Hermione grinned and clapped loudly alongside her friends. She might not have appreciated divination when she took it, but during Umbridge’s reign she’d surprisingly made friends with the professor after checking up on her when she’d been sacked, and they’d stayed friends up until this day.

“Professor Slughorn, who will teach potions, Professor Flitwick for charms, Hagrid for Care of magical creatures, and Professor Sprout for Herbology, though our very own Neville Longbottom will take her place next year once she retires.” The hall broke into cheers and applause—the Gryffindor table cheering the loudest—as Professor McGonagall motioned to Neville, who stood up and bowed with a smile.

“Congratulations, Neville!” Hermione squealed as Ron and Harry patted him on the back.

Neville grinned back.

“Speaking of new faculty members, Professor Helen,” McGonagall pointed towards the somber looking and yet very pretty brunette witch next to Hagrid, “will be teaching history of magic, as Professor Bins has decided to pass on.”

“Maybe history will actually be less boring this year,” Ron gaped as the hall burst into applause again.

“She’s hot too,” Hermione heard Seamus whisper to Dean, who sniggered and nodded.

Professor McGonagall held a hand up for silence. “Last but not least, Defense Against the Dark Arts. We’re all well aware that the position has seen many turn overs in the years and the apprehension towards whom will fill its teaching role. But let me return to my previous statement. As we enter a new chapter here, I urge you to remember that there are so many shades besides black and white. The decision has been fully endorsed by the Ministry of Magic itself. Nor will I apologize for it. For she understands the Dark Arts like no other, and she is willing to impart all that she knows. If you have any issues, please direct them first to me. Understood?”

“Yes, Professor McGonagall,” the hall chanted.

“Good. Then let me introduce to you… your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Black.”

Black?

Narcissa. Black?

…

Damn you, Crookshanks.

She was not going to resign to her fate.

Chapter Text

Is that why Crookshanks was so eager to go to school? Hermione wondered rather hysterically as heads turned to watch the witch stand tall and poised in the middle of the oak doors.

The Hall was… dead silent. No movement. Not even one breath of wind could be heard, save the clacking of her heels as she strode in. Hermione herself was staring breathlessly, almost transfixed, as the blonde made her way stiffly down the aisle. As she sat stiffly down on her seat on the High Table where Professor Snape used to sit. It was only then that the Hall burst into murmurs. Everyone’s reactions delayed.

Hermione stayed frozen in her seat. Could do nothing but stare blankly as she felt herself plunging into a state of shock. Her heart thundered. Blood rushed towards her hears. Her hands shook, turning into fists, as she tried to hold onto reality as McGonagall finished her speech. She barely noticed everyone in the Great Hall heading back to their rooms. Barely noticed the noise of the Great Hall fading away till there was only silence. Nothing, save for her heart beating frantically in her ears.

Why couldn’t she move?

An arm touched her. Suddenly she was catapulted back there. Where all she could feel was her scar being etched into her skin. Of how—

Of how Narcissa blankly stood and let Bel—

But she shielded her—

She blinked rapidly. Shapes and a flash of the brightest of blues swam in and out of her vision. And started gasping for breaths, suddenly realizing she’d stopped breathing. Someone said something. Her name? She strained to hear it. It was like she was deep underwater and the sound came from somewhere high above.

Then something ice cold splashed onto her face and—oh! She felt herself slowly calming down, her heartbeat slowing. It was another five minutes before she registered where she was. Not Malfoy Manor. The Great Hall.

You’re not there anymore. You’re here, you’re here, you’re here…

“Hermione!” Harry exclaimed as faces appeared above her. “Are you—?”

Hermione gasped, willing her breaths to slowdown. “I… what happened?”

“You were hyperventilating,” Professor McGonagall said gently as they slowly helped her stand. “I had to douse you with icy water to bring you back to your senses. Narcissa sends her apologies for, and I quote, ‘giving you a heart attack’ in advance.”

She looked around. Narcissa was nowhere to be seen. She refused to decipher that tiny part of her that wished she was. “Di-did I just—?” Then she paled. “How many people saw that?” If the whole school—Merlin, could she just let the ground swallow her up and never resurface again?

“Don’t freak out. Just us.” Harry looked down at her in amusement.

Hermione glared at him. Then looked around. And breathed a sigh of relief when she realized he was right. Just Professor McGonagall, Ron, Neville, Ginny and Luna, all standing several feet away and looking at her in concern.

“Sorry,” she grimaced. “I… don’t know what happened.”

“Wrackspurts.” Luna shrugged. “Out of everyone in the Great Hall, they’re feasting on you tonight.”

Maybe there really was some ground to Luna’s imagination after all. “Honestly? That would explain it.” Hermione shook her head.

“I’m sorry you found out this way.” Professor McGonagall put her hands around her shoulders and started walking her towards the door. “My office? We can talk more about it there.”

***

After walking through more refurbished classrooms and portraits whose frames had been upgraded to much more fancier ones (its occupants looked very happy at the fact), Hermione found herself standing in the familiar looking gargoyle that once protected Dumbledore’s office. Not punch-drunk from the war, but standing tall and proud like it had once.

“Password?”

“Lemon drops.” Of course. It hopped aside as the wall behind it split into two.

Hermione followed Professor McGonagall into her office, which looked entirely unchanged. Except for… her eyes gasped as she saw Severus Snape’s portrait—second largest, apparently—right next to Dumbledore’s, both of whom were the only ones not sleeping.

“Professor Snape!” Hermione exclaimed. And then all of a sudden she was bursting into tears. She missed the sarcastic git more than she thought.

“Now now, Ms. Granger,” Snape drawled as McGonagall shoved Hermione towards a chair and a handkerchief into her hands. “Don’t waste your tears over me. I’m having the time of my life not having to teach you ungrateful little brats anymore.”

Hermione laughed and sniffed. “Haven’t changed, I see.”

“Hmmph. If I allow something so minuscule as death to change me—”

But he fell silent as Professor McGonagall glared at him. “Hush now, Severus. Or I’ll cast a silencing spell on your portrait and I won’t lift it until I finish talking with Ms. Granger.” McGonagall headed over to her desk and sat down, waving a plush chair in front of it and motioning for Hermione to sit down. She rummaged in a drawer, before pulling out—of course. “Chocolate? Normally I would offer tea and biscuits but we did just have dinner.”

Hermione reached out and nibbled a bite, instantly feeling better. She took a deep breath. Stared at the desk. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or at least gave me a heads up?”

“It wasn’t my place, Hermione.” The use of her first name made her look up in surprise. It was the first time… “Nor is it a matter of trust. Two other factors, rather. First, of protecting you, given the fact that I am aware of the complicated history you have with her, and secondly, Narcissa’s wish that the news be kept quiet until she felt like she was actually ready to reveal herself to the school. She has been very indecisive about teaching here.”

Hermione pursed her lips. “I see. And is she here by choice? Or because the Ministry made her?”

“You will have to ask her that, but I think the answer might surprise you.” Professor McGonagall’s eyes suddenly twinkled knowingly. “I may not know her well now, but she was one of my favorite students back in her day. I’m quite sure that there’s more than what meets the eye. After all, she was shoved into circumstances she couldn’t control and did what she could to survive. Don’t let everyone’s perception of her blind you from who she truly is deep down.”

“That’s not the problem. It’s-I-I mean—” Hermione cut herself off with an annoyed sound. Why weren’t words working?

“What is it, Hermione? You look as though something is bothering you. Has been bothering for a very long time, I would wager.”

Hermione started. Stared at her in surprise. “What—how?!”

“You forget I was a student here once, my dear,” McGonagall said. Was she… smirking? “Rest assured that what you want to ask will not leave this room. We can even cast a privacy spell around us—”

“There’s no need, Professor McGonagall,” Hermione said softly. “I’m… not ashamed of it. As long as it stays in this room… for now, at least.”

“I understand. And please, call me Minerva when we’re alone. You’ve more than earned my trust.”

Hermione smiled and nodded. “The truth is, this is the first time I’ve ever told anyone about what happened,” she paused, looking at Minerva who nodded encouragingly for her to continue.

“I first met Professor Black just before my third year,” she glanced up at Snape’s portrait, who was now looking intensely at her, as was Dumbledore’s. The other head masters and headmistresses had vanished from their portraits, granting Hermione the privacy she so desperately needed for this conversation.

“I’d gotten lost in Knockturn Alley because I was chasing Crookshanks chasing Peter Pettigrew, and just as this man was about to corner me, Professor Black leapt to my rescue. She… gave me back my wand. And… here’s the most confounding part.” Hermione’s voice dropped to a whisper. “When our hands held my wand together something really strange happened. It’s like that feeling when you first get your wand. That warmth, that light. It lit up the shadows as a burst of light surrounded our hands, made us glow. I felt it deep in my bones too.

“There was this magical energy pulsing around us. It was like.. our magic recognizing each other. We didn’t talk about what happened—Professor Black walked me back out and disappeared before I could ask her any questions. Before Malfoy Manor happened, I spent so long wondering if she only did that because she didn’t know my name. Didn’t know that I was a… a mudblood.” The scar itched at the word. “But she calmed me down when I was being crucioed, Minerva. I’d never… never felt that calm before. I don’t… what does it all mean?” She finally looked up from her hands.

Minerva was looking shell shocked. As was Snape and Dumbledore.

“Impossible,” Dumbledore gasped whilst Snape and Minerva remain frozen, Minerva in her seat and Snape in his portrait. “I’ve only heard a very ancient story about it—only one of its kind in Wizarding History—but is that what we’re all thinking off? Severus? Minerva?”

“It’s the only possible explanation,” Severus said. Minerva nodded. Still silent, staring at Hermione in awe.

“Never in my life—but if Potter has taught me anything nothing is impossible,” Minerva finally gasped.

Oh for Merlin’s sake. What’s impossible?!

“This is what happens,” McGonagall turned to face her seriously, “when one has found their… Predestined.”

Dead silence. Hermione’s brain slowly processed each letter. No. No fucking way. In what way? In a doomed-before-the-start way? In a… she surely didn’t mean… in that way?

“Uh...”

“‘Uh…’ says the Brightest Witch of Her Age,” Snape droned, air quotes and all.

Hermione snapped her mouth shut. “Did you just admit that I’m the Brightest Witch of My Age.”

“On second thought, definitely not.” Snape glared back at her. “Stop beating around the bush, Granger. It’s not like you. Narcissa. Is. Your. Predestined. In other words—” A dramatic pause.

“Soulmate,” all three of them said simultaneously.

Hermione stared.

First at Minerva.

Then Dumbledore.

Then Snape.

And then started laughing helplessly. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She stopped to take in a few deep breaths. Then started cackling again. She was sure she sounded like Bellatrix at this point. Madness had surely overwhelmed her. She was currently in her bed dreaming. Yes. That had to be it. But when the hysterics finally subsided, Hermione realized she was still in the room. With all three of them staring at her like she’d lost her mind.

“You’re serious,” she whispered.

“Deadly.”

She stared some more. Then feeling quite faint, Hermione gripped the edge of her chair in case she toppled to the floor. Good Godric, not again. Once was plenty. She closed her eyes. Breathed deeply. Slowly. Though Hermione was pretty sure nothing could ground her at this point. It was only when she was sure that she wouldn’t make a fool of herself in front of Snape that she slowly released her hand from the edge of her chair. Then opened her eyes to meet Minerva’s.

Hermione took a deep breath. And a sip of her tea. “Does… Professor Black know about this?” Hermione asked weakly.

“Again, that is something you’ll have to ask her. There is one thing that might help you, though,” McGonagall got up from her chair and headed towards her bookshelf. She pulled out a thick, large scroll that looked as old as time itself. “Only read it when you’re ready. Predestined relationships are so rare, so undefined, that no one knows anything about it nowadays. You won’t be able to find information about it in the school library. And I doubt any library anywhere else, either.”

Hermione took a deep breath. In. Out. “I understand.” She couldn’t believe it. What? How?

The clock chiming 11pm interrupted the swirl of questions in her brain. Suddenly tired from the eventful day that it was, Hermione stifled a yawn behind her hand. No. She can’t be tired. She still had. So. Many. Questions.

But of course, Minerva stood and immediately began clearing the crusts from where Hermione had dropped the half-bitten (and completely forgotten) cookie onto her desk in shock. “Off to bed, you. You’re welcome to come back should you have any questions. My door is always open.”

Hermione smiled. Nodded, before getting up shakily. “Good night.” They all chorused it back, even Snape. Just as she reached the gargoyle she shouted over her shoulder, “And yes, I will be back for sure. Be prepared to see a whole lot of me this year, Minerva.” It still felt weird calling her by her first name.

“Oh I wouldn’t doubt that,” Minerva muttered at her back.

After five minutes she was back in her room (thankfully with no one to share, as she did have the Head Girl privileges, even if it was a little bit lonely), Hermione put the scroll on her nightstand (She’d read it later despite the curiosity burning within her), and flopped down on her bed without even removing her robes. Or changing into her pajamas. Crookshanks jumped onto her and settled down, crooning.

“It’s been a very weird day, Crookshanks,” Hermione yawned, scratching his ears.

Waved her hand to change into her pajamas and pulled a blanket over herself. But then it hit her. Again. Narcissa Black. Her… She pinched herself. Ow. Definitely not a dream.

“Pre-pre-” She couldn’t say the word. Then eyed Crookshanks accusingly. “Did you know?” Her professor was her—she couldn’t even think it.

Crookshanks purred what sounded like a ‘yes.’ Then… dropped promptly right to sleep. Probably all too used to Hermione freaking out on him. And knew she was about to. Little bitch. No help. She glared at the ceiling as though it would give her some damn answers. Like it would stop her brain from circling around that damned word.

Predestined.

She scoffed.

She’d had enough of prophecies for a lifetime. And fate. And destiny. She didn’t even believe in it, for Christ’s sake! Now she was being played again. Hermione grumpily rolled on her side and continued glaring at the wall. Which was about as helpful as the ceiling. Despite herself, exhaustion slowly settled into her, finally nudging her eyes shut. Except that just as she neared the brink of sleep, a horrible thought occurred to her. Draco Malfoy also came with the territory. Her eyes shot wide open.

“Fuck my life,” Hermione groaned.

“What’s the fun in life if there’s no fucking?” her bedside mirror sleepily snarked. And fainted dramatically out of sight as she cursed and pointed her wand at it.

***

Meanwhile the same train of thought just entered Minerva’s brain. One that sent fear down her spin, like the way hearing Voldemort’s name used to, and made her shoot up from her chair. “Oh no. What would Draco Malfoy say???”

“‘My father will hear about this,’” Dumbledore snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Except that Granger is the father, isn’t she?” Snape smirked. Laughed?? Since when did Snape laugh?! Minerva had never in a million years heard him—“Merlin, this is the best day of my life. Or better yet, best day of my death? Whatever. Bets still exist in the afterlife, I refuse to miss out on the fun.”

“A bet? For what?” Minerva asked distractedly. Oh Merlin. Malfoy would kill Hermione if he knew… there was enough murder on these grounds.

“For when dear old Narcissa would get her head out of her arse and get some action!”

“Severus!” Minerva swung around and glared at him. “We don’t place bets on students’ love lives! And fellow colleagues, for that matter!”

“Hmmph. I need compensation for loosing so miserably when you,” he scowled at Dumbledore (“Dumbledore!” Minerva glared at him), “decided to bet if Ms. Granger would end up with either of the boys. Potter this, Weasley that. Should’ve listened to my gut instincts. All the time dear Cissy spent ranting to me about that ‘dratted bookworm’ whenever we managed to escape the Dark Lord and his goons… ”

Minerva harrumphed.

“Lighten up a little, Minerva,” Dumbledore teased. His eyes twinkled.

Minerva glared. Then conceded that maybbbee they had a point. After the darkness that was last year she needed just a little bit of fun. Who could blame her? “Fine. But if this gets out of this room—”

“Our two lovebirds will get together at the end of the year,” Snape grinned whilst stroking his non-existent beard mock-thoughtfully.

Minerva’s glare intensified. “Not while she’s still her student!”

“I bet they’ll do it quickly,” Dumbledore said cheerfully.

Snape rolled his eyes. “Not everyone goes at it like you did with Grindelwald back in the days.”

“Hmmph,” Dumbledore muttered.

“Never thought I’d say this, but I’m with Dumbledore. Never say never!” Phineas Black croaked from his portrait.

Minerva glared at him. Then at the other portraits who had reappeared, looking at each other with smirks and barely concealed grins. “Not. One. Word. Out. If I find out one of you has blabbed no one will get new portraits while I’m Headmistress here. And that goes for you too, Albus, Severus. Understood?!” she barked.

“Yes, Minerva,” they chorused gloomily.

***

Hermione had a very… ahem… vivid dream that night. One that had her gasping and gripping her sheets as pale, manicured hands wandered down her body, reaching her most sensitive places. As blue eyes pinned her in place, staring right at her as a talented mouth worked diligently between her legs. Hermione moaned, spread her legs wider apart… only to jolt awake before the climax could hit her.

She cursed. If this was going to be what it was like… with Professor Black, the year was going to be torture. Hermione sighed and slowly got dressed for the day. Desperately ignored the ache between her legs, but that wasn’t hard when the dread to walk back down to the Great Hall overrode the remnants of the dream from her mind. What if she fainted for completely no reason again. This time in front of everyone.

“You’ve fought a war,” Hermione snapped at herself. “You can fight this too.”

Wrenching the door open Hermione headed down to breakfast. To her relief no one paid her any mind when she sat down next to Ron, Ginny and Harry, though she did receive concerned looks from Neville and Luna, the latter two whom she smiled brightly at. Ginny immediately pounced on her and gave her a tight hug.

“Hermione! Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” Hermione said, patting Ginny on the back.

“You sure?” Harry studied her carefully, as did Ron.

Hermione nodded firmly and dug into a pile of bacon. She nearly moaned. It was delicious. “I’m seriously ok, guys. Talking to Professor McGonagall helped.”

“Oh?” Ginny was looking at her curiously. “What did she…?”

Hermione glanced around nervously. Then at the High Table, where the teachers were sitting eating breakfast as well. Except for… of course. “I’d rather not say anything when I… I don’t have enough information to understand what’s going on,” she said truthfully.

Ginny squeezed her hand. “Of course, take all the time you need.”

“Thank you,” Hermione smiled gratefully.

“I don’t think you need to worry about Professor Black, Hermione,” Harry said softly, keeping his voice low. “She literally flew to you when you started panicking last night and tried to get you to come around.”

“She did?” Hermione stared.

“Before McGonagall shooed everyone out the Hall even Draco Malfoy looked shocked that his mother was losing her cool in front of everyone,” Ron snorted, amused. “Probably a good thing though, since that showed the students that she actually cares…”

Just then the ceiling turned color, and everyone looked up in surprise to see thunder rolling across it.

“Oh no, not again,” Ginny said uneasily. “If it’s…”

“They can’t get in, Gin,” Hermione said reassuringly. “Didn’t you hear what McGonagall told the school? Anti-dementor wards will keep them out. So much stronger than Protego horribilis. And no one would want to go outside in this weather.”

“At least they added an indoor Quidditch training area,” Harry sighed. “I guess I would be holding tryouts indoors this Saturday. Even matches, if the weather doesn’t let up.”

Ron groaned. “Sucks. Playing outdoors is so much more fun.”

“I know. But we have no choice, do we? I’d rather not have a repeat of that one time when dementors showed up to that damned Quidditch match.”

They all glanced nervously at the ceiling. Then towards Minerva, who had gotten up from the High Table with timetables in her hands.

“Oh yeah. Are we in any classes together?” Ron asked once they received theirs.

No one had Defence Against the Dark Arts until Friday. Which… meant a week of brooding before she actually saw the blonde in person. Great. But then… what? Was she brave enough to outright confront Narcissa about it?

“Sweet. We have most of our classes together,” Harry grinned. Then snorted at Hermione’s schedule. “Except for Hermione’s, of course. Taking… 4 electives? Are you planning to eat or sleep this year?”

Ron sniggered. Hermione whacked both their arms (nearly Ginny’s too, who was rolling her eyes at her).

“Oh shut up, Harry. It’s our last year, better make it count.”

“She always says that,” Ginny staged whispered to Ron, who sniggered again and nodded.

“Yup, doesn’t matter what year it is,” Ron shook his head and sighed. “This looks as bad as your time turner year.”

“I’ll send an ‘eat slugs’ charm at you if you don’t shut up.” Hermione raised her wand and pointed it good naturedly at Ron, whose eyes widened.

“Not me again!”

Just then the bell chimed. Ron hastily got onto his feet. Hermione smirked and stowed her wand away. “Never seen you so eager to get to class before.”

“Oh shut up. You would too if your supposed best friend was threatening to jinx you.”

Hermione opened her mouth to retort.

“Let’s not start arguing again,” Harry said wearily. “McGonagall will kill us if we’re late for Transfiguration.”

She grumbled. And then scurried after her friends.

***

Hermione flopped down on the bed after supper, tiredness rolling through her. The seventh year classes were promising to be challenging, probably the most challenging of all years. Perhaps the curriculum changed after the war, or rather it was offered only to the returning eighth years who had fought in the war, as everything for their year was formally wordless. Their sixth year started off with the basics, but now everything was being taken to a new level.

Even Hermione was feeling challenged. And yet, all she could think about was Professor Black. Who was still missing from the Great Hall at dinner. At this rate Hermione was starting to wonder if she ever ate, or if she’ll just evade it for the entire year. She sighed. She wouldn’t be surprised if that was what ended up happening.

Changing into her night gown, Hermione glanced at the scroll that had been shoved to the back of her mind all day, but now that it was in front of her again the memories of her conversation with Minerva came roaring back to the front of her mind.

She picked it up. Hesitated. Put it down again. She wasn’t sure she was ready yet to read through it. Didn’t want to let something like this dictate her life, when her life had been dictated by a madman enough. Though she was one to talk, because Harry suffered much more. If this was to happen, she’d rather it happen slowly, gradually, not because some strings of fate were being pulled.

All of a sudden she realized Crookshanks must’ve slid out the room through the cat flap that had been carved on her door—(Hermione had never been more glad when this room accommodated itself to her—well, to Crookshanks’ needs)—for he was nowhere to be seen.

Grabbing the Marauder’s Map from her nightstand which Harry had given Hermione, she opened it only to gasp in wonder as it showed a map that was more detailed than before. It seemed as though the map had updated itself and was now currently showing every nook and cranny of the new layout. She wouldn’t be surprised if the Marauders had charmed it so that it evolved alongside the castle even after their deaths.

Slowly bending over it, she saw more classrooms added. More secret passageways. More towers and study spaces… which she grinned at. She was looking forward to exploring the castle’s new surprises this year. As though unbidden, her fingers traced a path from the Gryffindor common room to the Slytherins, which had no names she recognized except for Draco and Goyle. Her fingers traced up the faculty tower and spotted Narcissa’s quarters on the second floor. And… wait. Was Crookshanks—

She squinted. Then shook her head and sighed. Of course. Pacing outside Narcissa’s room. At this point Narcissa must be thinking that her cat was a creep. Except that… the witch herself was nowhere too… where was she? Oh! In the Quidditch arena? Indoors, of course, as it had still been storming by the time they were eating dinner. Probably flying, judging by how fast Narcissa’s name was moving. Hermione didn’t know Narcissa could fly. An idea suddenly sparking in her mind, Hermione slipped on her robes and headed to the Trophy Room

She shivered, pulling her robes tighter as she glanced outside to find it still storming. Walked over to where the cupboard of Seekers were displayed. And… ah ha! Narcissa’s name was displayed tall and proud. She was Slytherin Seeker starting from her second year at Hogwarts. Must’ve played against James Potter’s team at one point, though he was apparently a chaser from what Harry told her. Underneath the trophies were a small description of all the games she’d won. She was sure she’d broken Harry’s record.

For one second Hermione felt her curiosity pique. Almost wanted to watch Narcissa fly, but then shook herself out of it. Only creeps stalked. Glancing down at the Marauder’s Map which she’d forgotten to put down before slipping out the door, she felt her stomach drop in disappointment when she realized she wasn’t there anyways. Searching the map, she found her name walking back up to her room… then paused by Crookshanks, who was still pacing outside her room.

Hermione groaned. What if Narcissa thought she’d sent him to spy on her? She needed to give Crookshanks a stern talking to. Time to ground that little shit. Giving the stormy sky a scowl and a middle finger, she decisively turned her back on it even as a clap of thunder made her hair strands stand on its ends.

So intent on catching Crookshanks was she that she didn’t see Professor Trelawney until she nearly ran into her halfway to her room, which was apparently near Trelawney’s classroom. The woman was obviously heading back to her headquarters for the day.

“Hermione, dear, it’s so good to see you!” Professor Trelawney said, giving her a hug.

“Professor Trelawney!” Hermione exclaimed, hugging her back. She was still dressed as oddly, though perhaps less so given the fact that her glasses weren’t quite so huge. Most notably, the beads and chains she so liked to wear were absent, save for her usual spangled shawl around her neck. “It’s so good to see you too. How have you been? I’m so glad you’re back.”

“And I you, my dear. But perhaps the better question is, how will you be?” Professor Trelawney eyed her carefully, as though trying to determine if Hermione was going to keel over and die sometime within this year. “I heard about the spectacle at the Great Hall.”

Hermione groaned and buried her face in her hands. “I can’t believe I did that. I wish Professor McGonagall would’ve warned me and she told me why she couldn’t, but I still wished she did so then I wouldn’t have—”

“My dear, even I didn’t know whether Narcissa would commit to teaching here until the woman walked through the doors herself. What I do know was that that future was very uncertain. Sometimes I saw Ms. Black walking through the doors, the next I saw her running from it like her life depended on it. The change between those two options were happening so fast whenever I tried looking into it. I myself was just as surprised as all of you when she walked trough that door after all. And I can assure you, it is still happening now, though perhaps with less… intensity.”

“Hmph. I’ll say, given the fact that Narcissa has been evading the Great Hall since she got here.”

“She has walked a tough road, that one,” Professor Trelawney said sadly. “And she will walk a tougher one here.” Suddenly she pinned Hermione with a Look that she’d become all too familiar with over the years. It usually meant the bearer of bad news. And lo and behold—“As will yours too, my dear. Perhaps tougher than ever before.”

Hermione groaned again. “And here I was hoping for a quiet year at Hogwarts! Has the world not asked enough from me? From us?”

Professor Trelawney shook her head. “Perhaps because you’ve given so much, the world is giving you something in return. But it won’t be easy. Study hard, and well. Stick to your friends. Especially this year.”

“I’ll… try,” Hermione said softly

“Good. And my office is always open, Hermione.”

“I know,” she smiled tremulously. “Oh, Professor Trelawney?” The woman turned back just as she was about to walk away. “Can kneazles predict the future?”

“Why do you ask?” Professor Trelawney’s eyebrows raised.

“My cat has… led me to places that have led me to my current… predicament,” Hermione grumbled. “And he is continuously… doing so… so to speak. It’s like he understands what I need better than me, even before I asked it of him. Even before I asked it of myself!”

A soft trinket of laughter had Professor Trelawney’s shoulders shaking. “No, your dear Crookshanks just has better instincts than most other animals, even those from his same species, although Kneazle fur are sometimes used in the Foresight Potion. Let him follow it. And perhaps he will lead you where you wish to go.” As the clock chimed curfew Trelawney gave her another knowing look.

Why was everyone looking at her like that these days??!

“Thank you, Professor Trelawney. You must be tired, I shouldn’t keep you any longer.”

“You’re never a bother, my dear.”

“…Not even when I was a nuisance in your class?”

“…Perhaps that maybe the only exception,” Trelawney smirked. “Goodnight, Hermione. And how many times have I told you to call me Sybill?”

She smiled. “Goodnight, Sybill. Better go find my cat before he causes any more trouble.”

“But he might have a point,” Sybill whispered only when she thought she couldn’t hear her.

Chapter Text

The stormy weather surprisingly gave way to sunny skies midweek, and by Friday there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. And yet, much to Hermione’s surprise, this didn’t make her feel any better. If anything, Hermione felt rattier than she had all week, despite yearning for some reprieve in the weather. She glared at the ceiling as she thumped down besides Ron during lunch, who gave her a surprised look and edged away from the sparks flying out of her wand as she reached out to grab a pie.

“Hello to you too,” Ron said sarcastically through a mouthful of chicken as Hermione grumpily stabbed her fork into the pie. She was so busy scowling at it that she completely forgot to tell Ron off.

Harry sat down on Hermione’s other side, with Ginny, Neville and Luna across her.

Ginny nudged her. “You ok? You’ve been so out of it all morning.”

“You didn’t even take notes in potions,” Harry frowned. “You alright?”

“Fine,” Hermione grimaced.

Ron frowned and opened his mouth, but snapped it shut when Ginny nudged his ribs sharply. “Leave her alone, Ronald. That’s all you can do when she’s in this mood.”

“Ugh. How many times have I told you, Gin, stop calling me Ronald! You sound like mum!”

“But that’s why I do it,” Ginny whispered to Luna, “precisely because he hates it.”

The table (except Ron) guffawed into laughter and even Hermione managed to crack a smile. Just as she was sipping a mouthful of pumpkin soup, Ron nudged her and hissed whilst glancing over her shoulder, “Look who it is,” and they all turned to look at the door as—wait.

She nearly choked on the mouthful of soup, waving off Harry’s concerns when he started patting her on the back. Was she seeing things right? Because Narcissa had followed Minerva through the oak doors like it was something she did every day, walking towards the High Table with such poise and elegance that Hermione couldn’t help but stare… and she wasn’t the only one, for the Great Hall had fallen completely silent and heads were turning to watch every miniscule movement the blonde made. They were… apparently just as entranced as she was.

As though she’d spent years navigating huge crowds, Narcissa paid the stares no mind, merely kept her back straight as she talked lowly to Minerva. As she passed near where they were sitting Hermione caught a whiff of the blonde’s perfume that reminded her of lavenders and daisies all combined. It made her head spin.

Ok, Hermione, stop staring. She snapped her eyes down to her plate, gritting her teeth until she was sure Ron and Harry could hear them grinding. It was only when Narcissa sat down with the other teachers and started digging into her breakfast that Hermione slowly let out a breath. She totally did not stare at the dainty bites that had Narcissa carefully wrapping her lips around her fork. Oh no. Not at all.

“Um, Hermione?” Harry placed a hand on hers, and with a start she realized she was gripping the knife so hard it left a dent against her palm as she released it. “You’re not gonna pass out on us again, are you?”

“Evidently not,” Luna smiled. “You do realize that your wrackspurts are a different color right now, don’t you?”

Hermione frowned at her. “…Which is…?”

“Red.”

The implications were not lost on Hermione, who blushed and buried her head in her arms with a groan. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Luna simply shrugged and went back to drawing hearts on her notebook. Ginny snickered as she watched Luna doodle next to her, prompting Hermione to elbow her in the ribs. Hard.

“Ow!!” said Ginny. “You’re vicious! We have Quidditch tryouts tomorrow morning! You better not dismember me before that happens!”

“You asked for it.”

Ginny stuck her tongue out at Ron.

“So you’re both trying out for the team then?” Hermione nudged Ginny, this time much more gently in apology.

“Yeah.” Ron and Ginny grinned at Harry.

“I bet Malfoy is going to make the Slytherin team,” Harry smirked. “And his mother’s here to watch me defeat him.”

Hermione cut at a piece of ham and said without looking up, “I wouldn’t so confident in that, Harry. You never know if Narcissa is going to coach the Slytherin team privately. She was a slytherin seeker here, you know. Quite the flyer.”

Ron’s face paled, as did Harry’s and Ginny’s. “Wait, how did you know that?” Ron demanded. “You’re not just saying that to pull our legs, are you?”

“Honestly, have you guys never seen the cupboard displaying all past accomplished Quidditch players in the Trophy Room? And you call yourselves Quidditch fans.”

“Or maybe,” Ginny wagged her eyebrows, “you just like your Quidditch players, ‘Mione.”

Hermione heaved a long-suffering sigh and massaged her temples.

“Say, have Malfoy bothered any of you guys since we came here?” Neville said suddenly. “I’ve seen no hide nor hair of him.”

Harry started. “That’s why it’s been so quite lately! No wonder it felt… weird.”

“Maybe he’s lying in wait and planning a big ambush when we’re least expecting it,” Ron said uneasily, glancing towards the Slytherin table where Malfoy was sitting with Goyle. “I almost prefer it when he was biting our heads off every day. This is… too out of character. It’s even scarier.”

Hermione sighed. “Or maybe he’s just tired of the drama and wants to leave it behind, Ronald,” she said. And yet… it was odd that Malfoy had quite literally been M.I.A. She’d only seen the boy once when she was heading into Charms and he was heading out of it, but Malfoy had barely given her a glance and scurried off. It was like… she frowned. Like he was trying to make himself as small as possible.

“It must be hard,” Harry said suddenly, frowning. “I mean, not that it’s easy for us, but maybe it’s even harder for them. After all, they fought on the opposite side of the war, and you know how hard it is for people like them to reintegrate back into society. When… when Minerva was herding the Slytherins off all I was thinking was that maybe we shouldn’t group them off like that. After all, there might be some bad nuts in our side, just as there may be some good in the other side. And Draco Malfoy could’ve given me away, but he didn’t.”

“Don’t tell me you’re pitying them now, Harry,” Ron groaned.

“It isn’t pity. It’s called not judging a book by its surface. Isn’t that right, ‘Mione?”

“Finally, someone who understands!” Hermione high fived Harry.

Speaking of books… shit. Did she leave Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts in her room? And it was right after lunch, which meant she would only have… she glanced at the giant clock above the entrance of the Hall, ten minutes to go grab it. “Shit. I left my book in my room. I’ll see you guys later!” She hurriedly stuffed down the last spoon of pumpkin soup and picked up her bag.

“Hermione Granger? Forgetting something?” Ron gasped, prompting Hermione to show him the middle finger in reply.

By the time she made it to the DADA classroom, she was panting, her heart was racing, she had a stich, and yet Hermione knew deep down that it wasn’t just because she ran down to the first floor within record time. Everyone had gone inside, and judging by the murmurs of the classroom Narcissa hadn’t yet arrived.

Glancing at her pocket watch she blew out a slow breath when it still said “On time” (even a few minutes before it), and Hermione leaned against the wall, briefly closing her eyes as she tried desperately (and futilely) to steady her breath. On the sixth breath Hermione heard footsteps heading towards her. But she ignored it and kept her eyes closed, leaning against the wall and focusing on her breathing. In. Out. In. Out…

“Granger.”

Her eyes flew open.

“Malfoy.”

Hermione eyed the boy warily, noting the way he seemed to fidget uncomfortably with his hands. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it. It was so uncharacteristic that Hermione’s eyebrows rose, but enough for Hermione to relax her stance and her expression. “Yes?”

“Er… I never…” Draco mumbled something under his breath so quickly that Hermione didn’t catch it. But judging from the way a flush reached his ears Hermione could tell this was very out of element for him. And it was out of element for her too. Never would she have dreamed that they’d ever be able to hold a civil conversation, and yet, here they seemingly were.

“Never what?” she asked softly when it seemed like he had decided not to continue.

Draco shook his head, before looking up to meet her eyes carefully. Guardedly. And yet, without any of the hatred that had been there before. “How… how have you been? Besides from fainting in the Great Hall, that is,” Malfoy grinned, but for once Hermione couldn’t detect any trace of malice in his teasing.

Hermione relaxed further, face palmed. “Ugh. Still can’t believe I did that. Asides from that being the most mortifying moment in my life I’ve been… ok I guess? I helped out at school in the beginning of summer and then Professor McGonagall forced me to take a break… and after that I’ve been… relaxing.”

That was half a lie. She hadn’t told anyone about it, but she’d been secretly trying to locate her parents all summer. She’d managed to find them mid summer under the disguise of the new names Hermione had given them, had managed to befriend them as she pretended to be a next door neighbor. Only to have to wipe herself out of their memories once she left, again. They seemed so happy with where they were living, the dentist jobs they’d required. Hermione hadn’t dared try to alter their memories. What if she worsened it? What if her parents would be utterly mad with her to the point of no return if she did manage to restore their memories?

“You? Relaxing? Who would’ve thought,” Draco looked so gobsmacked that Hermione had to chuckle.

“Us? Holding a civil conversation without punching each other? Who would’ve thought,” Hermione smirked, mimicking Draco’s gobsmacked look.

“That was a darn good punch, I’ll give you that,” Draco chuckled, and she chuckled too.

If this was the beginning of a truce that Draco seemed to be offering, then Hermione would take all the peace she got. She’d had enough drama to last a lifetime (notwithstanding Sybill’s warning about this being the toughest year yet), thank you very much.

“And a well deserved one too, I’d wager,” a voice said from behind them.

Hermione swung around to see Narcissa standing behind her with crossed arms and arched eyebrows, a stack of books and what were evidently lesson notes floating next to her mid-air.

“Mother! You’re supposed to be on my side!” Draco cried, aghast.

“I am a teacher here, Draco, I don’t take sides,” Narcissa chuckled lowly, a sound that made heat coil low in her belly and her heart race as though it had never calmed down in the first place and her palms sweat like it’d never dried…

Also. How—when did the blonde appear behind her?! And the woman was wearing bright red heels. And the floor was marble. How in the world did she—?? The woman must’ve had practice sneaking around Malfoy Manor in heels so as not to waken him, because Hermione distinctly remembered the sound of mutual footsteps as they walked back out of Knockturn Alley together. And she didn’t think the woman was wearing heels at that time. (Don’t ask Hermione how she remembered that. It wasn’t like she parsed through the memory of that day every waking second. Nope, not at all.)

She slowly looked up, mouth drying at the sight of the well-fitting dress that seemed to accentuate all her curves. The slight ‘v’ to her neckline that brought out her collarbones. The way her hair fell naturally around her shoulders, hiding a long elegant neck that Hermione suddenly wanted to sink her teeth into… Shit. Wasn’t the blonde an expert at legilimency? Stop thinking! Empty your thoughts! Favorite imaginary place!

It was only when an image of reading books on the beach under a tree was firmly in her mind that Hermione dared try to meet her eyes. But apparently she needn’t have worried. The blonde was keeping her attention on Draco, arms around his shoulders as she asked how his week was doing. It seemed as though the woman had no intention of looking over at her. Sighing softly, Hermione made her way into the classroom, sitting down next to Ginny who’d save her a seat.

“There you are! For one second I thought you were going to ditch class for the first time in your life,” Ginny teased whilst Harry and Ron sniggered.

“Seriously considering that,” Hermione smiled weakly. “But I just got caught up talking to Malfoy of all people, if you would’ve believed it,” she said softly, glancing over her shoulders just in time to see Malfoy and his mother walk in.

“Malfoy? And he didn’t hex you? What did he want?” Ron hissed.

Hermione’s eyebrows rose as Harry perked up at the mention of his name whilst Ron was glaring at Malfoy’s direction, who had taken a seat across the room next to Goyle. Because as far as Hermione was aware, Ginny and Harry had decided not to get back together. Why? Neither of them said anything about the true reason, but Ginny muttered something about how they were better off as friends.

Hermione only had time to shake her head when Narcissa made her way to the front. She leaned against her desk, then crossed elegant legs together in a way that made Hermione gulp as she waited for the class to quiet. She pretended not to see Ginny’s raised eyebrows, who was looking between her and Narcissa suspiciously. For the first time, Hermione cursed the fact that coming back as an eighth year meant they had to share classes with the seven years. Which meant that Ginny was there to witness everything.

“Before we start I’d like to address the obvious confusion and ire as to why I’m teaching here,” Narcissa said softly, and yet her voice seemed to carry throughout the classroom clearly like she was using a sonorus charm. It wasn’t like Voldemort’s, though, as instead of fear it sent feelings of warmth and comfort down her spine.

Glancing around and noting how the students seemed to be relaxing in their seats, she wasn’t the only one feeling it. Nor was it the same feeling of being under Imperius charm, as Harry had told her that it was like he had no control over his entire body. Technically, Hermione didn’t feel like she had any control over anything right now, though for entirely different… ahem… reasons.

“It will be the only time I speak of it. Understood?”

“Yes, Professor Black,” the room chorused, and looking around she saw people shifting on their seats eagerly, awaiting her next words with baited breath.

“I’m sure many of you know me as Narcissa Malfoy, the ex-wife of a Death Eater and younger sister of the crazed Bellatrix Lestrange. While I can never begin to apologize for their choices to follow the Dark… Voldemort blindly, nor the grievances they have wrought on all of us…” Her gaze shifted to Neville, who flushed under her gaze, then to where Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Harry were sitting, “I’m grateful that I was able to see the light long before He returned. However, I could not have openly betrayed my ex-husband and my sister, for I thought it prudent that I discretely help from the other side to bring Voldemort down.”

“And you did,” Luna piped up. Narcissa looked at Luna, who was sitting besides Neville. “If it wasn’t for you we would’ve starved to death.”

The room went so silent you could hear a pin drop.

Narcissa dipped her head. “Yes. But my actions have not been enough. I’ve been a silent enabler, and as such I gave myself over to the Ministry before my trial, fully prepared to let them do me in with whatever way they saw fit. Teaching here is but a small price to pay. I am well aware of the… scars the war has left behind for both sides, considering the number of reduced students this year.”

“Especially Slytherin,” Harry whispered to Hermione a little too loudly, to which she hissed “Shhh!”

Except that it did more harm than good. Hermione gulped as Narcissa’s eyes flashed towards them, though she still kept her attention on Harry far longer than her. “Is there something you’d like to share with the class, Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger?” It was all Hermione could do to suppress the flush threatening to rise into her ears, because it was the first time Narcissa had truly addressed her since—

“Especially in Slytherin,” Ginny said quietly when both of them remained mute.

“Yes. Slytherin numbers have been reduced largely this year,” Narcissa said softly. She glanced over at Draco, who was looking down at his desk as though in shame. Hermione’s heart squeezed.

“Many purebloods have seen my actions as direct opposition to their cause, though not all truly believed in blood purity or supremacy. I can assure you that I will not let that get in the way of my teaching, and I intend to do so fully and help you learn all you need.”

She looked at each of them fully, merely flitting over Hermione, who unconsciously clenched her fists as she realized that Narcissa was truly avoiding even just looking at her. Though she really should’ve known given how determined she had been to avoid the Great Hall. But maybe it was just because she didn’t like crowds? After all, out of everyone in the world, why would it have anything to do with her?

“That’ll be all I have to say on this matter. Before we open your books to chapter seven on how we identify spells through color theory, I assume you all already know how to cast a Patronus?”

A uniformed chorus of “Yes, Professor Black” scattered throughout the room.

“Excellent. Then without further ado, let’s get started.”

***

It had been an excellent class. Narcissa was proofing to be proficient with the Dark Arts (but then of course, who was she kidding?), and the way she explained how color and spells related to each other were not something that Hermione had ever thought of, or been taught to understand. The blonde even explained things that weren’t in the book.

Hermione wasn’t all that surprised that wandless magic came naturally to the blonde, something she wouldn’t have said for sure until that time she narrowly avoided Avada Kedavra near the entrance of the Great Hall during the Battle of Hogwarts. The wandless blonde had managed to deflect it mere inches from her head and sent it toppling back into its caster instead. There was no time to acknowledge it, though, as Harry reappeared seconds after Voldemort pronounced him dead.

Argh!! Why was the blonde so hot and cold all the damn time? Hermione didn’t know what to think about it. It’s like after she showed a moment of warmth, iciness would slither back into the blonde’s visage like it made up her DNA. But that again, maybe it really did. It would explain a lot.

She groaned and thumped her head down onto her arms behind a stack of books in front of her, not noticing the girl across her glaring daggers at her for shaking the table before moving to sit at another one. For once she couldn’t focus on her studies. She had never been this distracted over someone before. Whatever the blonde was already accomplishing? Clearly a rare feat. It was like whatever she managed to suppress in the past proofed futile, only to have it come roaring back… more fiercely and strongly than ever before…

Ok. One last attempt. With heroic effort Hermione picked up the quill to write notes on an essay for Professor Flitwick’s class, which was asking them to come up with a way on how to persuade an ice cube to melt into a puddle whilst it remained happily solid in subzero temperatures. And without using any warming charms or spells. She snorted. What irony. Of all things, it was this essay’s fault that diverted Hermione’s train of thought so severely there was no going back. Because of course she started to wonder how one should go about melting an Ice Queen, and look where that got her. An hour actually wasted at the library. Now it was half an hour before curfew!

Giving up with a sigh, Hermione decided her brain would no longer work for the evening and shoved her books into her bag. Perhaps she’d take a walk around the school as she was too wired to feel tired… Reaching the door of the library, Hermione wandered down to the Great Hall and glanced up nervously at the ceiling, only to find to her surprise that the sky was somehow still… clear. Despite Hermione feeling slightly suspicious at it, she cautiously pushed the front door open and stood at the doorway for a second, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim light of the moon. And to push down that feeling of discomfort as she remembered almost dying here.

When her heart rate had slowed enough that Hermione was sure she wasn’t going to get another panic attack, she let the light of the moon guide her feet mindlessly throughout Hogwarts grounds. With a start she realized she’d reached Black Lake, and wrapping her coat tightly around her for the night were already getting quite chilly, sat down besides a bench and stared out at it. Let the lapping sound of waves sooth her mind. It was her favorite way of calming down, and yet tonight it didn’t seem to be working. Just as an owl hooted eerily there were the sounds of footsteps behind her. She leapt up and swung around, hand automatically going to her wand and pointed it at…

“Woah woah woah, Granger, it’s just me,” Draco put up his hands, freezing in his place. Eyed her cautiously as though she was a wounded doe about to spring.

Hermione lowered her wand sheepishly. “Sorry. Habit.”

There was a moment in which they seemed to seize each other up. Then Draco sighed softly and looked away, gesturing at the bench. “May… may I? If you’d prefer to sit here in silence I can just…” He motioned back towards the castle.

“It’s alright, Malfoy, here.” Hermione scooted to the right side of the bench, allowing him to sit on the other side.

He smiled gratefully and sat down. There were several seconds before he said quietly, “Draco.”

Hermione tilted his head at him. “Sorry?”

“Just Draco is fine,” he said even more quietly.

“Then just Hermione is fine,” she smiled. “What were… you going to say before? If you don’t mind me asking, that is,” she added hurriedly.

“First of all, thank you for not hexing me when you realized it was me behind you just now,” Draco smirked. Hermione smirked back but stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. “What I wanted to… say… well I couldn’t muster the courage to say it to all of you at once. But I just wanted to say thank you. For… saving my life in that… that room. You guys could’ve left me behind for all that I’ve done. It’s what I would’ve deser—”

“Finish that sentence, Draco, and I will hex you,” Hermione swung around to glare at him.

Draco gulped and nodded, before breaking into fits of laughter. Despite herself Hermione laughed too, at how the impossible had happened twice within a day. Civil conversation with a Malfoy? Not in a million years… except that all that had fast forwarded to now.

“Oh Merlin, I finally understand how you got the Weasel to do his homework,” Draco chuckled, and instead of feeling offended at the nickname Hermione only doubled over in laughter.

“It works wonders on the boys,” Hermione agreed, shaking her head. “All the years I’ve had to mother them… at least they seem to be finally holding their own now…”

“I’ll have to apologize to them as well,” Draco said, eyes turning serious as he gazed back towards the lake. “No. I want to apologize to them as well… eventually. I suppose, like my mother said, I… followed my father blindly because all I wanted was to… do him proud. Mother let me. She wasn’t happy about it, I could tell—even though she didn’t say anything. She probably thought that was what I needed to be happy. But father never looked at me as anything other than an heir to the Malfoy name. Never cared what I truly wanted. I never really wanted to take the Dark Mark, you know.” Draco’s right hand gripped his left forearm, and his sleeve came up enough for Hermione to see the faintest traces of it under the moonlight.

“When the Dark—V-Voldemort set me to kill Dumbledore I knew he wanted me to fail. Wanted me to fail so I could bring shame to the family, and then he could torture one of us for fun. Mother was stricken. She went to Professor Snape and begged him to protect me. She never said anything, but I could tell because Snape was all of a sudden being all up in my business during our sixth year, always offering to help me. It was then that I could see that mother no longer believed in the war anymore. Only wanted me to survive.

“And well, maybe I was only becoming the person father wanted me to become, and I’d never quite believe in any of it. When you guys came to Malfoy Manor… I couldn’t give Potter away. Something… stopped me. Just as something stopped me from killing you guys, tried to stop Crabbe who was very intent on it. Ultimately… mother thought the same in the end. Something shifted when we were in third year, but I never knew why. It was like she was fighting back more daringly than before. She and father got into more arguments. There was a fire that had long been burnt out, and I never realized,” Draco said quietly.

Hermione leaned forward on her knees. Slowly let out a breath. Her head was swimming, heart aching for both the boy and his mother. Because it was somehow worst for them. At least she and her friends were surrounded with companionship and love most of the time, while they were stuck with artificial relationships and ideologies they detested. But they both had to plod through it day after day, just to survive…

“You and your mother are both very strong,” Hermione said quietly. She chose to ignore the fact that something changed in her third year… after that happened. Was there any connection at all? It would be dangerous to assume… “I don’t think any other parent would’ve let you do what you did. Especially even if it meant being ostracized. And I’d like to apologize too. We weren’t quite the saints we’d like to think we are. Perhaps if we weren’t so blinded by what we wanted to see, we would’ve noticed there were more to that… maybe even helped a few people like you to… find the freedom that you so clearly craved.”

“Well we didn’t make it easy for you guys, did we?” Draco shook his head and huffed out a laugh. “I do wonder why mother changed during our third year, though. What brought out that… light in her. It was brief—it got dimmer when the Dark Lord returned, but it was so strong that I… want to see it return.”

Hermione hesitated. Should she…? Then internally shook her head. It still felt too personal of a thing to tell anyone… “She has you, Draco,” Hermione said gently, knowing that it wouldn’t help anyone if she just said that she was sure it was going to return. That it was all going to be ok. “And you’re both finally out of your dad’s clutches!”

Draco chuckled. “She was rather eager to file that divorce. Literally the day right after he got imprisoned. Another final blow to him! I thought for a moment father was going to refuse, but he didn’t bother to fight. I guess he just truly doesn’t care,” he said, a little sadly.

As if to punctuate his point storm clouds rolled in, and Hermione felt the first rain drops start falling onto her face. Shaking her head, Hermione stood up and wrapped her arms around him, not caring when the damn seemed to break and great heaving sobs rolled down his cheeks, tears rolling silently down her own. By the time he managed to stop crying heavy rain was pouring around them and they were both soaked to the bone. And yet, Hermione didn’t feel the cold, didn’t feel anything save for a heavy feeling of tiredness settling into her.

“S-sorry,” Draco stuttered. “Didn’t mean to lose it on you.”

“Come, Draco, let’s head back in, shall we?” Hermione said softly.

The boy nodded mutely, and they trudged back into the warmth of the Great Hall. When they were both standing dripping wet in the Entrance Hall Hermione wandlessly cast exaresco on them both. They were dried instantly. Standing there awkwardly, neither could seem to meet the other’s eyes, before Hermione cleared her throat. She’d never seen him look so… small. “Friends?”

Draco finally looked up and met her eyes again, smiling broadly. “Friends.”

As they trudged in, neither noticed a beautifully colored bird sitting atop a nearby branch, where it remained long after they disappeared. Frozen, it didn’t even register the wind shaking the tree, nor the clap of thunder that lit the sky, nor the rain that was pelting down heavier than before. For it was aching, aching at what it heard.

Chapter Text

Hermione had a very strange dream that night. She was walking through a town that looked like Hogsmeade, except that it was eerily empty, and the stormy weather seemed to bleed into her surroundings as the sky was overcast and the clouds were hanging low. Smoke was still rising from the chimneys, yet when she entered a pub there was no one around. Her footsteps echoed loudly—too loudly—on wooden floor. Barely daring to breathe and trying to soften her footsteps lest she attracted something sinister, she made her way back out, passing through another dark empty shop. And another. There was… nothing save smoke rising out from chimneys.

When she reached the end of the street Hermione nearly cried out in relief as she saw lights shining in through the window. Picked up her footsteps to enter it. But as she did, her heart nearly stopped at the sight. There were people there, yes, but they weren’t people anymore. They were still and silent, staring into the void, their faces etched with fear.

And they were in chains—chained against hooks that were nailed against the walls. She didn’t want to know how it happened in the Three Broomsticks Inn, of all places. Rooted to the spot in fear, Hermione felt the air drop and her breath started misting in the air. Goosebumps rose. Her hair strands stood on its ends. For all of a sudden there was a harsh breathing noise behind her, but before she could turn, before she could pull her wand out, an icy, cold gnarled hand landed on her shoulder.

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t turn around to see what it was. Didn’t want to turn around to see what it was. But she was forced to anyways, and if fear wasn’t coiling its way through her before it certainly was now. For the hand belonged to a dark hooded figure, faceless save for a wide yawning mouth, which was already opening and something white was streaming from herself to it and she started feeling herself go blank and empty…

But before the hooded figure could suck what was evidently her soul completely out of her body something charged at it and forced it to release her. For something had flew at it, something with beautifully colored feathers, its wings beating rapidly as it rammed into the hooded figure’s chest. That something turned to face her, and all Hermione registered was eyes that were strangely familiar. But before she could figure out whose it was, or why it looked familiar she started awake.

Shooting up in bed Hermione’s eyes rove wildly around before she realized she was safe in her bedroom. Her heart was pounding fiercely and she was shaking like a leaf, the cold from her dreams bleeding into reality. There was no way she was going to go back to sleep after that. Glancing out the window, Hermione let out a sigh of relief as she realized she didn’t need to anyways, as the pale yellow rays of sunshine had peaked through the mountain tops, lighting the dark angry clouds with an orangey, warm color.

What on earth was that about? Because Sybill had once told Hermione that when wizards and witches dreamed, sometimes there was an element of truth to it, some even predicting the future… Hermione only hoped that it wasn’t either of those options. She stared unseeingly through the window, leaning against it as she willed herself to calm down. It’s just a dream, she told herself. Just a dream.

But just as she’d almost calmed herself down entirely and was about to turn away from the window, something caught her eye in her peripheral vision. At first she thought it was the slanting sunlight tricking her. But when she turned around to look at it more fully she noticed a dark speck flying across the sky. Something about it was entrancing her, for Hermione found it hard to look away, watched as it circled freely amongst the clouds before diving down, then back up again. She watched it fly closer… closer… closer… until with a start Hermione realized it had flown close enough that it was now practically right in front of her.

As though it had gotten tired of flying, it thumped down on her window ledge and sat down on it to catch its breath. Barely daring to breathe so as not to frighten it, Hermione took in the beautifully colored fur—black, white and blue greenish, its feathers soaking wet as though it had gotten caught out in the rainstorm and had yet to dry. A magpie. It started preening at its feathers with its beak, paying her no mind.

At least, that was until Crookshanks leapt onto Hermione’s shoulders and startled her so badly that she yelped, nearly stumbling as she pried him off and into her arms. Crookshanks’ tail started thumping. Excitedly. On her arm. He pawed the window, squishing his face against it to watch the magpie as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Ugh… what a creep… what must the bird be thinking about his owner?

“No Crookshanks, staring is rude,” Hermione scolded, about to drop him to the floor, but to her astonishment the magpie simply tilted its head at him and stared back unblinkingly, completely nonplussed. Crookshanks’ tail wagged harder. Weren’t birds supposed to be afraid of cats?

After a full minute of eyeing the little shit who was probably up to no good again, the magpie twittered loud enough that Hermione could hear its trill through the glass, before it turned its attention to her, fixing its beady eyes on her. Hermione gulped as bright blue eyes held her hostage, looking at her with an expression on its face that was almost questioning. Almost as if… it was studying her closely, trying to see through her, to search every nook and cranny that she hid from the world. Hermione didn’t know what else to do except to hold herself still and try not to fidget.

Did all birds look at you like this when you had their full undivided attention? The bird stared at her for several seconds longer, and without saying anything more it turned and flew away. Hermione frowned. Strange. All she knew was that the bird wasn’t a foe, as Hermione knew Crookshanks wouldn’t be so accepting of it if it had been. Her mind whirling, she watched the bird disappear around the edge of the wall before she was able to peel herself away from the window.

She sighed. It seemed this year was giving her more questions than answers. She hated it; hated the unknown, hated not knowing something. And yet, being on the run must’ve changed her philosophy, as despite herself she couldn’t help but welcome the thrill at it all… It was only when her stomach grumbled loudly that she realized she was starving. Going through her usual morning routine, she dumped Crookshanks’ breakfast into his bowl who meowed and started munching eagerly at it, before heading down to the Great Hall for her own.

***

“Ron, you gotta eat something before the Quidditch tryouts,” Harry wheedled as he shoved a piece of garlic bread into his mouth.

“Can’t,” Ron moaned. He looked green at the thought, his pile of food laying forgotten for once on the table. “I’ll get sick in the air.”

“Really, Ron, we’ve been on the run, escaped death one hundred times, fought in the Hogwarts battle and managed to kill off Voldy, and you’re still nervous?” Hermione said, matching Harry’s exasperated tone. “You’re not going to die.”

Ron made a face at her. “Easy for you to say, you’re not the one doing it. And the crowd’s going to be bigger than before!”

“It’s because of your celebrity status,” Hermione sniggered, nudging Harry on his side. “Not only have you beaten Voldemort, you survived the death curse again! What is it they’re calling you now? ‘The Boy Who Lived Twice?’ ‘The Master of Death?’”

Harry groaned and buried his face in his hands. Ginny patted him sympathetically on the back. “Ugh, don’t even,” he mumbled through muffled fingers. “At least this time I’ve charmed the sign up sheets so that no one except Gryffindors can write their names on it. I’d rather not go through that fiasco again! Do people not have basic comprehension skills anymore? What part of ‘only Gryffindors can tryout for the Gryffindor team’ that they don’t get?!?”

“It’s your fault you’re so fanciable,” Ginny shrugged, pouring a jug of milk unconcernedly into her cup. “I would know. Shame you’re not my type.”

Ron gagged. “Ugh. Please shut up.” Then he stopped and stared, as did Hermione. “What do you mean he’s not your type!?” he yelped.

“None of your business,” Ginny shot back, stuffing down her last piece of bread before standing up. “I’m gonna change. See ya guys la—” But just as she turned around she bumped into Luna who was just walking past her to get to the Ravenclaw table.

And then… something happened. Hermione’s eyebrows rose as she watched Ginny turn bright red as Luna steadied her, even wiping a smudge of milk stain off the corners of Ginny’s lips. And because Luna was Luna she didn’t do it with a napkin. Oh no. But with… With. Her. Own. Fingers. Hermione’s mouth dropped open. Ron’s spoon clanged into his bowl. Harry calmly went about finishing off the last piece of his muffin like it was daily news. Ginny turned as red as her hair.

“Oh, hi Luna! Bye Luna!” Ginny squeaked, before dashing past her and out the Great Hall.

“Oh hello,” Luna said serenely, not reacting to them gawping at her like she was… was one of those mythical creatures she so liked to bang on about. Hermione was half in awe, half amused at Luna’s nonchalant air like what just happened was an everyday thing, whilst Ron’s jaw was hanging open unashamedly at her. “Ronald, do close your mouth before you swallow a wrackspurt.” And she flounced back to the Ravenclaw table like that whole exchanged hadn’t happened.

“…Loony Lovegood? And my sister?” Ron whisper-shouted at them after he finally found his voice ten minutes later.

Harry grinned. “They’d make a cute couple, don’t you think?”

Hermione smirked into her bowl. “Don’t call her Loony, Ronald. Somehow I’m not surprised.”

“You do have an uncanny sense with these kind of things, ‘Mione,” Harry said in awe. “How do you do it? Give us guys the secret.”

“You’re just both exceptionally good at being dense,” Hermione rolled her eyes. Except that she was this dense when it came to herself.

“At-at l-least she’s better than Dean Thomas and Michael Corner,” Ron stuttered, still staring at where Luna had been standing in shock.

“Well at least you didn’t say she’s better than me,” Harry grinned.

But she didn’t hear what Ron retorted because just then Narcissa walked in, this time actually alone. Hermione froze, the piece of pancake halfway to her mouth and completely forgotten, especially when Narcissa pause in the aisle across them and met her eyes. Not briefly for like a second like the past week, but she looked straight at her, studying her like that magpie had this morning. Hermione couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, very aware of the swooping sensation in her stomach as she stared right back into her blue eyes that somehow made her feel seen to her very bones. Didn’t even realize she was holding her breath, until the blonde nodded at her before walking towards the High Table, taking her place besides Hagrid. Even began conversing deeply with him.

“Huh,” Harry scratched his head. “Who knew Narcissa would be so comfortable talking to what she would’ve considered a half-breed.”

“She’s explained all that she needed to explain yesterday, didn’t she?” Hermione said quietly. “And I did… have a rather enlightening conversation with Draco last night.”

“Draco? You’re calling him Draco now?” Ron looked astonished. “What did he want?”

“He apologized,” Hermione said softly, glancing at the Slytherin table to where he was conversing with Goyle, then to Narcissa, who was already looking back at her. Hermione flushed and snapped her gaze back to her plate.

Ron looked even more astonished. “Huh. I guess he really is trying to turn over a new leaf. I ran into him before I came into the Great Hall and he wished me luck this morning for the Quidditch tryouts and sprinted away before I could hex him. I half thought he was doing it to trip me up but I guess he’s sincere about it?”

“Hmmm,” Harry said, suddenly seemingly very interested in shoving his face into his cup to finish off the last drops of his hot chocolate. “C’mon. Let’s head to the Quidditch pitch.”

“Good luck, Ron! Parvati and I will be there cheering you on!” Lavender called from where she was sitting next to Parvati Patil a little further down, and to Hermione’s surprise Ron turned a shade of pink, his posture becoming more confident as they trudged out of the hall.

Instead of feeling admittedly jealous like she had before—though perhaps jealousy hadn’t ever been the right word, maybe she was just yearning for something that felt so… impossible (perhaps a little less now), and Ron of all people was getting it? All Hermione felt now was the urge to tease him about it. She smirked.

“You and Lav Lav getting back together again?” Hermione nudged him.

Ron looked at her worriedly, before relaxing when he saw she was grinning. “I’ve been visiting her a lot whilst she was recovering at St Mungos,” Ron said quietly. “I don’t … really know where it’s heading or if that’s what she feels, but I really feel like this is it, ‘Mione. Greyback’s attack has done a 180 on her personality and there’s parts of her that I never saw before. I actually miss how she was like before, but only cause there’s so much… darkness and seriousness in her now after that happened, now that she’s part werewolf? She frequently tells me that I help, though, that she’s managed to stop worrying about becoming destructive during transformations because I’m sitting there with her. She’s never attacked me once, has even become docile during her werewolf hours without the Wolfsbane Potion. We’ve become best friends throughout the summer and that’s all I can hope for.”

“So that’s where you’ve been disappearing all summer!” Harry exclaimed. “I’m surprised Molly didn’t question you about it!”

Ron flushed. “Because she knows.”

“I’m glad. I’m truly happy for you,” Hermione smiled and slugged an arm around his shoulders.

“Thank you.” Ron squeezed her hand whilst Harry bumped his shoulder into Ron’s.

“Well, would you look at that, Ronny Diddlekins, the first out of the three of us to find true love!”

“Oh shut up Harry, I don’t even know if it’s that yet. Stop distracting me from what’s about to happen!”

***

Ron and Ginny made the team of course, acing the tryouts with flying colors. After a short celebratory trip to Hogsmeade during which Harry spent most of it ranting about how this year’s team was the best yet, Hermione bid goodbye to the others and headed up to her room for some peace and quiet. Opening the door, she smiled when Crookshanks purred and started circling her feet and bent down to stroke him. Then headed to her desk where she sat down and pulled out an essay she had to write for Transfiguration, Crookshanks settling on her lap and starting to doze off. Hermione shot an envious glance down at him. If only she had the luxury.

Her ink bottle was running out by the time she finished her essay. Standing up to stretch, Crookshanks gave her a grumpy look as he slithered on the floor. She headed over to her drawer, intending to pull out a new set of ink, but she froze as her eyes landed on a piece of long wrapping that was shoved deep into the bottom.

She’d nearly forgotten about it. No, scratch that. It wasn’t that she’d forgotten about it. But she’d shoved it so deep down in her mind that it had become a distant memory, barely there but just there enough for Hermione to remember if she tried. There was something there… something she hadn’t quite processed in the heat of the moment… but what? Slowly, she picked up the wand, only to nearly gasp as memories seemed to unlock and hit her with the speed of light.

“Avada Kedavra!”

Hermione dived to one side to avoid Crabbe’s spell, and as Harry stunned him Crabbe leapt out of the way, knocking Draco’s wand from his hand.

Just as Draco was yelling “Don’t kill him, don’t kill him!” his wand just happened to roll down the aisle to where Hermione was crouching behind a chair. All of a sudden the wand lit up, seemed to glow as it came to a stop at her feet, and before Hermione knew what she was doing she was picking it up with shaking hands. As her hand touched it the tip of the wand glowed even brighter, a ripple of welcoming energy shooting up through her arm, like it was recognizing her as her own wand had recognized its master.

But Hermione had no time to question it; no time to wonder what the hell just happened, because Harry was shouting expelliarmus and Crabbe was trying to kill them and Hermione was shooting a stunning curse back at them, even as she was tucking the wand into a pocket with a zipper. And then fiendfyre was consuming the room and all they could think of was not burning to death…

But as the final battle raged on, even as Hermione used her own wand to take down the enemy, she felt considerably calmer than before, like the wand’s magic nestled into her skin was seeping into her. Like it was… soothing her, a steady presence remaining by her side as Fred died, as Lavender almost died, as Snape died, as Harry died and returned to finally end Voldemort for good…

Breathing harshly, Hermione slowly returned to her room when she felt claws pawing softly at her in concern. Blinking her eyes open she realized she’d slid down to the floor, and Crookshanks was licking gently at her hands, which were gripping the wand so hard her knuckles were whitening. Crookshanks meowed softly. Butted her palms in concern as she loosened her grip. Hermione smiled shakily, scratched under his chin.

“I’m ok, Crookshanks,” she murmured.

Crookshanks squinted. Tilted his at her like he didn’t believe her. “Ok, maybe not,” Hermione huffed out a shaky laugh as she picked him up and hugged him to her chest. Buried her face into his fur as she tried to steady her heartbeat. And her breathing.

Why was she remembering all the details now? she’d handled the wand a number of times since acquiring it, had even picked it up just to feel its soothing companionship as she wondered if she’d ever be able to return it to its owner. Nothing happened. And since coming to Hogwarts, since finding out Narcissa was teaching here, she hadn’t dared to touch it, hadn’t dared to even reach to the bottom of the drawer for she somehow felt like she’d be violating something if she did…

“Should I return it, Crookshanks?” Hermione murmured. Picked it up again from where it had rolled to the floor, shuddering when warmth once again seeped into her hands.

Crookshanks meowed and looked at her with a tilted head, as though saying What do you think?

“I’m taking that as a yes,” she chuckled. “What is it with you and Professor Black? You really like her, don’t you?”

Crookshanks didn’t deign to answer, merely heading over to his bowl of food and pawing at it.

“Alright alright, you’re hungry, I get it. No need to get all feisty on me.”

Hermione pulled out the second drawer where she kept his food, poured it into his bowl, then walked over to the night stand where she’d left the Maruader’s Map. “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

After the map rolled open and all of Hogwart’s glory was laid before her Hermione started searching for Professor Black’s name. She wasn’t in her office, nor was she at dinner, which had started… she glanced at the clock and started, an hour and a half ago. But she really wasn’t feeling hungry right now, as was the case whenever flashbacks hit her, and she needed to get this done now whilst she had worked up the courage. And she could always go down to the kitchens and ask Kreacher for a sandwich if she felt hungry afterwards. Where was she? Oh. Quidditch pitch again, but outdoors.

Glancing out the window Hermione breathed a sigh when she realized the clouds had lifted. Hoping it wouldn’t turn into another downpour by the time she headed back in, Hermione crossed the room, opened the door and headed down the corridor. When she reached the Great Hall she hesitated. She hadn’t ran into anyone so far, and she didn’t want to go through the Great Hall just in case she’d run into her friends. Casting a disillusionment charm on herself, she smirked in victory as she became completely invisible—she really was getting the hang of this—and crept through the Great Hall, even adding a Muffliato charm on herself to silent her footsteps.

By the time she reached the Quidditch pitch Hermione was burning with curiosity. She might not like Quidditch herself, but apparently she really did have a thing for really good quidditch players. She snorted. She was half joking when she said that in front of Ron’s face just to piss him off, but she didn’t know just how true that was. The universe must be playing jokes on her at this point. Because as she stepped out into the Quidditch pitch, Hermione’s breath caught and— oh Merlin. Harry really needed to see this.

Narcissa seemed to flit through the air effortlessly, flying through one goal post then another, hair and robes streaming behind her as she twisted and turned so sharply that the broomstick seemed to read her mind before it happened. She dived steeply through the air, brushing the grass with the tip of her toes, before she rose in such a steep ascent that Hermione couldn’t help but wonder how she wasn’t falling off her broom. And then she was speeding across the pitch towards her so quickly she became a blur, and then she was diving down through the goalpost, only to touch down gently on the ground as she dismounted near her. She had her back turned to her, and Hermione panicked, almost considering fleeing back into the castle, but then—

“Ms. Granger,” she said, still without turning to her as she picked up her broom. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Hermione started. Then she looked down at herself. Oh. When had she lost concentration on her charms?

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude but…” Hermione trailed off. “Erm, if you’d prefer I can just leave you be…”

Narcissa finally turned to face her. Pierced her with a look. “No need. Have you eaten?”

Hermione shook her head slowly. Narcissa snapped a finger.

Kreacher appeared, bowing low to her, then to Hermione. “Ms. Black. Ms. Granger. What can I do for my mistresses?”

“Kreacher, I’d like you to fetch a sandwich for both of us, please,” Narcissa said, the kind tone with which she used to speak to the elf taking Hermione aback. She could see why Kreacher liked her so much now.

“Yes, Madam Black,” Kreacher bowed, and with a crack he disappeared.

In the dimming light they stared at each other in silence. Hermione was acutely aware of the blonde’s wand digging into her skin. Her hand shoved into her pocket where she’d stuck Narcissa’s wand, almost pulling it out, before a crack made Hermione jump about a foot in the air as Kreacher reappeared.

She hastily looked away from Professor Black, grateful for the brief interruption so that she could pull herself together as she thanked Kreacher for the food. With another bow and a crack he disappeared. This time, Hermione didn’t dare look up at the blonde, instead looking down at the grass, shoveled her feet as she fidgeted with the food wrapping. It was piping hot.

A soft sigh made her look up. Narcissa was pinching her nose, mumbling something under her breath that sounded like stubborn Gryffindors before saying more loudly, “Let’s take it to my quarters, shall we?”

Hermione gulped and nodded. Neither of them spoke until they reached the faculty tower, which was guarded by a gargoyle not unlike the one in the headmaster’s quarters. After Narcissa murmured a password the gargoyle slid aside, revealing a long winding staircase that was thankfully less daunting than it looked. It was certainly easier than the stairs Hermione remembered climbing to the Top Box of the Quidditch Stadium, which took more than ten minutes to reach.

She’d never been more glad that she’d taken to running in the nearby sports field whilst she was at her parents that summer, and it was a habit that kept up with her until now. Sometimes, the sunset views were an added plus running around Hogwarts shortly before dinner, the perfect wind down after the day. Not to mention running had served her stamina well when dueling. Had certainly served her well in battle.

The door to Narcissa’s quarters immediately opened when she neared it. It seemed enchanted to recognize her presence, and Hermione was slightly jealous that her own room did not do that. It would’ve made carrying books back from the library much easier before she learned to make her books float in the air. Hermione stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. Didn’t know what to do with herself as Narcissa sat down on the chair in front of a large wooden desk.

Narcissa sighed and pinched her nose again. “Well don’t just stand there gawping, the chair’s there for you to sit!”

Hermione hastily complied. Sat down on a comfy looking chair, staring down at her knees. Still silent.

“Ms. Granger? What is it? I promise I won’t bite,” Narcissa said (smirked), and Hermione felt herself flush crimson at the images that flashed through her at that. Oh she knew what she was doing. She was such a tease—

Digging a hand into her pocket Hermione slowly pulled out the wand. She finally looked up to meet Narcissa’s eyes, which were staring down at it in shock. “I… thought you might want this back.”

“My wand,” Narcissa whispered, eyes widening as Hermione slowly put it on the table. Retracted her hand. “But—how—Draco told me he lost it in the Room of Requirements before it… before it flamed up…”

“I picked it up when it rolled to where I was hiding after Crabbe knocked it out of Draco’s hands,” Hermione said quietly. Decided not to mention how it had flared up at her touch.

“And did it… react to you when you picked it up?” Narcissa looked sharply at her.

How did she—was she using legilimens on her? But Hermione had practiced both Legilimency and Occlumency enough to know when someone was penetrating her mind. Now wasn’t it. And yet, Narcissa had managed to see through what she was omitting. For one second Hermione was taken back to that time when their hands had touched over her own wand. When it had lit up every cell within her like a plant derived of sunlight. Then she gulped. Nodded silently. Felt herself flush even hotter as Narcissa scrutinized her harder.

“It glowed,” she added, to break the stifling silence stretching between them. “And it was… warm.” She flushed harder at the implications.

“Impossible,” Narcissa muttered under her breath as she picked up her wand. Almost… reverently. Looked Hermione carefully in the eyes. “Yew and dragon heartstring.”

“Vine and dragon heartstring.”

 Narcissa bore her eyes even more intensely into hers. “And you… kept it.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I… don’t know.” Because it felt right. Because it felt like there was a piece of you that I could keep when you were…you are… so far away.

“Did you use it?”

“No. I didn’t dare.”

Narcissa tilted her head. Broke eye contact. “And yet it recognized you,” she murmured. “I’m sure it would’ve happily let you…” For one second she seemed to be debating something, before she shook her head. Got up from her seat and paced the room. Stopped in front of the window, her back to Hermione. There was another stretch of silence as the room lit with an orangey, sunset color.

Hermione took the hint. “I’ve disturbed you enough, Professor Black,” she murmured. “Goodnight.”

She left without waiting for Narcissa to reply. Nibbling on her sandwich on her way down, Hermione meandered aimlessly through castle grounds, her mind whirling at what just happened. The core of her wand was the same as Professor Black’s. Bellatrix’s was the same as hers, and yet it hadn’t reacted to her. What did it mean? Heading to the Great Lake, she sat down on the bench and leaned her head on her hands, staring unseeingly out onto the water. A beautiful haze was rising from its surface, and Hermione smiled as the giant squid rose from the water to wave its tentacles at her. Hermione crouched down low. Tickled it.

“Hello Bob,” Hermione murmured. She giggled when his tentacles wrapped itself gently around her pointer finger, not minding its slimy texture.

She’d discovered the squid’s name in her first year when she’d hidden there after the other girls in her dorm had teased her about her teeth, and the squid had come up and splashed water gently at her, as though trying to comfort her. Hermione had giggled, tears completely forgotten as she played with it. Before it sank back into the water it had spelled out its name with small stones and they’d become fast friends since. She was so busy splashing water at the squid that she didn’t notice the flap of wings until Bob pointed upwards with a tentacle.

She glanced up. Watched as it circled above her head until it was close enough that she could see the color of its feathers. It was… of course. She was pretty sure it was the same magpie from this morning. It was only when it was directly above her that she knew for sure, as there was a piece of paper scrunched carefully between its talons. With a soft caw, the magpie dropped it then flew away. Startled, she reached up a hand to catch it before it could fall into the water. Carefully unfolded it even as she was burning with curiosity. Her breath caught at a fancy, cursive writing that greeted her. Two unsigned words. And yet, Hermione knew exactly who it was from.

Thank you.

Chapter Text

Fuck it.

Hermione simply couldn’t put off reading the scroll Minerva had given her anymore. Bidding a quick goodbye to Bob, she raced off across the lawn, through the Great Hall where she didn’t bother apologizing to people she’d bumped into on accident, nor Ginny and Luna looking at her in surprise who were no doubt heading back to their rooms after supper ended.

“Where’s the fire?” Ginny yelled. “Where were you at dinner?”

In lieu of answering Hermione waved a hand at them somewhere behind her back. She shot up through the five staircases in record time, ignoring the portraits on the walls that were gaping at her as she passed through them, for the adrenaline (totally not) caused by Narcissa’s two simple words were rushing through her so strongly all she wanted to do was run.

When she reached her room she opened the door with fumbling hands, then leaned against it to catch her breath as she hastily locked it, not wanting her friends to go knocking and bombard her with questions in the state she was in. Opening her eyes she saw Crookshanks had stopped eating his own supper and was staring at her like she’d lost her mind. Which she really must have, because there were practically nothing that could stop Crookshanks from wolfing down food once he started unless the world was ending.

“Oh don’t look at me like that,” Hermione hissed, crossing over to the bookshelf that sat snuggly in a corner. “Go back to eating, you!”

If cats could shake heads Hermione could’ve sworn Crookshanks did just that. With a meow that sounded suspiciously like a huff, he bent his head and started munching away, and Hermione slowly let out a breath as she pulled out the drawer to carefully lift out the scroll.

A Personal Account of Predestined Soulbonders, by Gerald Ollivander, 1320.

Ollivander? She knew Mr. Ollivander’s family tree went way far back, but she didn’t know truly just how far until know until now. Hermione gingerly unrolled the scroll, being careful not to let it get too long in case she ended up wrinkling it. It surprisingly felt less brittle than it looked. In fact the scroll looked as though it had somehow been preserved through the ages very well, for neither were the pages coloring nor falling off. Hermione needed to learn that spell. And if she couldn’t, well, maybe she could come up with her own preservation spells to protect her work.

Hermione shook her head and bent closer to inspect the scroll. It was handwritten too. And yet the ink looked as though it had been written yesterday, none of it fading into the page, everything somehow crystal clear despite its messiness. Sitting on her bed, she began pouring over the cursive handwriting. No matter how fast of a reader she might be, this was slow going. Even torturous. But her need to know, to understand, propelled her through it.

I had been selling wands for a decade now, and have watched my father sell wands for the five past decades. If anyone on this earth has credibility to voice their thoughts on this matter, I would argue that I’m the perfect candidate to narrate the events that had taken place in my tiny shop on this very same day thirty years ago.

Or rather, events which concerned my daughter, Olivia Olivander and her childhood best friend, Cynthia Black. Events that fit an ancient tale my mother liked to tell me about when I was a child. A tale that was supposed to be impossible and unfounded. But as soon as they met, I knew something was different in ways that no one had likely ever witnessed.

Now, the most curious thing about Cynthia was that she didn’t seem to have any parents. Perhaps they died far shortly after she was born. Cynthia managed to survive ALONE on the streets by fighting stray dogs for food. I shudder to think how long she’d survived like that. But when Olivia begged me to take her in pretty much the second Olivia stumbled across her on the streets, how could I say no to a ragged-looking, starving girl?

They grew up inseparable; wherever Olivia went, Cynthia did, and vice versa. When it came time for the two girls to buy their first wands a year later, I distinctly remembered what wands I sold them. A most unique core it was too: African mermaid hair. These cores would not accept another’s touch save for its true master. In fact, if anyone other than the rightful owner picked it up, the wand would shock them.

So color me surprised when the both of them picked up two different wands with this core, and not only did it NOT shock them, it reacted to them in completely the same way—a warmth filled the room, a halo shimmered around them as though two separate halves of a soul had just merged into one. Not to mention the way their magical energy mingled and mixed with each other like it was coming home. Right then and there, I explained to them the stages of a soulbond, as I thought it best to be transparent with them.

After they finally consummated the bond five years later, the most intimate stage of the soulbond has been reached. It is this stage where symptoms such as telepathy without needing to use legilimency and sharing each other’s magical abilities emerged, even feeling each other’s emotions whenever they let that happen. They now live happily in a cottage near a sea.

Disclaimer: this scroll is just a brief guideline. I’d wager that it will be different for each individual person as the bond is bound to develop according to the soulbonders’ needs. Of course, it can always remain unfulfilled and even completely dissolved should things not work out, but that can be an extremely painful process. For further information, please consult… The next words were too faded for Hermione to make sense of it. Of course.

Hermione wasn’t sure how long she spent staring at it in shock. She didn’t know what to think. Or do. Her mind was running 100km/hr as the information slowly sank in. And then the date registered. August 31st. The same day she and Narcissa… first met. She shivered. It was just a complete coincidence. Or was it? Minerva. She needed to talk to Minerva. She didn’t care if it was ten minutes curfew. She had Head Girl privileges, damn it, and she was going to use it!

Carefully unrolling the scroll she hid it back into her bookshelf and resisted the urge to bolt out the door. Walked calmly across the corridor to Minerva’s office. Just as she was about to barge up the staircase the gargoyle slid opened. Hermione froze in place as it slid open to reveal—oh. Her. With Minerva behind her. Narcissa froze too, stared at her like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Ahh, Ms. Granger!” Minerva said from behind her shoulder. Then she narrowed her eyes at her. “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Hmmph. This place was filled with ghosts, rendering such expressions useless. “More like seeing Peeves dump a bucket of ice water on me,” Hermione muttered.

A low chuckle from Narcissa made her eyes shoot up. She eyed her in confusion. Then at Minerva, who was, yep, hiding a smirk. Then back at the blonde again, whose face was blank again so quickly Hermione wondered if she’d imagined it.

“Headmistress, thank you for your time. I shall take my leave now.” Narcissa nodded at Minerva and swept out the door without another glance at Hermione. Who took a deep breath. And another.

“Hermione, my dear, do please come in before you have another panic attack,” Minerva said, placing an arm around her and leading her up the staircase. “And breathe. You look like you’ll collapse from lack of oxygen. You’ve survived the final battle, can’t have you dying on me now, can we?”

Hermione sucked in a lungful of breath. Sat down shakily on the chair. “I read it,” she blurted out before Minerva could fully lower herself into her chair.

“Ahh.” Seriously? That was all she had to say??!

“How did you come across the scroll?” Hermione demanded after taking a sip of the tea Minerva offered her silently.

“Mr. Ollivander passed it to me before Hogwarts started in September. Thought it might be needed here more than he did.” Minerva looked at Hermione with twinkling eyes. “I was wondering when you would cave. I’m surprised you held off this long.”

Hermione huffed. “I don’t like not knowing something.”

“Which is why I’m surprised. You have mastered Narcissa’s level of self-restraint.”

Hermione chuckled. “Did you… did you read the scroll as well?” she asked quietly. “Do you know what it said?”

Minerva shook her head. “I couldn’t. It wouldn’t open at my touch. Mr. Ollivander warned me that not just anyone can access it.”

Hermione stared. “It opened to me.”

“Yes.”

“What do I do?” Hermione whispered. “Narcissa can’t possibly be my—we’ve barely exchanged more than a few words since we first met! I can write endless rolls of parchment on—on why this can’t happen!” She gestured wildly.

“Longer than that all the essays you’ve submitted to me?” Minerva teased.

“Waayyyy longer!” Hermione gestured even more wildly.

“Calm down, my dear, before you go fainting on me again.”

“I am not going to do either!”

Minerva pinched her nose, got up from her chair, and forced Hermione (not too gently either) back into the chair. “Hermione,” she said firmly after she had returned to her seat. “I assure you, the fact that she’s your teacher is the least of my worries.”

“Well it’s the most of mine!” Hermione threw her hands up before deflating. “I…” she trailed off. “I’ve never felt so useless.”

Minerva leaned forward and gently took Hermione’s hand. “That’s not what I’m saying at all, my dear. When it comes to the matters of the heart you’re both just… incredibly slow. Slower than the slowest snail on earth.”

Hermione cocked her head. “Which is?”

“A garden snail.” Huh. She didn’t know that. Minerva waved a hand dismissively. “That’s besides the point.”

“There’s no point here,” Hermione bit out.

“Are you so sure about that?” Minerva raised her eyebrows. “Let me ask you this. Is this something that you want to know or not? You don’t have to answer me. With a brain like yours, I wouldn’t be surprised if 99% of the times you rarely make decisions with your heart.”

Damn it. Minerva knew her too well.

“Hermione,” Minerva leaned forward to gently take her hand, “it wouldn’t hurt to try something new. No worries if it doesn’t gain momentum. At least you know you’ll have tried.”

Hermione remained petulantly silent.

Minerva’s eyes twinkled. “Now, hadn’t you better retire for the night? Those bags under your eyes are starting to become permanent, my dear.”

Hermione huffed and stood, bidding goodnight to Minerva before wandering back to her room. Her mind was racing as she brushed her teeth and changed into her pajamas. She wasn’t sure how long she spent lying there, mulling Minerva’s advice over and over. Maybe she had a point. But how was she to approach something so unapproachable?

Maybe…

An idea lit in her brain like a light bulb. If Narcissa felt more comfortable conversing with her in the form of a magpie, maybe she needed to approach the blonde in a way that made her feel like as though she could escape. Though Hermione was hell-bent on not asking the blonde about the scroll yet. But was she brave enough to make the first move? Where was that Gryffindor courage when she needed it?

Hermione rolled over. She tried to fall asleep. But her mind was racing, her head spinning with why it had to be her. What was so special about her that fate had somehow decided to turn her life into a reality TV show? Sitting up in bed, Hermione rubbed her eyes and glanced warily at the clock. Groaned at the time. 3am. Great. Another sleepless night.

Sitting down on her desk, Hermione grabbed a pen and stared mindlessly down at the paper, before scribbling down a message. Then pulling out the Maurader’s Map, she made sure not a single soul was insight on the way to the owlery before shrugging on a coat. Casting a disillusionment charm on herself, she softly turned the doorknob and slipped out into the chilly corridor.

Periodically checking the map to make sure she didn’t run into anyone, Hermione made it to the top of the West Tower without much issue and called down an owl that was snoozing with one head under its wings. It hooted grumpily at being wakened but obediently fluttered down to her palm when she poured some owl treats into it.

“Take this to Mr. Ollivander, please,” she whispered.

The owl hooted in reply and flew off into the night air. Exhaling heavily, she stared unseeingly into the distance as the owl disappeared amongst the stars. She needed to hunt down some answers.

***

“Ms. Granger,” Mr. Ollivander greeted her when she stepped nervously into his shop come Saturday morning. “It’s lovely to see you again. What is so important that you require a one-on-one conversation with me at this hour?”

Hermione hesitated. She wasn’t sure how to start. Ollivander must’ve seen the hesitation on her face, for he placed a hand on her shoulder and gently ushered her to the back of the room. A tiny door opened into a small room with two cozy-looking armchairs.

“Sit,” Ollivander said, summoning a kettle and two cups. “Tea?”

“Yes please.”

Hermione wrapped her hands around the handle when it was done.

“Now,” Ollivander heaved a satisfied sigh after slowly sipping at his tea, “tell me what ails you so.” Without saying anything Hermione carefully took the scroll from her beaded bag and handed it to Ollivander. Ollivander’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I see.”

“Minerva informed me that you passed this scroll to her before this year started, Mr. Ollivander. May… may I ask why?”

“I have a feeling it would be needed over there this year. And I turned out to be right, didn’t I?” Mr. Ollivander’s eyes twinkled.

Hermione stared. “How?”

Ollivander picked up the cup and stared unseeingly out the window. “I remember every wand I’ve ever sold,” he began slowly.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “So you’ve said.”

“No two wand cores are ever the same,” Ollivander continued as though she hadn’t ever said anything. “There can be brothers, yes, like—”

“Like Harry’s and Voldemort’s wand?”

Ollivander flinched at the name, but nodded. “I always wondered why it was these two wands that worked so well for the both of them. Now I know. Mr. Potter was one of the Dark Lord’s Horcruxes, so not only did the cores of their wands match; the phoenix feather in both wands chose to give its alliance to both of them. However, here is where the connection between their wands differ between yours and Narcissa’s.”

Hermione’s heart pounded as Ollivander leaned forward with a gleam in his eyes, as though he was sharing secrets he’d never said out loud before.

“The manufacturing of their cores was processed entirely differently, though it was from the same substance—phoenix feathers. The feathers in the Dark Lord’s wand were taken from after the phoenix had died; the feathers in Mr. Potter’s wand taken while the phoenix was still alive. Of course, only after they shed their feathers naturally. Wand makers never take material by force, else it would render the wand useless, or worse, cursed and dangerously ineffective. Whatever stage you take feathers from a phoenix greatly matters. For example, if the phoenix is alive, usually it means that there is much less potential for dark magic. But if dead, that is an… entirely different story, as we have seen.” Ollivander paused and took a sip from his mug.

“The material of yours and Madam Black’s wand cores, however, were made from the exact same material, and at the exact same stage. I know this as I collected the materials myself ten days after the dragon died its natural birth long long before you both bought the wand. Do you know where the word ‘heartstrings’ come from?”

“No. I’ve always wondered.”

“It’s exactly as it says. From the Dragon’s heart. It’s the organ that produces the most power. Not only that, but I used the exact same quantity of heartstrings in terms of weight. I hadn’t ever crafted a wand with dragon heartstring core the way I did with both of your wands.”

Hermione’s eyebrows rose. “Why not?”

“Call it sixth sense, perhaps?” He shook his head. “Whatever the reason, no other dragon heartstring cores I’ve ever sold reacted to its owners the ways it did to both of yours. The same could be said with any cores. The wood type is less consequential as it isn’t truly ‘magical’ in itself, thus it usually comes down to the magical core to give the wand its magic.

“What I cannot explain, though, is the peculiar behaviors your wands exhibited when yours met hers, and hers, yours. No wand can be loyal to two masters in the same lifetime. I’ve certainly never seen it happen, at least. But your wands seem to be the exception. The… magical chemistry… if I can call it that, is practically already there without even having to be won over.”

Why was he looking at her like that?

“I normally never extend this offer, but would you like to try out the wands in my shop? This way we can eliminate the possibility that what happened between your wands is a common thing.”

Hermione looked at him doubtfully. “I don’t want to cause a mess and make you pull out every wand—”

“That can be easily fixed,” Ollivander said light-heartedly. “It’ll be an interesting experiment for me as well.”

Hermione didn’t protest further and followed him out to the front of the store.

Ollivander rummaged around for a few minutes before emerging with a long box. “Here.”

Hermione took it. Nothing. Ollivander didn’t look surprised and instead moved to another row to pull out another box. After nearly half an hour of trying just about every wand there was in the room, none of them reacted to her, until Ollivander paused at the one box she had yet to open.

“Hmm,” Ollivander mumbled absentmindedly, before slowly sliding the box onto his hand. “What about this one?” He gingerly pushed it towards her.

Just as gingerly, Hermione took the wand by the handle, only to gasp at the sudden warmth that rushed through her fingers as she did. Though it didn’t glow and spark like her first wand did, the rush of compatibly that raced through her was… something.

Ollivander’s eyebrows rose as she handed him back her wand. “There’s a reason I saved that one to last,” he muttered as he cleaned everything up with a wave of his hand. The mess on the desk cleared. “Just as I expected.”

“But… why?” Hermione tilted her head in confusion.

“Madam Black’s wand is made of Yew and Dragon Heartstring.”

“I know, but—” Hermione’s eyes widened as it slowly dawned on her. “So that means…”

“Exactly.”

“Bu-but—” she stammered. “What does it mean?”

“I cannot tell you that, my dear. I only understand the inner workings of the wand, not of the heart. That is… something only you can discover for yourself.”

Hermione sighed and nodded. “Thank you. May I keep the scroll for future reference?”

“Of course. It’s yours for as long as you’d like. I believe you need it more than I do.”

Hermione smiled and carefully placed the scroll back in her bag. “I should be getting back to Hogwarts. But thank you for your time, Mr. Ollivander. I hope you’re recovering well from your ordeal.”

“You as well, Ms. Granger. And pass Mr. Potter my congratulations for defeating the Dark Lord for good. I always knew he was destined for great things.”

“I will.”

***

Argghh!!!!

Hermione muffled a scream of frustration after a week spent staring at the walls. And another week passed. Apparently reading the scroll and going to Ollivander didn’t dig her out of this stupid conundrum. If anything, worsened it. She had never been stalemated to the point where all she could do was nothing. She liked problem solving. She liked planning. Had always excelled at it—how else was she to earn the title ‘top of her class?’ But now she might as well be at the bottom of the class. Or her own personal hell.

All she had managed to do was figure out what the blonde did in her free time. Not that she was stalking. Crookshanks was most certainly not rubbing off on her. When the weather permitted, Hermione had caught sight of the blonde sitting on the same bench she and Draco had talked in front of the Great Lake, the frequency of it curiously increasing since the magpie incident, despite not seeing hide nor hair of the blonde save for class time.

Either she’d be grading papers, or reading books that looked thicker than the thickest books in the library. If it was a competition between them on who liked to read long books Hermione wasn’t sure who would win. She’d even considered asking Draco if he knew what books his mother like to read just so she could recommend some to her (not personally, of course, she’d make Crookshanks do it), but he’d kept his distance after they talked. More like acquaintances, she supposed, as they’d nod at each other and exchanged pleasantries but that was about it. It wasn’t like they sought each other out on purpose.

Yet on Friday morning Hermione woke up, a thrill of anticipation coursing through her as was apparently becoming the habit on Tuesdays and Fridays. Who was to say it had anything to do with the fact that DADA just happened to fall on those days? Nope, not at all. The sun was simply shining and birds were chirping and she just happened to be in a good mood today. Not even Peeves making her late for her first period dented her mood.

Making her way down to lunch after taking a shower—she did not want to go to double Defense Against the Dark Arts smelling like dragon dung after an hour ish spent in the Greenhouses—Hermione plonked herself down next to Ginny, who was eating lunch alone and looking at a potions essay that she had to hand in next week.

“Hi Ginny!” Hermione greeted cheerily as she started to pile her plate up.

Ginny looked at her in surprise. “Someone’s chipper today. Luna was starting to think that Wrackspurts would make permanent nests in your hair.”

She actually reached over to tap Hermione’s skull. Hermione batted her hands away.

“Ugh. I hope not.” She dug into a delicious looking piece of steak which was bursting with flavor. She really needed to get cooking lessons from the kitchen elves. Her skills were mediocre at best, enough to survive, though better than Ron of course, who was simply disastrous, while Harry fared slightly better. “Boy, have I missed the food here while we were on the run.”

“Hear hear.” She twisted to see Ron grinning at her as he slithered next to her. “The food is delicious today,” he spoke through a mouthful of steak. “Any plans for your birthday tomorrow, ‘Mione?”

Hermione wrinkled her nose. “Ronald, swallow before you speak. How many times must I remind you.” Then she shoved her face into a bowl of cereal to avoid answering.

“Oh no, you’re not getting away that easily!” Ginny prodded her side. “And you’re not studying either. We’ll kidnap you if we have to.”

Harry nodded savagely. “Last year she just spent the. Whole. Day. Reading. Remember, Ron? Granted, we were on the run, but even if we weren’t trying to get her to celebrate her birthday is like pulling teeth!”

“This year, no excuses,” Ginny agreed, slugging an arm around her shoulder. “It’s our last year at Hogwarts together and like you said, Hermione, we’re going to make it count.”

Hermione put down her bowl. Pinched her nose and sighed. “You guys aren’t going to drop this are you.”

“Even Draco offered to hex you if he had to,” Harry grinned. They all turned to look at him with raised eyebrows. Harry flushed. Scratched his neck. “So… um… he approached me last night and we played a friendly game of Quidditch? Didn’t even hex me when I won.”

“Wow,” Ron said, staring Harry in awe. “Where is Draco Malfoy and what has he done with himself.”

“If Draco can turn over a new leaf so can you,” Harry shrugged, turning to Hermione with a gleam in his eyes. “I’m sure books can do without you for a day. Even they need a break from you.”

…He had a point. “Oh alright, trip to Hogsmeade tomorrow? I have to admit, I’m craving a butterbeer.” And I desperately need one, Hermione added in her head. She’d never been more tempted to get hopelessly drunk in her life.

“Great!” Harry grinned. “Let’s invite Draco, Neville and Luna after Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Blimey, us getting along with the Malfoys. Who would’ve thought?” Ron shook his head.

Hermione lifted a cup to her lips to hide a smile. She had a feeling that Harry and Draco were more than just ‘getting along.’ Sure enough, Harry and Draco started chatting animatedly about Quidditch as they sat down in their desks half an hour later, not minding the surprised stares they were receiving by their classmates. Hermione smirked. Oh the rumors… she only hoped none of them would include speculation that Draco was confunding Harry into befriending him. And if she got wind of it, well luckily she was Head Girl.

The door banged open just as they finished pulling their books out. The room quieted as Narcissa swept forward to the front of the classroom. When she turned to face them, Hermione saw Narcissa’s eyes slither to where Draco was sitting in front of her next to Harry. Though the blonde didn’t outwardly react, Hermione stifled a grin as she noticed Narcissa subtly narrowed her eyes between them before she pulled out a stack of papers. With a wave of her hand rolls of parchments were on their desks. Hermione slowly unrolled it and grinned when she saw the mark. A+.

“I have graded your essays from last week, and I must say I’m impressed by the effort and understanding each of you have put into the paper. It is imperative that we understand what makes us us before we attempt to take the roots of Ancient Magic further. To truly understand and wield wandless magic, the practical doesn’t exist without the theoretical, nor does the Mind and the Heart exist without each other. Wandless magic is very much about trusting our gut instincts and being able to execute them appropriately.

“However, let me correct a common misconception I’ve noticed, not only in your essays, but generally in the world. While it is true that some witches and wizards possess higher affinity for wandless magic than others, may I remind you all that all of us has experienced wandless magic at some point in our lives. As such we’re all capable of it to some degree. Can anyone tell me at what stage it happens most frequently in our lives, and more importantly, why then?”

Several hands went up.

“Yes, Ms. Weasley.”

“Well, childhood magic is wandless, and mostly accidental. These instances usually occur when strong emotions trigger it. It can be anything ranging from extreme joy to hurt and sadness. But as we learn how to control magic, we learn how to control ourselves, in a way, and therefore we become much more… subtle about it in the sense that the way we produce magic isn’t quite as raw.”

Narcissa nodded. “Ten points to Gryffindor. I like the term Ms Weasley is using to describe wandless magic as raw magic. A wand filters out its ‘rawness’ as we formally study magic. There are both pros and cons to this. The wand helps amplify the magic within us, allowing it to happen with less concentration in a more controlled environment, yet conversely, we become too reliant on a piece of wood to do it for us. This means that we actually become less in tune with ourselves, less in tune with our emotional state. The purest state of all magic. It is this to which wandless magic reacts.

“As wandless magic requires much more sophistication and can be very dangerous when backfired, it hasn’t been taught at Hogwarts until now. But after so many of us has fought in the war, the Ministry decided that it needs to be added to Hogwarts’ Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum this year, especially when many Death Eaters are still on the run. However, let me reiterate this. If I, or any of the other teachers at Hogwarts ever catch any of you using wandless magic, and indeed any spells that hasn’t yet been taught in this class to physically, deliberately harm another fellow student for no good reason, you will face serious consequences that will, but is not excluded to, expulsion. Am I clear?”

Silent nods. But it didn’t seemed enough for Professor Black, for she drew herself up and glared around the room, hands on her hips.

“Am. I. Clear?” Narcissa hissed icily.

Goosebumps rose on her exposed skin as the temperature in the room seemed to drop five degrees. Judging from the shiver she felt coming from Ginny she wasn’t the only one feeling it.

 ”Yes, Professor Black,” the room chanted in nervous anticipation.

“Good.” The room went back to its normal temperature as Narcissa’s posture relaxed. “I want everyone to pair up after I finish talking. We will start of with one spell: Expelliarmus. I want you to non-verbally disarm your opponent with your wand, then allow your wandless opponent to disarm you verbally. We’ve already gone over this, but as a reminder, how does Color Theory help with non-verbal and wandless dueling?” Hermione raised her hands. Narcissa nodded at her without looking at her. “Ms. Granger.”

“Not only does each spell contain a specific color, but they change with the caster’s intentions. Either way, it can help us identify what curse is being used and how to counter-act that spell. Take the Killing Curse, for instance. It’s bright green—a popular symbol of evilness, while Expelliarmus is red, and Rictusempra silver. But these spells can change color due to the caster’s intentions and power, so it is not a given. If someone casts with ulterior motives—of course, motives that are well-intentioned—Avada Kedavra it can be a much paler green than those who truly mean it.”

Narcissa nodded approvingly. “10 points to Gryffindor. For the next few lessons we will start learning how to identify spells by their color in the heat of the moment. When I judge that you all have a firm grasp on identifying spells by color we will incorporate them into our first dueling session this term. Any questions?” Head shakes. “Good. Then without further ado, let us begin.”

Within ten minutes Hermione was the first who managed to disarm Ginny both non-verbally and wordlessly, earning her a nod and 20 points to Gryffindor. By the end of the class Harry and Draco were able to disarm each other wandlessly too, though not wordlessly. Hermione grinned when Draco came up to her after class and clapped her on the back as people cleared the room.

“Congratulations, Granger. You’d be able to give my mother a run for her money. And she’s the most proficient person I know at wandless and wordless magic.” Draco smirked. Hermione followed his gaze as he glanced over his shoulder to his mother, who was too busy organizing notes to pay them any attention.

“Why thank you, Draco.”

“I hear your birthday is tomorrow. Any plans?”

Hermione grumbled.

Harry laughed. “All she wanted to do was read, the bookworm, but we managed to convince her to come to Hogsmeade with us. You’re invited, Draco, and you guys too, Neville, Luna,” he added at them who were just passing them to leave the room.

“That would be lovely,” Luna said, sharing a smile with Ginny who blushed beat red at it. Hermione hid a smirk.

“Excellent,” Ginny said happily. “Shall we meet in the entrance courtyard 10am tomorrow? you’re lucky that the first Hogsmeade trip coincided with your birthday! And you still want to stay indoors. By yourself. And read.”

Hermione grumbled again. Glared petulantly at the floor. Why did Hogsmeade trips have to occur on the first and third week of the month. Usually they weren’t this early either. Damn Minerva and her meddling—

“As lovely as this conversation is,” Narcissa’s voice filtered close behind Hermione, who nearly jumped out of her skin as she swung around to face the smirking blonde, “I’m going to have to shoo you all out of my classroom. I do have first years to prepare for, and I’d like—” she glanced at her watch, “ten minutes of peace and quiet to brace myself for them.”

“Sorry, mother,” Draco said with a laugh. “You keep telling me how much fun you have with them.”

“Why yes, after all they’re my favorite class.”

Hermione bit back a laugh at the sarcasm dripping from Narcissa’s voice. “C’mon,” she said, grabbing Ginny’s arms and dragging her out the door with a laugh. “Let’s go before she hexes us out of her classroom.”

“Have fun with them, mother!” Draco shouted behind his shoulder.

The door slammed shut loudly behind them in reply. Hermione burst into a fit of giggles as Draco shook his head and grumbled, “Teaching really isn’t her thing.”

 “Really? Could’ve fooled me,” Hermione said.

“Oh. Never would’ve thought. That was an excellent class,” Harry said, looking at Draco in surprise. “I feel like I’m finally learning something in DADA. Your mother’s a great teacher, Draco.”

“She really is,” Ron agreed, causing Draco to look at him in surprise. “Never would’ve guessed it, but even I’m understanding so much more than any other teacher before me.”

“I’m sure mother will be delighted to hear that,” Draco drawled. “What an endorsement from the Weasel.”

Ron didn’t even rise to the bait. What wonders.

“Seriously, though.” Ginny nudged Draco. “I second Harry and Ron. I’ve really been enjoying DADA since this year started.”

“I keep telling her that she’ll be great at it. I don’t know why she was freaking out so much before she came here.” Draco shook his head. “Always underestimates herself, my mother. But when she truly commits to something she commits.”

“Perhaps because she needed to play dumb in front of You Know Who to survive?” Ron asked quietly.

Draco nodded sadly. “And it worked. It kept her under the radar for the most part, for if the Dark Lord caught wind of how powerful she truly was, she would’ve suffered the same fate as Bel—” he stiffened and glanced at Neville who had stiffened in his tracks. “As my aunt.”

Neville smiled sadly and reached over to grasp Draco’s shoulders. He didn’t say anything else, merely patted Draco softly before retracting his hands. Hermione bid goodbye to the others as she was the only one with a free period for the last class of the day and headed to the library. She needed to get on with her homework. And to stop thinking about that godforsaken scroll. It took quite a while to lose herself in her work, but even then it was a struggle.

About an hour in Hermione thumped her head on the desk, nearly dislodging the bottle of ink and sending it spilling it everywhere. Cursing, she scrambled to catch it before the lid dislodged because then that would truly be a disaster. Madam Pince wouldn’t let her anywhere near the library again.

Settling back into her chair Hermione blew strands of hair out of her face with a huff. At this point she half wished she didn’t read the scroll in the first place, because all it got her was more questions than answers that seemed increasingly unanswerable. And now? Knowing was somehow even worse than not knowing. Oh well. She did this to herself. She’d just have to grin and bear it.

***

Two torturous hours of studying (and a distracted dinner) later…

***

Well, at least she finished two essays for Arithmancy and Runes? Rubbing her eyes in exhaustion, Hermione started when she saw the time. It was later than she thought. Standing up to clear her books away, Hermione hastily side-stepped a fuming Madam Pince, who looked seconds to throwing Hermione away from the library (she didn’t blame her, no one dared stayed in the library this close to closing time, even past it even if it was just a few seconds longer), and hastily made her way back to her room. All she wanted to do was flop down on her bed and forget the world. Or better yet, herself.

But oh no. Of course the universe had different plans for her. The culprit? You guessed it. Crookshanks seemed hell-bent on booby trapping her, or at least wanted to get stepped on, for as soon as she opened the door she let out a scream when her feet hit something soft and fluffy. Scrambling to light the room, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when it really did turn out to be Crookshanks and not some fury creature who decided to break into her room and terrorize her. He looked way too smug at that, sitting in a posture that Hermione would almost describe as arrogant. Arrogantly proud. Great. When had Crookshanks become Narcissa.

Hermione was about to scold him for giving her a heart attack when she noticed something dangling from his mouth, and bending closer she squinted to see what it was. Ahh. A small bag hanging from his mouth. And by small, Hermione meant tiny, the size of her palm. Cute. Someone (Hermione had a feeling she knew who), probably applied the Shrinking Charm to it so that Crookshanks could carry it. Hermione quickly stooped down low to relief him of his burden. Crookshanks meowed and headed over to his soft bed next to her corner, putting his head on his paws as he watched her curiously.

It was also feather light. Yet when Hermione curiously untied it and shoved a finger into the bag, she was surprised to pull out a book that was big and heavy. Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen. Hermione’s eyes widened. She’d been rather curious to read this book ever since her parents recommended it to her just before they went on the run. But then she had to… obliviate them and couldn’t bear go looking for it since. It was one of her last memories of them when they still knew who she was. 

But who—? Opening the book cover, Hermione nearly missed a small piece of paper stuck between the pages until it fell onto her lap. Unfolding it, Hermione’s heart started to beat rapidly as she absorbed the now-familiar handwriting.

This book is one of my personal favorites. Happy birthday, Ms. Granger.

And… yep. She grinned at the small faint ‘N’ signed under the sentence, as though hoping Hermione would miss it. A rush of warmth soared through her at the words, quickly soothing the ache that was forming in her chest. Hermione carefully put the book down on her bed, and went to the prefect’s bathroom that was just conveniently across the hall.

Quickly submerging herself into a warm bubble bath, Hermione relaxed and sighed as she let the warmth of the water seep into her, even as iciness slithered into her when she realized that tomorrow would be the second birthday without her parents. Without her parents sending her presents. Without Hermione being able to contact them ever again.

It was partly why she didn’t feel like celebrating this year. This time it felt much more real when last time they’d been on the run. Didn’t have any time to feel. Perhaps that was why it hadn’t truly sunk in that they were gone until now…

Feeling the sting of tears build stronger and stronger and stronger in her throat again, Hermione swallowed and despondently hoisted herself out of the tub. Slowly dried herself before moister could actually break free from her eyes. Slowly brushed her teeth. Slowly walked back into her room. Magicking on some pajamas, she slowly pulled the book onto her lap. Stared at it. Then at the clock. Eleven o’clock. Perfect. Still plenty of time. Sitting on her bed, she opened the book to the first page and began to read.

Chapter Text

Hermione awoke the next morning with a crick in her neck. She groaned. Why her neck was hurting so much? Then opening her eyes she realized she’d fallen asleep leaning against the wall, the book still on her chest. Hastily bookmarking it on the last page she’d left off before she lost the page, Hermione gently closed the book and put it on her nightstand. She slowly got up, wincing at the spot in her neck that cricked again, and padded to the window to lean against it, letting its coolness soothe her heated cheeks.

At least it was turning out into another promising day. The dreary weather that had greeted them on their first week of school seemed to have lifted momentarily before true winter weather would start to set in. Hermione was all the more glad for it. She needed to soak up as much sunlight as they could get, as after that unfortunate incident in Arthur’s car Hermione was starting to flinch every time clouds rolled in. Starting to expect dementors to swoop down and ambush them out of nowhere. It didn’t help that the shapes of the clouds kept on looking like dark hooded figures, hanging above them high in the sky…

Right. Enough of that. Shaking her head Hermione pulled herself away from the window. She had just barley finished dressing up for the day when a knock sounded on the door and she was all the more glad of it. Glad for the much needed interruption from thinking dementors. Even if she was a bit resigned on having to make a big deal out of her birthday. Ugh, fine. Hermione crossed the door to find a beaming Ginny standing outside, who squealed and grabbed Hermione by the arms as she shouted, “Happy birthday!” How was Ginny more excited about it than she was?

“What happened to meeting in the courtyard?” Hermione grumbled, nonetheless wrapping her arms around Ginny.

“We thought we’d better come up here ourselves in case you ditched on us,” Luna said, smiling at Hermione over Ginny’s shoulders.

“As if you would let me,” Hermione scoffed, patting Ginny on the back before releasing her. Just then her stomach rumbled. She blushed.

Ginny pulled back and grinned. “Starving?”

“As always.”

“You and your morning appetite.” Ginny shook her head. “Even worse than Ron, I swear. C’mon, let’s go down.”

They greeted Neville and Ron at the Great Hall. Lavender too, who had opted to sit with Ron today. Were Ron and Lavender sitting closer than they had before? What with all the… PDA last year Hermione was surprised that they were so subtle about it now. It made Hermione want to rip her hair out. Surprisingly. Though she’d no doubt regret it when they eventually got to that stage again.

“Good morning, guys,” she said, turning to smile at Lavender specifically as Ginny and Luna slithered in next to her. “Hi Lavender.”

Lavender nearly dropped her meat pie as she looked at her in surprise. “Hi Hermione,” Lavender said, scratching awkwardly at her neck. She opened and closed her mouth, looking like she didn’t know what to say next.

Hermione didn’t blame her. She felt similarly awkward. They hadn’t talked since Lavender started dating Ron. Since Hermione blasted Greyback off her. Well, it wasn’t like they ever close friends, or even just friends—merely acquaintances at best, but whatever friendly relation might’ve been between them soured after Lavender and Ron started snogging all over the place. Hermione hoped she didn’t think she was jealous over her for dating Ron. Or not dating. Whatever it was between them right now.

“How… er… how have you been?” Hermione asked quietly. She took in the scars that marred her face. Scars that would never heal. She felt a wave of fury at what Greyback had done to her. At what Voldemort made them all suffer through. “Sorry, stupid question—”

At that Lavender smiled. Small, but genuine. “I could be worse,” Lavender said quietly. “Ron has been helping a lot. I mean—” she stopped suddenly, looking at Hermione worriedly as though she thought she was a bomb about to go off. Hermione was sure she was remembering that time when she. Ahem. Sent a flock of paper birds after them.

Hermione smiled gently. Opened her posture even further. “I’m glad,” she said, firmly looking her in the eyes. Wanted her to know how much she meant it. “You deserve good things, Lavender. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you as well. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” Lavender relaxed, sending Ron a happy look, and Hermione saw their hands move closer under the table.

Feeling like she was intruding, Hermione quickly looked away to hide a smile. Just then she realized Harry and Draco were nowhere to be seen, and just as she was about to ask where they were the Gryffindor table went silent—well, everyone in the Great Hall went silent as heads turned to stare at… wait were they staring at her? No, behind her. Ahh. Harry and Draco, who had just come through the oak doors. Hermione glanced towards the faculty table to see even Minerva raising her eyes at them. Both of them didn’t pay the stares any mind as they headed towards them.

“Hi guys,” Harry greeted them cheerily. “Ready to go?”

“Let’s,” Hermione agreed. Then glared around the hall with the look Narcissa had given them at the Quidditch World cup. Like she’d smelled something unpleasant under her nose. It worked like a charm. She grinned in victory when people hastily turned back to what they were doing, and glancing back towards the faculty table Minerva raised a toast to her, as though wishing her happy birthday, before turning back to chatting with Professor Sprout.

“Go have fun, you guys,” Lavender smiled as they got up from their seats. She leaned over to kiss Ron on the cheek who blushed as red as his hair. Hermione didn’t bother hiding her smirk this time. “I promised Parvati I’d study with her in the library. I’ll see you later, Won Won.” She flounced out of the hall. “Bring me back some sweats!” she called over her shoulder.

Ron flushed even brighter.

“C’mon, Won Won,” Draco sniggered at Ron, not cowering at the glare Ron shot him after Lavender was out of earshot. “Let’s go.”

“First Weasel, now Won Won. It never ends, does it,” Ron complained.

“Never,” Draco smirked, clapped him on the back. “C’mon. Better beat that line up before it gets too long.”

***

The Three Broomsticks Inn was crowded as ever by the time they got there. Luckily Madam Rosmerta was able to find a spot near the back that was relatively quiet and out of sight from the others. Quickly ordering a butterbeer, Hermione sighed happily as she felt the warm drink slide cozily down her throat, sliding down in the cozy corner of the room.

“This is heaven,” Hermione beamed, putting her mug down as they waited for Harry, Ron and Draco to join them.

Ginny moaned in agreement. Luna flushed, though it was partially hidden by her mug.

“Another thing we missed on the run,” Harry grinned, who’d finally gotten served his drink and slid down across them, Ron and Draco closely behind him. “It’s a pity we can’t accio food. Then we wouldn’t have been near starving to death.”

“Well, can you imagine the hassle grocery stores would have to go through by putting anti-theft charms on their food?”

“Well, yes, Hermione, but just imagine…” Ron grinned.

Hermione just shook her head and sighed. There was no point arguing with Ron when it came to food. “So?” Hermione nudged Ron with her foot under the table. Ron yelped and retracted his feet, glaring at Hermione.

“What was that for?!! Your shoes are as pointy as Ginny’s!”

“What goes you with Lavender?” Hermione grinned, taking a sip of her butterbeer.

Ron flushed. “So… um… we might’ve decided to get back together again last week?”

Harry whooped. Ginny wrinkled her nose. Draco clapped him on the back. Luna grinned. Hermione raised her mug. “Let’s toast to new love, shall we?”

“And Hermione’s birthday,” Harry added, grinning as they clinked their glasses together as Ron rolled his eyes, but complied nonetheless. “I’m surprised you guys aren’t snogging all over the place already. Not that I’m complaining.”

“Of course not,” Ron snorted, rolling his eyes. “We’re taking it slowww. Haven’t y’all ever heard of that word.”

“Evidently not,” Draco snorted. Then he turned to Ginny and Luna with a gleam in his eyes. “What about you guys—?” he motioned his spoon between them. “You’re both looking rather chummy lately. Don’t think we don’t see.”

Ginny choked.

Luna calmly put her drink down. “I do believe that’s none of your business,” Luna said serenely, patting Ginny gently on the back.

“What she said,” Ginny said, still coughing.

Draco laughed and put up his hands. “Alright alright.”

Harry shot Draco a smirk, sharing a confidential look with him as he leaned back in his seat and sighing happily. “This is nice. It’s been so long since we’ve hung out together like this.”

“Yeah,” Ginny grinned. Then she frowned, suddenly turning to Hermione. “Where have you been the past two weeks? We’ve barely seen hide nor hair of you outside of class!”

Stalking Narcissa. Hermione fixed her gaze down into her butterbeer, suddenly finding it very interesting. “Oh, you know, this and that. Mostly studying in the library. Keeping my head down.”

Ginny tilted her head at her. “Hmm.” What was that look about? And—why was everyone suddenly looking at her like that?

Hermione glared. “What?!”

“If you say so,” Ginny shook her head, though the tone of her voice said she clearly didn’t believe her. “Did I mention that the other day Romilda Vane approached me and asked if you were single?”

Hermione nearly emptied the contents of her mug as she slammed it down. “Romilda what?!”

Harry visibly shuddered at her name.

“Huh,” Ron scratched his chin. “Never knew she swung that way.”

“She’s bad news, Hermione. I would know.” Harry shuddered again.

“Yeah thanks, I didn’t need you to remind me of that,” Hermione said drily. “I’d rather not get poisoned this year, thank you very much. I’d far rather get drunk of my own accord!”

Harry chuckled. “Hermione Granger, getting drunk? Never would’ve—”

But whatever he was going to say was drowned out by a sudden clap of thunder. The inn fell completely silent as everyone turned to stare out at the window in shock. It was completely sunny a minute ago, but now the sky had turned dark.

What the?! Abandoning their drinks they joined the crowd as they huddled near the windows. Hermione heard uneasy mutters around her, but the volume that everyone was talking seemed generally hushed, as though afraid to speak louder incase they would awaken something. Something cloaked. Something that fed on fear.

“Don’t tell me it’s dementors again,” Ron whispered, glancing up at the sky wearily from where they’d managed to squeeze into the front.

The lights in the Inn went out. As did the shops across them. Hermione could see crowds glancing fearfully at the sky as wands emerged from cloaks. She swallowed. Shoved down a shiver her fear as she drew out her wand. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw everyone else doing the same, but before she could say anything, before she could react, before anyone could react, they came down upon the thankfully emptying street like a flock of geese. Another roll of thunder. Another roll of lightning. Thick fog rolled in. But still no rain.

Ice slithered through her as Hermione fought through shallow breaths. Fought through spells flashing through the air and screams and panic. Fought through horror sinking into her as she realized that that dream—the dream she’d have of people being chained up in where they were exactly now—must be coming true. Fought through that night at the manor, when excruciating pain from Bellatrix’s knife drew real screams from her.

But it wasn’t coming through—the dementors were being chased away by the wards and dozens of Patronuses. Still it wasn’t enough. Not for her. As though from a great distance, Hermione was now back at her parents place. Saw herself pointing her wand at them. Heard herself mutter Obliviate… Obliviate… Obliviate…

OUCH!

Hermione gasped, wrenching herself back into her own body as something stung her cheek.

“Hermione? Hermione?” Ginny. She blinked her eyes open to see the others crouching around her in concern, everyone else in the shop standing a respectful distance away. “Are you—are you ok?”

Hermione slowly got up from the floor. Leaned shakily against the window, gingerly touching the cheek where Ginny had slapped her. Ow. She had a mean hook. Glancing out at it, she breathed a sigh of relief at the sight a bright blue sky with clouds nowhere to be seen. Definitely not global warming, then. “They’re gone.”

“A chocolate frog, Ms. Granger?” Rosmerta asked, shakily walking over to hand her one. “You gave us quite the scare.”

“What—what happened?” she asked, equally shakily as she bit into it. She sighed as warmth tingled through her. Then she groaned. “And this marks the second time I’ve fainted in front of everyone. Within. A. Month.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, Hermione,” Harry said quietly. “They were—they were especially crowding around this area for some reason. They barely touched the other shops on either ends of the streets.”

“Really?” Hermione frowned, looking around at the customers, who looked equally pale green as she felt. Everyone nodded. She sighed. Why did it have to happen today of all days? “C’mon,” she sighed as people went back to their seats, Rosmerta passing out chocolate frogs as conversation resumed and attention turned away from them. Thank god. “Let’s head back into the castle.”

“I’m sorry this happened on your birthday,” Ron bumped her shoulders as they slowly began fighting their way through the crowd. “Are you sure you’re ok?” Then he frowned in alarm, picking up her left arm. “You—You’re bleeding!”

She was? Oh. She was. The scars over the word Mudblood were smarting. Bleeding slightly. Why now? It itched in the Room of Requirements when Crabbe had called her Mudblood, but it didn’t bleed. Did the dementors cause that? They were known to feed off of dark magic. Dark thoughts. What if there were more dark magic imbued into this scar then Hermione realized and they awakened it? Hermione stared down at it. Didn’t realize they’d stopped walking until someone bumped into them. Then Hermione snatched her arm away, tugging her sleeve back down as she marched firmly forwards.

“It’ll be fine.”

Harry frowned, unconvinced. “What if this is like—like my scar?” he said quietly as they started hurrying after her. “Something that Voldemort’s cursed me with. Granted, it hasn’t… pained me since he died, and Lestrange is dead too. Nor have they ever made it bleed. And the scars on my hand…” Harry curled it into a fist, I must not tell lies shining white and embedded into his skin forever. “They didn’t bleed either, though they did tingle uncomfortably whenever Umbridge’s name was mentioned around me. So why yours?”

“Why mine?” Hermione sighed. Why was it always her? “I just hope it doesn’t kill me.”

“It won’t,” Luna said firmly. “We won’t let it.”

Hermione smiled weakly.

“I’ll talk to mother,” Draco was biting his lips. “I—I think my aunt used a special type of dark magic when she—when she realized crucio wasn’t hurting you. She is a master legilimens, my aunt, she could’ve realized that my mother was shielding you when she tortured you. It’s surprising that she didn’t rat mother out, though, if she did know. I shudder to think what HE would’ve done to her if he knew.” Draco shuddered slightly

Hermione paused. Maybe there was more to Bellatrix Lestrange than she let on. But before she could figure out what to say they’d reached the Great Hall, and Minerva swooped down on them, fuzzing over them.

“Are you alright?” she asked anxiously. “I heard about what happened—Hagrid is bringing students now. Ahh, there they come!” They turned to see a bunch of terrified looking students huddling behind the half-giant.

 ”Got everyone?”

“Yes, Headmistress, used the locator spell to find every Hogwarts student out in Hogsmeade.”

“Good. In light of the events I think we’d better call assembly after dinner tonight. Don’t scuttle off too soon. And you all better stay in the castle until further notice.”

A gloomy chorus of “Yes, Headmistress McGonagall” rang through the Great Hall, and Hermione heaved a sigh as she turned towards the others.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you guys toni—”

“Not so fast, Ms. Granger,” Minerva turned to her. “May I speak with you in my office?”

Hermione nodded. And hurried after her after murmuring a quiet goodbye to the others.

Five minutes later Hermione was sitting down in front of Minerva’s desk again, cradling a cup of hot tea that did wonders to restore warmth into her still icy system. She stared down at the mug, mentally drained from the last half hour, her left arm still smarting slightly even though it had stopped bleeding. She could feel Minerva scrutinizing her but she avoided the headmistress’s gaze. She heard a sigh, then hands landed on her own which were clenching the cup with a white-knuckled grip, easing them open.

“I’m sorry this happened today, Hermione.”

At that she looked up at Minerva and gave her a teary smile. “It’s not your fault. No one could’ve predicted that the dementors would attack so viciously. They usually avoid sunny weather.”

“They are rather vicious this year,” Minerva said worriedly. “Perhaps since they aren’t guarding Azkaban anymore, they have nothing to feed off of. I’m surprised they waited this long to make such a public move. They must be getting desperate.”

“Why now? Has Kingsley been aware of any dementor-related activities prior to this?”

“Kingsley has been monitoring them carefully since he set them free from Azkaban. And he’d be foolish not to. He has invented a map that will track their path and if there is a particularly dark spot on the map that means an attack might’ve happened, or at least they indicate that they have been there. Kingsley has been sending me daily updates, and it seems that until now, the dementors have been keeping their attacks low key. Or have been repelled each time they did. The Ministry’s Aurors haven’t reported back anything unusual, so Kingsley haven’t made anything public yet when everything’s still so unsure. Mind you, if there had been an attack prior to the Hogsmeade trip today I wouldn’t have organized one on your birthday.”

“Ha! I knew it!” Hermione grinned.

Minerva smirked back at her before she sobered. Then she glanced down at Hermione’s arm, a concerned look over her face as she saw spots of red on her sleeve. “Did your—did it—” she gestured to Hermione’s left arm.

“Yes,” Hermione nodded quietly. “I don’t know why. Nothing happened when we ran into them before we boarded the Hogwarts Express. Why now?”

“Hmm,” Minerva muttered, gently rolling her sleeve up and scrutinizing the scar on her arm. “I don’t have any explanation for why it’s acting up now. But there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

“Your scar is… quite a special one,” Dumbledore said before Minerva could speak. Hermione looked at him over the Headmistress’s shoulders.

“In what… in what way, Professor Dumbledore?” Hermione gulped.

“Severus? I believe you know more than I do.”

“When Bellatrix Lestrange carved that word into you,” Snape said slowly, “I overheard her gleefully telling Narcissa afterwards that she made sure it wouldn’t just remain a normal cursed scar long after she died. She imbued it with a curse so vile that its effects won’t die even if she did, made sure that its effects would reveal itself slowly. Perhaps that is why you never reacted this way towards dementors until now. This is unlike Potter’s lightning scar, in the sense that his mother died protecting him, so there is an extra layer of protection that will help its side-effects—though not the scar itself—fade away after the Dark Lord has died.

“Yours, however, has been inflicted upon you with nothing other than hatred. No one protected you from the scar—well, we all know that Narcissa shielded you, but all the good that did after Bellatrix’s blade touched your skin. Direct physical contact means that dark magic could embed itself fully into you. Not to mention that this scar is Bellatrix’s specialty, a curse that runs in the Black family, who is almost as old and as powerful as magic itself—dare I say even more than the Dark Lord. It’s a fact that Narcissa is very proud of,” Snape smirked.

“As she should be,” Hermione smirked back. Then a frown took over her face as she spent several seconds letting it sink in. “Is that… is that why dementors attacked Hogsmeade today? Because they could sense it getting stronger within me, and—and they wanted to feed off it.”

“Quite,” Minerva nodded. “How did you react when they attacked?”

“I—I fainted,” Hermione groaned. “In front of everyone. Again. I mean, I’ve never fainted before! Could I have been somehow resisting its darkness since Bellatrix carved that word into me, but now It’s… becoming more real?”

“That is a very real theory.”

“Is there… any way to make it go away? Is it life threatening?”

“I don’t think it’s life threatening, you might just experience side effects from dementor attacks much more strongly than others because they will be very fond of the dark magic imbued from that scar into you. Ok, yes, it will be life threatening if they manage to catch you off guard if you’re out on the streets with no one to chase them off for you, but there might be a cure. Professor Black and I didn’t want to let you know until you were emotionally ready for it, but well, this speeds up the process.”

Hermione took a deep breath. Stared at her hands. “So Professor Black knows about this?”

Minerva nodded. “Since she started teaching here, Narcissa told me she’d been developing a type of healing salve that would lessen the effects of your scar until the curse eventually lifts. She’s the only person who can apply it to your arm, because the salve would require a drop of her blood mixed with a healing potion, and only the inventor of the salve would have full control over its healing effects. Not to mention that she is part of the Black bloodline which is needed to undo its effects. That, combined with the bond between you, is what seals the deal. It’s a rather… intimate process.”

Hermione shot up from her chair, even as her face heated up at the word ‘intimate.’ “No. Absolutely not. If it means hurting herself—!”

“Relax, Hermione,” Minerva held a hand up. “Narcissa has already developed the healing salve. It just required a prick of her blood once, with no need to refill it. Its effectiveness will last until your scar has faded.”

Hermione slowly sat back down. Bit her lip.

“Think on it, Hermione,” Minerva said gently. “I won’t tell you not to leave the castle, nor would I cancel Hogsmeade trips altogether. They’d just have to happen with more supervision from the staff. Just make sure that whenever you leave the castle have a friend with you. And most importantly, never leave the castle alone.”

“I won’t, don’t worry.”

“Good.”

Hermione sighed and got up from her seat. “Well, on this dismal note I’ll see you at dinner. Have a good rest of the afternoon, Minerva.”

As the doors closed behind Hermione, Minerva turned around to roll her eyes at Dumbledore’s and Severus’s portraits. “I am this close…THIS CLOSE to locking them in a room to force them to talk about it. Why must we act as communication agents between them?! Are they twelve years old??”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that. You don’t know what Cissy is capable of when she’s mad.” Severus glanced sideways at Dumbledore’s portrait and smirked. “For once your plans appear to be going horribly wrong, apparently they don’t work against twelve year olds. I only had to die to see that!”

“Hmph,” was all Dumbledore muttered in reply.

***

Hermione couldn’t sleep that night. She stared at the ceiling for hours, the only thing looping in her brain the events she relived when the dementors came close to her. The battle. Obliviating her parents. Being tortured.

Sitting up in bed, she buried her head in her hands, groaning as she glanced at the clock. 3am. Giving up with a sigh, Hermione shrugged on her robes and padded softly towards the door, careful not to wake Crookshanks as she softly opened the door. Casting a disillusionment charm on herself, she waited until she was completely invisible before she slowly crept out, using the muffliato charm to silence her footsteps once more.

She meandered aimlessly through the hallway, not sure where her feet would take her. Didn’t have any particular destination. When she heard Peeves clanging in a nearby hallway Hermione froze and pressed herself to the wall before she remembered that she was invisible. A fact which was proven seconds later, as the poltergeist floated past her without giving her a glance. Breathing out a huff of relief Hermione peeled herself off the wall, continuing to meander through hallways that she knew like the back of her hand.

With a start, she realized that she’d wandered to the Astronomy Tower. Climbing up the spiral staircase to the top from one of the archways that connected down to the seventh floor hallway, Hermione leaned against the wall to catch her breath as she let herself become visible once more. She hadn’t been up here since… since Dumbledore died. She slowly walked forward to the edge of the tower. Leaned her elbows against the brick walls as she imagined how Harry must’ve seen it happen. Dumbledore cornered by Draco… Dumbledore pleading with Snape to kill him… Snape pointing his wand at him…

She felt her eyes starting to blur with unshed tears, desperately trying to blink them back. She hadn’t allowed herself to cry since Voldemort returned. She was scared that if she started, she might not ever be able to stop. But it was swelling up in her throat… the ache growing stronger and stronger… yet despite her efforts a choked sob broke free unwittingly… only to be pulled up short when a clack of heels approached her.

She swung around to see shadows atop the stairs that led on the wooden floor. Hermione pulled up her wand, hastily reinforcing her charms, heart in her throat as someone—or something—was coming towards her…

Oh.

Just Narcissa.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as she lowered her wand. The only movement she made, for she daren’t do anything but freeze, worried that Narcissa would actually bump into her when she trailed a pale hand around the rails, circling the top closer… closer… until she came and stood completely still besides her, half in shadow under the pillar. Hermione was a statue by this point. Still invisible. She waited for Narcissa to move closer, ready to move away if she did, but the blonde held herself completely still as she turned back around.

Should she reveal herself? Should she not? Hermione wasn’t sure how long she stood there, grappling between those two options as though her life depended on it. Arghh!!! she’d never been this frustrated before—never had anything else been this maddening! Hermione buried her head in her hands on the rails. And just. Gave up. Standing here quietly with the blonde’s warmth seeping next to her was more than enough to ground her. Steady her. As though quiet words were said, especially as a shooting star streaked across the sky.

Chapter Text

Hogsmeade Attacked: Dementors on the Loose

If you wondered why the weather has been foggy and stormy lately—not only in England and all over the world, well, here’s your answer. In a statement yesterday night, Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt confirmed that a mass of dementors made a very public attack upon shops in Hogsmeade Saturday afternoon.

“I expected something like this to happen,” Kingsley told the reporters tensely. “The dementors have lost their consistent source of food and they are getting desperate. I am surprised they waited this long, as we have been carefully monitoring them since we freed them from our service. Our maps showed the dementors attacking in small numbers at first, mostly upon small groups of wizards and witches, especially when walking alone, but they were successfully repelled when we sent our Aurors to investigate. As such I saw no reason to alarm the public when we have had so little information.

“But now I urge the public to remain vigilant. Those who can’t cast a Patronus must be accompanied by those who can. And for those unable to, recent tests at the ministry confirm that the Patronus charm is not the only way to repel a dementor; any type of charms that conjure flames will do the trick—considering how much dementors hate light. Though incendio, for example, is much more dangerous than a Patronus charm, as sending flames may not be all that convenient. Those who are experts at Occlumency may also be able to make their minds invisible to dementors, which definitely adds an extra layer of protection.

“We are working closely with the Muggle Prime Minister to provide protection for Muggle London, though our statistics show that dementors usually turn a blind eye to them. At least, except when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was in charge. Apparently Muggles aren’t as ‘tasty’ as witches and wizards, for the lack of a better word. This might change starting from now, however.

“We are also setting up a Dementor Watch podcast, as well as ministry notebooks dedicated to instant sightings. This system will allow the notebook to vibrate when dementors lurk near you. The Ministry will be handing these out free of charge to those interested. Again, I urge the public to be alert when traveling about, and try to avoid dark alleys and cramped places.”

Shoppers in Hogsmeade report skies turning thunderous and foggy before the attack. Rule of thumb: if that happens suddenly, or if the weather forecast reports anything less then sunny skies, beware, or try to stay inside.

Hermione let out a breath of relief when Ginny finished reading the Sunday Prophet aloud in the Gryffindor’s common room. She was sitting curled up in a comfortable armchair, her homework spread out on the table next to her, the boys still sleeping in even though it was well past 10 am. In fact, the common room was completely empty save for her and Ginny—everyone no doubt enjoying a lie in, though Hermione was rather enjoying the peace and quiet.

“Well, there ya go,” Ginny rolled her eyes, flinging the paper on the table. “Nothing mentioned about the Golden Girl fainting in the Three Broomsticks Inn. You needn’t make me read all that just cause you were too scared to.”

Hermione didn’t take her attention away from the Astronomy star chart she had to complete for next week as she said cheerfully, “Well it’s better to be safe then sorry, ain’t it?”

Ginny huffed and leaned forward on her arms. Over the top of her chart Hermione could see Ginny studying her curiously with a tilted head. “What did McGonagall say about your scar, Hermione? You never told us anything afterwards.”

“Oh… not much…” Hermione said vaguely, finally raising her head to look at Ginny as she carefully screwed the ink bottle. “Just that it’s a special curse. Too much dark magic in it, which is what probably made me react so strongly to them.” And come after me, she added silently, not wanting to say that out loud.

Ginny narrowed her gaze at her. “I know you’re holding something back. Spill it, Hermione. Have I mentioned how bad of a liar you are?”

Hermione huffed. “Ok fine.” Glancing around nervously to check if anyone was there (there wasn’t), she waved a hand to cast the privacy charm around them just in case anyone happened to walk past them, or worse, eavesdrop. Ginny raised her eyebrows at that but kept her mouth shut.

“When I was talking to McGonagall she… mentioned that the curse ran in the Black family. The only way to lift it is through a healing salve that Professor Black has apparently invented.”

“Ah. So she has something to do with all—this?” Ginny gestured at her, as though failing to find descriptive words. Hermione had a feeling she wasn’t only talking about the scar.

She raised an eyebrow at Ginny. “All what?”

“You’ve… been acting weird since we came back here, Hermione,” Ginny said, giving her a pointed look. “First you fainted in the Great Hall right after Professor Black walked in, next you even start missing meals running to god knows where. Not to mention what happened yesterday. When has Hermione Granger ever missed a meal?”

“When we were on the run,” Hermione grumbled, looking down to avoid her penetrating gaze as she crossed her arms petulantly.

Ginny gave her an unamused look and mimicked her position. “Ok, I’ll just bite,” Ginny said with a sigh. “How long have you had a crush on Draco’s mother?”

Hermione dropped the half-screwed ink bottle. Didn’t notice when it landed on the floor, staining plush red carpets with black. Ginny lazily cleaned up the spill with a flick of her wand, not moving her gaze away from Hermione’s even when some of it stained her dress black.

“Um… what?!” Hermione finally managed to splutter after five full minutes of gawping like a goldfish.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “You heard me loud and clear, Hermione. I notice the stares you give her, I’m not that blind.”

Hermione stared down at her lap. Drew in a deep breath. “Since my third year.”

“SINCE THEN?!” Ginny shouted at the top of her lungs. Hermione winced and clapped a hand over her ears. “When—how? How did you meet her?”

Hermione sighed deeply. There was no stopping Ginny once she started. Though she could admittedly restraint herself admirably when she wanted, but Hermione was just. Too tired.

“I was buying Crookshanks when we were all staying at the Leaky Cauldron,” Hermione said quietly. “I’d gotten lost in Knockturn Alley and this guy was about to jump me, but then Narcissa swooped in out of nowhere and saved me just as I was disarmed. I didn’t know who she was at that time. But when she handed me back my wand it… glowed when our hands touched around it. Not only that, but it… a feeling of warmth rushed through me—stop gaping at me, you’ll catch Wrackspurts—and light shot out at the end of my wand.”

“Like what happens when we get our wands,” Ginny managed to say once she picked her jaw off the floor.

“Yup.”

“What happened after that? don’t just stop there!”

“Nothing,” Hermione said truthfully. “I mean, we didn’t really talk again. I only saw her at Platform Nine and Three Quarters a few times, and then at the Manor. Then there was this time during the battle when I…”

“When you… what?”

“When I saved Narcissa’s wand from going up in flames in the Room of Requirements. Crabbe knocked Draco’s wand out of his hand, and I knew it was his mother’s as I overheard him telling Harry that Narcissa lent it to him. I just happened to be crouching somewhere nearby and the wand rolled to a stop to my feet, so I picked it up to keep it safe. But when I touched it, the same thing happened when Narcissa’s hand touched my wand. It lit up as though it recognized me.”

Ginny stared. “That’s some shit completely unheard of.”

“I know. Even Minerva, Dumbledore and Snape said so.”

“Ahh. So Snape has his own portrait now? I always wondered if he would—”

“Second largest, right next to Dumbledore’s in Minerva’s office.”

“Harry would be thrilled.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being genuine or sarcastic,” Hermione laughed, shaking her head. “They’re never escaping each other, are they.”

“Just like you’re never escaping Professor Black, it would seem,” Ginny grinned, before she sobered and took Hermione’s hand. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

Hermione sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve been a downright mess since she came here—”

“I can tell—”

“And I don’t know how to approach her when she seems so intent on keeping her distance.”

“Well, she isn’t called the Ice Queen for nothing. Don’t tell Fleur and Bill I told you this, but when Bill was wooing Fleur, Bill kept on freaking out to me how he was going to approach her. She rarely made the first moves. But when she did, it was worth it. Maybe Professor Black is just… respecting your boundaries?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Just like you’re respecting Luna’s?”

Ginny spluttered, nearly choking before she grinned and said, “Exactly.”

Before Hermione could splutter in protest the boys came blundering down the staircase. With a sigh of relief, Hermione waved away the barrier charms, shooting a pointed look at Ginny that warned her to keep her mouth shut. Ginny simply grinned and mimed zipping her lips before turning to Harry to start chatting about quidditch as they headed down to breakfast, which usually ended at 11am, slightly later than weekdays.

By the time breakfast ended, Hermione had made up her mind. Bidding the others goodbye hastily, she hurried back to her room, accidentally banging the door shut a little too hard. It startled Crookshanks awake, who meowed and gave her a grumpy look, though he sat alert as though waiting for something. Quickly hurrying over to her desk she pulled out a piece of parchment and grabbed the nearest quill she could find.

By the time she managed to write it down Hermione was sweating with frustration. She’d crossed out so many words that the paper had become wrinkled, but she was happy with the result. She half hoped Narcissa could read between the lines, half hoped she couldn’t, but with what happened last night Hermione had a feeling Narcissa wasn’t the type of person to miss things easily.

Crossing the room, she crouched down to Crookshanks’ bed, who was still watching her with alert eyes. She summoned a little pouch and put the slip of paper before handing it to him. “Crookshanks, can you take this to Professor Black? don’t wait for an answer.”

Crookshanks looked exasperated. He meowed, as though saying “Why don’t you just do it?”

Hermione gave him puppy dog eyes. “Please? I’ll give you extra treats for dinner tonight.”

With another meow that sounded suspiciously like an annoyed “Fine,” Crookshanks slipped out the door.

The next week or so passed without a word from the blonde. She saw no hide nor hair of her save for class time, and Hermione was starting to think she was never going to hear from the blonde. But on the last day of September Hermione awoke to something pecking at her window, startling Hermione and Crookshanks awake. Hermione leapt up from her bed, heart in her throat as she rubbed sleep in her eyes. She glanced at the clock. 3 a.m! she’d literally just fallen asleep!

Flicking a hand to light her room, Hermione blinked dazedly at the window, cautiously pressing her nose against it to let her eyes adjust to the dark. Then she noticed a bird hovering outside her window. Was that the same bag she’d sent off hanging from its mouth? Heart leaping in her throat, Hermione peered closer (it was). Of course. The Magpie. Opening the window sill, she relieved it of its burden, and with a soft caw it flew off into the dark.

Hermione stood there staring blankly after it for several seconds. Then Crookshanks meowed, pawing at her ankles. Oh right. Digging a finger into the bag, what came out wasn’t just a note. A notebook, too. Carefully unfolding it Hermione felt a grin split across her face at the words.

You may see me in the Shrieking Shack midnight this Friday. As this is about the Healing Salve for your scar, I thought it might be easier to communicate through this notebook in case plans change for subsequent sessions. I do hope you’re getting some sleep, apologies for waking you in the middle of the night.

“Says she’s hoping I’m getting some sleep, yet she wakes me up at 3am in the morning. Which is it?” Hermione muttered to Crookshanks, who merely blinked at her before wrapping his tail over his eyes.

***

By Friday Hermione was itching with anticipation. Though it had only been a whopping amount of one day between the note and the next DADA class, 24 hours had never felt so long, nor had Hermione felt more antsy within one span of it. She was half about to just charge down Narcissa’s office and demand answers from the blonde but she’d a feeling that would only scare Narcissa off further, this time to the point of no return. Which… would be no good at all. It’d just be worse than the reality now.

Arrghh!!! All she wanted was to pull her own hair out at this point. Sometimes Hermione felt like she was walking on a tight rope, not knowing when it would snap, not knowing when it would not. She both loved and hated it at the same time. Hermione had really never been this frustrated by anything in her entire life, and by 1 pm Hermione’s stomach was in more knots than usual. She’d barely been able to eat her lunch. Granted, they were always in knots before DADA, but they were especially there today. As if she needed to ask why.

Hermione chewed nervously at her fingers as she sat next to Draco, paying half-hearted attention to his idle chatter as the class waited for Professor Black to arrive, until Draco turned and raised an eyebrow at her.

“You ok? You’ve been chewing your fingernails since lunch!”

Hermione sheepishly dropped her hands. But she was saved answering as that was when the door banged open, and all conversation fell silent as Narcissa strode in. She passed through the aisle next to the desk she and Draco where sitting and Hermione caught a whiff of her scent. It took everything within her willpower to not memorize it. Not to surround herself with it.

“Good afternoon class.”

The class responded enthusiastically. Within a month DADA seemed to have become everyone’s favorite subject, and it was all that was talked about in the halls. The blonde had even become a bit of a heartthrob amongst students, much to Draco’s horror, and Hermione was both bemused and ok yes, a little jealous.

“You’ve all been progressing nicely with the wandless spells I’ve taught so far. Today, I believe we are all ready to incorporate these spells for our first wandless dueling session of the term. We will stick with what we’ve learnt so far. Stupefy; the Trip Jinx charm; Rictusempra; etc., though you are welcome to use other non-harmful spells should you wish. As wandless dueling requires much more stamina the goal here isn’t to disarm your opponent as quickly as possible. The opposite is what will be required today; the winner of the pair who manages to last the entire time slot of 30 minutes of your allotted time, or even just the longest, will win points for their house. After I finish talking, I’ll transform the room layout into what dueling competitions will use. Understood?”

“Yes, Professor Black!”

“Good, then partner up!” With a wave of her hand desks were pushed aside, the room was enlarged by the Extension Charm and 13 platforms were spaced across evenly from each other.

Hermione turned to smile at Draco. “Draco?”

“Let’s.”

She followed Draco up a nearby platform and quickly cast a Shield Charm over herself. Before the run she would’ve been sweating within a minute of trying to keep it up, but her stamina had increased drastically since she came back to Hogwarts and practiced running around the school with the shield charm up. At first she could only keep up five minutes of it, but now it had increased to over half an hour. She wished she’d thought of this before the final battle.

She and Draco bowed and headed off the ends of their platform, which had shields around it to stop their spells from flying all over the room. Hermione had never been more glad she’d put in the effort. She barely broke a sweat as she fired jinxes at Draco’s shield, which seemed as strong as hers as they traded spells back and forth. She really had to concentrate getting jinxes past his shield.

Twenty minutes into it Hermione suddenly realized Draco was holding back. She frowned, wondering why—this was nothing like the boy who didn’t hesitate to hold back firing spells at them when they were at each other’s throats, a fact which was confirmed when Narcissa came up to them and started whispering in Draco’s ears, all the while holding Hermione’s stare. In the split second Draco faltered as his face set in determination, Hermione glanced around to realize they were the last group still fighting and that everyone else was standing around watching them. It was only with lightning fast reflexes that she managed to bring up a hand to deflect away Draco’s attempt to catch her off guard.

Her own face set in determination to match Draco’s, and gritting her teeth, Hermione planted her feet on the floor, mustering all of her willpower into her spells. She was determined to win. To show Narcissa what she was capable of, absolutely unwilling to bend. Draco was now matching sneaky spells against her aggressive ones, defensive against the sneaky ones, spell for spell, blow for blow.

With a lightning fast protego to stop Draco’s Stupefy, Hermione dropped her shield and fired a wordless Incarcerous. It proved a good decision as it put more force into the spell without her own Shield Charm blocking herself and also forced Draco deflect her spell without warning.

“Relashio!” Draco shouted, but didn’t get the counter spell’s hand movement out in time as ropes shot out from her hand to loosely bind his feet together. He fell to his face with a grunt and a thud. At least the platform was carpeted?

Hermione winced, waving a hand to remove the ropes as the room burst into applause. Draco grinned at her as Narcissa helped him up. She grinned back, euphoria hitting her at the fact that she’d managed to take Draco down without hardly breaking a sweat. Draco, on the other hand, was dripping with sweat, his blonde curls shining under the classroom lights. The grin widened when she noticed Narcissa looking at her as though a new light was shining in her eyes, especially when she saw Narcissa’s lips twitch up in response.

“Well done, both of you. That was an excellent display from you, especially you, Ms. Granger. 20 points to Gryffindor. Can anyone tell me why she won?”

A few hands shot up. “Yes, Mr. Longbottom.”

“Well, first of all Hermione has an amazing stamina for one thing, she’s hardly sweating! Meanwhile Draco is dripping like a wet puppy—” The room burst into guffaws as Draco huffed and brought up a sleeve to rub at his forehead. “How are you doing it, Hermione?”

Hermione flushed uncomfortably as everyone stared at her in awe. “I… er… I’ve been running around the school with my shield charm up. I’d read somewhere that dueling requires a lot of stamina, not just magically, but also physically, and I thought if I could practice that when I’m exercising it would help immensely during times of need. And today kinda proved it. I couldn’t manage more than five minutes at first, but if you keep at it you’ll be able to do it longer and longer. And that will last you even longer when you’re dueling.”

“Ms. Granger is quite correct,” Narcissa said, staring at her with newfound respect. Hermione felt herself flush even harder under her gaze. “I had never considered expanding your magical stamina this way, but it will work wonders to help you keep a shield charm around yourself and improve agility for duelling. For those eager to try it out I wouldn’t recommend going at it hard and fast right from the get go. Start slowly, for instance only do 10 minutes of physical activity two to three times a week and keep up your shield charm for one minute, before you try to build it up from there. But did anyone notice what Ms. Granger did before she fired Incarcerous at Draco?”

Harry raised his hands. Narcissa nodded at him. “Hermione dropped her shield charm, which put more force into her spell, and on top of that she did it wordlessly too, which added to the element of surprise.”

“Correct. 5 points to Potter. Can anyone tell me, then, what she needs to improve on?” A few head shakes. “Relaxation. Ms. Granger, may I take your position?”

Hermione nodded and stepped aside, letting Narcissa mount the stage. When the blonde passed her she caught a whiff of that scent, hitting her nostrils like the sweetest fragrance of flowers. Once again, Hermione had to resist inhaling it like a pig starved of a meal. Had to not let that heat building down there overwhelm her as Narcissa took her fighting stance.

“It’s a common error I notice in a lot of my students. First let me demonstrate with my wand. If any of you are familiar with a Muggle sport called Fencing, it’s quite similar to that regard. You should stand with your dominant foot, slightly bent and in front of your other foot, standing shoulder-width apart. Instead of clenching your shoulders like this”—Narcissa hunched her shoulders up to her ears—”Try to drop it down, just a little. Don’t grip your wand so tightly to the point that you might give yourself tendonitis either. For one thing, that won’t get you anywhere—for another, it’s not helpful at all in the long run! Not that either of you were doing it,” she nodded at both Hermione and Draco, “but it’s imperative to notice how tightly you’re gripping your wand, as that can lead to unnecessary tension. Let’s pair up again and see if you can work these suggestions into your stance. Ms. Granger, Draco, feel free to take a rest if you need it.”

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and joined Draco in the sidelines as people started pairing up… which turned into a surprised gasp when they saw who Harry had paired up with.

“Look over there,” Hermione nudged Draco sharply in the ribs.

Draco’s mouth fell open. “Huh. That’s gonna be interesting.” Clambering to his feet he held a hand towards Hermione. “I’m definitely not missing out on this!”

Hermione rolled her eyes, but followed Draco to the platform Harry and Narcissa were standing on. Glancing around, Hermione sniggered when she noticed practically everyone had stopped what they were doing and was unabashedly watching them duel. Narcissa was so focused she didn’t even turn around to snap at them. So was Harry’s; she didn’t think she’d ever seen him so focused on something.

The room had fallen dead silent now as everyone else crowded around them. Spells were flying left and right; Narcissa’s coming so fast Hermione had trouble tracking them. Hermione didn’t think she could take her eyes off the blonde either. She’d never seen her this captivating; steely eyes hard and unyielding, that singular attention as though a predator advancing on their prey.

There were spells of every color, spells that Hermione had no name for. She was pretty sure that there was even some that were Narcissa’s own invention, as one forced Harry to stagger backwards and flip a somersault in the air which forced him to lose momentum as he tried to find footing again, and another conjured misty clouds around his head, obscuring his vision. Then before they could figure out what was happening Harry had fallen onto his back, his wand flying into Narcissa’s grasp, Narcissa completely unscathed. The room burst into loud applause.

“Well done, Mr. Potter,” Narcissa said, looking at him with newfound respect. “You held up much longer than I expected. I didn’t go easy on you. 10 points to Gryffindor.” Just then the bell rang. “Continue practicing what you’ve all learnt this week. It’s best to work with a friend, but a training dummy works as well. Have a good afternoon, everyone.”

“Good job, mate,” Ron grinned, thumping him on the back.

“That was bloody brilliant,” Draco agreed as they exited the classroom. “You had her impressed.”

Looking behind his back as though to check that the door was closed (it was), Harry shuddered. “Merlin. If anyone were to date you and she gave your date a shovel talk they wouldn’t come out of it alive!”

“Even I can’t beat mother, and she’s been training me to duel practically since I was born,” Draco sighed in agreement.

“If only I could duel like her,” Hermione sighed like a teenager mooning over some famous singers. “Voldy wouldn’t stand a chance!”

Ginny, Harry and Ron looked at her in shock, while Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“Since when did you idolize people? Miss-I-Don’t -do-crushes?” Ginny demanded.

Hermione gave her the middle finger in reply.

***

After supper Hermione hurried out the hall, eager to hide in her room until midnight came. Except just then she bumped into Luna on her way up to the staircase leading to the third floor, who just happened to be leaving the Great Hall as well.

“Oh hullo, Luna,” Hermione said in surprise as the other girl fell into step besides her. “Heading back to the Ravenclaw Tower?”

But before Luna could answer Hermione’s head snapped towards Narcissa who’d just appeared at the top of the stairs. When she caught sight of Hermione she froze. Stared at Hermione like a deer caught in the headlights, before the woman turned back around to walk the way she came. Didn’t look back. Furrowing her eyebrows Hermione stared at her retreating back in confusion. If she didn’t know any better she’d think Narcissa was practically running away from her. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there frozen, until Luna gently nudged her elbows to shake her out of it.

“Hermione? Are you ok?”

Startling, Hermione shook her head, before turning to Luna with a wry grin. “I’m fine.”

Luna frowned, unconvinced. “You know,” she began hesitantly, “the color of your wrackspurts match Professor Black’s.”

Hermione paled. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re both worried about the same thing,” Luna said, holding Hermione’s hands gently in her hands. “It doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a bad thing. Take me and Ginny for instance. Before we decided to try dating the day after your birthday—”

“Oh my god, I knew it!” Hermione squealed, wrapping Luna up in an excited arm, almost overbalancing when the staircase moved suddenly and connected to a different level. How did Ginny manage to keep something like that from her?! “C’mon, let’s get off this thing. You’ve got to tell me all the details. All the five W’s!”

“This is about you, Hermione, I didn’t say that for you to deflect, but don’t tell Ginny I told you,” Luna said serenely as they started climbing the stairs which now connected to the fifth floor before they actually flung them off. “She wanted to tell you herself when things between us are… officially underway. Act surprised when she does.”

Uh. Fine. “You were saying?” Hermione huffed.

“As I was saying, long before Ginny and I got together, our wrackspurts matched each other’s colors. I saw it even when she was dating Harry—Don’t tell poor Harry that—but I didn’t know if it meant that it was about me. After all, someone else could’ve had the same color wrackspurts as her that I just couldn’t see, and that could mean the same for Professor Black as well. But not only do your wrackspurts match each other. Did I tell you that I can see people’s magical auras as well?”

Hermione stared at her as they came to a stop in a secluded area besides the library. “You could? The only thing I know about energies is when Professor Trelawney told me I had no aura to perceive the future in our third year. And darn right she was.” Especially when it came to certain someone who must not be named. Not You Know Who. You know, the other one.

“Blame my vivid imagination for that. Magical auras not only indicate how powerful you are, but they also have color. Everyone I’ve come across have a different shade of color—not just your typical color spectrum, but all the colors in between. I’ve had to learn how to block it out just so it wouldn’t overwhelm my senses. But yours and Professor Black’s? They’re so powerful I couldn’t even if I tried. And not only that, but they are the exact same shades: pink and green, colours of the Northern Lights. A most unique blend. Other people usually just have one color that never matches anyone else’s, considering that there are 18 decillion colors in the world. Practically infinite, and the wizarding population in Great Britain right now is around 4000, according to Ministry statistics.”

“18… decillion…?! That’s… that’s…” Hermione scrunched up her face as she tried to figure out how many zeros there were. She might be booksmart, but apparently Muggle math did not come naturally to her.

“33 zeros,” Luna supplied helpfully. “Your auras seem to… search each other out as well whenever you’re in the same room. Like just now, streams of magic were flowing between you and Professor Black, and when they reached each other through the air glowed between you two even though you were standing quite far on the opposite ends of the staircase. It’s not something that the naked eye could normally see. Even I’ve never seen anything like that at all.”

Hermione stared. She didn’t quite know what to say. What do you say when someone told you that your energy matched someone else’s? That it sought it out like an invisible string was tying you to it? she’d never been more grateful for Luna’s especially perceptive mind when she seemed to understand, patting Hermione’s shoulders before dropping the subject.

“Would you like to come with me to the Great Lakes? I’ve missed Bob the Squid so much. Haven’t visited him as much as I’d have liked to since coming back here.”

Hermione hesitated. She half wanted to just hide in her room and process what she’d just told her, but the other half knew she’d just end up going crazy if she did.

“Ok,” Hermione smiled, linking her arm through Luna’s. “Let’s.”

Chapter Text

Hermione crept out her room thirty minutes to midnight. She’d spent the last half hour freaking out to Crookshanks what she should wear, who by this point was surely at his wit’s end with her. Giving up with a huff she’d ended up throwing on a simple pair of jeans and long-sleeved T shirt as it was slightly chilly out. Why was she driving herself crazy over something that was a purely professional visit? Closing the door softly behind her Hermione once again cast the disillusionment charm as well the Muffliato charm on herself. Yet she needn’t have worried. There was no soul out in the Hogwarts hallways, but there was no harm in being careful.

Sneaking out the Great Hall, Hermione glanced warily on the ceiling, though the clear starry sky didn’t bring her any relief. Not when the weather could change any moment without notice. Taking out her wand to steady herself, she took a moment to close her eyes and let her own magic seep calmly into her, before she quietly padded across the marble floor to ease the oak doors open. Quietly closing them behind her, she stood in the entrance courtyard for several seconds to let her eyes adjust to the dark, made easier by the nearly full moon.

She carefully made her way down the grassy slope to the Whomping Willow, stood there watching it thrash under the moonlight for several seconds, a melancholy feeling slithering through her as she remembered how Crookshanks had led her and Harry to Sirius what felt like so long ago. It didn’t occur to her until now that Crookshanks had also lost a friend. Carefully making her way through the battering branches she placed a hand on the knot, felt the tree go still and a gap in the roots appeared.

Muttering Lumos, Hermione crawled forward headfirst and reached the tunnel at the bottom, and crouching low she began meandering her way to the Shrieking Shack she now knew by heart. After five minutes the tunnel began to rise and Hermione was slightly breathless and starting to form a stitch in her stomach. Apparently it was one thing to have good stamina when she was running or dueling, and another to have to walk crouching low and trying not to trip over stray branches.

Climbing through the small opening Hermione raised her wand. And then… gasped in wonder. As Narcissa had yet to arrive Hermione slowly turned around to take in the details. Instead of a very dusty, disordered room that she remembered (and expected), the room was now completely different. Polished. She didn’t even need Lumos to help her see, as there were candles floating against the walls.

Instead of paper peeling from the walls it now looked freshly painted. The door, which had been falling off its hinges, now stood tall and proud, nor did it creek when Hermione closed it behind her. The broken floorboards were replaced with soft, plush light blue carpet that reminded her the color of Narcissa’s eyes. The windows were no longer shattered, replaced by smooth panes. The staircase had also been restored to its former glory, as had the room upstairs and the four-posted bed sitting in the corner. Even the walls were painted with stars and galaxies, stretching vertically up until the ceiling which were enchanted to mimic the night sky like the one in the Great Hall.

Who had—?

But she didn’t have to wonder for long, because just then she heard footsteps up the stairs. Heart leaping in her throat Hermione swung around with her wand raised. Willed herself not to panic as a shadow fell onto the carpet. A red high heel revealed itself. Followed by skin tight jeans over long legs, and a blouse that exposed a rather decent amount of the blonde’s collar bones. And a ‘V’ neckline that dipped rather low.

 Hermione’s mouth went dry at the sight as she finally managed to tear her eyes away to blue eyes bright with mirth. Well. This was—completely different than what the blonde usually wore to class. Maybe that was just how the blonde dressed outside of class?

Narcissa raised her eyebrows at her. “Going to hex me, Ms. Granger?”

Uh. What?

Narcissa pinched her nose and sighed. Then crossed the room to where she was standing and put her hand on her wand. Oh right. Hermione didn’t realize she was still holding it up. Then as though they both realized simultaneously what Narcissa had just done, they both froze, staring at where their hands connected over her wand, like they were waiting for something to happen. Nothing. After several seconds Hermione sheepishly dropped her wand and stowed it in her pocket.

“Sorry. Habit.”

“Hmm.” Narcissa gave her a look. She could’ve sworn the blonde muttered “Curious” under her breath before a blank expression fell over her face again as she crossed over to the bed and sat on it. Smoothed the sheets with a manicured hand.

Hermione swallowed. Why was she here again?

“Well?” Narcissa arched an eyebrow impatiently as she rummaged in her pockets to pull out a small bottle. “Don’t just dawdle there all day, or we’ll be here the whole night!”

Hastily urging her feet to move Hermione crossed the room and hovered awkwardly in front of the blonde as she rolled up her sleeve. Keeping her gaze to the floor she didn’t notice the pained expression Narcissa was wearing on her face as her wrist was encased gently by her hands. That same tingly feeling she’d felt in class grew tenfold, especially as there weren’t any watchful eyes to mediate between the blonde and her own feelings. Both… a curse and a blessing.

“What did Minerva tell you about the curse?” Narcissa said. The impatience seemed to have bled out of her in favor for a soft peculiar tone that had Hermione raising her eyes to the blonde’s face. She seemed to be avoiding her gaze. Just… stared down at the scar with pursed lips.

“Just that it’s a special one. One that dementors seem to love.” Hermione smiled wryly.

“Draco told me it bled when they attacked Hogsmeade on your birthday.”

“They… did. I don’t know why it’s reacting now when I’ve been fine before.”

“When… Voldemort had hold of the Ministry he gave the dementors free reign over the world,” Narcissa began slowly, as though the words were hard to get out. “They were basically his… guard dog. And because Voldemort had them employed the Dark Lord wasn’t affected at all by their presence. Whenever I was… forced to… accompany Lucius on Death Eater attacks they happily accompanied us to feed on all the dark magic they wrought. Especially when they were using Unforgivable Curses. All that dark energy in them? They didn’t even need to go for a feed after a firefight. It was enough to last them a month.” Narcissa’s face darkened.

“That might as well be what happened to your scar. The curse is my sister’s specialty, something that she invented, though she had never quite used it to its full extent until you with darkest of intentions. I shudder to imagine what would happen if a dementor managed to kiss you. Their numbers might quite literally multiply on the spot.”

 Hermione shuddered. “How long will it take for the salve to get rid of the scar?”

“For as long as it’s been there, or until it’s not bothersome anymore I can’t guarantee that it’ll completely vanish it away, but it can at least lessen the darkness left lingering behind until it’s a normal scar. It’ll have to be applied once a week from now on.”

“For as long as it’s been—?! But I don’t even remember how long!” Hermione squawked. “No one kept track of time when we were on the—”

“5 months, 19 days, 9 hours, and approximately,” Narcissa glanced at her golden wrist watch, “30 minutes. You were… captured at the Manor on April 13, around 2:30pm,” she finished quietly.

Hermione stared. Was she… had she been counting? Narcissa broke eye contact. Cleared her throat. Was that a flush rising on her pale cheeks?

“Oh.”

Narcissa smiled wryly. Then dipped a finger into the salve, which was a pale, clear white color. She held out a hand. “May I?”

Hermione held out her left arm silently. Narcissa gently took her wrist again, her face of utmost concentration as she carefully traced a finger over the scar. What Hermione was not prepared for was the feelings that would elicit. It was like what happened in Knockturn Alley, and in the Room of Requirements, except it was… so much more now. Warmth seemed to seep from Narcissa’s fingertips through her skin into her bloodstream. Warmth that travelled through her entire body from head to toe. Warmth that was addicting. Warmth that seemed to light her up from within. Warmth that had the power to chase the shadows away.

Hermione couldn’t help her eyes fluttering shut. Nor the soft sigh that escaped her. She felt tension bleeding out of her shoulders, her entire body relaxing like it hadn’t done in a really long time. But it was over almost as soon as it began. Because as soon as Narcissa’s fingers traced over the last letter, she abruptly dropped her hand and cleared her throat. Hermione’s eyes slowly opened. Tried to meet Narcissa’s gaze, but she was once again avoiding her eyes. A clear dismissal.

“I believe we’re done here for tonight, Ms. Granger.” Her tone was clipped. Expression icy. Body tense.

With a sigh Hermione stood back. Allowed Narcissa to get up and walk towards the door. Then as she watched Narcissa’s hand land on the handle, Hermione couldn’t stop the words from bursting out of her. “Professor Black!”

Narcissa’s shoulder’s froze. She didn’t turn around. Hermione thought she heard a quiet sigh before the blonde said “Yes?” to the… door.

“Do you…” Know about what it all means? Know what we mean? Hermione wanted to ask. “Did you do all this?” was what came out of her mouth weakly as Narcissa finally turned around to face her as she gestured weakly around the room.

An eyebrow rose. A smirk. As though saying, “What do you think?” Without answering the blonde ducked down the tunnel out of sight.

***

“You’re so tense, dear,” the blonde was murmuring in her ear. “Let me?”

Hermione suppressed a moan. And a shiver as her breaths tickled the back of her neck, the blonde’s supple skin pressing into hers. She was pressed on her stomach on the bed, Narcissa hovering over her, practically straddling her as her hands kneaded into her shoulders. Goosebumps arose as bare hands touched her skin. They kneaded at knots in her neck, which did completely the opposite of relaxing her as Hermione held herself still, trying not to react to her touch.

But her efforts were rendered completely useless as the blonde’s bare skin brushed against her own. As Narcissa settled her weight practically on her… Hermione tried not to groan again… on her thighs, moving over her clothed back before slipping under. She was hot and cold all over. Shivering. She’d never felt so alive. Especially as hands started kneading at her bare skin, gently moving its way up… and up… and up… until Narcissa made to remove the shirt over her head.

“May I?”

Hermione could do nothing but comply. Her mind was completely blank, arousal pulling down between her legs as she weakly lifted herself up. Narcissa slid the shirt over her shoulders as Hermione raised her arms over her head. Narcissa’s hand was slick with massage oil, teasing her way up from the small of her back… traced along her spine… spread her palms against her shoulders…And then the blonde was reaching towards her front… Was she… was she going to…?

Oh Merlin.

She was.

Her eyes slid close as hands brushed against her breasts before cupping them fully.

“Cissa!” she thought, too far gone to speak as she moaned into the blonde’s mind. “Cissa, Cissa, Cissa…”

“I’ve got you, dear,” Narcissa’s voice demurred in her brain, “Let me take care of you. Let me help you relax.”

Hermione sobbed helplessly. She bucked into her touch as Narcissa’s ass settled over hers, her hands moving away from her breasts down her stomach, before they moved up her spine to again kneed at the nape of her neck. Her hands trailed down to her waist to turn her over, and Hermione gazed upwards in wonder to see Narcissa’s flushed face in place of her normally pale complexion. It sent wetness pulling down between her thighs. Made her center ache deliciously. Deliriously. Desperately. Especially as Narcissa stared down at her with a hooded gaze, completely open, walls nowhere to be seen as she lifted her hand to her mouth and brushed her lips over her scar gently.

Eyes fluttering shut she reached upwards to find purchase on the blonde’s neck with her other hand, Hermione’s eyes slipping shut as their mouths met. With an impatient wave of her hand Narcissa’s clothes vanished. The blonde chuckled into her mouth, but she too groaned when Hermione wrapped her legs around her thighs, her dripping center against her own, her own hands seeking purchase against Narcissa’s chest as she flicked her thumb against erect nipples.

Narcissa moaned into her mouth as Hermione licked and nipped into it, determined to memorize the way the blonde tasted. Felt. She didn’t even stop as Narcissa trailed a hand down past her chest, stroked her stomach softly before tracing a finger against her opening.

“Touch me,” Hermione gasped, back arching into her touch. Touch me… touch me…

“Please… touch me…” Hermione’s half-garbled words startled herself awake.

Staring at the ceiling, Hermione pressed a hand to her chest, heart hammering as she willed her breaths to slow down. The ache in her legs had never been so strong before, and unwilling to let the remnants of the dream fade away so soon, Hermione kicked the duvet aside, slid a hand down past her breasts, slowly meandering down her stomach and imagining it was Narcissa’s hands.

She took quite a while before she slid a hand down between her legs. Fuck, she’d never been this wet before. Slipping inside, Hermione moaned, flinging her head back into her pillow and squeezing her eyes shut as her fingers found a steady rhythm against her core. She let images of the blonde fill her mind. Let herself imagine it was Narcissa moving her fingers inside her. Within seconds Hermione was coming undone, harder than she had ever done in her past, an obscene amount of wetness trickling down her legs as she arched off the bed.

Hermione cast a cleaning spell over herself after she stilled and pulled out her fingers. There was a satisfied hum running through her, overshadowed by the slight feeling of guilt that was now arising. She’d never touched herself this desperately before. She’d never quite allowed herself to give into those dreams, never allowed it to bleed into reality, especially not since the blonde had come to Hogwarts.

Fuck.

She was all too glad that she’d practiced Occlumency to the point that Bellatrix couldn’t penetrate her mind. Then she had a horrible thought. What if the bond between them rendered that useless too? No. It can’t be. She was just going to have to try harder.

***

“What’s going on?” Hermione yawned as she joined the others down at the breakfast table come morning.

Her friends were huddled together, what looked like the Daily Prophet spread on clear spot on the table.

“Morning, Hermione,” Ginny greeted, looking at her over Harry’s shoulders, and they turned around to similarly greet her. The Great Hall was relatively silent, as it was a Saturday and people were, once again, sleeping in. 

“You took your time today,” Ron commented. “Late night?”

“Late night studying, probably,” Harry snorted, shaking his head. “Please don’t collapse from exhaustion. We’ve just escaped a war.” 

Hermione smiled weakly and settled down to pile eggs and bacon onto her plate. Though she’d fallen asleep again sometime in the middle of the night Hermione was still… so tired. At least there weren’t… anymore dreams. She glanced across the hall to find Narcissa sitting there eating breakfast next to Minerva, much to her surprise, as she could practically count on one hand how many times the blonde had frequented the High Table since she came here.

As though sensing her gaze Narcissa sharply looked up from her bowl and looked straight at Hermione. She flushed, remembering her dreams and reinforced her mental shield as she dropped her gaze. Half-heartedly bit into a bread roll. 

“What are you guys looking at?” Hermione asked again after she’d swallowed.

They exchanged glances, then Harry handed the paper to her. “The Australian Minister for Magic just issued their own statement about dementor attacks. It seems their numbers are growing especially in Sydney, in Muggle areas.”

Hermione’s face paled as she read through the paper. Her parents… she’d managed to push it down to the back of her mind. But now… what if they were attacked? That would be so much worse then them not knowing who she was.

“Hermione?” Ginny said tentatively. Came around to her side of the table and wrapped her arms around her. “Are you alright?”

Harry sat down across her and took her hands, and Ron sat down next to him, looking at her worriedly. “Your parents… they’re in Australia, aren’t they?” Harry asked softly.

Hermione nodded. She couldn’t speak.

“Have you tried finding them at all?” Ron said.

“I, I flew to Australia shortly after the war ended. I found them living in a beautiful house near the beaches in Sydney but they seemed so happy with their current lives that I couldn’t bear to restore their memories. I was scared that if I tried it would be rendered useless after all, or worse, make it worse for them. I didn’t… want to find out in the first place.” She swallowed a lump in her throat as she blinked back tears.

“You had no choice, Hermione,” Harry said quietly. “I know I told Lupin that parents shouldn’t leave their children, but well, it’s the other way around for you. I… I asked Professor Black before her trail whether Voldemort had asked after them. They had.”

Hermione glanced at the table to find the blonde and Minerva looking at her. She held Narcissa’s gaze for several seconds before she looked back down at the table.

“I know I did the right thing. But what if… dementors got to them after all? What if I should’ve tried to restore their memories and then I could’ve … could’ve … protected them from them?”

“It’s no good trying to think about the ‘what if’s’,” Ron said. “You’ll only drive yourself crazy if you do. Trust me, I know.” Hermione met his eyes across the table. She knew what he was referring to before he got together with Lavender after all.

“Ron’s right, Hermione,” Ginny squeezed her hands. “And if you’re worried about where to stay after the school year ends, do you really think we would let you go homeless?”

Hermione sniffled. Laughed softly. “Thank you. I wouldn’t survive without any of you.” She finished her last bite of toast and stood up from the table. “I… I think I’ll just… go study. Go have fun with Quidditch.”

“Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you? We could keep you company in the library or something if you don’t want to be alone. We’ll even study quietly, right Harry?” Ron grinned, nudging him who nodded and smiled.

Hermione looked at him in surprise. Ron and Harry, offering to study with her in the library? Did the world end or something? “Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose…” Hermione began weakly, before Ginny rolled her eyes and grabbed her arms.

“We’re offering. Now shut up and let us.”

“…If you wish. But don’t blame me if you lot get bored.”

Much to her surprise, her friends stayed true to their word and they actually managed to get some work done as Hermione hunkered down and buried herself her Runes essay. The rest of the day passed quickly, and after a sumptuous dinner of roasted pork and garlic bread, Hermione trudged upstairs to her room and headed for a quick shower in the prefect’s bathroom. Standing under the spray she leaned against the tiles and closed her eyes.

Tried to wash away the memories of herself pointing her wand at her parents, forcing them to forget her… During the war she’d had no time to wonder if it was the right choice or not. But now, that little voice in her head that reprimanded her actions had taken root, becoming louder and louder like the Snake hissing words in Harry’s head during their second year.

 Did you have the right to do that to them? the voice said snidely. You took away their consent. Used magic on them forcefully. Why didn’t you talk to them before it? Given them a choice?

“We were at war. Voldemort would’ve killed them,” Hermione muttered.

 They’re your parents, Hermione, no matter how much they might’ve stopped understanding you since you became a witch. They would’ve gladly moved to Australia and still remembered you if you asked them!

“Shut up. Shut. UP! They would’ve—they would’ve still been killed!”

Has it occurred to you that maybe they’d rather have been killed and still remember you until their dying breaths than to live their rest of their lives not knowing you exist?

“They’re happy with their lives. I can’t… I can’t take that away from them now. I’ve taken enough away,” Hermione choked, unshed tears mingling with the hot spray from the shower.

And now dementors are coming after them. And you’ll loose them for real this time. What if they receive the Kiss? And become… empty. Void. Just like how they’re looking at you now. And it’s all your fault. Your fault…

An image of her parents staring blankly into the air crossed her mind. Of herself being wiped from family photos. Hermione slammed the image away. She hastily turned off the shower as she quickly dried herself, pulling her clothes back on. Stumbled back into her room. Quickly locking the door, Hermione had never been more glad for the privileges being Head Girl had given her as she leaned her head back against her bed. She stared at the ceiling as Crookshanks meowed and leapt into her arms, licking her face in concern and tightened her arms around him. She would not cry. She would not, she would not, she would—

Just then a buzzing sound came from her nightstand, startling Hermione out of her wits. She looked around in confusion, wondering where the noise came from, until Crookshanks leapt from her arms and landed on her nightstand, being careful not to knock her mirror over. He reached down to open the drawer and… pulled something out. Huh. She didn’t know the notebook Narcissa had given her vibrated. Pushing it towards her, Hermione smiled shakily at Crookshanks in thanks, taking it carefully from his paws. It stopped vibrating at her touch.

Holding her breath, Hermione gingerly opened her notebook. Then stared down at surprise as Narcissa’s cursive handwriting shone through.

Are you alright? You looked upset

during breakfast today

            Oh. I didn’t realize anyone

except my friends noticed

I did. Minerva and I both did.

            I’m fine, thank you

…Don’t forget you’re talking to a Slytherin,

Ms. Granger. We’re the masters of…

            Lying?

I prefer to think of it

as bending the truth

Hermione snorted. Of course she would call it that.

            Whatever you say

You still haven’t

answered my question.

Are you alright?

            I’m ok, really

A pause.

I read the papers today.

It’s understandable that you’d be upset.

You had a very hard choice to make,

 and while I would be very upset

if Draco did that to me I understand why.

Harry told me he asked you

 before your trail whether

Voldemort had asked about them

He did.

Did you manage to find them?

I’d sent them to Australia.

Wiped myself so thoroughly

from their minds that Voldemort

 couldn’t track them down.

When I found them in Sydney they…

looked so happy with their current lives

that I daren’t do anything to disrupt it,

even if it meant…even if it meant

 them remembering me again.

A drop of tear fell onto the page. Blurred her own words.

Oh Ms. Granger,

I’m sure they’d much rather

have you back in their lives

than not knowing you existed at all.

I know, I know.

But I’m scared. What if I…

What if I bring them back

 but I’ve broken their trust

so thoroughly that it won’t

ever be repaired?

Then at least

you know you’ve tried.

I’m at Hogwarts now,

 though.

It’s not like I can

 leave school in the middle of the year

to find them

Why not? I’m sure Minerva would

understand, should the need arise.

I’d… I’d even be happy to

accompany you should you wish

not to go alone. Or Minerva for

that matter

Thank you for the offer.

 But I’m… I’m not ready yet.

Besides you have classes to teach,

and there’s too much

going on at school

to think about anything else.

 I… can’t afford to think about it.

I’m scared that if I do I’ll …

I’ll just start spiraling.

Another pause. Hermione chewed on her quill. Were they still talking about her parents? Somehow Hermione felt like she’d accidentally strayed off topic.

I understand.

How about this.

I go to Minerva and ask her if

she could get Kingsley to gain permission

from the Australian Prime Minister

to track them down? Then I’m sure

Kingsley could install an Auror

near where they’re living so they can

watch over them more easily,

at least until the government figures out

what to do with the dementors.

I could even ask Kingsley to inform

Minerva or you directly

if anything should happen

            …that’s… actually a great idea.

I didn’t think of that

Where in Sydney are they?

And their names?

When I was obliviating them

I gave them new identities as

 Wendell and Monika Wilkins.

Before that they were

Jean and Robert Granger.

They’re living in an apartment

near Bondi Beach

I will pass that along

            Thank you.

If you would do that

I’d be a lot less

worried about them

It’s getting late.

I hope you get some sleep.

            I think I’m getting tired now.

Talking to you helped.

Glad to be of service.

            You get some sleep too. 

Don’t think I don’t

know that you aren’t

…

Hermione snorted. Classic.

             Good.

            That’s all you need to say :)

Go to sleep, Granger

             I’ll try

That’s all you need to say.

Chapter Text

“You look… different,” Ginny narrowed her eyes at her as she joined her down at the Quidditch banisters early next morning where Harry, Ron and Draco were fooling about, taking advantage of the empty pitch.

In lieu of answering she nibbled at a sandwich she’d nabbed from Kreacher as she’d completely… just slept in. For once in her life. It didn’t help that she’d slept like a baby last night. She was sure that the promise of added protection for her parents eased a lot more tension than Hermione realized she’d been carrying.

No dreams whatsoever. She hadn’t even woken up at 6am, as that was when Crookshanks typically liked to jump on top of her meowing for breakfast after which Hermione usually dropped promptly back to sleep, but Hermione had somehow slept straight through whatever attempts he might’ve made before apparently giving up. Come morning she’d awaken to an extremely grumpy cat. He was still sulking in the corner by the time she managed to make her way out of the room.

“Why aren’t you up there with the others?” Hermione motioned up towards, only to look around in confusion when she saw only Ron guarding the goal posts when it had been the three of them up there a second ago.

Scanning the pitch she grinned when she heard Harry and Draco laughing as they dived towards the ground, the snitch fluttering near the ground.

“This takes me back!” Harry was shouting as they both simultaneously reached the Snitch at the same time.

“Better enjoy it will it lasts,” Draco laughed, knocking Harry’s hand out of the way as he grabbed the ball. “It won’t be this friendly when the first match of the season comes!”

“Are you gonna dress up as a dementor and scare me again, Malfoy?” Harry smirked. “That was rather clever, I’ll give you that.”

“…It was, until your Patronus scared the shit out of us, Potter,” Draco sighed morosely. Then he spotted Hermione and dismounted his broom on the banisters where she and Ginny sat. “Oh hullo, Hermione, glad to see you not holing yourself in the library. Long time no see!”

“Oh shut up, it’s only been two days. Don’t mind me. Keep playing, you.”

Draco shared a smirk with Harry and they kicked off from the ground again. Now they had switched roles, it seemed, as Draco and Harry were now both chasers, passing the Quaffle towards each other and throwing it at the hoops so that Ron could practice blocking them.

“It’s great that Draco is getting along with us so well now,” Hermione grinned as they flew through the air to high five Ron who managed another spectacular save.

Ginny smirked. “Especially Harry.”

Hermione swung around to stare at her in surprise. “So you noticed too?” she hissed.

“Anyone with eyes would,” Ginny rolled her eyes. “Half the school is betting on when they’d get together at this point.”

Hermione’s mouth gaped. “What?! How is it that I’m hearing about this now?!!”

“You always hear things late, Hermione,” Ginny rolled her eyes up again.

“…I blame the books.”

“Ha. So you’re admitting it! Or maybe that’s just you!”

“And when were you gonna tell me about you and Luna?” Hermione parroted back playfully, nudging her side.

Ginny blushed bright red. “Ok fine, you win this one. But don’t deflect. You do look different today.”

Now it was Hermione’s turn to blush. “Different… how?”

“Like you’ve…” Ginny tilted her head at her and studied her curiously. Suddenly she grinned. Hermione braced herself. Knew it would be nothing good whenever Ginny gave her that gaze—“Like you’ve pulled!”

Hermione choked on air and smacked Ginny’s arm. Hard. “GINNY!” she hissed. “I just slept well last night!”

“And why did you sleep well?” Ginny smirked. “Sweet dreams about our dear old professor?”

Hermione groaned. Buried her head into her hands. “Why. Am. I. Friends. With. You.”

“Ha! You’re not denying it! Spill!”

Hermione hesitated. Then firmly shook her head. “It’s really nothing, Ginny, I just slept well last night. That’s all.”

Ginny searched her face before she nodded and sighed. Squeezed her arms. “You know you can always talk to me, right Hermione? Any of us. Even Ron. He’s been worried about you.”

“Ron’s emotional range isn’t teaspoon sized anymore,” Hermione gasped in mock-awe. “Lavender must be doing wonders to it.”

Ginny snorted. “Mum is so pleased about it she doesn’t even care that Lavender is a werewolf.”

“Or maybe after the war ended she just wants her children to be happy?” she grinned and nudged her arm.

“How would… how would she react to Luna and I though?” Ginny whispered. Wrapped her arms around herself. “No one in the family is—is like me.”

“I thought the wizarding world is much more accepting about it than Muggles.”

“We are, except for purebloods, but my mum has… never really talked about it unlike dad who made sure to tell us all that he wouldn’t see us differently if one of us were. I think that might be why I tried so hard to date Harry? Cause it was the norm and my mum wouldn’t think twice about it. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about Luna having the same problem. Her dad is the only person she has left and he has completely accepted her after she… came out to him.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Gin.”

“I’m even having tea with them next weekend,” Ginny’s eyes lit up. “I’m so glad Mr. Lovegood is recovering well from his ordeal. Loosing her mum has been hard on Luna.”

Hermione smiled and squeezed Ginny’s hands. “I can totally imagine. I’m so glad you have each other.”

“And I’m sure you have something with Professor Black,” Ginny said softly. Held up a finger when Hermione opened her mouth to protest. “You didn’t see what we saw during our last DADA class. When you were fighting Draco.”

Hermione’s heart thudded in her chest. “What… what did you see?”

“When Professor Black was whispering in Draco’s ears, presumably to make it harder for you, she… never stopped staring at you. It was like… you were the center of her world and she was mesmerized by you. And when you beat Draco, the look of wonder on her face, it was like you hung the moon and the stars and she was at their mercy. I’d never seen her look at anyone else in the class like that. Merlin’s beard, Hermione, if I wasn’t already gay that would’ve done me in!”

Hermione couldn’t help it. She burst into peels of laughter. “Can you believe me? I’ve just become one of those literature clichés I detest. As if my life isn’t one drama after another!”

“And I get the front row seat. No need to pay for—what’re those things Muggles call it—? Oh yes, movies. If only I had popcorn too,” Ginny grinned, eyes dancing with laughter.

“While I’m suffering for your entertainment, you mean,” she grumbled.

Ginny tried valiantly to stop laughing. Except five seconds later it turned into loud guffaws as Hermione huffed petulantly and stuck her tongue out at her before she too burst into laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Harry demanded as he, Draco and Ron fluttered to the floor and dismounted their brooms.

“It-It’s nothing, Harry, re-really,” Hermione gasped out.

The boys looked at each other in confusion as fresh peels of laughter left their mouths.

Ron shook his head. “Girls.”

“C’mon, let’s head back into the castle before Madam Hooch starts shouting us out of her pitch,” Harry laughed.

“And whose fault is that?” Hermione rolled her eyes, but followed her friends back into the castle for another day of studying.

***

Hermione headed down to the Great Lake after an intense day of classes. Mondays were her most packed days, as she hadn’t any free periods to study. Finding a shaded spot near the waters, Hermione pulled out a picnic blanket and spread it out on the slightly dewy grass. She lowered herself down to the ground and leaned against a tree trunk with a contented sigh. She was ahead of all her classwork, and despite a fresh pile of homework Hermione thought it couldn’t hurt to take a break before delving back in.

Idly wondering if Bob the Squid would pop up and greet her, Hermione pulled out Pride and Prejudice and opened to where she’d bookmarked. She’d just gotten to chapter 20 and she was starting to understand why Narcissa might like it. An overbearing mother demanding their daughters to marry, men who couldn’t take no for an answer, feelings that used to be nothing forced to grow into something, genuine feelings cast aside…

Was that what the bond was doing to them? Was it forcing them to feel like that towards each other without any choice? That would make her no better than Lucius. As far as Narcissa indicated she seemed to have no love for the man—could most likely have been an arranged marriage to appease her parents’ wishes.

Purebloods, she snorted.

Narcissa had had enough choices taken away from her life. Hermione couldn’t do that to her too. Refused to do that to her, even if the universe gave her permission. And yet, as she gazed out at the colorful trees which were starting to turn red, Hermione closed her eyes and let herself wonder just why the blonde had looked so familiar when they’d met that fateful day in Knockturn Alley.

She hadn’t realized it at the time. But there was this nagging feeling that followed Hermione 24/7, though Hermione never realized it was there until now. A nagging feeling that told Hermione she was missing something. She just hadn’t quite figured out what it was. Or why. Where had she seen her before? Then her eyes shot open in surprise as her heart leapt in realization. Of course!

Before she’d gotten the letter from Hogwarts she remembered running into this blonde woman rather frequently in a nearby Muggle library Hermione frequented. They happened to be sitting in a secluded area near the same window, near the same row of couches, often reading from morning to late afternoon when the library would close and often leaving almost one after the other at the same time. She hadn’t taken notice of her at first, too buried in the wonderful world of Roald Dahl who’d been her favorite author when she was a child, whose magic she discovered right around the time the blonde woman started visiting the library mid-summer before she got her first Hogwarts letter.

Being the voracious reader she was Hermione had read almost all of his books within record time. And eight weeks later, she’d read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, The BFG, James and the Giant Peach, The Witches, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Charlie and the Great Glass elevator, and when she finished The Magic Finger by her birthday she’d gotten up from her usual spot to search for another Roald Dahl book to read.

Realizing that she must’ve read all of his books, or at least all the books this library offered, Hermione had huffed in disappointment and headed to the Classics section where she pulled out The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett. She’d headed back to her spot besides the window and was about to settle down to start reading this book. But to her surprise she found a book lying on the spot where she sat, a note on top of it.

You might enjoy this one by Roald Dahl. The protagonist reminds me of you.

Though the note had been unsigned somehow Hermione knew who exactly it was from, especially as there had only person who’d been sitting in their quiet little corner. Nor could it have been from the librarian, whose desk was completely out of sight from where they were sitting. Curiously lifting the note, Hermione’s eyes flitted over the cover. Matilda. Turning the book to read the synopsis, she’d glanced around in confusion for a library code, only to realize that it was missing. It looked… store bought. A rather unintended birthday present.

Sharply glancing up to look around for the blonde woman, she’d been disappointed to realize that she was nowhere to be seen. But she’d returned the next day, and when the woman got up to search for a book, Hermione had hurried over to put the note on her seat and made it back just in time before the woman returned. Over the top of Matilda Hermione discretely observed the woman pause as she neared her seat. Picked up the note, where she’d simply written thank you. Though the blonde hadn’t glanced over at her she caught a quirk of her lips before the woman sat down, back turned to her, and began to read.

It continued throughout the year until Hogwarts. And when she went back home for the summer after her first year, she’d went back to the library hoping to run into the blonde again, but was left disappointed when the blonde never turned up again. She still had the book with her in Hogwarts today. A bedtime story when she couldn’t sleep.

“So that’s who she was,” Hermione whispered to Bob in surprise, who chose that moment to break through the water and wave a tentacle at her in greeting. Bob blinked at her in confusion. “I’ve met Narcissa before… I’ve met her before!” How was she just realizing it now? Must be the disguise. Narcissa had rather been rocking it with simple jeans and a T-Shirt. She must’ve done her research.

Suddenly feeling as though she was being watched Hermione glanced upwards uneasily. After a few moments of searching she saw the magpie perched atop a tree branch, though instead of fluttering away like it had before it actually flew down next to her. Surprised, Hermione held herself still as bright blue eyes bore into her. Slowly reaching out a hand, she was even more surprised when the magpie didn’t even flinch back like a wounded bird. Instead it inched forward and gently butted her palms, allowing Hermione to stroke its silky feathers.

“I never thanked you for the book,” Hermione said quietly. “Both times.”

The magpie let out a soft caw, as though saying “You’re welcome.”

Hermione smiled and leaned back against the tree. Returned to reading Pride and Prejudice. But instead of flying away like she expected, the magpie stayed preening next to her until it became too dark to see.

***

But of course, it didn’t last. Whatever progress Narcissa seemed to be making was too good to remain true. Because right after that she seemed once again to retreat fully. She didn’t see the blonde outside of class at all for the next few days, not even in magpie form. It was as though Narcissa was hell-bent on avoiding her. Classes had returned to clipped and professional. She addressed her whenever Hermione raised her hand, but that was about it, and the blonde always moved her attention quickly away from Hermione. Hermione was getting irritable and grouchy, a fact that Ginny pointed out several times.

As if that wasn’t enough to worsen Hermione’s mood, by Friday midnight the weather had evolved from low, dark angry clouds that formed earlier in the month to thunderous rainy. As she made her way up to the Great Hall she groaned when she glanced at the ceiling to see it pouring rain. Resigning to the fact that she was going to be dripping wet by the time she made it to the Shrieking Shack, Hermione warily cast an Impervius charm on herself so that she could at least see better.

The walk down the grassy slope seemed to take extra long as she tried not to slip in the mud. By the time she made it through the tunnel she was, indeed, dripping wet, and wrenching the door open Hermione slammed it shut with a huff, only to stop short when she noticed Narcissa looking at her with a raised eyebrow from across the room, similarly dripping wet on the carpet that was somehow not staining. Maybe it was waterproof. Hermione swallowed. There was something appealing seeing water droplets cascade down the blonde’s hair, down her face and her neck…

Shaking her head to clear those wandering thoughts Hermione cast a drying charm over herself and one in the blonde’s direction as well. Narcissa’s eyebrows raised her brows at that and smirked, holding Hermione’s gaze who frowned when she noticed the blonde looking more tired than normal. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was rather frazzled at the ends. She was about to ask if the blonde was alright but closed her mouth as soon as she opened it. Somehow she felt as though Narcissa hated questions like those.

As though seeing something in her gaze Narcissa’s spine stiffened and a business-like expression crossed her face. Silently held out her hand. Hermione sighed and rolled up her sleeve. Looked down at the scar, which had become less… angry since Narcissa started applying the salve. At least there was that?

She crossed over to where she was standing and Narcissa took her hand without a word. Hermione glanced up to study the blonde under her eyelashes, swallowed when she saw how stony the blonde still was. She was so busy trying to figure out what she’d done wrong she didn’t notice how close they were standing until Narcissa quickly dropped her hand and stepped back. Without a word Narcissa pivoted on her heels. Wrenched the door open and left without a backwards glance.

Hermione moodily made her way back to the castle, once again getting soaked through by the time she made it back inside. Stomping her way up the stairs she didn’t even bother staying quiet, and when she reached her room she slammed the door shut, startling Crookshanks awake once again. Casting the drying spell over herself once more, Hermione sighed and changed into her pajamas. Laid herself on the bed and stared at the ceiling after she’d turned off the light. Patience was not her virtue—admittedly hers was much better than Harry and Ron, but Narcissa was really testing it. Especially when there seemed to be no end in sight.

“Just suck it up and deal with it, dearie,” her mirror said.

Hermione sighed. Let Crookshanks jump onto her bed and curl up next to her. She stroked him miserably.

“Well she’s not giving me much of a choice, is she?”

***

The silent treatment went on for the next week. And the next. Hermione was ready to pull her hair out in frustration. More than once after their late-night rendezvous at the Shrieking Shack, she’d opened the notebook on her nightstand, pulled out a quill, almost started to ask her just what exactly she’d done wrong, but then she’d come to her senses and put it down as though it burnt her. Narcissa was clearly drawing a line here. And Hermione refused to cross it. But what if the blonde wanted her to cross it, wanted her to make a move that the older woman couldn’t? Well it’s not like she could either!

Before Hermione could figure out which way to go, the universe did the work for her the week before Halloween. Or rather, Minerva had unwittingly taken pity on her pathetic pining, as she had asked to talk to her alone after the Prefect meeting Saturday afternoon. When Hermione and Harry finished delegating the roles to Draco, Ginny, Ron, and the other prefects how Halloween decorations were to be put in place and who was supposed to do what, Hermione hung back and waved off her friends.

“Go on, you guys,” she smiled at them. “Don’t hang back on my account.”

“You sure?” Ginny frowned at her. “We wouldn’t mind waiting.”

“It won’t take long,” Minerva assured. “Ten minutes, tops.”

“Alright, then,” Ron waved, “see you later!” He slid down the stairs to Minerva’s office and the walls closed behind them.

“What did you want to talk to me about, Minerva?” Hermione turned to Minerva at once. She’d been burning with curiosity for two days.

“Come, let’s take a walk, shall we?”

“In this gloomy weather?” Hermione complained light heartedly, but followed the professor down the spiral staircases.

“Too many ears inside the castle.”

Which… made sense. She probably didn’t want the portraits to eavesdrop more than they already had. Hermione was glad. She didn’t want that too. Still, she was rather nervous. She hadn’t so much as exchanged words with Minerva about it since the start of the year, and she had a feeling that that was exactly what Minerva wanted to talk to her about.

Minerva was silent when they crossed a secret passageway out into the entrance courtyard, avoiding the gaggle of students that were no doubt lining up to go to Hogsmeade. When they reached the Great Lakes Minerva stopped at the edge of the water. Hermione followed suit. The Lake was grey under the sky. Still, but grey. She shivered. Like calm before the storm.

“Are you alright, dear? You seem… tired lately,” Minerva said quietly after she cast a warming charm over herself and Hermione.

“I’m… I’m alright. Just haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Nightmares?”

“They’re… few and far between. It could be worse.” What was keeping her awake at night was much worse. Much worse than nightmares from Bellatrix’s torture. Much worse than nightmares from the final battle. Only loosing her parents could reach its same level.

“I see. I hear Professor Black’s lessons are going well.”

“Yes,” Hermione chuckled. “She has the school rather enamored, much to Draco’s horror.”

Minerva chuckled. “Professor Black does seem to be all the school talks about these days. And she’ll be talked about even more, when I make my next big announcement come Monday morning.”

Oh no. What was she planning?

“In light of the events last year I thought it appropriate to implement as many activities as possible to bring the school together. I know the Slytherins are still facing a hard time settling in again with the student body. I thank you and your friends for helping Draco find his footing again,” Minerva said with a warm smile. “Professor Black has been very grateful.”

Hermione nodded and smiled. She’d wondered how Narcissa would feel about Draco’s friendship with them, but she was relieved now that the blonde was happy with it. “He deserves it. They both do. I only wished it didn’t take a full-blown war for that to happen.”

“Yes,” Minerva said sadly. “This is why I try to be strict and fair to students of all houses. But as I was saying, what I would propose would affect you. That, as well as the actions you have taken during the war, render you as good as faculty.”

“What are you proposing, Minerva?” she said, eyeing her warily.

“Ah, Narcissa. Just on time!”

Hermione swung around to see Professor Black striding towards them. Hermione’s stomach gave a funny jolt. She was wrapped in a coat that hugged her snuggly, her light blue scarf matching her eyes, her hair curling around her neck in the wind. Narcissa’s blue eyes slid towards her for the first time in… 16 days. Not that she’d been counting. Pathetic.

“Ms. Granger.”

“Professor Black.” She tried not to flush under her gaze.

“Headmistress, you called for me?” Narcissa said, without taking her eyes off Hermione, who tried harder not to flush at the prolonged gaze.

What on earth was with her?! Narcissa ignores her for two weeks, now she’s giving her her undivided attention! Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Minerva look between them with a barely concealed smirk on her face.

“Ms. Granger, you can dance, can you not?”

Hermione choked on air, swinging around to stare wide-eyed at Minerva. She was not expecting that question. And oh no… she had a feeling she knew where the headmistress was going with this…

“Not-not since the Yule Ball,” she stammered.

“And yet you danced perfectly well with Mr. Krum, may I add.”

Hermione wanted to melt to the ground. She was pretty sure her face was bright red. She daren’t look in Narcissa’s direction at all. “I—I—I can’t—”

“Can we just get to the point?” Narcissa hissed as Minerva chuckled. “I’d rather not stand out in this cold for much longer!”

Hermione changed a glance at the blonde again. She suppressed a grin at the expression on Narcissa’s face as she was instantly brought back to the Quidditch World Cup right after Mr. Malfoy introduced Narcissa to them as his wife. It was the exact same look. Like she’d smelled something unpleasant under her nose. And yet this time around instead of realizing that it was a mask Narcissa was no doubt used to wearing, it gave her a slither of hope. Could Narcissa be…?

“I apologize if I touched a nerve,” Minerva said, and yep she was smirking fully now. She’d never seen the Headmistress look so smug. “Before I tell the school I wanted to run to you both directly that I’m planning a Yule Ball on December 20^th—before students go home for the break.”

“And that concerns us because?” Narcissa was staring down Minerva with narrowed eyes. She was positively fuming.

Hermione gulped as Minerva turned to her.

“The Yule Ball will open with a lead couple before the dance floor opens to everyone else. Ms. Granger, deny it all you want but you were the best at ballroom dancing out of all the students I’ve taught. This puts you in the best position for such a request. Traditionally I’d ask both the Headboy and Headgirl to both take part in the opening dance, but given Mr. Potter’s… less-than enthusiastic response towards dancing I’d much rather not burden him with this task. And I know that Professor Black is highly apt at ballroom tradition. I couldn’t think of a better pairing, with you, Narcissa, in the lead. Nor a better representation of… unification given the grievances of the war.”

Dead silence. And then—“W-what?” Hermione stammered, going as red as Ron’s hair.

“What?” Narcissa echoed. Was her pale cheeks flushing as well?

Minerva heaved a sigh. Muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Why am I talking to twelve year olds” under her breath. “Come now, you’re both smart ladies. I do believe you were the brightest witch of your age, weren’t you, Professor Black? You could give Ms. Granger a run for her money.” Minerva smirked at Narcissa.

Huh. Hermione did not know that. But then again, there were a lot of things she didn’t know about her. Five seconds passed with Hermione and Narcissa avoiding each other’s gaze. Until Minerva heaved a sigh again.

“You don’t have to answer right now. Sleep on it. If one or both of you disagree, I will fall back to my original plan of us faculty opening the dance floor, which will be the next step after the lead couple opens the floor in any case. Nothing will be lost if you both decide to back out, even if last minute. Just do let me know the week before the Yule Ball the latest.”

Another five seconds passed before Narcissa pinched her nose. “Fine. If you’re amenable, Ms. Granger?” she said to the ground.

Hermione hesitated. Could she handle dancing with her? Could she reel in her own feelings when that happened?

Her brain said no.

Her heart said—

“Excellent,” Minerva said happily. “I trust you’ve a place and time to meet?”

Narcissa grunted. Then she swung around and stalked off without another glance towards Hermione, who was too giddy over what just happened to care about yet another silent treatment.

“What are you up to, Minerva?” Hermione swung around to glare at the Headmistress with hands on her hips.

Minerva looked back at her innocently. That damned twinkle in her eyes were back. Dumbledore’s always infuriated Hermione to no end, but this was definitely ten times worse.

“But what makes you think I’m up to something, Hermione?” Minerva gasped, placing a hand on her heart. “I thought we were friends!”

Oh she did not just—Hermione deflated. “Ginny is bad enough. I don’t need it coming from you too,” she groaned, but half heartedly. Hence why she’d only told Ginny so far. If Harry, Ron and god forbid Draco caught wind of it… she shuddered to imagine the teasing she’d receive from all ends.

 “Oh, and Hermione? I thought I should tell you that Kingsley has sent one of his Aurors to find your parents. They tracked them down without issue in the address you gave him. They are keeping a close watch on them. Oh, and Kingsley wanted me to give you this. He has placed a Protean Charm on it so that it will heat up and a message will appear if anything happens. I believe you are very familiar with this charm.” Minerva’s eyes twinkled behind her glasses.

Hermione took the fake coin not dissimilar to the ones they used for Dumbledore’s Army. Slipping it into her pocket Hermione grinned back as she felt a weight of relief filter through her.

“Thank you, Minerva.”

“Anytime. Now go, join the others. I’ve kept you long enough.”

***

By the time Hermione found Ginny in Honeydukes the clouds had broken apart and the sun was peaking out. She was glad; the sun rays warmed her up in the rapidly chilly air. Halloween decorations on Hogsmeade shops were more brilliant than they had been in the past. There were pumpkin patches everywhere, and shops looked cozy with lanterns hanging in front of the doors. Fake cobwebs and cute-looking ghosts (not like the ugly ones Hermione had come across in Knockturn Alley) were on full display. It seemed as though after the war, every special day were paid a lot more attention to, as though the world had simultaneously realized what a privilege it was to be alive.

“Hey Hermione,” Ginny grinned at her, meeting her outside the shop with bags of sweets in her arms. “What kept you?”

“Where’re the others?” Hermione said, glancing around.

“Of on dates,” Ginny rolled her eyes. “Harry with Draco—though as far as I know they keep denying it whenever I ask either one of them about it, Ron with Lavender and Neville with Hannah. Well, except for me. Luna has opted not to come to Hogsmeade today. Something about catching a Thunderbird? She’s really not liking this weather.”

“Who would?” Hermione agreed. “At least the sun’s peaking through. Maybe it’s all thanks to Luna?”

“It’s actually working,” Ginny snickered. “And I’ve got your back if something happens. My Patronus has been coming more easily since I got together with Luna.”

“Awe. Prove of your happiness.”

 “What about your happiness, ‘Mione?” Ginny asked quietly as they headed off to the Three Broomsticks Inn. “You’ve been really… moody lately. Even more than usual, if you catch my drift. Any developments with Black?” she waggled her eyebrows at her.

Hermione smacked her arm.

“Ow! You’ve a mean hook!” Ginny complained, rubbing at her arm.

“You won’t believe what just happened right now.”

“You kissed?!” Ginny whisper-yelled, stopping dead in her tracks as she grabbed at her arm.

“Wha—no!! C’mon, let’s talk about it in here.” Hermione ushered them to the Three Broomsticks Inn, and after hastily ordering a warm vanilla-strawberry flavored juice she ushered Ginny to the secluded area where they’d sat last time.

“You’re… actually willing to talk about it? Oh something definitely happened!”

Hermione muttered muffliato. The air simmered around them before it became still once more, the spell protecting them from unwanted eavesdropping.

“You’re really getting a hand of wandless magic now.” Ginny raised her eyebrows at her, impressed.

“McGonagall set me and Professor Black up,” Hermione blurted out, unable to hold it in any longer. “She hasn’t told the school yet, hence the muffliato charm, and I’m telling you this in complete confidence, Ginny!”

Ginny grinned. “I won’t say a word. Now spill.”

“She’s going to hold a Yule Ball at the end of the term. And Minerva requested Professor Back and I… to open the dance floor. And… Professor Black agreed.”

Ginny stared.

And stared.

And then—screamed. Hermione winced. “Oh. Merlin. That just went from zero to one hundred real quick. Last we talk? Nothing. But this? This is HUGE!”

“Lower your voice, Ginny.”

Ginny squealed again. “This. Is. The. Best. Day. Of. My. Life. You know what you should do? No. Do you know what we should do?”

Hermione looked at her warily. “What?”

“Go dress shopping. Sweep her of ‘er feet!”

Hermione laughed. “She hasn’t even said yes yet. Not for real, at least.”

Ginny furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t follow.”

“Minerva gave us an ultimatum. She has a backup plan where she and the other faculty would lead the ball.”

“She’s giving you a form of escape.”

“Yes. That’s why it’s not official yet. Don’t you dare tell anyone, Ginny—”

“My mouth is sealed, not to worry. But this truly is huge! Perfect opportunity for you to get the girl! Or woman.”

Hermione thumped her head to the desk. “Too much, Ginny.”

Ginny put up her hands. “Ok, ok. I’ll back off for now.” Then she raised her butterbeer.

Hermione peeked out at her from her arms.

“To new love,” Ginny sang, and Hermione groaned but clinked her own cup against Ginny’s.

“To new non-existent love, you mean,” Hermione grumbled.

At least no dementors arrived to dampen her mood. But even if there were any, Hermione was becoming sure that she could face them without fainting, especially as she felt like she was floating on cloud nine. A feeling that she… hadn’t really felt in a long time. She was rather disappointed that no dementors came and tested her new-found confidence. Come get her all they want. She’d like to see them try.

After spending the rest of the day just catching up with Ginny that did NOT just involve talking about their love lives (or lack thereof, in Hermione’s case), they headed back into the castle for supper. Narcissa was absent again. But that didn’t even dampen her mood and she spent most of supper grinning into her plate to the point that Ron, Harry and Draco noticed. Waving off their questions, Hermione quickly bid them goodnight after she ate her fill and headed up to her room to shower.

Burying herself in her homework, the giddiness faded slightly, but it returned full force when the notebook vibrated right before she was about to turn off the light. Reaching for it, Hermione quickly thumbed open the page to Narcissa’s message.

We will begin our first dance lesson this Friday. Our usual time and place. Don’t be late.

Hermione grinned. Now all she needed to do was to get through to Friday.

Chapter Text

Supper Monday night was especially delicious. Even Narcissa was there enjoying the feast along with the rest of the faculty, and Hermione grinned as she caught sight of the blonde taking a rather large bite of a meat pie, gobbling down her food in a way that surely broke pureblood etiquette. The Great Hall was buzzing in anticipation at the news that Minerva was going to give, as the Headmistress had stood up at the beginning of supper to warn them all not to trod off so fast.

Ron frowned as he helped himself to a warm bread roll, buttering one up for Lavender who took it with a grin and a kiss to his cheek. “Wonder what she wants to say?”

Ginny shot Hermione a grin across the table.

“Dunno,” Harry shrugged. “But it must be important. Don’t they usually write signs in the entrance hall instead of verbally telling us like this?” Then he caught sight of Ginny grinning at Hermione. Harry looked between them accusingly. “Do you guys know anything?”

Hermione raised her eyebrows and dug into her pudding, ignoring several sets of eyes watching her around. “You’ll just have to wait to find out, won’t you.”

“Ugh. Trying to wrangle things out of you is like punching a brick wall.”

“It’s called being good at keeping secrets, Ronald.”

“Aha! So you do know something!”

Hermione sighed deeply and simply bit into her lamb chop. There was no use arguing with Ron whenever he got like this. Ginny, bless her, chose that moment to distract them with talks about the upcoming Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin, which then evolved to plans on winning the Cup.

(“It’s my final year, I have to win it! I don’t care if we’re friends with Draco! I have to win, I have to win—” Harry kept on moaning into his food. Hermione loved Harry, she really did, but she was going to hex him if he didn’t shut up.)

When they finished their deserts—a mix of jam donuts, apple pies, and chocolate éclairs, Minerva got to her feet and cleared her throat. The hall quieted immediately. “Thank you for your attention. I have asked you all to stay behind as I have an important announcement to make. The faculty will organize a Yule Ball on the last Sunday before Christmas break begins. It will begin at 8pm and ends at midnight. It will be opened to fourth years and above, but you might invite anyone you wish to bring—”

The hall broke into whispers and giggles. Lavender looked like she was biting her lip to stop herself from smiling as she nudged Ron and turned around to share a smirk with Parvati. Hermione smirked into her cup. She rather admired the restraint both girls were showing, instead of the giggling mess they became when Minerva announced it to them in their fourth year.

Suddenly feeling someone staring at her, she looked up sharply to see Romilda eying her with great interest from where she was sitting a few seats down the table. Hermione stared back impassively before turning her attention back to Minerva as the headmistress sharply banged her goblet. The hall fell silent again.

“There will be sign up sheets on bulletin boards for those who wish to partake in dance lessons with the faculty before the ball. And now, bedtime. Off you go!”

The hall began clearing out, excited chatter filling the air as Hermione quickly filed out with her friends. “Another Yule Ball. I’ll have to get proper robes this time.”

“Yours were truly… atrocious,” Ginny giggled. “Padma wouldn’t talk to Parvati for weeks after it! Or so Lavender told me.”

Ron glowered. “Oi! Not my fault I got hand-me-down robes from a dead aunt!”

“Well at least you’ll have someone you actually want to go with this time,” Ginny grinned, nudging him.

“True that.” Ron sighed. “Maybe this time it’ll actually be fun.”

“Says you,” Harry grumbled. “Nothing’s changed since the Yule Ball. Why must my life insist on making things hard for me. Apparently I’m famous for nothing!”

“You’re Harry Potter,” Ron sniggered. “Everyone in the universe would kill to go with you.”

“On second thought… no thank you to being famous.”

Ginny and Hermione giggled. They reached the Gryffindor common room before the boys could ask her who she was taking, and with a breath of relieve Hermione waved goodnight to the others, heading off into her own room. She quickly made her way inside and locked the door. Leaned her head against it with a thump and a sigh. Why must the universe insist on making her life harder every year?

***

And lo and behold, it only got harder over the next few days. The Yule Ball was all the school talked about. Everywhere she went she saw boys eyeing girls, girls eyeing boys, rumors flying left right and center who was taking who. When the tenth boy came up to her in the middle of breakfast to ask her to dance, Hermione had snarled out a “no” so viciously before they could ask. She’d caught Narcissa’s eyes across the hall right after that, who was eyeing the boys with distaste before returning back to her food. Not to mention that Romilda had almost cornered her several times, and Hermione had taken to ducking through the secret passageways that she’d thankfully memorize by heart by now to avoid her every time she saw her turn her way.

If she was suffering, Narcissa must be going through it ten times worse. True to Minerva’s prediction Hermione kept hearing the blonde’s name in the halls wherever she went. Parvati had giggled and said that she’d take the “hot blonde” to the dance in a heartbeat if she wasn’t a professor here and “undoubtedly straight,” Ernie Macmillan had bemoaned that Professor Black was the woman of his dreams, even Dean Thomas had shared a smirk with him and agreed despite the fact that he was going with Seamus Finnigan.

“This is horrible,” Draco moaned to her as he slid down next to her in the library Thursday afternoon.

They both had free periods during what would’ve been the last class of the day, but Hermione was finding it increasingly hard to study as a gaggle of boys—even girls—had followed her into the library, giggling and nudging at each other as though daring each other to make a move. Hermione had tried muffling them out, but alas it was useless when the crowd somehow just got… larger. Unfortunately they weren’t loud enough to break the rules, but still. Where was Madam Pince when she needed her?

“What on earth is Professor McGonagall playing at? If I hear one more word about how people think how hot my mum is, I’ll-I’ll—”

“Blow up?” Hermione grinned, patting Draco on the head as he thumped it down on his arms.

“Turn into Voldemort,” Draco groaned. “I swear—”

“And I’ll gladly help you,” Hermione sighed. “If another guy comes up to ask me to dance—!” she glared at the guys sitting in a table across the room, especially the one who was starting to get up from their seats and walked towards her. The audacity. In the library, of all places??

Reaching for her wand, she smirked when he glanced down nervously at the fireworks emitting from it before beating a hasty retreat.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here, shall we?”

“Gladly,” Draco said, grabbing his books and shoving them into his bag, leveling his own glare at the students blocking their way at the entrance of the library. They quickly scattered to let them through. Thank Merlin.

Hermione followed him up the stairs. To the… oh. The seventh floor. Watching him pace back and forth several times, Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, wondering what he was—just then, a highly polished door appeared. Ah. So it was back. Draco turned the handle and grinned at the look of astonishment on Hermione’s face. The Room had expanded even more than before. Countless bookshelves lined the walls, comfortable couches strewn across the ground, and weird instruments were stacked amongst the shelves. Two desks stood smack in the middle with low chandeliers hanging above it, casting a warm orangey glow around the room.

“I’d wondered if this room was—I’m so glad it’s still working!”

A shadow fell over his face. “It’s my favorite Room in all of Hogwarts. I hid a lot in here during… during my sixth year. I hid a lot in here at the… at the start of this year too, before I became friends with you lot.”

Hermione smiled sadly. Then she said lightly, “You mean you didn’t enjoy it when Harry was obsessed all over you?”

Draco snapped his head towards her. Stared wide-eyed at her. Opened his mouth. Closed it. She’d never seen him look so dumbfounded before. “Wha-what do you—”

“Come now, Draco, must everything be spelt out for you?”

“…Yes.”

“Boys,” she muttered under her breath. Pinched her nose. Sighed. And held up her hand, putting one finger down. “One: the useless pining since you became friends? I see the stares you give him when you think no one is looking. Two: the fact that it happened even before this year? I saw the stares you also gave him when you thought no one was looking. Three: the whole enemy-to-friends trope? You couldn’t let anyone know what your feelings were, so you hid it behind snark and bullying, but look where you are now. It’s like fanfiction!”

Draco stared. “Fanfiction? Canon?” he said weakly. “Should I know what that means?”

Hermione sighed deeply. Anyone person who knew how to read would know what those terms were. She often forgot how in-her-own-world her life sometimes was. How uncultured the wizarding world was.

 ”Ok Draco, I’m just going to out and say it. Why don’t you just ask him to the ball??” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in frustration.

“Ask… ask him? Are you mental?” Draco demanded, whacking her with a cushion.

“I’ve never seen Harry this happy, you know,” Hermione huffed, catching the cushion mid-air and whacking back at him. “And I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that you’re friends now.”

Draco stilled. It hit his face with a thud. Blindly catching it, he sank into the cushion, lay on his back to stare at the ceiling contemplatively. Rearranging her own cushion that suddenly appeared on her beanie bag, Hermione laced her hands and leaned back as well. Now that she was thinking about it… it was true. In the past month or so since Draco had become friends with them there had been a lightness in Harry’s shoulders like never before. His smiles reached his eyes, the weight of the world didn’t seem as heavy on his shoulders (quite literally). He simply… laughed more. Hermione could count on one hand she’d heard Harry laugh.

“You don’t have to… you can just ask him in a friendly way, you know,” Hermione continued quietly when Draco still remained silently. “If he rejects you, at least you wouldn’t have been wearing your heart on your sleeve. But I wouldn’t be suggesting this to you if I thought that he would either way. Unfortunately Harry is rather… thick and I highly doubt he would make the first move unless someone nudged him. He would probably rather face Voldemort again.”

Draco chuckled. “True that.” He fell silent again. Then eventually, quietly, “I’ll think about it… I make no promises.”

“You don’t need to,” Hermione smiled as Draco gave her a small smile back and heaved a sigh. Pulled out his homework.

As Draco began to get lost in his work Hermione pulled out hers too. But she couldn’t concentrate; something that seemed to be happening more and more often this year. She’d never had this much trouble at all. What was wrong with her? Giving up with a sigh she got up and padded over to one of the bookshelves. Studying the titles carefully, she grinned as she came across a brown-leathered book: Counter Actions for Jinxing the Jinxed by the same author as Jinxing the Jinxed, the latter which had come in handy during the run.

She pulled that book off the shelf, and was about to head back to where Draco was sitting, when a pinkish-spine book suddenly appeared at the end of the book shelf. Huh. Curiosity spiking, Hermione headed towards that side of the shelf to carefully ease it off.

No title on the spine. Turned it over to the title page. Blank. She turned it over again. The back cover was also blank. She opened the first page. Blank. Flipped through it from beginning to end. Blank. The fuck? Snapping the book close in frustration, Hermione pushed it back on the shelf and was about to give up on it, but her thumb accidentally trailed down the spine as she pulled her hand away. And then… words appeared. More accurately, one word appeared at the top of the spine. ‘Seeing.’

“Seeing?” Hermione muttered under her breath and furrowed her eyebrows. Traced her thumb more slowly down the spine. Down one inch another word was revealed. And another inch, another word revealed, until she reached the bottom of the spine. ‘Seeing Through What Seems Blank: What Occlumency and Legilimency Can’t Do.’ Limited Edition by Margarita Wilson, published 1805. How did the Room of Requirement know? Taking it gingerly off the shelf, Hermione opened the book to find it now filled with words.

“If you have gotten this far, congratulations. You’ve already gone through the first hurdle. Now as for the rest, it will stay in sight as I help you understand, for what was seen can’t possibly been unseen once it has been seen for the first time…”

 Hermione’s eyes widened. A magical therapy book? She slowly walked back to where Draco was sitting. He looked up at her, tilting his head questioningly at her. “What’ve you got there, ‘Mione?” he nodded at the two books in her hands.

Hermione started. Glanced down at the pink-spine book into her bag, which was now blank again. Was it charmed to protect itself from prying eyes?

“Nothing,” she said, quickly shoving it back in its bag. Ignoring Draco’s unconvinced look she settled back on the beanie bag to pull out the first book she’d stole from the shelves. A safer option to read when other people was around. “Nothing at all.”

***

Hermione had planned to take the book up to her favorite room of the entire castle once she finished studying for the night. The reading room near the top of the Astronomy Tower provided such a feeling of calm that no other classrooms ever could.

Hermione half wished she could just live there for the entire year. An entire year spent under the stars, watching celestial bodies rotate between stone cherubs, the roof a circular window that allowed them to watch the night sky… If she ever bought a house for herself, she was definitely decorating one of the rooms like that. Every time Hermione had been here, there were rarely anyone in it, and by this time it was practically hers.

Except now.

Lost in day dream, Hermione didn’t realize she’d reached the top of the stairs until she nearly tripped over the landing… only to freeze in the middle of righting herself up. The room was completely empty. Save for the far end of the room, where a rather familiar looking figure sat, poised and ramrod-straight, near the window.

The room was pitch dark save for the celestial bodies rotating mid-air throughout the room. But the moonlight slanting in was bright enough that even from where Hermione was standing in the shadows, the sight that greeted her was so breath taking that Hermione couldn’t help but stare.

Under the light of the celestial bodies, Narcissa’s blonde hair seemed to glimmer and shiver glow like she was a goddess. (That kind of beauty could easily put any mythological goddess’ to shame). The moonlight in her eyes somehow made them softer. Less… icy. Fractured. And yet, there was such a despondent expression on the blonde’s face that Hermione had never seen during the day. It made Hermione wonder what exactly the blonde was thinking of right now. What secrets and truths and pains she must be hiding.

The burning curiosity within her to know, the desire to get to know the blonde better, was so great that Hermione almost gave herself away. She almost stepped out from the shadows and joined her on the couch next to her. She almost would’ve. Except for the tiny voice in her head that screamed at her to run away. Softly stepping back, Hermione was about to turn around to leave when something furry brushed against her legs. It took everything within her to contain the yelp that threatened to escape.

Swinging around to catch the culprit, Hermione rolled her eyes when she noticed Crookshanks sitting innocently at her ankle, looking towards the blonde. Biting back a wince at the particularly hard scratch Crookshanks gave her when she picked him up, Hermione ignored the way he dug his paws into her forearms in protest in favor of marching him right back to her room.

When she managed to make it back down the Astronomy Stairs and into her room without giving herself away, Hermione dropped Crookshanks (rather roughly) onto her bed and gave him an angry look. Crookshanks meowed and gave her an equally furious look (glare) in return.

“Nuh uh.” She wagged a stern finger at him. “Don’t look at me like that! Whatever would Professor Black think of me?”

Crookshanks hissed angrily at her and turned his back on her and marched towards his bed with his tail up in protest. Hermione ignored him when he huffily wrapped his tail around his eyes, settling down into his cushions to sleep.

“You’re grounded, Crooks, if you keep stalking her like that. You hear me?”

No answer.

Hermione huffed. And glanced at the bedside clock. Great. 10:30pm. Still plenty of time. Hastily going through her night time routine, Hermione was about to settle down and enjoy her book when she suddenly sat up in fright. She had a 1000 word paper due on Monday and she still had 500 words to write! She was so far from finished—shit shit shit shit shit—

Sitting bolt upright, Hermione glanced longingly at her book, sighed, put it back down on her bed. What was the fun of starting it when there were much more pressing matters to attend to? Not worth it. Hermione glumly sat down at her desk and hunkered down to work.

***

Hermione spent the next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson Friday studying Narcissa. She almost missed what spells the woman listed that they could now use for their second and final dueling session of the term which always fell on the last Friday of each month, and would’ve continued staring blankly into nothing if a hand hadn’t slapped itself on her table. Looking upwards, Hermione paled when she saw Romilda Vane smirking down at her.

“Hermione. Partners?”

Hermione paled even further. Damn it. She didn’t realize people were partnering up. Harry and Draco had paired up, Ginny with Ron, and Neville with Lavender. Everyone else in the class was taken. Well, except for Goyle, Romilda, and her. She would’ve far rather paired with Goyle, but before she could, Narcissa spoke up.

“Ms. Granger, pair up with Mr. Potter and Draco over there. Ms. Vane, you’re with Mr. Goyle.”

Even Goyle didn’t look happy at when Romilda sniffed and sauntered to his desk. Breathing a sigh of relief, Hermione quickly packed her things and headed over to where Harry and Draco were standing.

“So… uh, how is this going to work?” Hermione said nervously as she faced Harry and Draco.

“The same as how it would work if we fight against two people, I guess,” Harry shrugged. “The last standing man wins.”

“You ready?” Draco grinned evilly, a hint of the old Draco coming back. “I am so gonna smack both your asses.”

“Oh no you won’t. Game on,” Harry snarled as they clambered onto the podium, which was wide enough to fit three people.

Widening her stance after they all bowed to each other, Hermione didn’t wait until the count of three. She’d just barely turned around and not stopping to think who was going to get hit, Hermione flung her first spell. Draco deflected it and sent it to Harry, who shouted “PROTEGO!” to knock it off.

They started trading spells in earnest. For the next fifteen minutes Hermione wasn’t sure who was fighting who. All she was doing was sending a mix of offensive and defensive spells towards Harry and Draco, who both weren’t holding back in taking turns to attack each other. Sweat trickling down her forehead, Hermione took the advantage of Draco and Harry fighting each other in close proximity—and barely paying any attention to her for a good 30 seconds—to send a wordless blasting spell at the both of them.

Harry tripped with a grunt of surprise, his back turned to her when the spell flew towards him, while Draco managed not to get caught off guard. Though to be fair, Draco was turned towards her so he likely saw the spell coming over Harry’s shoulders. With a lightning fast Expelliarmus, Hermione wordlessly disarmed Harry at the same time Draco’s Petrificus Totalus locked his arms uselessly to his sides. Harry smacked face-first onto the thankfully soft surface.

Barely registering the room smattering into applause, Hermione faced Draco as Harry sighed and let Ron help him off the podium. Neither of them paid them any attention. Nor did they pay attention to the crowd that had gathered around them. Draco’s gaze hardened as they circled each other like Voldemort and Harry did before Harry finished Voldemort off, and without warning Hermione twisted her wand, sending a blasting spell that propelled Draco backwards a few feet.

Rather amazed to see Draco once again keeping his balance (how on earth was he doing it?), Hermione didn’t let the beginning feelings of fatigue distract her as they started trading even more forceful offensive spells between them. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Wasn’t sure how long she could keep it up, what with her arms starting to ache from the effort of blocking Draco’s spells which were coming harder and faster than ever before. His face was set with a determination that hadn’t been there before Harry was finished off. A steely glint in his eyes that Hermione hadn’t seen in a really long time. Good.

Or maybe, not so good. Before Hermione knew what was happening, Draco had disarmed her with an Expelliarmus she didn’t see coming. But no. Hermione refused to let that distract her. Just as her wand flew out of her right hand, she shouted, Stupefy! in her head before Draco could take her down, performing the spell with her left hand with the perfect mirror-movement of an upside down triangle. She rarely performed spells with her non-dominant hand and wasn’t quite sure where the idea came from. But to her surprise, it worked perfectly, nearly hitting Draco straight in the chest before a powerful Protego knocked it off course.

Draco snarled and wordlessly sent a Rictusempra straight at her, which Hermione identified from the silvery light that flew towards her. With a snap of her fingers Hermione deflected it. She didn’t spare it a glance at all as it exploded against the magical barriers, and dropping her shield Hermione put as much force into Locomotor Mortis as she could muster.

Draco’s legs snapped together and froze, and taking advantage of his weakened stage, Hermione wordlessly disarmed him, drawing her fastest ‘V’-like shape in the air with her pointer finger. Draco hit the floor with a thud to smattering applause. Suddenly realizing how exhausted she was, Hermione sat down hard on the ground. She’d never been so out of breath before.

 “Wow,” she heard Ron whisper.

Hermione heard heels click towards her, and looking up she met Narcissa’s eyes, which were looking at her with pride and awe and respect. It was only then that Hermione felt the first stirrings of pride within herself as it finally dawned on her. Wow. She actually fought against both Harry and Draco and won. Narcissa held out a hand towards her, and eyeing it for a few seconds Hermione took it and allowed herself to be pulled up.

“Well done, Ms. Granger,” Narcissa nodded. “20 points to Gryffindor. Can anyone tell me why she won?”

Goyle put up his hands. Narcissa pointed at him. “Well, it started when Draco and Potter were too focused on each other to attack her. She made the right call at the right moment to try and knock one, or both of them out.”

“Yes. Whether you’re dueling in pairs, or more than one person, you should never let your guard down. A good duelist keeps their attention everywhere. You never know when you might have to fight three people at once. But can anyone tell me what exactly she did before she defeated Draco?” Ginny put up her hand. “Ms. Weasley.”

“Like last time when she dueled Draco, Hermione once again took the risk to drop her shield charm. She also didn’t let her dominant hand being disarmed distract her. She followed up really quickly with her left hand so quickly it’s ingenious. It never occurred to me that you should also be able to cast spells with your non-dominant hand.”

“Yes. A good duelist is ambidextrous, as it opens up so much more possibilities to think quickly on your feet. Fighting with both hands can only benefit you. Shield Charms are all well and good, but the full benefits of fighting without it is where true marksmanship can be met. That level of skill, of trust in oneself, however, only comes with years of practice. Dumbledore was one of the few people who mastered this technique. That being said, one must always make calculated decisions on when to use Shield Charms… and when it wouldn’t be worth it.” Narcissa’s eyes bore into Hermione’s for several seconds.

Hermione swallowed, staring her right back in the eyes. What exactly was Narcissa trying to talk about here? But before she could analyze it deeper, the bell rang to signal the end of class, and yet, Narcissa spoke without moving her eyes away from Hermione’s. “Well done, all of you. We will pick up where we left off next Tuesday.”

As everyone around them scampered off, Hermione barely registered her friends taking a step towards her and Harry pulling Draco back when she and Narcissa continued their staring contest. Hermione couldn’t move. Especially not when Narcissa took a step closer to her. And another. Hermione went utterly still when Narcissa practically entered her personal space after the third step.

Then, as though she was determined to give Hermione a heart attack, Narcissa looked around as though to make sure that the room was empty (it was), and leaned in closer. A question in her eyes as she stared deeply into Hermione’s. Looking for…What? Permission? Hermione slowly nodded. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for.

“Take your stance with your left arm again, Ms. Granger.”

Hermione shakily complied. Narcissa stepped behind her, close enough that could feel her intoxicating body heat swimming between them. She went completely stiff as a hand hovered uncertainly on her arm. Long blonde hair kissed the sides of her face. Then Narcissa’s breath was washing over her as she whispered in her ear, “May I?”

She gulped. Nodded. Narcissa pressed down gently, fingertips burning into her biceps as her right hand landed on Hermione’s hips. Hermione concentrated with everything that she could on not dropping her wand. On not showing how tense she actually was. Except that her wand was emitting colorful sparks like fireworks, the traitor.

“Relax,” Narcissa whispered lowly in her right ear. Hermione suppressed a shiver as a cool breath washed over her. “Your left hand looks so much more tense then your right.”

Hermione’s knees nearly buckled as Narcissa’s chest brushed briefly against her back. “And here too,” Narcissa whispered, trailing a fingertip up from the base of her spine to the back of her shoulders. “You’re so tense. Relax.”

Hermione couldn’t suppress the low moan in her throat as hot electricity shot right down to her core. She could already feel herself growing wet. How could Narcissa affect her so much just barely touching her? For a suspended second, they stood there, breathing harshly in the quiet classroom, Narcissa’s right hand now resting on her right shoulder. Hermione forced herself to relax. She wasn’t even sure if she was successful. Perhaps she was, because Narcissa finally withdrew, circling her like a prey as she slowly appraised Hermione whose feet stayed rooted to the ground.

It was only Minerva poking her head through the door that disrupted the silence between them. “Oh hello, Hermione,” Minerva said in surprise. “I hope I’m not disturbing. I just wanted to talk to Narcissa about something.”

“Not at all,” Hermione nearly squeaked out, both cursing and thanking Minerva for intruding, before quite practically fleeing the classroom.

***

She wasn’t sure how she survived the rest of the day. The second supper ended Hermione bolted towards the door, waving a hasty goodbye towards her friends. She needed to—she needed to—hurtling through the stairs to the seventh floor Hermione rushed towards her room and threw her bags down. Hermione quickly made her way across the corridor that connected to the faculty tower where the prefects bathroom was located on the fifth floor. She locked the door, feeling thankful that the prefects bathroom were now charmed so that no one could get in as long as one person was inside it. She’d been rather shocked at the lack of privacy the prefects bathroom provided before Hogwarts got renovated.

Quickly turning on the tap she chose the option that poured ice-white foam so thick into the warm water that it was able to support her. (Yes, she tried and tested it the second she became a prefect—it was her favorite option of all because she could just lie atop the water and stare dreamily into the ceiling. She’d had to struggle not to fall asleep once or twice. And she better not fall asleep tonight.) Discarding her clothes, she let out a contented sigh as she slid into the warm water, feeling it relax the tense muscles in her shoulders. Even swam a couple of laps. She did miss being able to access a swimming pool.

She ducked her head underwater. Closed her eyes, willed herself to calm down. But of course, just as she did, that was when what happened in class today resurfaced to hit her smack in the face. Fully. Viciously. All she could think of was the blonde kneeling before her. Of the blonde trailing her hands down her arm, down to her waist and cool fingers kissing up her thighs. Hands were then replaced by a sinful mouth, licking and biting up.. up… up… getting closer to where Hermione desperately needed her.

Extending her arms and legs out, she let herself resurface. Floating atop the water, supported by the weight of the bubbles, Hermione lay her head back into warm water and squeezed her eyes shut. Trailed her hand down and slipped inside. She breathed a sigh of relief. To hell with it. Let the images come. She had no strength left to keep them at bay. And come they did, growing ever more vividly by the second. More than ever before, to the point that Hermione could feel as though the blonde was in the bathroom right next to her. As though a movie was playing out in real time and it was touching her.

Within seconds her back was arching, and a guttural cry was tearing out of her throat. She collapsed back onto the bubbles, staring at the ceiling with a heaving chest. Shock filtered through her as she processed what just happened. Let herself fully process what she’d tried so hard to keep at bay. Because…

Never had she made such a sound.

Never had she brought herself to oblivion this quickly before.

Never had it been more… there.

Oh Merlin.

How was she going to look Narcissa in the eyes tonight, if ever again?

Chapter Text

The sky was clear when Hermione crept out near midnight. Once again, Hermione freaked out to Crookshanks what she should wear, and once again, Crookshanks didn’t even bother entertaining her as he simply heaved a sigh and curled his head into his tail. Once again, Hermione settled on simple jeans and long-sleeved shirt paired with a fluffy winter coat, as it was getting chilly out, though she did dab a little bit of make up on which she usually never wore. Judging from how fast the temperatures were falling and the long cold spells they’d received so far it was going to be a frosty winter.

Taking a moment to lean her head against the knot of the Whomping Willow after she’d stilled it, Hermione let the soothing fragrance of the tree calm her nerves before she took a deep breath and crawled underground. She made her way through it more slowly than she intended. She needed to calm herself down before she faced Narcissa again. Needed to expunge whatever remnants of the prefect’s bathroom that still lingered in her system. When the slope gave way to the door Hermione took another deep breath. Paused with a hand to the handle. Her heart was pounding one hundred beats per minute; whether from the trip through the tunnel, or due to nerves, she wasn’t sure.

After another five seconds Hermione squeezed through the opening to the first floor of the Shrieking Shack. And… stopped and stared. The bare room was transformed into a ball room. Chandeliers hung low from the ceiling, flickering warm light against the walls, whilst a smooth wooden floor spread out beneath her feet in place of the carpet that it was before.

But what truly caught her attention was Narcissa. As her eyes trailed towards the blonde, Hermione’s breath caught at the sight as she turned to meet her gaze. She was donning a long sleeved elegant dress that curved deliciously down her hips, a dress that dipped low enough to show a hint of a rather delectable and lickable cleavage. The color of the dress matched the shade of her eyes perfectly, its sparkles glistening in the soft light. Hermione suddenly felt very underdressed.

“Ms. Granger,” Narcissa greeted coolly. “Good evening.”

Hermione licked her suddenly dry lips as Narcissa walked over to her. The blonde stopped inches from her, taking her left hand to apply the salve. But instead of doing it quickly and dropping her hands like she’d been burnt—the format it had been the past few weeks, Narcissa gently unrolled Hermione’s left arm and trailed a pale finger across her scar as she examined it with a critical eye.

That same feeling that Hermione had first felt when Narcissa first started to apply it came roaring back. That feeling of warmth, light, giddiness coursing through her at the touch. Especially as she now knew for sure that the blonde couldn’t just ditch and run afterwards. It surely couldn’t hurt Hermione if she wanted to let it sink in just a little deeper.

“It’s fading,” Narcissa whispered, looking down at it. Hermione snapped her gaze from the blonde’s face down at her own arm. “Does it… still hurt?”

“I don’t know. There haven’t been any… circumstances where I’d be able to test it.”

“Good,” Narcissa said, and Hermione glanced up in surprise at the fierceness she detected in her voice. “And if the pain is reawakened, let me know, alright? Even if it’s in the middle of the night.”

“Ok,” Hermione uttered softly.

Her eyes fluttered shut when Narcissa traced the salve over the words. And as though to confirm her earlier suspicions, there was indeed something different about the way Narcissa touched her tonight. She’d been distant, professional when she’d applied the healing salve before, but now there was a tenderness there that Hermione had never noticed before. Even after she finished applying the salve, Narcissa’s thumb traced softly over the scar again, causing Hermione to shiver at the touch.

In the silence of the room they stared at each other, Narcissa’s hand still curled around her left arm, sparks elicited by the touch now bursting into flames licking the insides of Hermione’s veins. Because there was… no reason for Narcissa to continue touching her. If only… if only the impossible could continue just a little longer.

As the silence stretched on, Hermione slowly became aware of a new awkwardness in the air between them that didn’t seem to quite know what to do with itself. Not that Hermione knew what to do with it. The questions she was dying to ask had never wanted to escape her this much. Nor did she know what exactly Narcissa was searching for when she gazed into her eyes, her throat bobbing before Narcissa’s expression closed and she stepped back, dropped her hands, once more putting distance between them.

“You do know the waltz, yes?” Narcissa enquired, her voice clipped and icy.

Hermione sighed silently. Closed her eyes to hide how much that sense of loss was hitting her, now that Narcissa had pulled away again. Even if not for long. “My memory might need some refreshing,” she murmured quietly. “It’s been… a while.”

“Understandable,” the blonde murmured. A dark shadow crossed her face but it was gone as soon as it came. Hermione wondered what that was all about.

Walking towards the other side of the room Narcissa turned on the radio. As a vaguely familiar orchestral tune lilted through the air Hermione wondered why the blonde didn’t simply use magic to turn it on, but then she suddenly wondered if Narcissa was taking the moment to compose herself. Which was what exactly what she seemed to be doing. She saw, rather than heard, the blonde take a deep breath before she turned to face her. Then as the main melody kicked in to accompany the music’s baseline she started walking towards her with purposeful steps, her dress glistening like stars under the chandeliers. Never had anything been so hauntingly beautiful.

“The basics,” Narcissa murmured. Was her voice huskier than usual? “Before the choreography.”

Hermione swallowed. Nodded. “Forgive me if I step on your toes.”

Narcissa rolled her eyes, a hint of a smirk on her lips as she countered, “Forgive me if I step on your toes.”

Hermione chuckled, then fell silent as several seconds of awkward silence descended upon them. It was broken when Narcissa cleared her throat. “Are you ready, Ms. Granger?”

There was a curious undertone to her voice. As though she, too, were asking her questions that Hermione couldn’t quite catch.

“Are you ready, Professor Black?” she murmured in lieu of answering.

A pause. Then, “Narcissa.”

Hermione tilted her head. “Sorry?”

“Call me Narcissa when we’re alone, please.”

Hermione’s heart fluttered. When we’re alone.

“Nar… ci… ssa,” she said slowly, getting used to the feeling of the blonde’s first name shaping her lips. She thought she saw the blonde shiver when her name left her lips, but it could’ve been the low light playing tricks on her eyes. “Then I insist you call me Hermione.”

Narcissa walked several steps closer. Held out her hand. Hermione’s heart started pounding furiously. If she thought fire was spreading through her before, it had now turned into an inferno—whether in heaven or in hell she didn’t know. Every vein, every cell within Hermione was alight, heat washing over her more than any hearth ever could during cold winter days.

She slid her fingers into it as Narcissa’s right hand as the other came to rest on the blonde’s back. They stood quite still like that for several seconds, Hermione staring at where their hands connected. Waited for the music to loop back to the beginning. In the silent pause before the melody returned Narcissa counted them in.

The blonde must’ve danced it countless times in the past, as she danced those steps with such poise and elegance that it was all Hermione could do not to stumble over her feet. She’d always noticed that about her, but it was especially evident now when all Hermione felt like she was doing was trying not to tread on Narcissa’s heels. Also. How was that woman dancing in heels??? Hermione was barely managing with flat shoes!

They came to a stop in the edge of the room after a lap around it. As the strains of the melody came to a close the blonde leaned close to her ear and murmured, “Relax,” into her ear. “I can feel tension radiating off you in waves. And here I thought you were improving on it.”

Hermione gulped. Willed her shoulders to drop away from her ears, let out a puff of breath that carried all the tension in her body and tried to deposit it to the ground. Loosened her grip on Narcissa’s hand, which she just realized was far tighter than Hermione meant it to be. She hoped the blonde wasn’t losing circulation. As the tension slowly eased off her Narcissa eyed her lazily up and down (Hermione just barely managed to contain a squeak at that) and nodded approvingly at her more relaxed stance.

“Better. This time around, stop thinking so loudly. Dancing is about leading with your heart, not your brain. And stop worrying about your footwork. It is—passable.”

Passable? More generous than Hermione expected.

“I told you I couldn’t dance,” Hermione murmured as the music started again.

“Now when did I say you couldn’t?” Narcissa said quietly near her ear. Hermione shuddered when she felt her breath waffle near it.

“I feel like an elephant next to you. How on earth are you doing it in heels?”

The blonde chuckled darkly. “Years and years of practice.”

Hermione frowned. She was really starting to hate the pureblood life. Not quite knowing what to say to that, Hermione fell silent again, letting the music wash over her. She’d been figuring out just why this tune was so familiar. Hermione usually had an excellent memory—it was uncommon for her to forget the tiny little things that happened to her in her life, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what this was.

Then when the epiphany hit her halfway through the room, it was all Hermione could do not to stop dancing in surprise. Of course!

“The Gramofon Waltz,” Hermione murmured in surprise.

Narcissa actually stumbled slightly in surprise, but she regained her footing almost without missing a beat. Or stepping on Hermione’s toes. “I’m surprised you recognized it. It’s quite new, it wasn’t composed until—”

“1992 by Eugen Doga, I know.”

Narcissa looked impressed.

“My parents loved classical music,” Hermione said quietly. “Right before my third year started my parents took me to a concert played by the local orchestra. And this song just happened to be on the program.”

Then Hermione’s heart thudded in realization. Knockturn Alley happened exactly a week later, just after she’d sat there in the hall thinking what a wonderful wedding tune this would be. The universe did have a rather coincidental sense of humor, apparently.

“Ahh. They have good taste, I see.”

“They did,” Hermione murmured. “I… I don’t know what they like now.”

Narcissa’s lips twitched up in a sad smile. She looked as though she was about to say something, but before she could the music came to a close, as did the lap around the room. They slowly stepped away from each other. Hermione instantly missed the electric feeling of being so close to her. Now that they’d stopped, there was a palpable awkwardness in the air, as though neither quite knew how to bring the evening to a close. The silence, almost deafening.

“Well I should—”

“It’s getting—” Narcissa said at the same time, before a faint blush appeared on her cheeks. “Sorry. You first.”

“I should—I should—” Hermione gestured weakly at the door.

“You… should.”

They stared at each other for several seconds of silence. Then Hermione sighed quietly. Nodded to herself. Before slowly walking towards the door, through the tunnel and back to her room. Collapsing on her bed Hermione stared at the ceiling, the blonde’s touch still alive on her skin. Screw it. She was just going to—

She rummaged around for the notebook, pulled out the quill and leant against her bed. Flipping over to a new blank page Hermione dipped the quill into her ink bottle.

            If you like classical music

what are your favorite composers?

Snapping the notebook shut as soon as the ink seeped into the page, Hermione threw it onto her nightstand and turned off the light. She closed her eyes, trying to fall asleep before she could question what the hell she just did, when a buzz woke her up just as she was about to fall asleep.

Too many to choose from.

But if I had to pick,

probably Rachmaninoff.

And you?

Hermione grinned. Then sighed morosely. It was another thing about the Muggle world that she missed. Music in the wizarding world never quite… agreed with her taste.

            I love Rachmaninoff,

he’s one of my favorites too!

I guess I also like Beethoven,

Tchaikovsky, Mozart…

It’s a shame that orchestras

 don’t exist in the Wizarding World.

 It is something I miss most about…

about my parents’ world.

Another pause.

I have quite the collection of CDs.

There’s a place I could take you,

if you would like.

Hermione’s mouth dropped open. Did the world tilt on its axis? Or was she just thrown into an alternate dimension? She pinched herself. Then yelped at the sting of pain that was very real and very there. Ok. So she wasn’t dreaming. Hastily picking up the quill she scribbled down an answer.

            Yes! I’d love to!

Excellent. This Sunday,

2pm at my headquarters?

            See you there

Hermione closed the notebook. Stared at it in shock. Then at Crookshanks, who looked like he was waiting for her to start screaming. And scream she did, jumping up and down on her bed like a five-year old discovering what their birthday present was. Or what Crookshanks looked like when he got the zoomies.

“You wouldn’t believe what just happened, Crooks,” Hermione gasped when she finally collapsed on the bed, staring at the ceiling in shock.

And fell asleep with a grin on her face.

***

The grin was still there when she went down to breakfast after a refreshing sleep.

“Now what’s got you smiling like a Cheshire cat?” Draco snorted, who had opted to sit with them instead of Goyle as he usually did.

Not that students really sat according to their houses anymore. After the war there had been more inter-mingling, students from across the houses sitting at other tables for dinner. It seemed as though the staff were… less strict about this year. And with good reason too, given how much damage Voldemort had done to the Slytherins. Though even some other houses started to sit at the Slytherin table this year, and Hermione was glad to see that them actually getting along with the rest of the school.

“None of your business,” Hermione shot back as she buttered a piece of garlic bread and bit into it. Hmm. How did Hogwarts make such a simple recipe so delicious?

“Someone simply woke up on the right side of the bed today,” Ginny shared a grin with Luna, who had just slid down next to Ginny with a kiss to her cheek. Hermione grinned into her bread. She had to restrain herself from squealing at how cute they were every single time.

“You even have happy Wrackspurts, Hermione,” Luna said. “They’re yellow today!”

“Oh. Can Wrackspurts be yellow? I never knew,” Hermione said, raising an eyebrow at Luna. “Don’t they always come in angry colors?”

“There are all types of worries. The angsty worries, the angry worries, the blues, the happy worries. Your worries are… evidently happy.”

“There you have it,” Draco grinned. “You can’t deny that you are in a chipper mood today.”

Hermione threw up her hands. “Can’t a girl be happy without people being suspicious about it?”       

“Not when said girl has been grumpy and moody most of the time since we came back to school,” Harry yawned, rubbing his eyes as he thumped down next to Draco with Ron following shortly behind.

“Yeah, what is it with this glow you have about you?” Ron waved his hands at her as he took a large bite of a steak sandwich.

“Nothing, Ronald,” Hermione wrinkled her nose, “And do swallow before you speak.”

“Now that I’m thinking about it… mother was also in a rather good mood when I went to see her for morning tea before I came here,” Draco frowned. Then his eyes widened. And gasped dramatically.

“What?!!” Hermione demanded. Narrowed her eyes at him.

Draco shook his head, though his eyes looked as though his brain was churning, like he was trying to figure something out. Hermione’s eyes narrowed in warning. If he dared—but catching her eyes Draco seemed to realize that he’ll be eviscerated if he dared say anything, as he grinned at her and mimed zipping her lips. Her friends looked between them suspiciously, but Draco distracted them with talks about how they were planning to study for their N.E.W.T.S. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as she half-heartedly listened her friends complaining about the workload. That was a close call. Hermione needed to get a grip on herself before other people started figuring it out.

When they finished eating Hermione escaped the table as quickly as she could, but before she was halfway up the stairs Draco caught up with her, tugging on her arm. “Hey Hermione, can we talk?”

Hermione sighed. “About?”

Draco glanced around at the students coming up the stairs. “Not here.”

He dragged her out the castle, and out of the corner of her eyes she saw Harry giving Draco a thumbs up when they passed her friends heading back to the Gryffindor common room. Hermione sighed again and let him drag her to the Great Lakes. Sitting resignedly on the bench, she watched Draco pace up and down the shores before he turned to face her.

“So. What did you want to talk about?”

“About mother.”

Hermione pinched her nose and sighed. “Alright. What about her did you want to talk about?”

 “You like her.”

Hermione choked on thin air. She was not expecting Draco to go for the kill like that. She opened her mouth, about to deny it, when Draco glared at her.

“I do have eyes, Granger—”

“Not when it comes to Harry,” Hermione muttered, but Draco continued like she hadn’t interrupted.

“You stare at her in class all the time. You light up whenever mother frequents the Dining Hall for meals. You nearly melted into her touch when she corrected your stance after class yesterday—I do not want to know what mother was whispering in your ear, Granger, or I’ll gauge my eyes and ears out. I thought I’d better let you know before that happens!”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me??? Were you spying on us?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s hardly spying when mother forgot to close the door.” Then he cocked his head at her and raised an eyebrow. “Stop deflecting. Explain why mother was in such a good mood this morning when I visited her for tea. She even made a rather dirty joke—one that I’d much rather forget, thank you very much, that had her rolling on the floor laughing! I’d never seen her like that!”

“And you just immediately assume that that had anything to do with me?”

Draco pinched his nose. It looked exactly like what Narcissa tended to do when she was pissed off. “Trigger warning, may I?”

Hermione let out a slow breath. Watched a flock of geese descend on the lake, their feet beating rapidly upon still water. She nodded silently.

“After you were tortured,” Draco said slowly, “mother was… wretched. She held her cool in the—in the room—but afterwards she rushed to the toilet and vomited as soon as she was out of Bellatrix’s radar. She… I’ve never seen her sob like that afterwards, ‘Mione, like whatever she’d suppressed in the past came rushing out of her in one go. She was this close to apparating me and her out of the manor and offering herself over to the Order. She didn’t even care if that might mean her getting hit with an Unforgivable. She just… wanted out. It took me ages to calm her down, to get her to realize that if we left we would essentially be left with no safe cover. And I had a feeling that she still had a role to play in the war, and I turned out to be right. If she hadn’t volunteered to go check on Harry, I shudder to think where we would be now.”

That stopped Hermione up short. “Oh. I never… realized Nar—Professor Black cared so much.”

“She cares about you more than you think, ‘Mione,” Draco said quietly. “Just… be patient with her, yeah? You have my blessing. Don’t tell mother I told you so, though. She’d eviscerate me on the spot if I dared make her talk about her feelings.”

Hermione chuckled and wiped a few stray tears from her eyes. “Thank you, Draco,” she said quietly.

She felt another weight lift off her shoulders now that she didn’t have to worry what Draco would think. Then she smirked, nudging Draco’s shoulders.

“Draco Malfoy, giving me permission to date his mother? Who would’ve thought.”

Draco sent a jet of water right in her face.

***

Sunday dawned bright and sunny, a rather direct juxtaposition to the first frost of the season Hogwarts had woken up to. She had yet to leave her room all day, as she’d opted not to head downstairs to eat and had instead taken both meals in her room—which Kreacher so kindly delivered when she visited the kitchens, stealth mode fully activated. She was in no mood to socialize today. At least not when her nerves were going haywire. She’d spent the morning trying and failing to do some homework, but after ten minutes of it Hermione had given up with a huff, instead amusing herself with Crookshanks as she stared blankly out the window.

Come 2pm Hermione made her way to Narcissa’s headquarters. She’d opted to take the outdoors route around the castle, not wanting to run into other people as she didn’t want to explain why she put more effort into her outfit more than usual despite it hidden underneath layers of clothes. When she climbed the stairs of the Faculty Tower and found Narcissa’s door, Hermione took a deep breath and stared at it. Her hands were sweating and the chill outside did not help the fact that her fingers were growing even colder. Whether it be due to nerves or the weather, Hermione didn’t know. She took another deep breath. And wiped her hands against her jeans. Then raising her hand Hermione knocked firmly on the door. Once, twice, three times.

There was a pause. And then she heard feet shuffling through the door. It swung open, revealing the blonde dressed in similarly warm clothes. Hermione swallowed at the sight. Her coat was, again, light blue, the perfect shade that brought out her eyes, and a red scarf wrapped around her neck that matched the color of the blonde’s lipstick. Instead of the bun Narcissa tended to wear in class her hair was tied in a half-ponytail, falling naturally over her shoulder. It made her look more… relaxed. Less severe.

For one second they stood there staring at each other. The same awkwardness from two nights ago came roaring back full force, as though it had never left in the first place. It was broken when Narcissa cleared her throat.

“Are you ok with apparition?”

Hermione’s eyebrows rose. “Perfectly. But I thought you couldn’t do that within Hogwarts.”

Narcissa smirked. Dear Merlin, the confidence that oozed off it did funny things to her intestines. “I’m not a master at apparition for nothing.”

The master of running away, more like. “And your expertise includes breaching anti-apparition charms?” Hermione smirked back.

“Of course. I could even break into the Ministry any second without a drop of sweat.”

Hermione blinked. Then sighed morosely. “If only we had your help when we broke into the ministry. Or Gringotts. It would’ve saved us a lot of trouble! Riding on a dragon was not fun. I’m surprised I didn’t vomit my guts out afterwards!”

Narcissa’s smirked widened. Then stepped towards her, holding out her arm. Once again Hermione fought not to inhale the scent of lavender and—was it a peach perfume this time?—that assaulted her nostrils. “Shall we?”

Hermione nodded. Took her arm. Though apparition had never been a comfortable experience—that feeling of pressure squeezing your entire body and your brain feeling compressed, a trade off for the fastest and most convenient way to travel—Hermione was surprised when she felt none of those sensations as Narcissa dragged them into the void. Instead it was almost like… flying, hurtling through darkness for a short second before her feet found solid ground again. It was almost comfortable. Hermione never would’ve associated ‘comfort’ with ‘flying,’ but here she was. Nor was there any crack when they landed. Wow. The blonde wasn’t kidding.

Opening her eyes Hermione found herself atop a grassy cliff in front of a small log cabin that looked like it was hand-made from real wood. There was snow on the ground, and the call of seagulls flying overhead told her they must be near the ocean, which she couldn’t see as the cottage was blocking her sight. The air smelled of it too. It was a deliciously different feeling to the scent of trees near Hogwarts. And the scenery of the meadow around them, birds fluttering through trees and wildflowers and daisy dotted through wild grass…

It was…

“Beautiful,” Hermione murmured as she looked back towards the blonde.

Then Hermione’s brain short-circuited as she saw Narcissa’s eyes widened. Did Hermione accidentally just say that aloud? Fuck. For one second Hermione panicked. Then she internally shook her head. Held Narcissa’s gaze unyieldingly, hoping the blonde could see that she wasn’t just talking about the scenery. What use was there to freak out about it, when she’d spoken nothing but the truth?

A loud caw overhead made both of them jump. Narcissa broke eye contact and strode quickly towards the door, even as Hermione cursed the bird to the fiery pits of hell for breaking the spell. Can the world just stop turning for one second? Please. Sighing slightly at Narcissa’s retreating back, Hermione followed her up the porch, only to nearly crash into her when she opened the wooden door and held it open for Hermione to go through. What she saw made her jaw drop.

The small log cabin wasn’t small at all. The living room was spacious, the ceiling high and sloping. A warm fireplace sat on the left of side of the cabin, its flames dancing against wooden walls. Two large sofas were stationed right before it at ninety-degree angles, accompanied by a coffee table between the sofas and the fire place. Plenty of windows lined the walls, and the ones directly opposite to where they were standing faced the ocean. Judging from the position of the sun, it was the perfect direction to see sunsets. Next to the entrance door there was a winding staircase that led upstairs. Everything about the décor was homely and elegant and poise, as though Narcissa herself had built it. The way she designed the Shrieking Shack made much more sense now.

“Wow,” Hermione whispered, taking off her shoes to trail her hand against the smooth logs. “I could live here forever.”

She didn’t realize what she just said until she heard a sharp intake of breath behind her. Hermione froze. Slowly turned to look at the blonde with her hand still on the wall, who was gazing at her like… and then Ginny’s voice came back to her. Like you hung the moon and the stars. She hadn’t believed her before. But now… maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t completely impossible after all?

“You like it, I take it?” Narcissa said softly. Took a step closer to Hermione, who swallowed as she noticed the sudden vulnerability in her eyes.

“I love it,” Hermione said, equally softly. You have no idea how much.

“I haven’t even shown you upstairs,” Narcissa chuckled. She turned and walked towards the staircase. Hermione swallowed, watching her for a moment, before dashing after her when Narcissa paused on the first step to turn back and raise an eyebrow at her.

After 10 or so steps they reached the second floor. And then Hermione gasped. If she thought the first floor was magnificent the second floor was even more so, especially the room next to the bedrooms. Or perhaps, the book room was the more appropriate term for it.

Dozens of shelves lined the walls from the floor to the ceiling, which was so high Hermione couldn’t even see where it ended. A large window on the opposite end of the room faced the meadow, two plump chairs sitting right by it, whist a gramophone that wouldn’t have worked in Hogwarts sat on a table next to the chair. A perfect place to sit and read with a mug of hot chocolate on a quiet afternoon.

Walking closer to the shelves she trailed her hand across numerous collections of tomes, limited spell book editions, even books by famous Muggle authors such as Charles Dickens and Shakespeare. And on the other side of the wall, a collection of CDs were stacked neatly next to each other, ranging from classical music to popular artists that resided in both the wizarding and Muggle worlds.

“This is… amazing,” Hermione breathed. “All the libraries I’ve visited don’t hold a candle to this.”

“A collection from Black Manor and Malfoy Manor that both Libraries have gifted me over the years,” Narcissa said softly. “The Black family is the oldest family in the world, the Malfoys not even coming close to it—”

Hermione smirked. “Of course not.”

“Everything in this library haven’t existed in a very long time. It’s yours, if you like.”

Hermione stared. Then she blinked furiously, sudden wetness gushing into her eyes. “You—you mean,” she stammered, not quite knowing what to say. “All this?” She gestured weakly around the room.

Narcissa nodded slowly. “Yes,” she looked pointedly into her eyes. “All this.”

You’ve… given me so much and I’ve barely given you anything. “Thank you,” Hermione said instead. Resisted the urge to fling her arms around Narcissa’s neck and sob into it. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

Several seconds passed in which they stared at each other. Did Narcissa just move closer to her?

“You can come and go as you wish,” Narcissa said even more quietly. “I’ve given you permission. The log cabin will recognize you as one of its own. I come here every Sunday anyways for some peace and quiet. You’re welcome to join me.”

I’ve given you permission. One of its own. Hermione wasn’t sure how much her heart could take in a day.

“I would love that.” Hermione beamed widely at the thought of being able to spend more time with Narcissa.

She felt her heart flutter as Narcissa’s lips twitched in response. Then she tilted her head again to study Hermione curiously, and she held herself still, never knowing what to do with herself whenever Narcissa looked at her like that. Especially when Narcissa took a step closer. And another step closer.

Swallowing harshly, Hermione stared at her through a hooded gaze as her heart started to pound fiercely as she realized how close they were now standing. The air between them suddenly became electric. And Narcissa’s eyes, they were a dark shade of blue, the iciness in it not as prominent as it had always been. A loud caw made them both jump away from each other. Cursing under her breath Hermione swung around to the window to see a large seagull flying past it, and was it the same damned one that interrupted them before?

“Seagulls,” Hermione moaned, staring at the window to avoid looking into Narcissa’s eyes. What just happened? “If they don’t steal your food they interrupt your peace and quiet.”

Narcissa huffed out a laugh. “That’s seagulls for you. They are quite the nuisance. But until then, feel free to roam and don’t let yourself fall into their silly little games. They have learned to fear me, thankfully, apparently they aren’t immune to the Most Ancient and Noble House of the Blacks”—(Hermione snorted)—”You’re welcome to join me downstairs, or stay up here and enjoy the gramophone. Though a Sonorus charm will be perfectly sufficient for it to be heard downstairs.”

Hermione smiled and nodded. After the sound of Narcissa’s heels faded she took her time browsing through all the sections of the shelves. Eventually she selected four books that were about charms and spellworks. She was about to move to the CD section when a fictional novel caught her eyes.

The Price of Salt, by Patricia Highsmith. The cover was an image of two women leaning against the sofa, one hovering over the other with a hand on her shoulders, and if Hermione didn’t know any better she’d say it looked rather… intimate. Curiously scanning the synopsis, Hermione’s heart started to pound at the subject matter was clearly intimate. Two women with an age difference falling in love with each other in 1950s America, by an author who wrote it when same-sex relationship were forbidden during this time? She was definitely reading this book.

In her excitement to head downstairs Hermione almost forgot to select a record she wanted to listen to. Eventually settling on one that contained all of the collection of Rachmaninoff’s piano concertos, Hermione carefully put the record on the gramophone and placed the needle on it. With a wave of her hand the music crooned around the room at a comfortable volume, though when Hermione headed downstairs she could still hear the melodies waffling clearly through the air.

The sight of Narcissa relaxing on the couch, enjoying a cup of tea, stopped Hermione in her tracks. She’d never seen her… let her hair down quite like this before. Letting herself memorize the sight of it for several longer seconds, Hermione swallowed and quietly headed over to join the blonde, who looked up at her with a small smile on her lips. Warmth shuddered through Hermione like a hearth heating up a cold winter room.

“Rachmaninoff. An excellent choice.” Then her eyes caught sight of the book Hermione was holding to the front. “Ahh. The Price of Salt. Also an excellent choice. I much prefer this than Pride and Prejudice.”

“You’ve read it?” Hermione asked, surprised.

“It was this book that made me realize…” Narcissa trailed off, eyes unfocused, before she shook her head and turned back to Hermione. “You’ll understand once you’ve read through it.”

Hermione tilted her head. Perhaps this wasn’t the best book to read for now, even though Hermione was dying to read it. Pulling out the book on Charms, Hermione settled back on the sofa and flicked to the first page. Over the top of her book she saw Narcissa heave a sigh of relief at her choice of book to read. Hmm. Now she definitely had to read the Price of Salt. But for now, this would have to do. She settled happily on the couch. It took no time at all to get lost in her books. Except that an hour later, Hermione looked up when a soft snore interrupted the silence.

Narcissa had fallen asleep, her book threatening to fall off her chest. Worried that it actually would, Hermione softly got up from her seat on her couch and padded over the blonde. Carefully, she eased the book out of her grip. She was about to move away when Hermione heard something soft fall from her lips.

Looking back at the blonde, she noticed her eyebrows furrowing. She knew she should look away but she couldn’t. Never had she seen her so… peaceful. Especially when just then Narcissa murmured something louder in her sleep, and Hermione leaned in close to hear what she was saying, worried that she might be having a nightmare. Only to immediately pull back to stare at the blonde to stare at her in shock, heart thundering as she watched Narcissa shift before she became still again.

Hermione wasn’t quite sure what she heard. Was it just her traitorous heart playing tricks on her? Shaking her head Hermione quietly summoned a blanket and carefully wrapped it around the blonde, taking care not to wake her. Watching her for a second longer Hermione held her breath, wondering if she would hear it again—and more clearly this time.

But when it became evident that Morpheus had firmly claimed Narcissa into a deep sleep, Hermione sighed and opened her book to where she’d left off. But she couldn’t concentrate. Because all she could hear, as her eyes stared blankly at the page, was how Narcissa made it sound like a prayer. Something that sounded suspiciously like her name.

Chapter Text

If there was one good thing about Hermione’s duel with Draco and Harry last Defense Against the Dark Arts class, was that it had put guys off from asking her to the dance. Apparently news that she’d won single-handedly against them spread like wildfire throughout the school, as more than once she’d heard snippets of it throughout the corridors when people thought she weren’t listening. Some had even taken to sending her looks that were half-fearful and half in admiration. Good. Hermione wasn’t sure if she’d be able to hold back from snapping if someone else approached her.

Especially not now, not when she couldn’t get Narcissa out of her head. Not that she could before. Now she was there day and night. It had only gotten worse when they practiced their footwork next Friday, the blonde seemingly pulling Hermione closer and closer each time. It had gotten especially worse when Hermione once again spent her Sunday with Narcissa quietly reading at the cabin. They didn’t talk, though the quiet companionship Narcissa offered was more than what Hermione ever thought would happen.

In class, Hermione fared no better. It was getting harder and harder for Hermione to concentrate. More than once Ginny had to nudge her with a knowing grin after she stared a little too long at Narcissa. Apparently her “gay was showing,” as Ginny so kindly put it after sharing a smirk with Draco. At night it was even worse. Whatever she managed to conceal during the day lived rent free in her increasingly sexually-fueled dreams. They always left her wanting and breathless, her own fingers doing little to alleviate it.

It was only on the second Friday of November when all that spiraling was brought to a different direction. Hogwarts had woken up to the first snowstorm of the season, but instead of happy screams and people playing in the snow, the courtyard was almost completely silent and deserted when she padded over the window to figure out just why that was.

Getting dressed warily, Hermione fed Crookshanks his breakfast and headed to the staircase into the Great Hall. And then… frowned. The mood there was equally serious and solemn, people glancing each other in worry, copies of the Daily Prophet spread out on tables. What—?

She headed over to where her friends were sitting to find them looking equally grim. “Oh no.”

“Another dementor attack,” Ron said solemnly, handing her the newspaper.

Collapsing down on the bench with suddenly weak knees, she immediately reached for the coin in her pocket and pulled it out under the table to glance at it. At least there weren’t any messages on the coin. But the headlines punctured whatever sense of relief Hermione might’ve felt.

First reported by ‘The Sydney Morning Herald’s Wizarding Edition’

on Friday, Nov. 13, 1998

Muggles Attacked En Masse Near Sydney Opera House

A handful of Muggles had been attacked today near the Sydney Opera House, around 9am Australian Eastern Standard Time. Australian Interlopers and Guarders arrived on the scene to be greeted with utter chaos. The dementors were quickly banished from the site, but not before two unfortunate Muggles had been Kissed. A memory charm had to be performed on Muggle witnesses who were still on the site. The Australian Ministry of Magic has identified the two Muggles and is working on a cover story before releasing them to the Muggle police. Australian Minister of Magic (AMOM) Hugo Saki has issued a short statement of caution to reporters after the attack.

“I urge the wizarding public to look out for the non-magical folk. I’d like to appeal wizards and witches to cast anti-dementor wards over any Muggle dwellings in your neighborhood, and to look out for dementors descending upon fellow wizards and Muggles out in the streets. Many lives can be saved if we take care of each other. There is no other time than the present where unity is more important.”

Ministers around the world has now issued similar statements following Australia’s attack. Kingsley Shacklebolt echoed Hugo Saki’s statements in his own given to the press early Friday morning.

“Interlopers? Guarders?” Ron asked, frowning at the paper.

“Australian terms for Aurors,” Harry answered.

“They’re going after Muggles now, I see,” Ginny said darkly. “I wonder just who they learnt that from.”

“They probably figured that attacking wizards would get them nowhere,” Harry muttered. “Oh I do wish there was a way to get rid of dementors for good.”

Hermione said nothing. Iciness slithered into her veins as though a dementor had personally attacked her. What if they had been her parents? Hermione felt for the coin in her pockets again. Still cold. At least there was that.

“Hermione?” Ginny said gently, prying her left hand from the paper which she just realized had been crinkling in her hand. “You ok?”

Hermione swallowed. Looked up to see her friends eyeing her with concern. She gave them a brittle smile, drank the last drops of her milk and stood up. “C’mon,” Hermione muttered just as the bell rang. “Let’s get to class.”

For the first time since coming to Hogwarts Hermione couldn’t concentrate in class for the entire hour. She’d spent the first two periods staring down at an empty notebook when she should’ve been taking notes. Not because of Narcissa for once. After begging the universe for reprieve this was what she got?

She’d never been more thankful for Ginny when she silently handed her her notes during lunch, even more thankful when her friends didn’t ask her how she was feeling. Lunch was tasteless. No matter how delicious the food looked. Silently Hermione followed her friends to the DADA classroom to find Draco waiting for them outside. When they reached him he merely patted her in concern before they headed into the classroom, where Narcissa was already waiting for them.

Taking her seat, Hermione stared down at the table, mindlessly doodling on the paper as she waited for class to start. After the tenth doodle of Crookshanks Narcissa cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention. The room quieted respectfully.

“Today will be a revision on what we’ve learned so far. Before we move onto a new subject next term I will assign you a final essay—” The class groaned simultaneously, which was silenced with a glare. “You will all write me three rolls of parchment on the relationship between color theory, wandless spell casting, and how the caster’s true intentions might change the color of the spell. The paper will be due the last day of class this term. You will write about no less than four spells, though you’re welcome to do more than that should you wish. I will now pass out the list of all dueling spells we’ve learned so far.”

A wave of her hand had a piece of paper appearing on their desks, with all the lists of dueling spells sectioned under three headings: Offensive, defensive, and aggressive. “You may begin.”

After choosing her spells Hermione opened her textbook to try to gather her notes, but like her first two periods, Hermione ended up staring down at the book blankly as words floated uselessly in her eyes. She wasn’t sure how long she was sitting there with a glazed look until she suddenly felt a soft push into her mind. Recognizing it as someone attempting to penetrate her mind, Hermione slammed up her mental shields in panic. Empty thoughts. Don’t think. Don’t feel—

But instead of the painful penetration that had been Bellatrix’s attempt the presence withdrew immediately. Not enough for Hermione to notice it missing completely, just there enough to be hovering at the back of her mind as though waiting for permission. Willing her heartbeat to slow down Hermione frowned as she tried to figure out who it belonged to.

Looking around at her classmates, they all appeared to be busy writing. Why would any of them want to penetrate her mind anyways? Unless to cheat. Or maybe Romilda—but no. Then she sharply looked towards Narcissa. The blonde was looking down at her desk, where several pieces of parchment were laid out on her desks, but she didn’t look as though she was concentrating on it.

She frowned.

Narcissa?

The blonde looked up. Caught her eyes across the classroom. Narcissa quickly looked back down to shuffle her papers.

My apologies for alarming you, Ms. Granger—

Hermione suddenly realized she’d been staring for way too long. Snapping her gaze down she picked up a quill and pretended to write. She wouldn’t want Ginny to notice why she was staring at Narcissa yet again, now would she.

It’s—it’s alright. I was just startled, that’s all.

Are you… are you alright? You’ve been staring at the book without really reading it for half an hour now.

Oh crap. Hermione didn’t mean to—

I’m not scolding you, Ms. Granger, Narcissa sounded amused. So she could read thoughts she didn’t mean to project out loud too? Uh oh. Hermione had better not let any… ahem… stray thoughts escape. And what if she—no. No no no no no. Hermione would die of embarrassment if—

Don’t worry, Ms. Granger. Though I’m a natural born legilimens and occlumens yours is the only brain that I can’t read unless I do it on purpose. And you would know I’m doing it to you as I have to push into your mind consciously, just like you’d have to do that with mine. Usually that isn’t how legilimency works; the most skilled of us can do it without the other person knowing. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but it is what it is.

A mixture of relief and disappointment filtered through her. But I’m not much of an Occlumens! And I haven’t been practicing occlumency since—since the war ended. At least, not as much, she added quietly.

Hmph. I didn’t think so. But you were able to—Narcissa halted.

Able to what?

Stop my… stop HER from reading your thoughts whilst she was… An impressive feat it was, Ms. Granger. I’m not sure the most accomplished of occlumens could’ve done that. Asides from me, perhaps.

Hermione’s scar tingled. But the softness in Narcissa’s voice, the soothing presence at the back of her brain, took away the panic that usually came with Bellatrix’s name. You… you don’t have to stop yourself from saying her name in front of me. She was your sister, after all.

Hermione felt eyes on her once again, and she looked up to see Narcissa looking at her with parted lips as though Hermione had gifted her a tropical paradise. Having been caught staring Narcissa snapped her gaze down again, as did Hermione.

Speaking of family… are yours ok? The papers this morning… Narcissa trailed off.

They should be ok.

Ahh. So the fake coin hasn’t—?

Oh. Narcissa knew about that?

I was in the meeting with Kingsley and Minerva together. When we talked about how we could help ease your mind about your parents.

Ahh. That makes a lot more sense.

No it hasn’t. I… What if something happens later in the day? What if the dementors return?

Ms. Granger… Narcissa’s voice was soft. You can’t keep bracing yourself with what ifs. The Interlopers stationed near your parents’ place will keep them safe.

I know, I know. But I can’t help but be scared for them.

You worry—

Too much, I know.

It’s not a bad thing.

You’re the first to say that.

From the top of her papers she saw Narcissa smirk. Now concentrate. I’ve distracted you enough.

You’re always welcome to distract me.

Narcissa froze before her mind withdrew from Hermione’s completely. Before mortification ran rampant through her, Hermione pulled her attention back to the book in front of her with heroic effort. She was proud of herself for actually managing to write down three paragraphs—apparently more than what Ginny had written for the first half hour of the class—when the bell rang.

Sighing, Hermione chanced a glance at the blonde, who was quickly clearing up her things and shoving them in her bag. Watched as the blonde strode towards the door. But she paused with a hand on the door frame and looked back at Hermione as the last group of students walked past her. Looked at her with a… was she smirking?

There are a lot of ways I’d like to distract you.

Her brain short circuited. And then—she just—she just walked away. Or rather, Narcissa’s presence in her mind completely walked way. With an… extra sway to her hips? Hermione stared blankly after her. Then finally registered what just happened seconds later. Her draw jaw dropped. Her stack of books clattered from her arms to the floor. Ginny, Ron, Harry and Draco looked between her and Narcissa simultaneously back and forth.

“Now what?” Ginny sighed as she bent to help Hermione pick her books up again.

“Nothing. Just Narcissa reassuring me my parents are fine.”

Ginny’s eyes narrowed. “In your head?”

“…Yes.”

To Hermione’s relief Ginny refrained from questioning further about it, but Hermione could see how much she was trying not to bombard her with questions.

“Are they really ok, Hermione?” Ron asked quietly as they trudged out the classroom, Draco and Ginny exchanging glances out of the corner of her eyes.

Hermione smiled and nodded. Pulled out the fake coin and showed it to her friends. “It’s still cold,” Hermione said. “Kingsley will let me know if they’re not.”

“Oh. The coins we used for Dumbledore’s Army,” Harry said in surprise.

“Yup. Kingsley has installed aurors near where my parents are to look out for them.”

“I’m glad, Hermione,” Ginny said genuinely.

“Me too.” Hermione smiled tremulously.

Then, as though Ron was trying to lighten the mood—“And on Friday the 13^th too. You’re the magnet for trouble this year, ain’t you, ‘Mione?”

Hermione glared.

“It’s not me for once,” Harry deadpanned.     

***

So. Narcissa couldn’t read her mind. Hermione had spent the rest of the afternoon pulling out every book on Occlumency and Legilimency she could find in the library but none of them had any answer. Giving up with a sigh Hermione trudged out of the library back to her room at curfew and surmised that it must have something to do with the bond. Protecting their privacy, somehow? Glancing out the window, Hermione shuddered when she saw dark angry clouds hovering in the sky. It was snowing. She was going to need her warmest jacket when she headed out tonight.

Her breath misted in the air when she finally did three hours later. Holding out a hand to catch a snowflake, Hermione smiled as she watched it drift towards her gloved hand, where it melted five seconds after it landed. Taking one more moment to breathe in the crisp cold air, Hermione starting walking towards the Shrieking Shack. Her boots crunched in the snow.

Narcissa was waiting for her as usual. After applying the healing salve, Narcissa started the tune with a wave of her hand, and they took their place at the edge of the room. When they completed one lap around it Narcissa nodded approvingly.

“Good. Much improvement in your footwork. I believe we’re ready to incorporate some the choreography. You have read the sequence I gave you last week, yes?”

Hermione nodded. The sequence was rather helpful for Hermione to understand what the movements looked like, as the explanations of each move—and how the finish product would look like—came with animated diagrams of two people dancing so in tune with each other that Hermione couldn’t help but wish she could dance like them. Wish that it was them dancing like that. And not only for the sake of Minerva’s ridiculous request.

They took their position at the edge of room, her left hand in Narcissa’s right, their bodies facing the front though their heads turned to each other. Hermione felt a slight push in her mind again. This time, she didn’t freak out. Allowed it in with barely any resistance.

Ready?

Hermione nodded. Yes.

Narcissa waved her left hand at the radio and the tune began again. Before Hermione knew what she was doing she and Narcissa were moving effortlessly together. Despite how new each step felt, Hermione had never felt so in tune with the blonde as they practiced their moves like they’d danced together one hundred times before. It didn’t help that Narcissa was whispering instructions in her head, a gentle reminder that Hermione wasn’t alone in this.

All too soon it came to an end. In the silence of the room they stayed like that for several seconds that felt like eternity, Hermione staring at the ceiling trying to catch her breath as she heard Narcissa trying to do the same. Then slowly, ever so slowly, Narcissa pushed against Hermione’s back to help her stand upright again. Even more slowly, Narcissa’s hands left Hermione’s. Their fingertips lingered for a millisecond before falling away completely.

Then stared at each other, chests heaving. Hermione didn’t know what to say. To think. To feel. The look in Narcissa’s eyes was… indecipherable.

Not bad, Ms. Granger. Not bad at all.

Hermione swallowed. From someone who rarely wrote praises on their homework assignments it was clear that Narcissa rarely gave compliments to anyone. That was more than enough for Hermione to feel a glow of pride.

That came more easily than I expected. It didn’t help that she had such a strong and capable leader.

Narcissa smirked. Don’t give all the credit to me, now. You’re more capable of it than you think.

Hermione swallowed. Of what? They stared at each other for several more seconds. But then a howl of wind broke the spell, and Hermione glanced out the window in alarm to see it rather windy. It looked like a snowstorm was whipping up.

“We better head back before it blows up,” Narcissa said quietly, looking towards the window as well.

Hermione sighed. And nodded. Then she smirked a little. “Shall I shelter thy retreat?”

“My hero,” Narcissa drawled. “But I am not going through that blasted tunnel you insist on coming through.”

“…As you wish.”

It was only when they parted ways in the Great Hall that Hermione realized it was the first time they’d walked back to the castle together.

***

The Quidditch match was the most polite match between Gryffindor and Slytherin Hermione had ever watched. Harry’s team was excellent, as usual—the Slytherin team was too. There was hardly any need for Madam Hooch to call penalty between the teams. And without the animosity between him and Draco now there was a rather… different dynamic between them. It had been a close call, with Slytherins winning 110-100, Draco snatching the snitch with Harry right behind him. Harry hadn’t even looked that upset he lost. Instead he’d grinned and clapped Draco on the back as she and Luna poured out on the the Quidditch pitch to congratulate them. It was hard to believe that this was the reality now. A testimony to how much both of them had grown.

Hermione had spent the rest of the day with her friends, celebrating a match well played by both sides with a trip to Hogsmeade where she’d overspent far too many sweets in Honeydukes. But the mood had grown solemn again when Hermione knocked on Narcissa’s door on Sunday. Hermione’s brow furrowed when the door didn’t swing open after five minutes of waiting. Another five minutes passed. Still nothing. Half an hour passed, and by this point Hermione was starting to think that Narcissa was either a) avoiding her, b) not going to her cabin today for whatever reason, and/or c), avoiding her. She had half a mind to just give up altogether and spend the afternoon sulking in her bedroom. But what if… Narcissa never said she couldn’t go there alone. In fact she implicated that she could when she said the cabin gave her permission. Could she…?

Hurrying back through the halls, she crossed the suspension bridge and down one flight of stairs took her to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. She was planning to sneak past the one-eyed statue on the third floor to apparate from Hogsmeade, but paused outside the DADA classroom when she noticed voices talking lowly inside. Peeking past the door she noticed Narcissa sitting on her desk, a student bent over it with piles of paper spread out in front. Ahh. So that was why.

Catching Narcissa’s eyes across the room who just happened to look up at that moment, Hermione raised a questioning eyebrow to her, which Narcissa answered with an apologetic grimace and a look that said she’d far rather be anywhere but here. Huffing out a quiet laugh Hermione felt a sense of relief that the reason for Narcissa’s absence was option B, not like options A and C as she’d first thought.

Go on, Ms. Granger. I’ll join you later if I can.

Hermione smiled and nodded. Hurried away. Halfway down the third-floor corridor Hermione paused in front of the one-eyed statute. Tapping the stone she whispered, “Dissendium!”

Hermione slipped through a the gap. To her relief the counter of Honeydukes was relatively quiet when she reached the trapdoor, though she cast a Disillusionment spell on herself just in case as she eased herself out into the shop. It was crowded as ever. Hermione managed to make her way out of the shop without bumping into anyone and resolved that next time she’d better just use the secret passageway from the Shrieking Shack instead. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t just do that in the first place. Perhaps because it felt weird going there alone with no purpose in mind?

In a quiet corner near Honeydukes Hermione closed her eyes. Imagining Narcissa’s log cabin, Hermione apparated to it almost silently. Hermione grinned victoriously. Apparently she was taking a page out of Narcissa’s book.

Taking a moment to enjoy the scenery, Hermione crossed over to the edge of the cliff where waves crashed against it. The last Sundays she’d gone straight into the house, too eager to start reading to pay much attention to her surroundings, but now she let herself admire the scene that she had yet to take in. The ocean stretched vastly into the horizon. It was a blue sky today, and clouds drifting across the sky were reflected in the water. Hermione took a deep breath of fresh air. She really could live here forever.

After another ten minutes Hermione walked away from the edge and carefully let herself into the cabin. She hadn’t really dared to take all the details in. It felt like she was intruding somehow into Narcissa’s privacy, even though she knew full well it was the blonde who brought her here in the first place. Walking around the room she paused in front of the fireplace to let herself soak its warmth.

When she noticed pictures atop it that Hermione hadn’t seen the previous Sundays Hermione paused. There were pictures of Draco when he was younger, smiling as he zoomed around a broom. Pictures of Draco in his first Hogwarts uniform. Of Narcissa playing with Draco in the snow, the snowman waving at her as they both leaned against it and smiled.

And then… there were pictures when Narcissa was younger. Narcissa with her sisters. Narcissa chasing Andromeda around with a—Hermione giggled—with a bucket on her head? Hermione paused at the picture of a younger Bellatrix blowing magic bubbles at Narcissa, a loving grin on her face as she watched Narcissa and Andromeda chasing them around. Bellatrix looked so carefree here. Happy. They all did. No hint of the deranged Bellatrix Lestrange she’d become later in life. No hint of the icy persona that Narcissa would so infamously wear. No hint of an Andromeda who would later get disowned. When did it go so horribly wrong?

Narcissa’s parents were noticeably missing from the photographs. As was Lucius. As if Hermione needed to ask why. And then on the edge of the fire place, away from the others, there was a photograph of a lone teen Narcissa in her wedding dress, staring unblinkingly in the camera. Icily. It was an odd combination; she looked so… despondent on what’s supposed to be a happy day. It was this photo that Hermione stared at the longest. She took the photograph and softly traced a thumb over Narcissa’s already hardening features, wishing somehow that her touch could sooth the clearly aching figure inside it. Could reach Narcissa then.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there. But apparently long enough for the door to open. Nearly jumping out of her skin, Hermione quickly put the picture back on the fireplace and swung around with her wand immediately up to find Narcissa standing in the doorway. Hermione dropped her wand with a burning face. Uh oh. Too late to move. She was just going to have to pretend she was merely soaking up the heat.

“You’re always… flinching,” Narcissa said softly as she made her way over to where she was standing. “Does it… happen a lot?”

Hermione swallowed. Carefully stowed her wand in her pocket. “Sometimes,” Hermione murmured quietly as she walked over to the window to stare at it. “It’s rather… hard to unlearn the habits of a war.”

A moment of silence. Then she felt Narcissa move closer towards her until she stood besides Hermione near the window. The sun was setting. Hermione had watched thousands of sunsets atop the Astronomy Tower, but never of them had been more beautiful than now. Hermione studied the blonde out of the corner of her eye. She looked equally solemn. And… tired. Dark circles under her eyes had never been more prominent under this light. Hermione frowned.

Narcissa? Hermione pushed into her brain softly, waiting until bright blue eyes turned to look at her. Have you been sleeping?

I’m fine.

Hermione arched an eyebrow at her. The blonde sighed. Looked back out at the sunset.

Oh alright. I… haven’t. It’s been a cycle of sleeping after two straight days of not sleeping. And I’m… I’m exhausted, Ms. Granger.

That pulled her up short. Narcissa Black, actually admitting weakness?

Nightmares?

Narcissa swallowed. Nodded.

Hermione smiled sadly. Me too.

They fell silent again, though Narcissa’s presence didn’t withdraw completely from her brain. Hermione returned in kind, hoping that Narcissa would understand how much she wouldn’t push her to open up to her. That just by allowing her to stay behind her mental walls was enough. They stayed by the windows for hours. Long enough for the sun to dip below the horizon, for the sky to darken, the first stars to appear.

“Orion,” Hermione whispered as she recognized the three stars low in the sky. And that star over there, she allowed her mind to zoom in on the star above Mintaka, that’s… that’s Bellatrix’s star, isn’t it?

Narcissa looked at her, impressed. I didn’t know you knew so much about stars.

“Tell me about her?” Hermione requested softly.

Narcissa hesitated.

“Only if you want to, of course,” Hermione said quickly. “I wouldn’t—” Then her brain short circuited when Narcissa placed a finger on her lips, effectively shutting her up.

“Stop panicking,” Narcissa murmured, slowly withdrawing her finger as Hermione’s heart pounded. “I wouldn’t have put those pictures out if I hadn’t wanted you to see them. Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to—trigger anything.”

Hmm. She thought so. Narcissa in a wedding dress did look… dashingly beautiful. And Narcissa with a bucket over her head… cute. A pink blotch rose from Narcissa’s cheek.

I’m sure, Narcissa. Perhaps hearing about her—about Bellatrix would help me understand. And I can tell that you… you miss them.

You’re right. I do… I do miss them. I miss Bellatrix. I miss Andromeda too, contrary to popular believe. Our childhoods… they were… not something you’d want to witness. Narcissa’s face turned dark. My sisters and I only had each other. Before HE came into our lives, Bellatrix was the best big sister ever. She had no issues with Muggles, protected Andromeda and I from our parents. She took the brunt of it whenever father laid his hands on us. Mother was no better.

We were forced to agree with our parents whenever they started sprouting pureblood nonsense. Bellatrix was… forcefully brainwashed. As was I. Andromeda was much stronger than any of us. Perhaps I fully believed it by the time she found Ted. I… I shouted her to leave, called her a bloodtraitor, but I think by that point the real reason was that I had already lost Bellatrix to the Dark Lord and… that was the final blow. Now I’m glad I did. It pushed her to run away with Ted. I wish I could’ve done it in a better way, encouraged her to leave without losing my temper. I was… I was planning to pull an Andromeda by the end of my seventh year at Hogwarts. But then—

Narcissa withdrew completely from her head. She clutched the window sill with a white-knuckled grip. Without thinking Hermione slowly hovered her own hands over Narcissa’s, waiting for permission to ground her with her touch. For one second, Narcissa’s hand clenched even more. But another second later, her fists relaxed just a fraction, as though it was a silent invitation for Hermione to place her hand over hers. She caught the cue, resisting the urge to brush her thumb over still-tense knuckles.

I… I apologize, Ms. Granger. Narcissa attempted to snatch her hand back, but Hermione pressed down gently onto her hand. Not demanding enough to completely dissuade Narcissa from pulling away, but just enough to invite her in.

“You know… I think Andromeda misses you as well. Harry told me she asked after you once when he visited Andromeda and Teddy during the summer. She… she asked about you after your trial, you know.”

Narcissa stilled. Looked up into her eyes. She did?

Hermione smiled. Nodded. “I could ask Harry to write to Andromeda. If you’d both like tea and chat. He’s quite close with her now, being Teddy’s godfather and all.”

Narcissa stilled. Wrapped her hands around herself. I’d like that.

Hermione smiled.

Ok. I’ll ask Harry when I get back.

“Mr. Potter is an excellent flier,” Narcissa murmured. “He’d be able to play for the World Cup.”

“He is,” Hermione agreed. “I could never fly like him. Brooms and I do not get a long.”

Narcissa chuckled. “Draco never linked the word ‘flying’ with ‘bookworm’ whenever he ranted about you three at home. I surmised as much.”

Hermione blushed. Ducked her head. I wish I could fly, though. It seems… so free.

“Are you scared of heights, Ms. Granger?”

“No… just the feeling of your stomach dropping out from you like you have nothing to hold onto.”

Narcissa tilted her head. That… makes a lot of sense, actually.

Hermione raised her eyes. “How so?”

You think with words. Logic. Flying is… about letting go. Enjoying that sense of freedom that you won’t get with both feet on solid ground. If you learn to enjoy that feeling, it’d come more easily to you until you learn to embrace it.

Hermione paused. Blew out a slow breath. “Perhaps you’ll need to show me.”

“Hmmm. Perhaps.”

Several seconds of silence past, though it wasn’t completely quiet as crickets were chirping in the background. The moon had risen bright in the sky, its rays falling upon them softly.

“I’m too tired to apparate us back,” Narcissa murmured. “Would you… stay the night?”

…She was too. Hermione raised an eyebrow. Propositioning me, are you, Professor Black?

Narcissa’s face flushed. “—Not—Just to sleep!”

Relax. I’m kidding. I would love to.

Narcissa relaxed before turning back to face the ocean, lifting her head towards the sky. Hermione copied her. A particular constellation caught Hermione’s eyes after several minutes. One she wasn’t sure its tale she knew. That constellation, she whispered, tracing the constellation that looked like a female figure in the sky. I’ve never seen it before.

It only appears in this exact location once every year. Trust me, I’ve done my research. Even I don’t always see it. Sometimes the weather is bad, or I’m not at the right place at the right time, or it’s just… not in the mood to appear.

Huh. But why tonight? I don’t think my Astronomy classes ever covered this.

That’s because constellations have moods. Or… only the wizarding ones do. Narcissa snorted. Nor are there any Greek myths about this one. Not… not that we know of.

Well, you’ve piqued my curiosity. What’s it called?

Narcissa hesitated. Narcissa.

Hermione’s breath hitched. And here I was wondering why there wasn’t a constellation named after you. I thought it was a family thing. What’s… what’s the story behind it, if I may ask?

Do you know about the legend of Narcissus?

Hermione nodded. The son of the river god Cephissus and the nymph Liriope, who fell in love with his own reflection after rejecting the advances of any men or women.

Narcissa’s story draws parallel to his. She was born to Appollonia, a water nymph, and her female lover, Penelope. Same sex relationships in Greek mythology is often… problematic. Take Zeus, for instance. He seduced Callisto in Artemis’ form, taking advantage the young nymph’s forbidden feelings for the goddess. When Artemis discovered that Callisto became pregnant with his child as a result, she was furious and banished her into the form of a bear. Poor Callisto was unknowingly killed by her own son in a hunt. Perhaps Zeus realized what he did was wrong—though I very much doubt it—but he placed Callisto as Ursa Major (the Great Bear) and Arcas as Ursa Minor (the Little Bear) in the sky.

Hermione looked higher towards Ursa Major, a little north east of Orion. Huh. Was Callisto in love with Artemis? I never thought of it that way.

No idea. But then again, that’s just my interpretation. Why else would she have let him—well, her—into her bed?

It’s probably hard to say no to a god.

Indeed. Narcissa shook her head. The point is, Apollonia and Penelope’s relationship is one of the healthiest in Greek mythology. A relationship built on mutual trust, friendship, and most importantly, genuine love. This drew the envy of Poseidon. He cursed them both, as well as any offspring that they might have, so that whenever they saw their own reflections in water—be it in any lake, ocean or pond—they would be doomed to suffer more or less the same fate as Narcissus. There was no way to break the curse unless one of them falls into the trap.

For a few years, they managed to prevail. To avoid water at all costs. Whenever they drew water from the well, no one could look down into still water to actually see what they were doing. This proved to be a challenge, but they managed. They were happy. Narcissa grew into a loving, gentle woman, who drew attention from men and women alike. But a battle with a monster destroyed all that. It drew them out of their abode towards the pond several miles away.

To save their daughter, who was trapped between the pond and the monster, Penelope managed to charge at the monster and kill it, but not before it pushed her face-first into the water. Penelope was turned back into a stream, the state that she would stay till the end of time. Unable to turn into nymph form back again. Apollonia was heartbroken. Desolate. A few years down the road, she just… disappeared. Up and gone into the wind. With no word to Narcissa. No warning.

Losing one of her mothers had been hard. But losing the both of them… it destroyed Narcissa so much that she decided to join them once and for all. She begged Poseidon to turn her back into water and to make her stay that way forever. The only request she made was to have her reunited with her mothers. Poseidon was so moved by his own wrong doing that he not only granted her request by turning her into a little stream near grassy hills where her mothers twisted and danced, but offered the family a place amongst the stars.

Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed. I assume that your parents had no idea that this side story existed. They probably thought they were naming you after Narcissus.

Obviously. Narcissa snorted derisively.

Silence lapsed again as they watched constellations move slowly across the sky. When a particularly bright shooting star disappeared into the sky, Narcissa turned her head to stare at Hermione with an indecipherable look.

Would you rather read? Or would you rather… Narcissa trailed off and looked awkwardly at the ground. She almost looked… shy.

Hermione frowned, ducking her head to look her in the eyes. Would I rather…? she prompted gently.

Instead of answering, the gramophone was activated with a wave of a pale hand.

“Just for tonight.”

“Of course.” Hermione’s heart leapt as she recognized the different song straight away.

Resisting the urge to let it show on her face as Narcissa withdrew, Hermione carefully schooled her expression until it was devoid of expectations.

I wonder should I go or should I stay? And wasn’t that the million dollar question.

She watched, heart pounding, as Narcissa moved into the center of the cabin where there was more space to move around. Watched as Narcissa took a deep breath, before holding out her hand. Hermione remained quite still besides the window for a few seconds as the first pale rays of moonlight fell softly upon them. Then after a few more breaths to compose herself, Hermione slowly walked towards Narcissa. Slowly took her hand without saying a word.

Narcissa’s confident leading (not to mention those Fourth Year Yule Ball dance classes) were enough to encourage her to take the lead in spinning her. For a few exhilarating minutes, they followed each other’s rhythm as naturally as breathing; swaying back and forth, wordless directives as clear as day, a simple turn here and there. Though most of the song hadn’t happened to them yet, especially the L word, why did it resonate so much?

Especially when, through all of it, Narcissa’s eyes never moved away from hers. Nor did Hermione dare look away. Because when had she ever been able to command such attention? When had she ever been able to see that sparkle in her eyes that she’d never seen before? She didn’t even blink. Didn’t want to blink because no way in hell was she missing a moment of this.

Then just before the tune came to an end, a quote from The Price of Salt sprang to her mind. ‘A thin line suspended in the air, with nothing on either side to push her or pull her.’ She’d never wished more that that thin line would give way. But patient she must be, because if she pushed the blonde too far, they would probably end up worse than where they were now.

So lost in her thoughts was she that she didn’t realize the music had come to an end. But in the sudden silence, Hermione suddenly noticed how loud her heart was beating. Could Narcissa hear it? Hear how she affected her? Then, ever so slowly, Narcissa dropped her hand. Gave her one last scrutinizing look, before turning to face the stairs. She started walking towards it only to pause with one foot on the first step.

“I believe we should retire for the night.” Narcissa smiled tremulously, half turned towards her. “It’s getting late.”

Hermione swallowed. Quietly followed Narcissa up the stairs. Once they reached their room, Narcissa paused under the doorway between their rooms, one hand on the frame as she turned halfway to face her once again.

“There are spare pajamas in the closet over there,” she murmured, nodding slightly at the closet near the doorway before retreating to the other side of the room. The door closed behind her.

Hermione stood there staring at the door for several seconds. Then shaking herself out of the urge to knock, went through her evening routine, enjoying the fancy shower that was somehow even better than the ones in the Prefect’s bathrooms. The pajamas were comfy and warm, and they shrank to fit her size when Hermione touched it. Turning off the lights, Hermione closed her eyes.

Narcissa?

Narcissa sighed softly. Yes?

Hermione hesitated. Eventually, she settled on a simple word.

Goodnight.

For a long time there was no answer, save for a sudden howl of wind that whistled around the cabin. Hermione shivered and cocooned the blankets even more closely around herself. It smelled like Narcissa. She subconsciously inhaled its scent, letting it lull her mind into drowsiness. Just as she was about to fall asleep Narcissa’s voice brushed her mind, like a soft caress.

Goodnight.

Chapter Text

Hermione was dreaming.

She was walking on flat wide stones that stretched across a vast, shallow lake where the deepest points looked no more than ankle level. Its water was still and calm, the air was still, nor was there any hint of life in the ponds. What she was walking towards she didn’t know. But more than halfway through it became more clear, though it was obscured by mist rising from the surface of the water.

Standing on the edge of the other side of the lake, Hermione could make out a figure that stood facing her, the unmistakable flash of blonde hair that she’d be able to recognize anywhere. Hermione picked up her pace. As she reached Narcissa her hands stretched out to meet hers, but before their hands could touch Narcissa vanished. Panic seized her. Now Hermione was running, skipping across the stones, heart in her throat as she chased after her… Narcissa appeared once again a few feet away from her, but then she disappeared again…

The lake seemed never ending… the edge she’d seen had now been stretched on and on until there seemed no end… the blonde appeared again on a rock that was quite a long distance from the one she was now standing on, but as Hermione attempted to leap across it to get to her the bottom of the lake split open. And then Hermione was sinking… down… down… down… She tried to pull herself to the surface, but the underwater currents were too strong and then she was being swept down under, deep enough that sunlight couldn’t reach where she was… struggled… but she couldn’t breathe… she was drowning… couldn’t see… couldn’t see…

Jolting awake with a gasp and a pounding heart Hermione’s eyes flew open. Feeling the soft bed underneath Hermione frowned at how unfamiliar it felt. Where was—? Heart in her throat Hermione waved a hand to turn on the lights and—oh. Right. She was at Narcissa’s cabin. Sleepover. Calm down, Hermione.

Slowly letting out a deep breath Hermione turned off the lights again and curled into her side. Tried to ease herself back into sleep. But half an hour passed and sleep evaded her. Pushing herself up in frustration Hermione leaned herself again the bedpost. An idea sparking in her mind, Hermione got out of bed and pulled on a warm robe. Slipping her feet into her soft fluffy slippers she padded towards the living room, taking care to not make any noise to avoid waking Narcissa. Just as softly Hermione opened the front door and heading out to the porch sat on the comfortable chair. Shivering as her breath misting in the air she cast a warming charm on herself.

The scenery of the meadow in midnight was somehow even more beautiful than in broad daylight. The moon was now high in the sky, the shadows from trees elongating against grass that looked silvery in the moonlight. Her breath fogged in the air. Walking forwards Hermione stretched and let out a sigh, but just then a flock of clouds covered the moon. She didn’t think much of it at first. But squinting, Hermione realized with a start that they were moving far too fast to be clouds. It was now blocking the moonlight. Its ghostly figure hovered hauntingly, nearing where Hermione was standing.

It was now 100 feet away… 80…70… No. They couldn’t possibly be…

They were.

Or it was.

A lone dementor was flying towards her. Just at the sight of it fear was leaping in her throat. But no. Hermione refused to be scared of it. She whipped her wand up, the words Expecto Patronum ready on her lips. It didn’t even occur to her to run inside and wake Narcissa up. But as it drew nearer, Hermione’s mind stayed relatively calm, and letting the magic of her wand seep into her Hermione took a deep breath and planted her feet on the floor as she readied herself to draw up her Patronus.

To her relief the wards that had kept the dementors at bay in Hogsmeade worked similarly now. The dementor hovered at the edge, its foggy mist oblivious to the occupants in the cabin, but it still lingered there far longer than Hermione would’ve liked. Nor was her scar itching.

Come on, you can do this.

Letting her eyes close, Hermione let her memories of meeting the blonde fill her brain. Let their nighttime waltzes warm her skin. With a sudden sense of determination, Hermione’s eyes flew open as she whispered, “Expecto Patronum!” only to… stop and stare. Instead of an otter Hermione’s Patronus was now… a magpie. Its wings glowed blue as it burst through the air and charged at the dementor, who retreated way before the bird reached it.

Heart pounding, Hermione reached a hand towards her Patronus. It flew towards her, circling her wand hand, before softly scraping its beak at her left arm. Hermione felt a rush of warmth slither throughout her entire body—a sensation entirely independent from the warming charm as the magpie raked its beak softly against her scar. It tingled, but didn’t hurt. Though it was incorporeal Hermione somehow felt its touch just as firmly as any human hand was capable of.

With a shaking hand, Hermione reached out as though to touch it. But like Narcissa in her dream, the magpie vanished just as she reached the glow that surrounded it. Heart pounding, Hermione stood and stared into the night in shock. There were only a few handful of stories she’d heard about Patronuses changing. The one she knew the best was Tonks’ and Lupin’s. Something that… Hermione still didn’t dare say to herself.

Slowly letting herself back into the house, Hermione crept back to her room and curled into her side, trying to calm her hyper-active mind. It was a miracle when she finally fell into a dreamless sleep.

***

“Granger.”

Hermione frowned. Hugged her sheets closer to her chest. She did not want to wake up. All she wanted was to cling to the tendrils of sleep a little longer, but the voice that sounded like an angle spoke again more firmly.

“Granger.”

Hermione let out a whine, pulling the cover over her head. The voice let out a sigh.

“Ms. Granger!”

“Wuh???” Hermione’s eyes shot open to see an exasperated Narcissa standing at the edge of her bed. She was already fully dressed, hands on her hips. Hermione glanced at the clock. And yelped at the time.

8:30.

“Bugger, bugger, bugger!” Hermione mumbled as she threw the covers off and leapt out the bed. Fuck. She must’ve overslept when it rang.

“I’ll be out on the porch when you’re ready,” Narcissa called over her shoulders before she disappeared through the doorway.

Hermione dressed herself with a flick of her wand. Quickly brushing her teeth Hermione met Narcissa downstairs and pulled on her shoes, nearly tripping over a lose shoelace in her haste to get out the door. What the heck? She just tied it! She met Narcissa outside. Taking her arm they apparated back into Narcissa’s headquarters, and quickly bidding the blonde goodbye Hermione dashed down to the dining hall to eat breakfast.

Ron raised an eyebrow at her as she sat down next to her friends. Completely… out of breath. “Late night?”

“This is the most disheveled I’ve ever seen you,” Ginny agreed, narrowing her eyes at Hermione.

In lieu of answering Hermione poured a handful of Cheeri Owls cereal into her milk… only to almost choke when she saw Narcissa walking through the oak doors out of the corners of her eyes. Narcissa paused across the aisle when she reached where they were sitting. Their eyes met briefly before Narcissa walked on resolutely towards the High Table, where Minerva was eating breakfast with the rest of the staff.

“Hmmm…” Ron frowned, looking back and forth between her and Narcissa. “Such… curious timing…”

Hermione nearly choked. Then whacked Ron in the shoulders when the air was clear. “Mind your own business!”

“Ow!”

“Shut up, Ronald, or you’ll get much worse then the ‘eat slugs’ hex.”

Ron shivered dramatically. “Oh I’m soo scared.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes, her wand raising menacingly.

“Ok ok, jeez!” Ron raised his hands.

Hermione lowered her wand, satisfied. Then she looked around the table to notice—“Wait. Where’s Harry?”

Ginny snorted. “In the Slytherin table over there,” she nodded.

Hermione followed her gaze only to stop and stare. Her jaw dropped. Harry Potter laughing with Slytherins? And not getting eviscerated in their territory? Hermione looked towards Narcissa, who at was staring at Harry and Draco in shock. Minerva was smirking at her, as were the other teachers at the high table. As though feeling her gaze Narcissa looked away from Harry and Draco and met her eyes. Hermione raised an eyebrow and glanced towards them, which Narcissa answered with a helpless shrug and eyes directed to the ceiling, as though saying heavens help me.

Hermione giggled and dug into her food.

“Is it just me, or are they more chummy than usual?” Ron whispered as he narrowed his eyes between them. “I couldn’t believe it when Draco dragged him to the Slytherin table this morning like Slytherins and Gryffindors have been best friends since the beginning of time!”

“No one could,” Ginny sniggered. “The hall was dead silent when that happened.”

“…I can’t believe I missed that,” Hermione sighed morosely. She would’ve liked to see Narcissa’s face if she was there to witness it too.

“That’s what you get for… sleeping… in,” Ginny said in a tone that suggested she didn’t believe that was what happened.

“Just when is Draco going to ask Harry to the ball?” Hermione bemoaned, trying to redirect Ginny’s attention away from her. “I can’t take this any longer!”

“Just when are you going to ask Professor Black to the ball?” Ginny whispered with a gleam in her eyes.

Hermione choked. At least she was wise enough to keep her voice low enough that no one around them could hear.

“Yeah Hermione, when are you going to ask Professor Black to the ball?” Ron grinned and nudged her side.

Hermione glared at them. Oh no. She did not need both Ginny and Ron ganging up on her. Slamming the mug down a little harder than necessary, she stood up and flounced off into Charms without replying. Saved by the bell yet again.

***

It had been another intense day of classes. Never more glad that the day was over, Hermione headed up to the Gryffindor common room, intending to huddle in front of the fireplace to take advantage of the cozy armchairs in front of it. Harry, as it turned out, was also in agreement, as halfway through her essay for Ancient Runes Hermione looked up to see him entering the Gryffindor common room, looking as though he’d seen a ghost.

Hermione frowned. Got up from her seat to help Harry towards the couch. “Harry? You alright?” Harry didn’t answer. He continued to stare into space like Voldemort had risen from the ashes. Five minutes passed. And still, he didn’t say anything. Ok. Hermione was seriously starting to get concerned now. “Harry?”

Harry whimpered. Honest to god whimpered. Hermione’s eyebrows raised as she patted his back.

“Come now, Harry. What happened couldn’t possibly be any worse than walking to your death.”

Harry mumbled something that sounded like “Thisiswaywayworsethanwalkingtomydeath!”

Hermione pinched her nose and mumbled muffliato. She shot a glare towards their classmates who were looking at them curiously, and in one motion they simultaneously turned away from them and looked back down at what they were doing. Doing a marvelously bad job of trying not to look at them, but whatever.

“You’re going to have to speak up, Harry, I didn’t hear a word you said,” Hermione said, crossing her arms in exasperation.

Dead silence. And then—

“IaskedMalfoytotheball!” Harry shouted.

Then he hid his face into his hand. And. Whimpered. Again.

Hermione stopped. And stared. Harry asked Malfoy to the ball? Wow. She couldn’t help it. The next thing she knew she was bursting into guffaws, laughter shaking her to the point that she was bending over her knees. She couldn’t remember the last time she laughed this hard.

“Oh Merlin. I-Is that all?” Hermione gasped out. “I thought Voldemort had returned!”

“I wish he had,” Harry groaned into his fingers. “Can I die now? Please say yes.”

“No one’s dying, Harry,” Hermione rolled her eyes. Took Harry’s hands away from his face. “Well? What did Draco say? You can’t just leave me hanging!”

“I dunno,” Harry moaned. “I-I ran away before he could answer.”

“Harry!”

“Oh don’t give me that look. Like you’re any better with Professor Black!”

Nope. She was not going to fall for it this time.

“Nuh uh,” she said, waggling a finger at him. “This isn’t about me. You’re going to tell me step by step what just happened, and then we’re going to figure out a plan because you’re both idiots!”

“Like you have the right to speak,” Harry muttered.

Hermione was determined to remain unfazed. Simply crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him. Harry sighed.

“It happened during lunch,” Harry groaned. “We were eating lunch together, like we’ve taken to doing, a lot—”

“I’ve been wondering where you’ve been at lunch! Having a lunch date, were you?” Hermione grinned.

Harry glared at her but plowed on. “Draco was laughing at something I was saying, and apparently that was what made me lose it because I had to go ruin it. By asking him out. He looked so gobsmacked when I asked him to the ball. And then when I realized what I said I made a beeline for it,” Harry sighed. Then his eyes widened. “Fuck. I left my Charms textbook with him!”

Hermione sniggered. “The universe must be helping you charm him.”

Harry swatted her arm. “Not helping, Hermione.”

Hermione sighed. Pinched her nose again. “Look. I’ve noticed how happy you’ve been this year, Harry. And it’s all due to Draco isn’t it?”

Harry sighed. And nodded.

“Was it just this year that you started having a crush on him or…?”

He frowned. “I… don’t … know,” Harry said slowly. “I think in my sixth year that was when lines got… blurred. I kept telling myself that the reason I was so obsessed with Draco was cause of the task Voldemort had set him to do, and I turned out to be right about that. Now I think that Malfoy always had a kind of grip on me. We were just too caught up in our… animosity towards each other to see past it.”

“You guys make sense, you know. Enemies to friends to lovers.”

Harry snorted. “Lovers. Yeah right.”

“You know what you should do?”

Harry groaned. Hid his face in his hands again. “Never leave the Gryffindor common room again?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You are not doing that. You’re going to dredge up your Gryffindor courage, take a deep breath, see if Draco says anything the next time he sees you. And if he doesn’t you can either ask him to talk about it or ignore it forever and deprive yourself of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. He has your charms textbook, right? He’ll have to return it one way or the other. Unless he keeps it forever, and you buy a new one. Which… would be considerably hard as there are no shops near us to buy textbooks.”

Harry finally dropped his hands from his face. “Hmm… yes. Waiting to see how Draco reacts sounds like the plan. I hope he pretends like nothing happened! Oh Merlin. Professor Black is going to kill me.”

Hermione sighed. How much could she do when the two idiots insisted on being idiots about it. “Speaking of Professor Black, can I ask you a favor?”

Harry tilted his head curiously. “What?”

“You’re close with Andromeda and Teddy, right?”

Harry nodded happily. “I went there every weekend during the summer. Andromeda regularly sends me pictures of Teddy since coming to Hogwarts.”

“Do you think… would Mrs Tonks be amendable to meeting her sister? I think, no, I know that Professor Black is… well, missing her.”

“I think Andromeda misses her too. I… I once caught her staring at a picture with her and her sisters. It’s strange seeing Bellatrix so… carefree.” Then Harry sent her a sharp look. “How do you know?”

“I…” Hermione hesitated. Then internally shook her head and simply said, “I have my methods.”

“Methods that include making eyes at Professor Black?”

Hermione spluttered. “Wha—Harry!” she shrieked.

“I have eyes,” Harrry said simply. Then he grinned. “Can you imagine what Rita Skeeter’s gonna write about this? ‘Two of the Golden Trio Defiled by the Malfoys!’”

“…Don’t jinx it. Why did I let her free again.” Then Hermione leaned forward evilly. “You might want to be careful about what you think about Draco around Professor Black. You do know that she’s an expert on Legilimency and Occlumency?”

Harry paled. “…Fuck.”

Hermione smirked. Patting Harry’s shoulders in mock concern Hermione cancelled the Muffliato Charm, pulled out her diary and wrote, Harry asked Draco out today. Ginny owes me ten galleons. Even if he did run away like an idiot.

“What are you writing in there?” Harry asked warily.

Hermione closed her diary with a thud and shoved it in her bag.

“Never you mind,” she grinned triumphantly. “Nothing at all.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed as though he didn’t believe her, but he asked no more. Hermione couldn’t stop grinning into her notebook. Harry and Draco really did make sense. Then a slide little voice mumbled, “Just like you and Narcissa would make sense, right?”

“Shut up,” Hermione mumbled back at it.

Harry looked up at Hermione in confusion. “What?”

“Sorry, ignore me. Just talking to myself.”

“…If you say so.”

Just then Ginny and Ron clambered through the portrait only to stop and stare at the sight of Harry sulking at the fireplace.

“What’s wrong with him?” Ron raised his eyebrows as they sat down next to them.

Hermione sighed and cast the Muffliato Charm again. “Here we go again,” she muttered, but Harry didn’t bother turning around to even pay them any attention.

“You tell them, ‘Mione,” Harry moaned into muffled fingers. “Saying it out loud once was quite enough.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Harry asked Draco out.”

“What?!” Ron shrieked at the same time Ginny gasped out “FINALLY!”

 Then Ginny turned to Hermione in horror. “Fuck. I owe you ten galleons!”

“You guys have been betting on me?” Harry grumbled, still into his fingers.

“Pay up, Ginny,” Hermione grinned, holding out her hand.

Ginny grumbled but acquiesced. Hermione checked if it was fake, and nodding approvingly she stuffed it into her bag with a triumphant grin.

Ron swallowed. “What did Draco say?”

“He ran away,” Hermione said, patting Harry who moaned into his fingers.

“Harry! You git!” Ginny face palmed.

“I know, I know!”

“Oh no. What would mum say about this?” Ron grinned, recovering from his state of shock far quicker than Hermione had.

“…What would Draco say about this, you mean,” Harry grumbled.

Despite themselves they all burst into laughter till everyone in the Gryffindor common room were looking at them like they’d lost their minds.

***

By the time dinner rolled around, they nearly had to drag Harry to the Great Hall who had nearly dug his heals into the ground and refused to move. She half thought nothing would actually happen and that they’d both just write it off as some big cosmic joke. But she was clearly proven wrong when Draco handed Harry his charms textbook back, heading over to the Gryffindor table like a thief in the night. Hermione glanced swiftly at the High Table to see Narcissa staring at Draco with a half-amused, half horrified look on her face, and at once Hermione knew exactly what was going to happen.

“You, er, left this with me during lunch,” Draco mumbled.

Harry took it with an equally burning face. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Draco made a beeline for the Slytherin table. Or… maybe that was not exactly what was going to happen? Harry frowned down at the book. It was only when he opened it that Hermione noticed there was a note inside. They all simultaneously stared down at it. 

“Well? Are you going to open it or stare at it all day?” Ron hissed.

Harry said nothing. Merely unfolded the note quietly, only to stare at what was written with an even more shocked face than the one that first greeted Hermione in the Gryffindor common room. Harry’s jaw dropped. Looking around she noticed it wasn’t only her, Ron and Ginny staring at Harry with rapt anticipation. The whole Gryffindor table was too as Harry froze in his seat. But with sudden determination Harry overturned the note, scribbled something on the back of it, and stood up from his spot.

“Uh, mate? What are you gunna—?” Ron asked nervously.

Harry didn’t answer. Instead he pivoted on his heels and marched down the aisle towards the Slytherin table, head held high. The hall went deadly silent as eyes turned to follow Harry. Even the Bloody Baron had turned from his usual seat next to Draco to gape between him and Harry, blank eyes widening in surprise as Harry walked determinedly over towards Draco. He looked almost… human. Never thought that would’ve been possible. Hermione snorted. Then winced at how loud the sound was. There was still no drop of sound anywhere. The last time the Great Hall had been this silent? During that brief reprieve when Harry walked himself to his death at the final battle.

Hermione kept her eyes wide open, not wanting to blink and miss what happened next. Oh she wished she had a camera to capture this moment—Harry handing Draco back the note and fleeing back to the Gryffindor table so quickly even his own flying skills wouldn’t be able to keep up. Hermione watched Draco stare at Harry in confusion for several seconds, before Goyle nudged his ribs hard enough that Hermione could see Draco wincing on the spot. Shooting Goyle a glare, Draco unfolded the note carefully, and judging from the grin spreading across Draco’s face Hermione didn’t need to ask what happened. The hall broke into whispers and smirks. Up and down the tables Hermione saw galleons being fished out. 

“What did you just ask him?” Ron hissed, kicking Harry’s shin under the table. 

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“We’re your best friends!”

Harry mimed zipping his lips. Then he sat himself down, grinning into his bowl of tomato soup.

Ron moaned. “I hate you, mate, I really do.”

“Really, Ron, do you need to ask to know what happened? It couldn’t be more obvious!” Hermione waggled her eyebrows.

Harry groaned. “Shut up.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Hermione sang.

“If he ever hurts you he’ll have us to answer to. I’ll happily give him the shovel talk,” Ron said, eyes gleaming as he puffed out his chest. “Payback for all the years he made us suffer.”

“I’ll gladly help you,” Ginny agreed, leaning over and high fiving Hermione. Then she nudged Harry side with a gleam on her eyes. “When’s the wedding?”

“GINNY!”

***

From that moment on all anyone talked about was that moment in the Great Hall. Every where she went she heard numerous theories on what went on between them. They reached far and wide. Some scoffed and said it couldn’t possibly have meant anything, while others were utterly convinced that they’d asked each other out. New bets were being made left and right. Ginny somehow managed to drag Hermione into a big betting pool going on in the Gryffindor common room. Half of her classmates said that no, it didn’t have to do with Harry asking Draco out, half of her classmates said yes. Hermione and Ginny chipped in 10 galleons for the latter option.

Though either of them had yet to say anything about it, Draco and Harry were suddenly all up in each other’s spaces, far closer than they ever had been before, though they never actually did anything in public that would mean something. How they’re keeping it a secret gobsmacked Hermione.

As horrible as she felt about being slightly jealous she couldn’t help it. Their newfound closeness made her feel more… lonely than ever. All of her friends were pairing up. And then there was her. She was happy for them, she really was, but there was a part of her that wished… that yearned… When she was younger she’d always thought that books were enough for her. But now? She wasn’t so sure.

It didn’t help that Narcissa seemed to have taken to avoiding her yet again. She didn’t see her outside of class, which had returned to completely stiff and professional. Since Monday she didn’t appear for meals in the High Table the entire week. Nor had Narcissa spoken in her head again, and Hermione didn’t dare try to. Their dance lesson on Friday was just as icy. Narcissa never met her eyes when they practiced their routine, and without a word the blonde had made a beeline for the door the second it ended, as though it would kill her to linger for more than a second. (Maybe it really would.)

Why was the blonde brushing her off? Did Harry and Draco’s little public display of asking each other out (or whatever that was) make her pull back for whatever reason? Standing glumly in the room, Hermione stared despondently at the doorway Narcissa disappeared through, her footsteps echoing in the hallway. When it had completely faded into the distance, she sighed and slowly made her way back to the castle. She didn’t even bother with a warming charm. What was the point? No warming charms would work on her now. By the time she made it back to the castle, she was shivering, gusts of snow whipping at her face. A long warm shower did nothing to ease it out of her system.

***

On Sunday Hermione debated on whether or not to go to the cabin at all. She opened the Marauder’s Map, unsurprised to see the blonde’s name nowhere in the castle. Not that she’d been in the castle much this week. (Not that Hermione was stalking Narcissa’s name on the map at all.) Deciding not to go to the cabin just in case Narcissa really didn’t want her there today, Hermione sighed and slowly pulled herself out of bed, glumly going through her morning routine before she sat herself on her desk to study.

She wasn’t even in the mood for breakfast. She merely nibbled on a toast then quickly made a beeline back up to her room. Which was quite unusual, given how she was usually starving when she woke up. She similarly didn’t go down to lunch or dinner, instead asking Kreacher to take meals to her room. Hmph. Was she turning into Narcissa? Apparently it was only the most natural step after having the blonde’s name in her consciousness for so long.

After a long day of studying (and trying not to think about Narcissa) Hermione stood up and stretched. She padded to the window, pressing her nose against it to see it snowing once again. But it was a soft snowstorm this time. Not harsh and windy, like Hermione’s mood was right now. Shrugging on a coat she slipped on her shoes to head outside. She was in need of some fresh air after holing herself up in her room all day.

Padding out towards the Great Lake Hermione smiled at countless snowmen sprouting up from the ground here and there. They waved at her as she passed, and Hermione giggled and watched as they swayed and danced in the wind. Eventually she reached the Great Lake and stood there. It was completely icy when she cautiously tested her weight on it. Hermione closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of ice and snow, enjoying the way the cold air burned inside her.

Fall and winter had always been her favorite seasons. Hermione loved the color of autumn leaves littering the ground. Loved it when piping hot weather starting to cool down. Loved the coolness of snow against her skin, countless memories of building snowmen with her parents in her childhood. It was rather ironic that the person who managed to change her Patronus was the embodiment of winter. The embodiment of iciness and harsh winds, walls so high and tall that Hermione couldn’t see its ends.

Taking out her wand, Hermione closed her eyes and cast the Patronus charm. It took a few tries. But Hermione was determined; if the blonde was avoiding her at least there was this to remind her that it wasn’t completely gone. The magpie once again burst out from her wand. It circled her, creating sparkles in the air as it surrounded Hermione like a protective barrier. A deep sense of longing infiltrated Hermione as she opened her palm and allowed the magpie to balance on her index finger. Hermione giggled as it tilted its head to look at her with bright glowing eyes. Then she sighed morosely.

“What do you mean?” Hermione murmured to it as though it could speak the words that Narcissa clearly wasn’t ready to give. That she wasn’t ready to give either. If there was anything to give at all in the first place. “Why you? Why now?”

The magpie stared unblinkingly at her. As though saying, Well, I can’t answer for her or you! What do YOU think?

“I don’t know,” Hermione muttered. “I don’t understand what’s happening to me. I’ve never believed—never thought I was capable of it. What’s happening to me? What’s happening to me?!”

A choked sob escaped Hermione. But this time she couldn’t stop it. Tears were cascading down her face, and then Hermione was sinking down to her knees as sobs wracked through her like a dam bursting open. She didn’t even notice the iciness of the snow digging into her knees as she put a hand on the ground to steady herself. Didn’t notice the magpie perching itself onto her shoulders, snuffling its beak against her hair as though trying to calm her.

“I can’t—I never asked for this—” Hermione sobbed. Words were garbled now. “Why her? I can’t—I CAN’T FEEL THIS! I HAVE NO RIGHT!” Hermione shouted, her words muffled by snow that was now falling thick and fast. “She’s my teacher, Draco’s mother, I can’t—I can’t.” Hermione scrubbed at the scar that was now smarting and burning into her skin.

She scrubbed and scrubbed, willing herself to forget Narcissa’s touch on it upon it, willing away the memory of their waltzes that had taken root in Hermione’s heart like a plague, willing away the feeling of Narcissa’s hands on her skin, her icy blue eyes burning into her and everything that Hermione shouldn’t feel…

She didn’t even notice the scar starting to bleed. To smart. But she didn’t care. Didn’t feel any of it. Didn’t feel snow clinging to her eyelashes, her clothes sticking to cold skin, how soaked to the bone she now was. A howl of wind whipped through her. Snow blew more fiercely around her. It was getting stronger—wrapping around her—is this what getting stuck in a hurricane felt like—

She couldn’t move—no escape—

“I’m not—I’m not—in love with—”

Oh god. She was. Hermione Granger was utterly, one hundred percent, without a doubt…

When had she fallen so deeply to the point that her Patronus changed? There was no denying it anymore. The magpie circling around her in concern was more than evidence enough. Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth as she let it settle in. As she allowed herself to say the words out loud.

Feeling herself spiraling again Hermione tried to bring herself back to her surroundings. But it was useless. A burst of magic escaped her, to the point that the air around her was crackling. It sliced through the air like a knife, and with a loud creak the bench behind her cracked in half. Hermione swung around to stare at it in shock.

Calm down—calm down—but before she could another uncontrollable burst of magic exploded out of her. There was a loud cracking sound—

She was losing consciousness—just barely registered her magpie disappearing at the same time someone started saying her name—everything fading, fading, fading—

All went black.

Chapter Text

“It’s been several days.”

Several beats of silence passed. Then the same voice spoke again. It sounded… broken?

“Why isn’t she waking up?”

“Magical exhaustion. She’ll need several days to sleep and recover from that ordeal. Not to mention she was nearly hypothermic when you brought her in.” Minerva.

“It’s… it’s my fault.” A drop of tear fell on her exposed left arm. The scar smarted, but comfortably this time.

Minerva scoffed. “Nonsense, Narcissa—”

Narcissa? Hermione tried to open her eyes. Tried to reassure her that she didn’t blame her. That none of it had been her fault. The voice made to speak again, before she could catch the rest of the sentence a blinding headache pierced through her, and she was pulled back into the tendrils of sleep without much protest.

***

The next time Hermione awoke her throat was dry. Blearily blinking her eyes open, Hermione took stock of her surroundings as she tried to figure out where she was. The mattress was harder than her own, the bed sheets rougher. There was a privacy drape around her bed, and peaking through the small gap she saw several beds strewn across the room. Oh. She must be in the hospital wing. How long had she been in here? Oh crap. How many classes did she miss?

Deep breaths. Don’t panic. You’ve just had one panic attack. You don’t need another. Mercifully, her lungs actually cooperated.

When she did she finally registered a hand in hers, something she hadn’t noticed until now. Who’s—? Hermione turned to see Narcissa slumped over the bed, eyes closed. Huh. Never would she have thought… she’d never seen the blonde so peaceful. So… unguarded. Hermione couldn’t help but trace the softened features she’d never seen before. A lump grew in Hermione’s throat. Just how fully held was Narcissa in broad daylight? She didn’t realize how second nature it must be for Narcissa until now. Like it had been pounded into her since birth. Hermione wouldn’t be surprised if it had.

Resisting the urge to reach out a hand to trace Narcissa’s features, Hermione couldn’t stop herself from staring at the blonde cradling her left arm in sleep. Hermione was starting to feel pins and prickles. Not that she cared. As though feeling Hermione’s gaze upon her, Narcissa’s eyelids fluttered open. Snapping her gaze upwards, Hermione pretended she was staring at the ceiling when the blonde noticed her eyes opened. Narcissa nearly toppled her chair when she leapt from her seat.

“Ms. Granger! You’re awake!” The relief in Narcissa’s voice was unmistakable.

Hermione felt her heart thud in realization. She cares about me.

“I just—” Hermione’s voice came out in a croak. She cleared her throat. “Wa-water, pl-please.”

Narcissa turned grabbed the empty cup and muttered “Auguamenti.” The cup filled with water, which Hermione drank gratefully. The coolness of it slid down Hermione’s throat.

“Need more?” Narcissa murmured softly when the last drop of it disappeared within record time.

Hermione shook her head. Then grimaced. Though the blinding headache she’d woken up to had dissipated it was still foggy. Unclear. A look of concern settled on Narcissa’s face at that.

“How are you feeling? Do I need to call Madam Pomfrey?”

Hermione paused for a second, considering. Her muscles were aching a little, like the feeling she’d get after a particularly hard day of exercising. A faint headache lingered but other than that there didn’t seem to be any pressing concern.

“I think I’m fine,” Hermione said slowly.

Narcissa gave her a searching look. Are you sure? You may be able to lie to yourself, but not to me.

I’m ok, I promise.

Narcissa didn’t look convinced but she sighed and relented. What… what happened?

Hermione frowned, trying to search through her memories what happened before she blacked out. She remembered going to the lake, remembered seeing snowmen wave at her, but after that… Hermione barely stifled a gasp as a stab of pain made dark spots cross her vision. Narcissa shot up to hover over her in concern.

“Ms. Granger? Are you ok—?”                                                            

“I’m fine,” Hermione insisted, taking another six breaths to calm herself down.

Thankfully the headache disappeared, but that feeling of unsettledness only grew. What made her black out like that?

“What happened?” Narcissa asked again.

“I don’t remember,” Hermione frowned as Narcissa sat back down. “All I remember is walking to the Great Lake as I—” As I’d spent the whole day moping in my room because I didn’t go to the cabin. Because you weren’t here. “I needed some air,” she finished lamely.

Narcissa studied her with narrowed eyes like she didn’t believe that was all. “Alright,” she said with a sigh. “I won’t push.”

“H-how did you find me? What happened when you—” Hermione cautiously thought back to what happened before she blacked out. Still nothing.

“Take it easy,” Narcissa said gently, leaning over to help her lie back down as a stab of headache made her wince. “I just happened to be at the right place right time, I guess?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her.

Narcissa sighed and looked down at her hands. “I could feel something pulling at me—within me—around 11:30pm last Sunday,” she admitted softly. “At first I wasn’t sure what it was. Then I realized that it was screaming for help. That it was you screaming for help. Don’t ask me how I knew. Sixth sense, perhaps?” She shook her head. “Either way, I had the sense to apparate to it and the… magical trail took me to you. I arrived just as you fainted. I didn’t see anything else except a broken bench and you going blue from the cold. I-I thought—” She broke off, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Narcissa…” Hermione reached out a hand. Almost couldn’t stop herself from laying a reassuring hand on her arm.

Narcissa still looked guilty. At least until Hermione noticed a pile of presents at the foot of her bed, to which Narcissa rolled her eyes. “Presents from your friends. They were besides themselves with worry. They—wouldn’t leave until I promised them that I’d stay here during the night with you.”

Oh. Narcissa had been sleeping here in that horribly awkward position and breaking her back just to… stay here? Hermione’s eyebrows rose in surprise. A flush painted Narcissa’s cheeks red.

“Now that you’ve awaken I shall inform Madam Pomfrey,” Narcissa muttered, turning to leave. “She’ll be happy to assist you should you need anything.”

“Wait—!”

Narcissa paused with a hand on the drape. An eyebrow rose. Hermione swallowed. What was she going to say again?

“Thank you for finding me,” Hermione smiled weakly.

Narcissa’s eyebrows pinched, staring at Hermione with that indecipherable look yet again. Hermione fought not to squirm. And then—

I’m glad I did.

Hermione stared blankly after Narcissa as she walked away, heels clacking loudly on marble floor. Was she talking about last week, or…?

Madam Pomfrey came buzzing over. “Ms. Granger. Good, you’re awake. You gave us quite the scare. How do you feel?”

There was no use lying to that woman. Believe her, Hermione had tried countless times in the past but each time she’d be leveled with a glare so vicious it could match Narcissa’s own.

“I’m… a little bit sore and my head a little foggy but otherwise I’m fine.”

Hermione let Madam Pomfrey examine her. Holding up a finger, Madam Pomfrey said, “Follow it with your eyes.”

Hermione complied without much trouble.

She nodded approvingly. “Good. No sign of concussion. You should be fine to be released the next morning.”

Huh. That’s strange. Hermione frowned. “But I couldn’t remember what happened right before I blacked out.” 

Madam Pomfrey raised an eyebrow. “You can’t? That’s strange. I’ve only heard snippets of what happened from Narcissa, but can you enlighten me? You were nearly freezing to death when she brought you in!”

“All I remember was walking to the pond. I did cast a warming charm at first, but then I—” Hermione hesitated as she tried to remember. But like before a stabbing headache sliced through her, and Hermione couldn’t hide the wince.

Madam Pomfrey steadied her as Hermione bent forwards to take several deep breaths.

“Easy there, Ms. Granger. It is possible that when your magic exploded it was a response to whatever you’ve been suppressing for so long. I advice you not to force yourself to remember it. I have performed a brain scan on you when you were sleeping and there appears to be nothing wrong with it, and the concussion test just now proved it. What happened to you might just be an incident of uncontrollable magic—like childhood magic. And as it was apparently traumatic to your brain it might be suppressing your memories to protect you.”

Hermione sighed. More questions than answers. “Is my… loss of control like what happened to Harry when he blew up his aunt?”

Madam Pomfrey’s eyebrows raised in question even as she smirked. “Oh? I only heard rumors—but what exactly did happen there?”

“Harry hasn’t really gone into details what happened but given his… Muggle family and the dislike they had for him I wouldn’t be surprised if his aunt was saying something that really upset him. To the point that he blew up, well blew his aunt up.”

“Magic is… emotion,” Madam Pomfrey said slowly, as though she was choosing her words carefully. “The more extreme our emotions get the easier it is for magic to react to it. Whatever you were feeling before you blacked out must’ve been extreme enough that it caused power to burst out of you. And the fact that you’ve forgotten it now could be a defensive mechanism that something inside you is protecting you from. Perhaps it will show itself, perhaps it won’t. Again I have to emphasize that you can’t force yourself to try to remember it. Try to let it come to you. Mind you, this is only a theory, as I’ve never heard of anything like this happening before.”

Hermione stared. She felt questions written all over her face, and Madam Pomfrey must’ve seen them, for she shook her head and retreated.

“I’ll leave you be for the night, Ms. Granger. Try not to think about it too much, especially when you’re in such a delicate state. Do have a restful sleep. You should be ready to be discharged in the morning, but don’t hesitate to ring for me if you need.”

“Thank you.”

***

Apparently it was a Saturday morning when she was discharged. Hermione was thankful as it mean two whole days of taking it easy before jumping back into it on Monday. Heading down to breakfast Hermione was immediately engulfed in a hug even before she left the hospital wing, Ginny’s arms wrapping tightly around her.

“Oof,” Hermione mumbled, patting Ginny’s shoulders as she hugged her in return. Behind her she could see Ron and Harry standing behind her.

“Hermione! You had us so worried!” Ginny wailed, tightening her arms around her.

“I’ve never seen mother so worried before,” Draco said, giving her a hug too after everyone else did. “She’s been in a right state, she has.” 

“Oh? Well I’m the one who should be in a right state. I missed a week of classes!”

“Don’t worry, ‘Mione, Ron has been writing down notes for you,” Harry said, grinning. “Never saw him this determined to take notes. He wouldn’t let us take on the work load either.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. Ron Weasley? Writing notes? “I never knew you were capable of turning over a new leaf.”

“Oi! What else was I supposed to do, drive myself with worry to the point that I can’t focus in class?”

“Aww thank you Ron. What did I miss?”

“Don’t worry, Minerva told us to let you know that the other teachers have given you an extension on all of the work they gave us. And when you’ve woken up she said she’d like to talk to you and if you could message her that’d be great. Oh, here are my notes—” Ron rummaged in his bag to produce a stack of notes even thicker than the essays Hermione usually wrote. Even his handwriting was legible.

“Never did I think I would see Ron Weasley pulling a Hermione,” she said with wide eyes as she carefully shoved them in her bag.

“Me too,” Harry sniggered.

“Me three,” Ginny smirked.

“Me fou—”

“Ok, ok,” Ron glowered, cutting Draco off, but hugged her back when she tugged him into the first hug she’d given him since they broke up.

“Thank you, Ron,” Hermione said genuinely. “You’ve saved my life. Are you going to go back to the Ron Weasley we all know? Or keep your new found skills after this?”

Ron gagged. “What do you think?”

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. Such a lost case.

“Have you eaten yet, Hermione?” Draco asked.

Hermione shook her head. “I’m starving, actually.”

“Breakfast is already over but we can go to the Three Broomsticks Inn to eat if you’d like?”

“I’d love that. I do need some fresh air after getting stuck in the Hospital Wing for so long. I don’t even care if there’s no Hogsmeade trip today. Did I ever thank you for giving me the Marauder’s map?” Hermione grinned, nudging Harry.

Ron’s jaw dropped. “Hermione Granger, breaking rules?”

“Excuse you, I can break rules when I want!”

“I thought that was only for the greater good,” Ron grumbled. Then he sighed. “We would offer to come but we have Quidditch practice this morning.”

“We were just heading to practice when we received a memo from Madam Pomfrey that you were ready to be discharged,” Harry explained at her questioning glance. “Luna and Neville has a club right now but they send their well wishes.”

“Lavender too,” Ron added.

Hermione smiled. “Well then go have fun! Don’t stick around on my account.”

“Well then, have fun in Hogsmeade,” Harry said.

His gaze turned fond as he clapped Draco on the back. Hermione looked between them with raised eyebrows. Nothing going on her ass. Seeing her pointed gaze they both flushed crimson and pulled away, Harry clearing his throat before he trudged after a smirking Ron and Ginny to make their way to the Quidditch pitch.

“Oh, and McGonagall wants to talk to you when you’ve woken up,” Harry added as he turned back around. “Just send her a note.”

Hermione smiled and nodded.

“Are you really ok, Hermione?” Draco whispered once they were out of sight.

“I am, Draco,” Hermione said quietly as they started making their way to Hogsmeade.

Draco hesitated. “Mother was really worried, you know. When she wasn’t teaching she refused to leave your side. I had to drag her away from the hospital wing just to get her to eat, sleep and shower. Not to mention she’s been a menace in class. Mother is not someone you’d want to cross when she’s worried.”

Hermione smiled faintly even as her heart fluttered at the new information that Draco was giving her. Since the blonde was so rarely that forthcoming it seemed like everything she found about her was usually through the grapevine. It rarely ever came directly from her. “Was she.”

“Like I’ve said before she cares a lot about you. It just… takes her a while to show it.”

“I understand,” Hermione murmured as they headed to the West Well which led to a fountain in Hogsmeade.

They stood there to let their eyes adjust to bright sunlight after having scurried through a dark underground tunnel. Thankfully no dementors were in sight. But Hermione was determined not to let them ruin the mood, even if they did end up coming here like last time.

Ordering a Shepherd’s Pie with Garden Salad and cherry syrup with ice and umbrella for Draco, they made their way to the back of the table and made small talk until their food arrived. Digging into her food Hermione sighed as the food settled happily in her stomach. Though sunny it was rather cold and something about the food at The Three Broomsticks always made her insides tingle with warmth during winter.

“If only I hadn’t eaten breakfast,” Draco said morosely as he stared at her food in envy.

Hermione grinned and opened her mouth to reply. But just then an unmistakable flash of blonde hair caught her peripheral vision. Hermione choked. Narcissa wasn’t alone. There was a woman with her, someone Hermione didn’t know. She was ashamed to admit that a flash of unmistakable jealousy flashed through her. Draco raised an eyebrow at her in confusion, but instead of answering, Hermione mumbled Mobilarbus at the Christmas tree next to them, discretely moving it so it blocked them further from view. She did not want Narcissa to see them in the same vicinities while she was on a… date?

“What—?”

“Your mother,” Hermione hissed, nodding to the table over Draco’s shoulders. “She’s with—someone!”

Draco turned around and peered through the branches. The look of confusion cleared when he turned back around to face her.

“Not to worry, Hermione,” Draco smirked. “That’s Andromeda, my aunt. Huh. She looks really different from all the photos of her and mother around the house. I didn’t know they were making amends.”

Oh. Hermione blushed at the sense of relief no doubt written all over her face.

“I’m such an idiot,” Hermione mumbled into her fingers.

Draco patted her on the shoulder. “Nonsense, Hermione. I wouldn’t have made all those comments if mother was seeing someone, and unless she’s been keeping secrets from me I really doubt she has since she and father divorced.”

Hermione glanced over Draco’s shoulders and studied Narcissa through the branches. They were far away and the inn was noisy enough that they couldn’t hear the conversation—which Hermione was glad for, as she wouldn’t wanted to have intruded on their privacy—but even from where she was she could tell that the air between them was awkward. Polite, but awkward.

“Oh fuck. I hope your mother doesn’t see us when we walk out.”

“Why ever not?” Draco smirked.

“Well we don’t want to interrupt her family bonding time, now do we.”

“Oh stop being a 12 year old.” Draco rolled his eyes to the heavens. Then he crossed his arms and glared at her. He suddenly looked a lot like the boy she used to know. Fierce and intimidating. A lot like Narcissa. “Between you and mother how am I the adult here! We’re never going to get anywhere if you both insist on being babies about it!”

“Has it ever occurred to you that I don’t want it go to anywhere?”

“Judging from how jealous you were when you saw my aunt with Narcissa I’d say not!’

Damn it. She walked right into that one. Hermione drew in a breath slowly. And blew it out slowly. Then finished the last bite of her pie. As Draco finished his drink Hermione steeled her nerves.

“C’mon,” she said with a sigh. “Let’s go. Oh I really do hope she doesn’t see us…”

Hermione tiptoed out from behind her tree and tried to make herself as small as possible. Draco followed behind with a bemused look on his face. Thankfully the crowd was thick enough and Narcissa had her back to hers, more than enough factors working in her favor to obscure Hermione from Narcissa’s view. As they fought their way to the door, Hermione was almost convinced that they could sneak out the door unscathed. But just as they were about to step out into the streets someone bumped into her… and spilled an entire bottle of red currant rum on Hermione’s white coat. The pub went silent. Everyone turned to stare at them.

Paying them no mind, Hermione sighed as she waved a hand to clear the stain from her coat, the offending person mumbling frantic apologies to her before dashing off in just the same whirlwind as he came. He didn’t even bother ordering a new drink. As the stain cleared from her coat Hermione glanced up to see everyone still looking at her. Did Hermione mention how much she hated being famous? Leveling a glare around the pub, she saw Mrs. Tonks chuckle out of her peripheral vision as everyone turned back hastily to mind their own business and Narcissa glaring at the direction the man had disappeared. She looked ready to kill him on Hermione’s behalf.

“Shall we go say hi?” Draco’s voice was amused as he looked between them.

Hermione sighed. There’s no escaping now, was there. Trailing behind Draco Hermione would’ve fled the scene if he hadn’t had a tight grip on her elbow, and when they reached their table Mrs. Tonks stood up and stretched out a hand towards Draco.

“Draco,” Mrs. Tonks cooed as she pulled her nephew into a hug. “You look so much like your mother.”

Draco’s normally pale complexion flushed and he shot Hermione a mortified look. Mrs. Tonks chuckled and released Draco, turning to Hermione. “And you must be Hermione Granger,” she extended a hand towards her in greeting. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

“And you as well, Mrs. Tonks.” Hermione took it with a smile.

Now that she could see her more clearly, Hermione could see the resemblance between them. Though Andromeda looked more like Bellatrix, perhaps a softer version of her. Apparently only Narcissa was the one with the blonde hair.

“You must call me Andromeda. I have a feeling we’re going to see a lot more of each other in the future.” Andromeda turned to smirk at her sister. “Narcissa has told me a lot about you.” 

Hermione barely stopped her jaw from dropping as Draco joined his aunt in smirking at his mother. Narcissa… talked about her? To her sister? Hermione didn’t know what to say to that. But Draco, bless him, leapt to the rescue.

“Well, we should be off, mother, Aunt Andromeda. We’ll leave you be to your… catching up.”

“See you soon, Draco,” Andromeda waved. “And you as well, Hermione.”

They bade goodbye one more time before Hermione and Draco headed out the streets. “Any plans for the rest of the day?” Draco nudged her as they entered the Great Hall.

Hermione shook her head and sighed. “Same old, same old.”

“Don’t go giving yourself hypothermia again,” Draco said as they paused outside Hermione’s room, his hands landing on her forearms as he looked seriously into her eyes. “You really did scare the shit out of us, Hermione.”

Hermione smiled. Patted Draco’s hands. “I’ll try not to,” Hermione said softly. “Dying by freezing to death is not on the top of my list.” Then she smirked. “Or maybe that’ll be what actually happens to me after trying to understand something like Narcissa.”

Draco snorted. “Good luck, Hermione. You’ll need it.”

***

Hermione spent the rest of the day studying with her friends in the Gryffindor common room. After supper, Hermione made her way to Minerva’s office, the gargoyle letting her in even before she was about to give the password. Huh. Did Minerva instruct the gargoyle to give her free entry? Hermione felt her heart warm. A look of relief crossed Minerva’s face as she entered the classroom and with long strides the professor crossed the room to wrap her in a hug.

“Hermione! Oh I’m so glad you’re alright. You’ve given us all quite the fright. Even Severus was worried about you.”

Hermione’s eyebrows rose as she looked at the portraits. Dumbledore was surveying her with a concerned gaze, while Severus glared murderously at Minerva. Curiously enough he didn’t deny it. Hermione hid a chuckle and accepted the tea and biscuits that Minerva offered.

“Now I won’t ask you what happened, but are you alright?”

Hermione nodded for the umpteenth time today. “Yes, Minerva,” she said gently. “I assure you, I’m really ok.”

Minerva gave her a searching look. “Does it… have anything to do with,” her voice dropped to silence as she mouthed, “her?”

Hermione glanced around at the portraits, who quickly vanished from it when they caught her gaze. “I don’t know,” Hermione heaved a sigh. “I don’t remember what made me black out.” 

Hermione frowned. Cautiously cast her mind back to what happened at the lake, but like earlier in the day a stab of pain made her wince. Not as strong as this morning, but there enough for Minerva to notice.

“Hermione?” Minerva looked at her in concern.

“I’m ok, just a headache. I—I really don’t know what else happened asides from walking to the lake.”

Minerva’s eyebrows raised. Dumbledore frowned curiously at her. Even Snape looked concerned.

“Madam Pomfrey cautioned me not to ask you about what happened. Do please try not to remember, Hermione, the headache you just got is rather concerning. Have you heard of anything like this happening? Albus? Severus?”

Simultaneous ‘no’s.

“Madam Pomfrey has assured me that there’s nothing wrong with me,” Hermione said weakly. “But there’s… something I want to show you.”

“It’s not… straining for you is it?”

“It shouldn’t be.” Hermione closed her eyes and said, “Expecto Patronum!”

The magpie burst out of her wand and flew around the room before landing on Hermione’s shoulders. Stroking its head with a giggle, Hermione looked back at Minerva, who only looked more confused than ever, whilst Severus and Dumbledore both looked shocked.

“A magpie,” Snape said slowly. “How curious.”

“Your Patronus wasn’t a magpie before, was it Hermione?” Minerva asked.

Hermione shook her head. “It changed two weeks ago,” she said softly. “I-I was practicng the Patronus charm,” (A half truth, she still wasn’t sure she wanted to tell anyone about Sundays spent at the cabin, at least not when it still so delicate and new, and when her friends had asked where she was she’d just said something about studying in her room), “and instead of an otter, it’s, well you can see what it is now.” She looked at Snape’s portrait. “Professor Snape, why did you say ‘how curious’ at the fact that my Patronus is now a—?”

Snape pursed his lips. He studied Hermione for several seconds. Then he said slowly, “Dumbledore, Minerva, could I have a word with Ms. Granger? Alone?”

Minerva shot him a surprised glance. As did Dumbledore. “Well then, I shall leave my office and turn in for the night,” Minerva said. Then she turned back to Hermione. “Other than the… magical amnesia I’m glad to see you’re alright, Hermione. And I’m sure your friends have already told you this, but all of your teachers have given you a two week extension on the work you’ve missed this week. Please take your time to recover. And don’t overstress yourself.”

“I’ll try not to,” Hermione promised.

Minerva smiled and walked out of the classroom at the same time Dumbledore smiled gently at her before disappearing from his portrait. In the silence of the room, Hermione and Snape surveyed each other. She’d never quite gotten a good look at Dumbledore’s and Snape’s portraits in the times she’d been in Minerva’s office so far. But now Hermione could see the difference of how Snape looked like in death. There were less frown lines on his forehead, the dullness in his eyes a little brighter.

“What’s happening to me, Professor Snape?” Hermione said quietly. “Why did my Patronus change? Is it… is it the same reason as the fact that your Patronus is a doe?”

“Not in the way you think,” Snape said. For once the sarcasm that oozed off him was completely absent as he looked her seriously in the eyes. “If you ever dare repeat this to anyone I will make sure that I haunt you every waking moment.”

Hermione shuddered. She did not want to get haunted by Snape of all people. She’d rather suffer whatever fate was awaiting Voldemort when he died. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Snape nodded, satisfied. “What reason do you think that my Patronus is a doe?”

“When Harry defeated Voldemort all he said was because you loved his mum.”

“That is half the truth,” Snape said even more slowly. “Before James Potter came along—” A hint of bitterness in his voice, “I was infatuated with Lily. Perhaps not so much of an infatuation. But rather she was the only person in my life before Hogwarts who accepted me. I suppose my heart took it and ran with it, but now that I’ve had death to think about it I must’ve misunderstood my own feelings and amplified them overtime. Now I can confidently say that I only loved Lily as a friend. Nothing else. Her death was… a blow I never overcame. I talked to her at King’s Cross, you know. That was all the resolution that I needed.

“But when Potter came along, the pain of my past slowly faded as I concentrated on saving him. As I made sure that he could live past Voldemort’s attempts to kill him. At first it honestly was just to honor Lily’s memory, what she would’ve wanted for her son. Eventually the reason that my Patronus was a doe wasn’t just because of her, but somehow, somewhere, it had… changed, and yet somehow stayed the same because of Potter. I didn’t understand it. I don’t understand it. I dealt with it by belittling him. Mocking him. I had to make him hate me because I couldn’t let it go both ways.

“During my year at Hogwarts as Headmaster, the dementors stationed around the school made me realize what I never thought would’ve been possible. Potter’s entire… absence made me see things that I never realized was my deepest fear. Harry Potter was my soulmate, doomed from the start, proven by the fact that my Patronus was a doe even before he was born. Near… near the end at the Shrieking Shack, I knew I had to let him go. That it was only my death that could release his tether to me. Whether it was platonic, or… or…” The word seemed stuck in his throat. “If it meant dying so he could live a happy life with the one he loved without our… one-sided bond holding him back, I would die a thousand deaths just to see it happen.”

To Hermione’s astonishment, Snape’s eyes were as wet as hers by the time he finished talking. The first and only time they’d ever seen him cry. Wishing she could comfort him, Hermione blinked tears back as she furiously wiped at her eyes.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Hermione murmured.

Snape shook his head. His face was now completely stony. Face blank. Was it a Slytherin trait? “I’m not telling you this to make you pity me, Ms. Granger. Just to make you realize what your Patronus means. Narcissa’s Animagus is a—”

“Magpie, I know.”

“But do you know what Narcissa’s Patronus is?”

Hermione shook her head.

“It’s been a while since I saw her cast one. Not since—well. That’s a story for her to tell.”

Hermione stared at Snape with furrowed eyebrows. “So she can’t—?”

“I wouldn’t say she ‘can’t.’ Knowing Narcissa it’s more likely that she prefers not to, or just finds it extremely difficult to cast one, especially in time of need. Of all the times I’ve seen her face dementors, she either turns into a magpie to fly away, or her occlumency skills makes her thoughts invisible to them, which in turn prevents them from sniffing out her worst fears. Occlumency is… my preferred method of fighting off dementors as well.”

“Oh. Harry mentioned to me that you said that there were other ways to chase off dementors for those who have… difficulty casting Patronuses. I never thought about occlumency! It would be quite hard to do that though, wouldn’t it? I… started practicing occlumency when you started teaching Harry about it and while it worked against Bellatrix I don’t know if I’m capable of doing that against dementors.”

“Indeed. Narcissa, like myself, spent years trying to hide our thoughts from the Dark Lord and I can safely say for the both of us that this led us to being experts at closing our minds off from dementors. The double edged-sword is that that level of occlumency is rarely achievable without becoming completely emotionless, thus most people resort to using a Patronus.”

They fell silent for several seconds. “Thank you for telling me all this, Professor Snape,” Hermione said quietly. “And I’m—I’m sorry.” For not understanding you when you were alive.

Snape tilted his head. Studied Hermione.

“I am too,” he said softly.

Then he vanished from his portrait, leaving Hermione alone in the silent office.

Chapter Text

Despite Minerva’s and Madam Pomfrey’s words of caution, Hermione kept trying to remember what happened since she was released from the hospital wing. At first the stabbing headache still prevailed, but as time passed the sharpness of it thankfully dissipated. She still couldn’t remember though. Now it was just a blank void, a gap in her memory that didn’t seem able to ever return.

At least their Sundays had returned to normal. Hermione had visited the cabin with Narcissa without fail, the blonde meeting her promptly at the cabin each time. The first Sunday after the week in the hospital had been… awkward. As though the air had been alive with words left unsaid. Not a drop of sound had been made as they relaxed in Narcissa’s living room, Rachmaninoff’s music washing over them. The second Sunday they’d actually started making small talk again. Though they stayed away from anything personal, instead opting to discuss the books they read, Hermione gushing how much she loved The Price of Salt in particular.

That tentative paradise was however balanced by the workload that was now coming down upon them with no mercy. Hermione was hunkering down in the library twenty-four seven, writing up final essays for all of her classes that their teachers had seen apt to torture them with leading up to the end of term. Even Ron, Harry, Ginny, Luna and Neville had taken to studying with her in the library. It never ceased to amaze Hermione how much Ron and Harry were studying this year. And not asking her for help every second. Apparently being on the run finally knocked some sense into them.

With stress pressing down on them more than ever all of them were testy. Though her friends handled it better than her; it was something she rather detested about herself when she was in that mood. She’d taken points off Gryffindor when a third year talked too loudly in the library, struggled not to snap at her friends more than once when they insisted she take a break, had even considered sneaking out Hogwarts to buy an entire bottle of butterbeer and downing it until she forgot her life. As much as she loved studying.

To top it all off, Romilda had been trying to corner her since being released from the hospital wing. It had gotten to the point that Hermione had taken to using the disillusionment charm every time she saw her turn her way. There were only so much secret passages Hermione could disappear through. She was unfortunately running out of options. Even her friends had taken to crowding around her every time they had class with Romilda as a sort of protective barrier.

“Why. Won’t. She. Leave. Me. Alone,” Hermione growled when it happened the hundredth time after leaving runes with Ginny. Hermione had never been more glad when Ginny had decided to take runes with her. At least that ensured she was never in a class alone with Romilda. Small mercies.

“Woah woah, calm down, Hermione, there’s electricity in your hair,” Ginny said nervously as she turned back to Hermione after glaring at Romilda on her behalf, who retreated before she could even open her mouth.

“Oh.” Hermione closed her eyes and breathed in through her nose. Out through her mouth. Rinse and repeat, until she finally felt herself calming down. “Better?”

Ginny nodded. “C’mon. Let’s go for a walk around the school.”

“But I need—”

“If you say ‘study’ one more time, I swear—”

“Finnneeee. Calm. Down.”

Ginny grinned triumphantly and dragged her towards the oak doors. They cast a warming charm on themselves when they stepped out into open air. A fierce snowstorm had blown through Hogwarts the night before, the air crisp and cold despite a pale blue sky that greeted them. 

“It’s especially cold this year,” Ginny murmured as they trudged out the entrance courtyard where the fountain had half frozen, save for the starry waterfall tumbling out its center.

Hermione stayed silent. It was especially cold this year. It would be the second Christmas she’d spent without her parents. She’d been planning to stay at Hogwarts alone, not wanting to entrench on the Weaselys despite their reassurances that she was always welcome. It was one thing when her parents were still… here. Now that they weren’t Hermione didn’t want them to think that she was overly reliant on them. Didn’t want herself to become too reliant on them, when they had enough going on in their lives.

“It is,” Hermione said quietly when they wandered their way into the Walled Garden, the fragrance of winter jasmine, snowdrops, primroses, and all sorts of winter flowers and shrubs greeting her as they entered a path surrounded by evergreen trees. Hermione looked around in awe. “I’ve never been in here during the winter before.”

“It’s my favorite place to calm down,” Ginny murmured. “There’s always life in here. Always color. No matter how bleak it gets.”

Hermione sighed. If only she could say that about her life. They rounded the corner, only to stop short when they saw Minerva and Narcissa walking ahead of them, talking lowly as they took the path out the garden. Shit. Hermione pivoted on her heels and sprinted around a corner out of view. Ginny followed, rolling her eyes as Hermione nearly tripped in her haste to hide around a thorny bush.

“Is she gone?” Hermione hissed, peaking around to see that they were, indeed, gone. “Ok good.”

“Oh my god, Hermione!” Ginny threw her hands up. “You’re worse than Draco and Harry!”

“At least Draco is much less stubborn than his mother,” Hermione grumbled as they started walking down the path again.

“Well she certainly has been living up to her reputation, hasn’t she?”

“I mean, it’s not like I have the right to tell her not to be like that…”

Ginny sighed. “Like you’d need it. Don’t think I don’t see the stares you give each other in class when you think the other isn’t looking. And it’s been getting steadily worse these past… what, three weeks?”

Hermione deigned not to answer. They stopped under an evergreen tree to look at a particularly beautiful patch of Delphinium flowers. The shade of their petals reminded her of Narcissa’s eyes despite their slightly darker shade.

“Can you keep a secret, Ginny?”

Ginny turned to look at her. For once looking completely serious. “Of course,” she said gently. “You never have to ask.”

Taking a deep breath Hermione closed her eyes. Accio. A second later the scroll came flying through the air, hovering over Hermione’s head before it dropped into her hand. Ginny’s eyes narrowed in confusion as Hermione unrolled it. The first time since she read it in what felt so long ago. Without saying a word Hermione handed the scroll to Ginny, who took it with equally careful fingers. Held her breath as she watched Ginny read through it. Ginny stayed there staring at the scroll long after her eyes stopped moving, prompting Hermione to wave a hand under her face.

“Hello? Earth to Ginny?”

Another full ten seconds of silence. Before her jaw finally dropped. “SOULBOND?!” Ginny shrieked so loudly a flock of geese flew startled into the air.

Hermione winced and covered her ears. “Ow.”

“How long did you know?”

“Since my birthday this year.”

“Does, does she know?” Ginny handed it back to her.

Hermione turned back to the garden in front of them. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “I never had the chance to ask.”

“Right. Because you don’t talk.”

“Actually…” Hermione hesitated, “I’ve been spending Sundays with Narcissa.”

Ginny stared. Even more incredulously. “So that’s where you’ve been disappearing,” she said slowly.

“Don’t start freaking out on me again,” she said warily.

“I’m trying really really hard not to. But if you don’t give me all the deets I’m going to rip every plant in this garden from their roots!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. Ginny and her theatrics. “The first time we practiced our waltz for the dance I noticed the kind music that she liked. Classical music, you know?”

Ginny looked blankly at her. Hermione sighed. She’d once again forgotten how uncultured the wizarding world was.

“It’s a type of music that some Muggles listen to. I just happened to recognize the waltz she’d had us dance to, and then that night I asked her what music she liked to listen to. In… the notebook she gave me. So we could… communicate. Stop gaping. You’ll catch flies. Then she offered to take me to this little cabin atop a cliff and she’s practically gave me access to it. Now that I’d come to think about it I don’t even know where it is. But you wouldn’t believe the amount of books and all the types of music she has in it! We barely talk though every time I go there on Sunday. Just reading.”

Ginny continued gaping at her for a full five minutes after she stopped talking. “So what you mean to say,” she said slowly, “is that Professor Black, colder than the last Ice Age, has endeavored to let you into her house and kept that line of communication open in what sounds like an extremely private space?”

“…Yes?”

“But this is huge!” Ginny shrieked and grasped Hermione’s hands in excitement. “Now I don’t feel so delusional anymore!”

Hermione snorted. “You? Delusional? Surely you mean me.”

“What are you going to do about it, ‘Mione?” she asked as they started to walk down the path again.

Hermione stayed silent as they passed a row trees. “I don’t know,” Hermione said with a sigh. “I… that woman has so many walls that I don’t know if it wants to be breached. If it can be. Nor did she signal that she’d want me to.”

“No signals? Hermione Granger, are you blind?” Hermione had never seen Ginny so exasperated. “How many times do I have to tell you that the way she looks at you isn’t quite like anyone else? That she looks at you like you could consume her soul if she let you? Not to mention how jealous she was when Romilda was trying to ask you out right under her nose!”

“She wasn’t jealous, she was just protecting a student from being harassed!”

Ginny sighed. “This is ridiculous. I give up. You want to ignore this? This thing that never happens except once in a century? I can see why it’s you two now. You’d both be even more hopeless without it!” 

“Hey!” Hermione glared.

Ginny glared back.

Just then the sky darkened and snowflakes started falling thick and fast, quickly covering the garden in white.

“C’mon,” Ginny said with a sigh. “Let’s head back before you suffer another hypothermic episode.”

***

Hermione found herself having tea with Sybill on Saturday afternoon.

“I’m so glad we have time to do this, Hermione,” Sybill smiled as she surveyed Hermione over her teacup. “How have you been, my dear?”

Hermione sighed. “Never have my life been this… complicated.”

“I did tell you this year was going to be hard for you.”

“You did. And you? How have you been?”

“My students this year are surprisingly promising. Especially Parvati and Lavender. They’re proving to be quite the seers.”

“I’m not surprised,” Hermione chuckled. “They did always seem quite taken with your class.”

“I’m so glad Lavender is more or less ok now,” Sybill murmured. “She had me quite worried during the final battle. I’d seen her fate long before it happened. Even when she first stepped foot into my classroom in your third year. I’ve never been more glad when I was proven wrong.”

Hermione’s heart thudded. “So fate can be proven wrong?” she asked quietly.

Sybill gave her a searching look. As though she knew exactly why she was asking.

“The Art of fortune telling and Tessomancy is always… double-edged swords,” she said slowly. “It’s no good to obsess over what’ll happen. They predict the future, yes, but one can never look too closely at them and obsess over their words. It’s never what you think it is. Life just happens alongside it. Whether you know or not almost… makes no difference at all. It’s no good of falling into the trap of what is dictated to happen. Believe me, I’ve been there.” Sybill’s voice turned dark.

“What…” Hermione licked suddenly dry lips. Then before she could ask Sybill if she was aware of the connection she had with Narcissa, her gaze suddenly latched on to a painting behind Sybill’s back. She hadn’t seen it before. Hermione slowly put down her cup and got up from her chair to walk towards it.

“Hermione? What are you—?” Sybill stopped abruptly when she turned around to see what she was looking at.

Hermione didn’t even look around. The painting was… quite something. The harsh darkness seemed to be drawing her in as she took in the sight of a man covered in maggots, a radiant lady standing triumphantly over his dead body, and a small boy holding a wand, staring triumphantly at his Patronus chasing off what must be hundreds of dementors.

“What is this about?”

“Have you heard about the legend of Raczidian?” Sybill said. Her voice sounded so close to her ears that she nearly jumped backwards and knocked Sybill over.

Hermione frowned. “No, I don’t think so.”

“He was a Dark Wizard who was raised by dementors themselves. He barely saw sunlight, for he lived in a dark and dense forest. The forest surrounded the outskirts of a nearby village where fellow witches and wizards lived. For quite a long time, they were able to coexist peacefully with the villagers. Each side kept to themselves—the villagers to their land, the dementors to the castle.”

Sybill paused to drink a spit of her tea.

“But one day this all changed, all thanks to a beautiful girl called Eliana who had caught his eye. He sent a letter her parents to demand marriage, but they refused. So he threatened them. Not just the girl, not just her parents—the entire village. If Eliana was not brought to him, he told them, he would send dementors to attack anyone who dared stand in his way.

“Rather than surrendering, the villagers fought back. At first the villagers could hold them off. But as the numbers of dementors increased, the strength of their combined Patronuses decreased. To the point that the dementors had actually became immune to what they most feared. Dementors were sucking souls left and right even with a bunch of Patronuses charging at them and people were falling like dominoes.

“But when it looked like there was no point for the villagers to fight anymore, Illyius, a quiet boy who was told to stay out of the battle because the villagers thought his Patronus too weak and useless, turned out to the strongest of them all. His mouse Patronus burst out of his wand and brought the onslaught to a halt—even to a retreat.

“Raczidian was furious. Refusing to give up, he joined the fray thinking that he could defeat Illyius’ mouse instead. What happened next was the exact opposite. Maggots shot out of Raczidian’s wand as he tried to cast a Patronus, and before he could run, they completely encased him, attacking his body until he had all but disintegrated into ashes.”

A long silence followed as Sybill finished talking. Hermione tore her gaze away from the painting, collapsing back on the arm chair with weak knees. “Yikes.”

“Yikes, indeed.” Sybill shook her head. “It’s a stark reminder of what would happen when someone undeserving casts this spell.”

“And a stark reminder of what happens when people try to force love.”

Sybill started to nod when she suddenly went rigid.

Hermione did too. She stared with a pounding heart as Sybill’s head and eyes rolled back—as she began speaking in a harsh voice—

“TWO SOULS BOUND SINCE TIME BEGUN . . . BORN ADRIFT AS THEY ARE MOORED. . . . EITHER WAY THEY WILL CROSS PATHS . . . WHEN THE WORLD SUCCUMBS TO FEAR. . . . BUT WILL ICE CONCEDE TO FIRE, AND WILL FIRE CONCEDE TO ICE, TO DO WHAT CAN’T BE UNDONE? . . . AS FEAR FLIES OVERWATER . . . AS FEAR . . . FLIES . . . OVER . . . WATER . . .”

Sybill’s head fell forward onto her chest. She gave a grunting noise. Then her head snapped back up quite suddenly.

“I apologize, my dear,” Sybill said, eyes distant and dreamy. “I must’ve drifted off. What was I saying?”

Hermione didn’t answer. Only kept staring at Sybill, goosebumps rising along her skin as her hands clenched on the edge of her seat. Two souls bound? Doing what can’t be undone? Fear overwater? The silence stretched on. Until Sybill snapped out of it quite suddenly, as though she’d just realized that Hermione wasn’t quite in the room.

“Hermione? My dear, are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“You—you just said—” Hermione stammered.

Sybill’s gaze sharpened in understanding. “I just went into one of my trances didn’t I.” A statement, not a question.

Hermione nodded. Heart in her throat.

“Hermione,” she started gently, but trailed off as though she didn’t quite know how to comfort her. 

“Why me?” Hermione demanded, throwing her hands up into the air. “One prophecy was quite enough for a lifetime!”

Sybill chuckled. “Until the world stops turning, prophecies never end.”

“First Harry, now me! I’m done with this world!”

“Let’s hope third time isn’t the charm. I pray for Mr. Weasley,” Sybill teased, eyes dancing with laughter. 

Hermione huffed. “On that note I better go sleep before you curse him too.”

Sybill laughed and followed her to the door. “Goodnight, Hermione.”

Hermione smiled weakly in response. She was still in a haze when she wandered back into her room. She’d never been more glad she’d finished all her essays yesterday because what with this new found knowledge how was she supposed to concentrate on school in the last week of term? Unfortunately Romilda took this opportunity to pounce on her, completely unsuspecting, as she rounded a corner down the hallway.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. “What do you want?” she sighed, glancing about desperately and wishing she could apparate within Hogwarts to get the hell away from her.

Romilda fluttered her eyelashes at Hermione innocently. “You’ve been ever so evasive this year, Hermione,” she sighed, leaning in to stroke Hermione’s arm. “How else was I suppose to get your attention?”

Hermione yanked her arm away. “Don’t touch me!”

She turned to walk away, only to nearly trip over herself when she found herself stuck on the spot. She couldn’t move.

“If you think you can just walk away from me like that you’re wrong.” Romilda suddenly sounded dangerous. “Go to the ball with me.”

Hermione struggled to say no. It felt as though a spell was being cast on her, leaving her no room for argument. But before she could, Hermione felt the spell lifting off her in an instant, and all of a sudden she could move her feet again.

“Ms. Vane. Ms. Granger.” Narcissa. Hermione could cry in relief.

“Professor,” Romilda said through gritted teeth, before stalking away without another glance back towards her.

Hermione stared after the black-haired girl, heart thudding as she realized what just almost happened. She didn’t think Romilda had it in her to—but then, given what she did to Harry, Hermione wasn’t surprised.

“Ms. Granger?”

Hermione started. She looked away from the direction Romilda had walked off into to look Narcissa in the eyes.

“Are you alright?”

Hermione swallowed, but she couldn’t say anything.

Narcissa frowned and handed her a piece of chocolate frog, which she pulled out from her handbag. “Eat,” she said gently. “You look like you’ve just had your soul sucked by a dementor.”

Hermione wordlessly obeyed, feeling the chocolate warm her insides. “Thank you,” she said shakily. “I needed that.”

“May I… ask what happened?”

“Romilda… she…”

Narcissa’s face became dark and thunderous. “She didn’t hurt you, did she?”

Hermione shook her head and closed her eyes, leaning against the wall. “She tried to ask me to go to the ball with her. She… was going to force me to say yes.”

Narcissa closed her eyes and breathed slowly. It looked as though she was trying to calm herself down from murder.

“The Headmistress will hear about that, mark my words.” Narcissa’s voice was a deadly calm as she opened her eyes to meet Hermione’s again, this time swimming with concern. “On that note…”

Hermione’s heart thudded as she looked up into Narcissa’s eyes. Didn’t know why she suddenly felt shy. Yes? She held Narcissa’s gaze. Something flashed in them before an expression of steely resolve settled on her face.

“Ms. Granger, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the dance?” Then as though realizing what she’d just asked Narcissa’s normally pale complexion flushed bright red—bright red!—and started… babbling? “Not that I—I mean—only if you would like—you don’t have to say yes—there’s probably someone else you’d—”

Before Hermione knew what she was doing she was putting a finger to Narcissa’s lips. Shushing her. So soft… Narcissa’s lips parted in surprise at the same time as Hermione registered what she’d done. Face burning Hermione slowly dropped her hand. But she held her gaze, even as she felt blood rushing towards her face and warming her down to the tip of her toes.

I would be honored.

Narcissa’s shoulders sagged in relief, looking everywhere except for Hermione. Curiously enough, not stalking away. Then Hermione smirked as it caught up to her. Narcissa Black, babbling?

“Bab—I was not!” Narcissa hissed. “If you dare—”

“Of course not. Your secret’s safe with me. Professor Black, babbling? Who would believe me.” Hermione’s smirk widened.

Narcissa’s eyes narrowed at her suspiciously. Then—ah yes, what happened next was in her more typical fashion—turned around to stalk away, heels clacking on marble floor. Was that and extra swish of her hips or was it just Hermione’s imagination? She stared dumbly at the retreating blonde until she disappeared from view entirely. Pivoting on her heels Hermione turned and walked in the opposite direction, climbed through the fat lady’s portrait, walked up the stairs at a perfectly measured pace and found Ginny’s usual bed. Wow. It’s been a while since she was last in here and what an improvement the vicinities were.

Ginny looked up from a book that she had perched on her lap. “Hermione!” she pouted. “I was just getting to the good part!”

“Sorry,” Hermione said, knowing full well she didn’t sound very sorry at all as a grin spread across her chest. Apparently euphoria was only hitting her now and she didn’t care she was grinning like an idiot at Ginny.

Ginny narrowed her eyes at her. “What’s with… that grin?” Ginny made vague gestures at her face.   

“Weelllll…” Hermione drew the word out, still struggling to wrap her mind around what actually happened.

Ginny sat up and turned to face her, book still in her hand.

“Well what?” she demanded. Narrowed her eyes at her.

“Idon’tknowwhatjusthappened!” Hermione finally shouted, prompting Ginny to cover her ears with a wince.

“Ow. Lower your voice, Hermione. And one word at a time. I’m not a mind reader!”

“Professor Black just… she just…” Hermione stammered. Not able to put it into words even though that just happened.

“She just… what?!!!” Then Ginny stared for a full five seconds at her. Then gasped so comically and her eyes went so wide she looked like a gold fish. “SHEASKEDYOUOUT?!”

Hermione winced but didn’t deny it.

Ginny’s book landed on her lap with a thud. “You—you mean, that’s what actually—?!”

“Well, not asked me out per say…”

Ginny groaned. Face palmed. Mumbled something that sounded like “Too good to be true.”

“She did ask me to the dance, though.”

Ginny’s hands dropped away from her face, gawping at her with eyes wide open. Yup. That was exactly how she felt. “She asked—?!”

Hermione grinned. “Yup.”

“No. Fucking. Way.”

“Pinch me, Ginny. I need to check if I’m dreaming.”

Ginny did.

“Ow!” Ok, not a dream.

“So?” Ginny grinned. “We going dress shopping next weekend? Thank McGonagall for arranging another Hogsmeade trip.”

“I know,” Hermione moaned. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if there wasn’t one. I hadn’t thought this far!”

Ginny sniggered. “Perfect timing, eh?”

“Or the universe is just taking pity on me for once,” she deadpanned.

“Maybe you should do something instead of wallow in self-pity for once,” Ginny muttered under her breath.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Didn’t bother to answer. But deep down, she knew Ginny had a point.

***

When she joined Narcissa at the cabin Sunday Hermione was surprised when the air of awkwardness that she’d expected didn’t return. Instead Narcissa had even joined her upstairs to look for a book—apparently having read through that huge tome like it was nothing within two weeks—as she browsed the stack of cds. She’d now listened her way through ten of them but there was still a huge pile she had yet to go through.

“You’re having trouble deciding today,” Narcissa murmured from where she was sitting on the couch besides the window, reading a book she’d just pulled off the shelves.

Hermione started. She didn’t realize Narcissa had been watching her. “Not so much as trouble… I’ve just been… thinking…”

“About?” Narcissa tilted her head.

Hermione hesitated, staying there staring at the shelves as she chewed her lips contemplatively. Should she tell her about the prophecy? Or keep quiet about it? As if keeping quiet about the scroll wasn’t hard enough. Now there was another thing to keep quiet about. Another thing to make everything all the more harder.

“About how… surreal this all is,” Hermione gestured weakly around them.

Narcissa raised an eyebrow at her.

“Surreal… how?”

“Not in a bad way,” Hermione rushed to reassure her as she saw her starting to close off. “Just… I’ve never known someone to enjoy books as much as I do.” Never knew someone who would give her access to their sanctuary, their safe space, especially someone who was… so reluctant to do so.

“Well,” Narcissa smirked, “Minerva did say we were both the brightest witches of our age. Bella—she would be seething with jealousy if she heard her say that.”

Instead of the dull ache that used to reignite with her name it remained… unresponsive. Maybe the salve was working.

“I’m sure Bellatrix would,” Hermione said lightly when she realized she’d been quiet for too long.

Narcissa let out a breath of relief. As though she was worried she’d just said something that would trigger her.

“I’m so glad you and Andromeda are making amends.”

A hint of a smile. “I am too. We… Andromeda has been far more forgiving than I deserved. I expected her to ignore the note I’d sent her weeks ago. Asking her if we could talk. I was more than surprised when she agreed to meet me at the Three Broomsticks inn.”

“Oh. So that time when Draco and I ran into you two—”

“That was the first time we talked after… since Andromeda got disowned, yes.”

A dark shadow crossed over Narcissa’s features. One that Hermione had come to be accustomed to. Sometimes when they were reading together it seemed as though the blonde would dissociate and retreat into whatever memories she’d be relieving from the past. Only to pull herself back with a frown and a grimace, as though suddenly realizing she wasn’t alone. Each time Hermione had pretended she didn’t notice. Kept her gaze down as Narcissa glanced cautiously over at her, as though making sure that she wasn’t being watched. The look of relief dancing over her face when she realized Hermione didn’t notice told her she’d been doing the right thing.

But this time Hermione couldn’t help but murmur, “Narcissa? You’re doing it again.”

Narcissa startled. “Oh. I… didn’t realize you noticed.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her. Pushed into Narcissa’s mind. When it didn’t close off she thought cautiously, You do that a lot. In class? Not so much. Just… here. When she was in a private space. Away from prying eyes.

Narcissa held her eyes. As though she was searching for something in them. Hermione didn’t know what. Just kept everything open, welcoming, inviting. Then Narcissa snapped her gaze back down, cleared her throat.

You do it too, you know. Spacing out.

Hermione started. Oh. I didn’t realize.

In class. I see you taking your coin out. Staring at it under the table. Still no news?

Hermione sighed. Shook her head.

At least you know they’ve been safe so far.

Yes. At least there’s that.

Hermione turned back to stare at a stack of records above her head. She couldn’t afford to break down again. One magical mishap was quite enough. Scanning the list of pop song artists popular in the Muggle world, Hermione’s eyes landed on one of Barbra Stresiand’s albums. One of her favorite singers. Ugh. Why was it so high?

“You ok over there?” Narcissa’s amused voice reached her ears as she tried (and failed) to pick the record off the shelf. If only she was a few inches taller!

Hermione huffed angrily. “I hate being short.”

A low chuckle. The chair creaked as Narcissa got up and Hermione heard soft pads of her feet against soft carpet. But before she could register what Narcissa was doing Hermione’s eyes fluttered close as her now-familiar scent neared her. Before Hermione could move away to give her space Narcissa was towering over her with another long stride. Hermione gulped. When did she get so near? Hermione’s eyes really did flutter close now. As Narcissa carefully reached above Hermione’s hand, cold fingertips brushing the back of her hand where it was still hovering just below the shelf where the record was. Narcissa pinched it between her thumb and pointer finger.

Hermione swallowed. Turned around to face her. Only to press against the bookshelf as her knees weakened when she suddenly realized how close Narcissa was to her. The air suddenly became charged between them. Narcissa still didn’t move away. There was but a few millimetres of space between them. Hermione swallowed. She couldn’t look away even if she tried. Nor was there any words in her brain; it was entirely blank.

“There you go,” Narcissa murmured as she pressed the record into Hermione’s palm. “Andromeda and I were wondering… if it’s not too forward of me… would you like to join us for Christmas break? That is, if you don’t have other plans, if you do that’s totally fine—”

Hermione’s eyes widened. Then tilted her head and smirked. Gryffindors love forwardness. Just so you know.

Narcissa merely raised and eyebrow at her without saying anything.

“I’d love to,” Hermione beamed.

The corners of Narcissa’s lips twitched into a smile. Hermione noticed her shoulders drooping notably in relief, and it was only then that she realized how nervous Narcissa must’ve been just a second ago. It was… she smirked, endearing.

Narcissa narrowed her eyes at her. Excuse me, I DON’T get nervous!

I beg to differ.

Narcissa glowered at her as Hermione giggled. Yet she didn’t drop her hand. Just stayed there in Hermione’s space, fingertips just barely on the disk. Eyes boring into her soul. Tingles and warmth shot through Hermione at the contact. The air somehow became even more charged. Who could blame Hermione for unable to stop herself from glancing down to Narcissa’s lips? Who could blame her for not being able to…

But that damned seagull just had to caw loudly outside the window. Narcissa snapped backwards as though she’d been burnt. Hermione’s eyes widened. Didn’t Draco say she rarely lost composure? With one awkward glance backwards, Narcissa spun on her heels and headed downstairs. Hermione looked at the window to glower at the seagull still perched on the window sill, watching them with a tilted head as though they were some kind of entertaining movie. Except that it was slowly munching a worm instead of popcorn. Did seagulls know how to smirk?

Hermione stomped to the window. She had half a mind to—but before she could hex it the seagull quickly swallowed the worm in one gulp. Then launched into the air, its caws sounding suspiciously like laughter as her spell missed it by an inch. Damn it. She guessed it would live for another day. Her sanity? Not so much.

Hermione sighed as she leaned her head against the windowsill. As she put the record on the gramophone, as the soft tunes washed over her, Sybill’s prophecy came back to her. Fire and ice… ice and fire… and fear. Fear overwater… was it happenchance that the prophecy happened right after Sybill told her that story?

And doing what can’t be undone…

Hermione’s skin crawled uncomfortably as the image of Raczidian’s maggot-covered body popped into her mind.

She wasn’t so sure she wanted to find out after all.

Chapter Text

“It has to be—”

“Perfect, I know,” Ginny sighed for the umpteenth time as Hermione, near hyperventilating, finally dragged her into Gladrags. The fourth shop within… half an hour? Ok fine. Maybe she was being a little bit too… ahem, excessive right now.

The second their feet touched Hogsmeade streets Hermione had dragged Ginny away from the others. Harry, Ron, Draco, Neville and Luna had rolled their eyes and left them to go dress shopping and told them to find them when they were ready.

Hmph. How was it that she was far more of a mess going through it this time than the boys? Even Ron had managed to find a suit way before Hermione actually started to think about how she should probably buy a dress. Apparently Lavender had threatened to withhold sex if he dared go in the suit he wore last time. Turnabout was not fair play.

“You’ve went through 50 dresses already, ‘Mione! You’re already breathtaking even if you went in rags!”

Hermione glared. “If you’re no help go… just go.”

Ginny sighed. “What are you looking for, exactly? How am I supposed to help if you refuse to tell me.”

“The exact shade that matches Narcissa’s eyes,” she finally mumbled.

“…”

“…”

“Oh you have it down bad!”

Hermione glowered. Ginny put up her hands.

“Ok ok,” she sighed as they passed through a rack of dresses that looked far more promising than the ones they’d seen before. “I’ll behave.”

They walked past another stack of dresses.

“Ooh what about this?”

Hermione barely glanced at it before saying, “Too dark. And too sparkly.”

Ginny threw up her hands as she continued prowling down the aisle. “You’ve said that about every single one! We’ll run out of dresses before we find you the right one—” But just then her eyes fell onto a dress at the end of the rack. “What about that one?” she breathed.

Hermione followed her gaze. Heart spiking in excitement Hermione hurried over and carefully pulled it out. The perfect shade. Embroidered with sparkle tulle and stones accents whilst overall adorning simplicity, the color a soft light blue… the only question was, would it fit? Five minutes later in a dressing room confirmed it. She didn’t even care when she had to pay 100 galleons for it, which was… oh dear, around 500 pounds?

“Thank Merlin,” Ginny breathed a sigh of relief as they made their way out of the shop. “I was starting to think we’d be still here when the world ends.” Then she grinned. “You’ll knock her off her feet, girl.”

“Now you’re exaggerating.” But Hermione grinned back.

Bubbling with happiness, she hooked her arm through Ginny’s elbow as they headed down the street to meet the others.

***

The staff had apparently taken advantage of the Hogsmeade trip to put final decorations in place whilst most of the students were out of school. Hermione had already spotted a few stockings hanging up all over the walls, but after spending the whole Saturday afternoon splurging on Christmas candies and food, everywhere she turned there was now decorations everywhere. Small Christmas trees in hallways; candles hanging on the walls with flames flickering with a myriad of different colors; icicles charmed to prevent melting as they hung from ceilings, even in rooms shrouded with warmth; even snowflakes floating freely near the ceiling, suspended mid-air by a variation of the Levitation Charm that even Hermione wasn’t aware of.

Worst of all were hallways infested with mistletoe. Hermione had never been more determined to avoid something. To her horror groups of boys liked to hide under them whenever she walked past, as though determined to catch her unaware. She shuddered. The worst one was yesterday, when she’d nearly walked straight into a trap with Romilda right under one right around the corner. It was only her quick reflexes that allowed her to retreat and duck out of view. She refused to get caught underneath it with anyone. She had impeccable memory, damn it, and she was going to map all the hotspots in Hogwarts before she fell victim to them! At least she was aware of more than enough secret passageways to scurry away whenever that happened to her.

Despite her annoyance, all of it made Hermione ache even more. It was a season she and her parents loved to celebrate. Not for any religious reason, but still. It had been fun to exchange presents. To have snowball fights with her parents. She didn’t have any relatives she was close to; for some reason neither of her parents ever talked about any aunts and uncles she might have. She never realized how odd that was until she saw how close some of her classmates were with their aunts and uncles. She supposed that made it all the more easier when they disappeared off the face of earth. No one to wonder after them. Still, it had been more than enough. Now they were gone too.

Even still, a shiver of excitement accompanied her as she fell asleep that night. She’d been mentally going through their routine the entire week, especially as she’d already finished all of her homework and had nothing to distract her. It had now been drilled so mercilessly into her that she could practically dance it in her sleep. Their rehearsal last night had felt rather… different. As though a new atmosphere had been set in place. As though after they both knew for sure that they were going to the dance together, they were both seeing the dance through an entirely new lens. How her touch had burnt somehow even more deeply in to Hermione’s skin. Like an imprint that wouldn’t fade.

Even her dreams tonight were… different. Instead of simply waltzing with the blonde only for it to end abruptly as each time she awoke, Hermione found herself in a white dress, walked down a long straight pathway by her dad. Towards… what, exactly? Hermione couldn’t see. Though she somehow knew who was waiting for her. When the blinding light cleared, her suspicions were confirmed. Narcissa looked nothing but tall and radiant in a matching white dress, a hand held towards Hermione as she almost felt like she was floating towards her. The look on the blonde’s face made Hermione catch, a look she’d never see in broad daylight. Never had Narcissa been more radiant. Hermione took her hand, vows were exchanged, then the waltz they danced afterwards…

Hermione almost didn’t want to wake up. But wake up she must. Especially when a sharp knock sounded on her door, causing Hermione to groan and cover her pillow over her head. Tried desperately to cling to that last tendrils of the fading dream. If only she could sleep forever.

“Hermione Jean Granger! If you don’t wake up right now—!”

Full naming her now? Ginny was scary when she did that. Huffing at the inconvenience of life, Hermione shoved off her covers. Then she shuffled to the window to see a pile of snow high above the ground. Apparently there had been a fierce snowstorm the night before, and blinking blearily at the window, she grinned when she saw snow falling over treetops covered in pristine white. She loved it when it snowed.

Her brain still half asleep, Hermione yawned as she dressed herself with a quick wave of her hand and ambled towards the door. She opened it to find her friends standing outside, grinning brightly at her.

“The ball’s in just a few hours! You excited?” Ginny exclaimed as they piled into her room.

“Not one bit,” Hermione groused as she wrapped them in a hug.

Shooing them out so she could brush her teeth (and not go to the great hall for breakfast looking like she’d just woken up), Hermione joined them in the drafty corridor a few minutes later. Her stomach was grumbling. Too loudly. Loud enough for it to be noticed. And the cold did not help.

“Someone’s hungry,” Draco smirked at her as they descended the stairs to the Great Hall.

“Hang in there, ‘Mione,” Ron shared a smirk with Draco as he slung his arms over her shoulders. “Just a few more steps.”

“I didn’t need that reminder, thanks,” Hermione grumbled.

“You’re as bad as Ron, I swear,” Harry said in awe.

Shooting them a good-natured glare, she quickened her pace at the smell waffling from the Great Hall. Cold weather always tended to enlarge her appetite. Being careful not to consume her breakfast too fast—a particularly delicious pile of harsh browns, scrambled eggs, toasted bread and oatmeal, Hermione sighed happily as she drank a cup of hot chocolate topped with marshmallows that made her feel sleepy all over again. She’d been so busy enjoying the food she didn’t even care that Narcissa wasn’t at the table.

“So?” Ron’s eyes gleamed as he leaned towards her. “Who are you going with? You never did say.”

A mouthful of hot chocolate went up her nose. “Mind your own business!”

“I told you there’d be no use asking her about it,” Harry muttered under his breath as Ginny smirked at her.

“I think I might have an idea,” Draco grinned, leaning over to wag his eyebrows at her. “A certain someone has been very nervous about tonight.”

Ron looked confused.

“Well, that’s me, I’ve been very nervous about tonight,” Hermione shot back, glaring furiously at Draco. The insinuation was not lost on her. Though the implications of Narcissa being nervous… Hermione felt her heart flutter at the thought. Narcissa Black, nervous again?

Draco chuckled and sat back in his seat. “Only time will tell, I suppose.”

“Or time would tell nothing.” Hermione sulked.

“Well you never know,” Ginny groaned into her hands.

“I second that,” Draco smirked while Ron still looked thoroughly confused.

“C’mon,” Harry said, glancing at her face with a laugh and stood up. “Snowball fight, anyone?”

Instead of watching from the sidelines like she preferred, Hermione spent the rest of the morning actually joining in the snowball fight with her friends on the Great Lake, where the rest of the school seemed to have congregated. She did need to do something to distract her mind from what was going to happen in a few hours after all. Luna, Neville, Dean and Seamus had joined in halfway through, and Hermione smirked in victory when she managed to take down both Draco and Ginny with two particularly well-aimed shots. Take that, Ginny. Never had revenge felt so satisfying. Especially after all the teasing Ginny soo loved to subject her to.

Cold, wet and dripping, they trudged back to the Gryffindor common room to warm up before they headed to lunch. But after lunch the reality of what would happen a few hours later dawned on Hermione yet again. Especially as the Great Hall was being transformed into a grand ballroom.

She spent the rest of the afternoon avoiding the Great Hall, alternating between staring nervously at the fire, trying to learn chess with Ron even though it was something she was apparently horrendously bad at, and trying to extinguish the nervous sparks that emitted from her wand before it actually managed to damage something. She was so nervous she didn’t even notice where she was going after she left the Gryffindor common room—where had she been…? Oh yes, back to her room to get ready—until she rammed into an equally harried Narcissa just round the corner.

Grunting in surprise, Hermione just caught a glimpse of blue eyes widening in surprise as Narcissa fell backwards, Hermione’s hands just managing to reach behind Narcissa’s head to cushion her fall even as she quickly muttered the cushioning charm to soften what would’ve been a painful impact for Narcissa. The floor was marble, after all. With an “oof” Hermione collapsed atop her, completely winded as she somehow ended up… pining Narcissa… Black… underneath… her.

And then…

Dead silence.

Though Hermione’s brain was very much anything but silent. A jumble of words were scrabbling through her usually coherent brain. Nothing made sense. Just a loud roaring as so many things assaulted her senses.

How perfectly they fit together. How comfortable Narcissa felt underneath her. The heat emanating between them like an addicting drug. The hand gripping Hermione’s waist tightly. The way Narcissa’s eyes seemed to dart down to her lips. The rhythm of her heartbeat beating so quickly, so loudly, that she was sure Narcissa could feel it. The way that Hermione’s legs were slotting… she glanced down in trepidation… right between Narcissa’s, dangerously close to her… oh dear, dangerously close to her… right there. Fuck.

Narcissa cocked an eyebrow at her as lips lifted in a smirk. Why Ms. Granger, there are much better ways to pin me down without knocking me off my feet.

Hermione barely bit back a squeak as she felt heat race through her, wetness pooling down between her thighs. It rendered her all the more helpless. Did nothing but stare down at Narcissa with a hooded gaze, noting the way Narcissa’s eyes seemed to darken as she stared helplessly into blue orbs. There was something alive between them. Her magic seemed to reach out towards the woman beneath her, seemed to yearn, to beg… for what? She didn’t exactly know. All she did know was that she’d never felt Narcissa so thoroughly before. So… there.

It was only distant voices echoing far down the corridor that pulled Hermione out of the gutter. Quickly disentangling herself with a curse, Hermione reached out a hand to help Narcissa up, dropping it just as a gaggle of students appeared over Narcissa’s shoulders. With another helpless squeak, Hermione muttered something about seeing her later before she turned to flee. In the… fuck. Completely wrong direction. She skidded to a halt, resignedly turning back the way she came, only to breath a sigh of relief when Narcissa wasn’t there.

The adrenaline leaving Hermione once she reached her room, she decided a quick hot shower was a must before the Yule Ball. Gathering all the material and she’d need, Hermione made her way to the prefect’s bathroom but headed for the showers instead of the bathtub. Not enough time. Turning the shower spray to massage Hermione closed her eyes and leaned her head against wet tiles as she allowed it to sooth the tension in her muscles. Arousal reaching an unbearable level as the blonde’s touch seemed somehow even more alive within her under the spray, Hermione worked herself to oblivion in no time at all to images of a naked blonde underneath her… being pinned down with hands above her head…

Fuck. She was not going to survive tonight, was she.

***

Hermione nervously stood in front of a long mirror as she put on the final touches. She kept makeup to a minimum, and just as she finished putting on a light coating of shiny lipstick there was a knock on her door. She crossed the room in a few strides to open it. Ginny.

“You look wonderful, ‘Mione!” she exclaimed.

“So do you,” Hermione grinned. “I did so love the dress you wore to the Yule Ball last time. Nice throwback.”

Ginny grinned back. She was wearing a light green dress robe, a necklace the same shade as her dress around her neck, the pendant the shape of… “Is that a Dirigible Plum?” Hermione raised an eyebrow, carefully lifting it into her palm to examine it.

“Yep,” Ginny grinned. “It’s a pendant from one of her earrings. She gave it to me as a one-month anniversary gift.”

Hermione “awweeeeddddd.” Ginny’s cheeks pinked.

Then she nudged her. Smirked. “Ready?”

Hermione looked helplessly at Ginny. Then at the bed. “Can I just… sleep through the whole thing.”

“Absolutely not,” she said with a giggle. “I’ll drag you out of here myself if I have to. Where’re you meeting Narcissa?”

“In the faculty room behind the hall.” Hermione gulped. “My hands are sweating.”

“And my feet are shaking.”

“Ginny! Not helping!” she pouted.

“Hey,” Ginny said, taking Hermione’s hands, “you’ll crush it. After all, you’ll get to dance with the hot prof. The fan favorite. The heartthrob out of all heartthrobs to ever grace the history of Hogwarts’ inhabitants.” Ginny waggled her eyebrows, eliciting a short burst of hysterical laughter out of her.

“You’re incorrigible,” Hermione giggled, shaking her head.

“And you’re an idiot,” Ginny deadpanned. “Do I need to make good on knocking you out just to drag you outta here or…?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

They met Luna, Ron and Lavender in front of the doors. It had yet to open, as it was… she glanced at her pocket watch, 15 minutes to 8pm. Hermione grinned at the way their eyes lit up when they saw each other, Ginny blushing beet red as Luna took her hand, how smart Ron and Lavender looked together.

Looking away to give them some privacy, Hermione wondered what people were gasping and whispering about until she turned and saw—her jaw dropped. Nudging her friends, she saw Ginny, Luna, and Ron’s mouth drop simultaneously open as they turned to watch them. Turned to watch Harry waiting for Draco at the bottom of the stairs, Draco was descending the stairs like—Hermione bit back a smirk—like a Disney princess. He even took Harry’s hand once he reached him.

Harry and Draco wore suits that matched each other perfectly. Draco was in all black save for a green tie—the exact same shades as Harry’s eyes, whilst Harry’s suite was green—the exact same shade as Draco’s tie, his own matching Draco’s eyes. Icy blue. Like the shade as his mother’s. The crowd broke into whispers and smirks. More galleons passed out. They parted through the crowd with the expertise of having been stared at their entire lives.

“Hi guys!” Harry and Draco said simultaneously.

Hermione picked her jaw up from the floor. Turned to high five Ginny with a grin. “Totally called it!”

“Me too,” Ginny smirked.

“Me three,” Luna said serenely, not looking surprised at all.

Before Ron could smirk and said “Me four,” the doors swung open, attention drifting away from Harry and Draco as a grand room was revealed. Hermione’s jaw dropped. It was grander than ever before. Dozens of mistletoe adorned the walls, actual living fairies that had sat in the rosebushes last Yule Ball now flying above the ceiling, leaving trailing sparkles across the starry sky in their wake. The House tables were vanished in favor of dozens round tables on either side of a red carpet that stretched from the entrance door to the steps leading to the top table.

Minerva pulled her aside just as students filed into the room, gently guiding her to the faculty room at the back of the hall. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Ginny giving her a thumbs up as her friends looked at her in confusion, and Ginny dragging them towards a table right besides the carpet.

“You look lovely, my dear,” Minerva said as she gave her a quick once-over. “Very, very apt indeed.”

Hermione flushed at the knowing twinkle in Minerva’s eyes, as though she knew just exactly why Hermione had chosen this particular shade.

“Hermione!” Hagrid said, hurrying over with Sybill hot on his heals. They both beamed widely at her. “A drink, perhaps, for good luck?”

Hermione smiled, accepting it. “Thanks Hagrid. How’ve you been doing? I’m sorry we haven’t had time to catch up lately.”

“I’ve been keeping Grawp company in that cave he so loves,” Hagrid grinned. “Though I might move him to Hogwarts. He and I are both getting a little cramped in there.”

“No kidding! Two giants in a cave? Of course you’d be cramped. We would love to have you here.”

“Thank you, Hermione. I do echo Minerva, though, you look lovely tonight,” Hagrid said, patting her on the back so hard her knees almost buckled.

At the reminder of what was about to happen Hermione sobered slightly. Looked around nervously for Narcissa, who had… yet to arrive?

“She’ll be waiting outside for you, my dear,” Sybill said, sharing a knowing smirk with Minerva.

Hermione looked at Minerva in confusion.

“Change of plans,” Minerva said. “You and I will walk down the aisle, while she will wait for you near on the dais.”

Hermione’s brain blanked at the words ‘walk down the aisle.’ Almost like a… she daren’t think the word. Only managed to blink stupidly at Minerva for several seconds. When she found her voice all she said was, “Oh.”

“Relax, Hermione,” Minerva said gently as she led her to the door, Hermione helplessly waving goodbye at Hagrid and Sybill over her shoulder. “Narcissa tells me you’re a marvelous dancer.”

Hermione flushed. “She’s exaggerating,” Hermione rolled her eyes lightly. “None of this would be happening if she wasn’t such a capable leader.”

Minerva chuckled. “Even so, I mean it when I said you’re as good as faculty. Whether you can dance or not doesn’t matter. You’ll more than represent us all either way.”

Hermione opened her mouth to retort. But coming up blank Hermione snapped her mouth shut again. Ok fine. Minerva won this round. Before Minerva’s triumphant expression could get to her, the entrance music started. The doors swung open. Heads turned to face them as she and Minerva led the faculty out onto the red carpet. Symphonic music started to swell.

Hermione felt her palms starting to sweat, really sweat, as they stepped foot into the Great Hall. Felt her heartbeat escalating so quickly it must be fluttering faster than any mammal on earth. It was all she could do to concentrate on not tripping over her feet. It would not do to make a fool of herself in front of everyone even before she was through with the dance. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Ginny giving her thumbs up and Ron, Luna, Neville and Draco grinning encouragingly at her.

And then…

She saw her.

Hermione’s breath was completely taken away as their gaze locked across the hall. The entire room faded away. Even if a dementor was in front of her, sucking her dry, Hermione wouldn’t have noticed. Because… Narcissa was… no words in this world could describe her. If Hermione thought she’d been dressed up for their midnight dancing sessions she was completely wrong.

Her blonde hair out of its usual tight bun (and if not a tight bun then a half pony tail it was usually in), its wavy curls falling softly over her shoulders. The bodice of her dress was of gold sequin lace, while the skirt was red satin. Not only that but the way it spanned over her hips… the way it showcased a clearly flat stomach… the way golden sparkles glinted under the light of the fairies as her dress swished with drafts in the hall… Hermione swallowed. Heat spread through her from head to toe like never before as an aching want settled deep into her core. Nothing had ever felt so… unattainable.

She didn’t notice Minerva chuckle as they neared her. Didn’t notice Minerva and the rest of the faculty stepping to the side of the room to watch them along with everyone else. All she could focus on was the blonde standing tall and composed in front of her. The way her hand landed protectively on her waist.

The way…

Just then, the entrance music came to a close. Hermione’s breaths seemed too loud in the silent pause that followed. How was she so out of breath before they even moved?

Then the intro to their tune began. Hermione hoped Narcissa wouldn’t get mad at her for getting the blonde’s hands all clammy. She’d never been more nervous before. What if she fell flat on her face and made a fool of herself in front of everyone? It didn’t help that her legs were feeling like jelly the longer she let stood there. The longer everyone else in the room stared at them.

“Ready?” Narcissa murmured, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze as the main melody began.

Hermione took a deep breath. Nodded. She refocused on Narcissa’s eyes as they waltzed around the room for a few beats. Then they let go of each other’s hands to twirl away from each other before rejoining in the other side of the room. Hermione’s right hand came up to meet Narcissa’s left, taking a step in, then a step out until the tips of their fingertips barely touched, before coming together again.

And now, the spin, Narcissa’s voice echoed in her head.

Narcissa lifted their hands above Hermione’s head to spin her. To her relief Hermione actually managed it without tripping in front of everyone.

Good, Narcissa smirked at her as their hands went to each other’s waist to spin each other.

The touch nearly made Hermione’s breath catch. It was a miraculous feat that it didn’t. Couldn’t afford to ever let Narcissa hear how much she affected her when she was so damned near. With their hands still on each other’s waist, their faces turned towards each other, they returned to the basic waltzing steps. Another spin. A dip. One which meant Narcissa had to wrap her arm around Hermione’s back. If Hermione was having a hard time hiding the hitch in her breath before it was even harder now, the grip firm and steady as Hermione let herself bend backwards.

Hermione let Narcissa push her up and away, her left hand barely connecting with Narcissa’s right again. Three spins. Now they were back to the basics. Ok, maybe not completely basic. The waltz around the room also happened with them spinning each other around, Hermione looking over Narcissa’s shoulder as she couldn’t quite bring herself to meet her gaze completely. Not that she’d been able to since the first note began.

Another step away from each other, though now both their hands were connected, before Narcissa spun her. It was Hermione’s turn to lift their hands above Narcissa’s head. Narcissa’s turn to spin. The spins now happened back to back. First Hermione. Then Narcissa. Hermione. Narcissa. Hermione.

Then she spun away from Narcissa, their hands still connected, but as she spun towards Narcissa they pushed each other away. Now their hands were fully disconnected now. But not for long. A beat later they rejoined, Narcissa lifting both of Hermione’s over her head so she could spin underneath it with both their hands remaining connected. Hermione did the same to her. Narcissa reciprocated.

Now only one of their hands joined together above her head as Hermione walked underneath it, alternating hands for subsequent repetitions. Another push inwards. Another push outwards. As the tune gave way to what sounded like a solo marimba, the basic Waltz returned. This time, truly simple. Bare. The calm before the storm.

The lift, Narcissa murmured she twirled Hermione.

This time, she wasn’t able to stop her breath from hitching in anticipation. Just as she came out of the spin Narcissa wrapped her tightly around the waist. Timed perfectly with the music swelling loudly into the beginning theme, she lifted her in a bridal-style carry, Hermione wrapping her own arms around the blonde’s neck at the same time. For a full five seconds Narcissa twirled her around. Hermione couldn’t help it; she glanced up to fully meet her in the eyes, barely hiding a gasp at the beautiful glow she saw in them as their gazes met for the second time since their dances began.

It would be so easy to just… Hermione’s gaze flickered towards Narcissa’s lips. She was close enough that she could feel the blonde’s breath against her face. Only to… slam the thought deep down as soon as it came, not that there was much time for it to linger as the melody was coming to a close. And certainly not in front of everyone. Narcissa spun her one more time. Then her arm went to Hermione’s waist, her right hand clutched in Narcissa’s left and Hermione’s left hand going around Narcissa’s right shoulder as she dipped Hermione back.

Breath heaving, Hermione barely registered applause shattering the silence as they stayed in their ending pose far longer than they had before. Barely registered everyone else joining in the dance floor alongside the faculty as Narcissa slowly let her go, the tips of her fingertips lingering on her waist before falling away completely.

“You truly are a marvelous dancer, Ms. Granger.”

Hermione’s heart stuttered to a stop.

“Much better than all the men you purebloods had to dance with?” Hermione teased. Then panicked because why would Narcissa want to be reminded of that—

“No comparison,” Narcissa shuddered, the glow in her eyes dimming slightly. “Why must you remind me of those old toads.”

“Will you accept just one more dance as an apology?” Hermione batted her eyelashes, trying (and failing miserably) to reenact Narcissa’s seductive prowess. Only to shuffle her feet as Narcissa stared quietly at her. With that… inscrutable look again. Never mind—

Her thoughts careened to a halt when Narcissa put her fingers to Hermione’s lips. Hermione’s eyes widened. It was all she could do not to suck it into her mouth and—

You’re spiraling, Ms. Granger, Narcissa chuckled.

Wha—of course she’d be—who wouldn’t be when her fingers were—! But before Hermione could reformulate her thoughts she was being pulled closer. Narcissa’s hands landed comfortably on her waist as a slow tune started. Before she knew what was happening Narcissa’s hands were curling comfortably against the back of Hermione’s neck.

And then Hermione was closing her eyes as Narcissa guided her head onto the blonde’s collarbones, goose bumps eliciting from where Narcissa’s thumb rubbing slow circles at the back of her neck. After a moment of hesitation Hermione wrapped her arms around the blonde’s waist. Sighed contently as she felt Narcissa’s chin graze the top of her hair as they began to sway to a slower tune.

It took all of Hermione’s strength not to react in shock at the piano tune playing now. Mariage d’Amour. Though it was a different rhythmic structure than the previous songs, this felt… natural, like breathing. There was no show to put on. Just simplicity. Entirely of their own accord, not to some preplanned steps, and certainly not because someone had asked them to. Merely because they… wanted to.

In between the brief pause after the music ended, Hermione was about to let Narcissa go, when Narcissa pressed a hand softly into her back. Hermione looked into blue eyes, understanding the question without any words spoken. The new tune began. Never removing her hands from around Narcissa’s neck, it took her awhile to wonder why that tune felt so familiar.

“Really?” she snorted, shaking her head without missing a beat. “Lion King?”

Narcissa frowned. “Huh?”

Hermione resisted the urge to squeal at how adorable Narcissa looked when she was confused. “A movie about lions,” she clarified. “Do you know what a movie is?”

Narcissa’s brows furrowed even more. “Andy might have showed me one or two. I’ve never watched this one though.”

“You should. It’s a good one.”

“This song is from that movie, then?”

Hermione nodded. “At least that’s where I first heard it. The movie came out in the summer before my fourth year started.”

“I like it,” Narcissa hummed. “What’s the song called?”

“Can you feel the love tonight?”

Narcissa froze. Hermione nearly crashed into her. Then her brain caught up with her as she realized how that came out. Heat rose to her face as she tried to correct herself. “I-I mean—” she stammered incoherently. Kill her now. “That’s the title of the song.”

A slow blink. “Oh.”

Yeah, oh. Hermione cleared her throat and awkwardly broke eye contact. Though there were only few minutes left of the song, time had never crawled so slowly. Hermione wanted to simultaneously run into her room and hide forever and scream at whoever thought it was a good idea to put this song in the playlist.

When it mercifully came to a close, Narcissa dropped Hermione’s hands like she’d been scalded and stepped back. Hermione didn’t dare say anything as the blonde squeezed her eyes shut and her fists clenched. When Narcissa opened her eyes again, the halo was gone, the sclerae back to its original whitish hue. Hermione’s heart squeezed at the cold hard fact. She wanted them to stay forever.

“…I should…” Hermione said softly as a lump grew in her throat. She glanced over her shoulders to find her friends, but they had all but disappeared into the crowd.

When Narcissa still didn’t say anything Hermione sighed. Nodded to herself. Then started walking away. But before she’d gone three steps, Narcissa’s hands caught her wrist, spinning Hermione back to face her. Hermione stared at her with wide eyes, hope catching in her throat as she watched the way Narcissa’s throat bobbed nervously. Watched how she moistened her lips.

Ms. Granger…

Yes?

Will… She hesitated. Will you do me the honor of one more dance before the night ends?

Of course, Hermione said, not caring how eager she must’ve sounded. You never had to ask. Only with Narcissa would she dance a thousand dances till the end of time.

A pause.

Then with a pained smile, Narcissa nodded tightly at her before melding back into the crowd. A breath shuddered through Hermione as the ghost of the blonde’s touch lingered deep in her skin. She needed a drink. It was only when she had downed one cup of Firewhisky that she realized why the shade of the halo in Narcissa’s eyes had seemed so familiar. It was the exact same color that glowed around them when Narcissa first touched her wand.

***

“That was bloody brilliant, Hermione!”

Hermione turned from the tables where a buffet had been laid out to find her friends heading towards her. Taking a sip of her wine, Hermione grinned as she felt it loosen the tension she didn’t realize had crept up in her shoulders since the night started.

“You and mother were so in sync,” Draco grinned as he pulled Harry over to them, not dropping Harry’s hands.

Hermione grinned and nodded at it. “So? I see you have both decided to stop being idiots about it. About damn time!”

“Draco Malfoy is snogging Harry Potter. Harry Potter is snogging Draco Malfoy. Merlin I’m not dreaming right now, am I?” Ron muttered, passing a hand over his dazed eyes.

“I did tell you so, didn’t I?” Lavender smirked at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You owe me ten galleons.” Ron grumbled. “You and Professor Black made a lovely pair, Hermione. Parvati was positively seething with envy.”

“Oh?”

“The entire school was, weren’t they?” Harry smirked at Draco.

Draco gagged. “Ugh. Do not talk about mother like that!”

Hermione smirked. “It’s not your fault your mother is so hot.”

Draco clapped his hands over his ears. “La la la la la—”

“I knew you could dance, but wow, Hermione! That—that—that was—” Ginny stared at her.

“Never seen you so speechless,” Ron smirked at Ginny.

“Yeah well, if this doesn’t render me speechless I don’t know what will!”

“C’mon,” Harry said with a laugh, “let’s dance.”

Dragging her hands back to the dance floor as the music changed to a lively one after all the slow sad songs that had been played so far, Hermione couldn’t contain a loud boisterous laughter as Harry spun her around. Catching Ginny’s hands, they joined hands until they were forming a circle. They spun each other on the the dance floor for ages, letting loose together in ways that had never seemed to happen before. If only this night wouldn’t come to an end.

But everything had to come to an end. As the energy in the room started winding down near midnight, Minerva stood up to announce the last song of the evening to many boos from the crowd, tired though they all might be. Hermione slipped to the back of the room to catch her breath. As though she’d read her mind Narcissa was already there when Hermione made it out of the crowd.

Like they’d done so many times before Narcissa took her hand, while her left hand placed itself on Hermione’s waist. Started to sway mindlessly to a lilting song. She couldn’t help but listen to the lyrics, couldn’t help but relate to it.

If I were a painting

Captured on canvas

Alone in the portrait I would stand

And brush strokes bold

Yet soft as a whisper

The work of a feminine hand

Hermione swallowed. If she was a painting at least she’d still have her friends. At least had people in her life. But Narcissa? Did the blonde have anyone except for Draco? She didn’t even have Andromeda for the longest time. Hermione longed nothing more than to see more of that softness she’d caught glimpses of behind Narcissa’s icy demeanor. Longed to be allowed to stand next to Narcissa if they were figures in a portrait. But if Narcissa didn’t want that, how could Hermione do that? She refused to change her. To fix her.

Caught in a still life

Surrounded by shadows

Or lost in a background of blue

Not like her life had ever been still. But perhaps… Narcissa’s was. Stagnant. Caught in webs of expectations her upbringing must’ve bestowed upon her. Nowhere to turn to, no one, nothing in her corner except for shadows that Voldemort cast all over them.

If I were a painting

My price would be pain

And the artist would have to be you

Hermione wasn’t naïve. One glance at the blonde and she’d immediately realized that the walls Narcissa liked to wear had been built brick by brick over a long period of time. Perhaps there was a long list of people in her life that made her that way. Whether or not Narcissa ever told her didn’t matter. Even so, Hermione was determined not to be one of those bricks. But then again, would she be allowed?

I imagine the colors

Would all run together

If you ever allowed me to cry

So don’t paint the tears

Just let me remember me

Without you in my eyes

What did you forget, Hermione? What happened that day in the lake? What made you black out? Hermione frowned, trying to cast her memories once more back to what she’d forgotten. Yet again, that dull throbbing headache hit her. But she persisted—she had to try—

It’s only the frame

That holds me together

Why couldn’t she just keep going?

Why did it still hurt so much?

Or else I’d be falling apart

Not now.

Not when—

If I were a painting

I wouldn’t feel

And you

Wouldn’t be breaking my heart

More like she was breaking her own heart. She was starting to understand where the blonde was coming form.

“I—I need a minute,” Hermione gasped.

“Ms. Granger, we need—” Narcissa started to say, but Hermione didn’t hear the rest of it as she turned and fled.

Bolting out the door (thanking her lucky stars that they’d just happened to station themselves near the exit), she made a beeline for the stairs up to her room. Eyes blurring with tears, Hermione fumbled with the door and almost stepped on Crookshanks as she went inside. Not noticing his meow of protest Hermione quickly changed out of her dress and leaned shakily against the door. Deep breaths, Hermione, don’t pass out again.

But before she started panicking… a sharp knock on her door. To her surprise Narcissa’s voice came through it—“Ms. Granger, if you don’t open that door this instant I’ll blast it open right now!”

Hermione swung around and stared at in shock. Narcissa Black, the queen of leaving, actually knocking on her door?

“HERMIONE. JEAN. GRANGER. ON THE COUNT OF THREE!”

Hermione gulped, quickly crossing the room and opened the door. Acutely aware of this being the first time Narcissa had been in her room Hermione didn’t know what else to do except to fidget and stare at the blonde nervously. She’d apparently changed out of her dress as well, back into tight fitting jeans and top that always drew Hermione’s eyes to her cleavage. Even now, when Hermione was trying to suppress her tears with herculean effort.

She was not crying in front of her—the one person she’d sworn to never cry in front. I won’t, I won’t, I won’t, she chanted furiously as she watched Narcissa seemingly wrestle with indecision. Her eyes were squeezed shut, hands ball into fists and the lines of her forehead frowned deeply.

But then Narcissa was surprisingly the first to unfreeze. Hermione thought she heard her mutter “fuck it” under her breath. And before she registered what was happening the blonde was stepping over the threshold in one long stride and wrapping Hermione in a… hug. Hermione stiffened. Didn’t know how to react. Just stood there limply, helplessly, in the circle of Narcissa’s arms as the door clicked shut behind them.

Then… a last ditch attempt to push everything under. Even if it felt like she had no energy left to keep everything at bay. And lo and behold, her legs were weakening several seconds later to the point that Narcissa was all but completely supporting her.

At first she held herself rigid. Tried desperately to hold herself together. She’d managed just fine so far—Hermione sure as hell wasn’t going to give up now. But Narcissa was squeezing Hermione tightly against her. So tightly, as though she was mustering every ounce of courage just to stay put. As though she was inviting her to sink into her arms.

Could she? Just a little deeper? Surely the universe wouldn’t die if she dared, would it?

Another silent sob spilling out from Hermione, she realized she had no strength left to do anything else but to firmly deposit the tension strung in her body onto the ground. Let her shoulders go slack as she relaxed.

She wasn’t sure how long they stood there—Hermione burrowing under Narcissa’s chin as the blonde rubbed soothing circles at the nape of her neck—until she pulled her towards her bed, still murmuring soft nothings in her ear. Hermione blinked rapidly as Narcissa practically pulled Hermione onto her lap, guiding Hermione’s head to rest on her shoulders as she allowed her to wrap her legs around her waist. Now she was practically clinging to Narcissa the way a koala would a tree.

Burrowing her nose in Narcissa’s hair, she breathed in her scent. That same signature scent she’d tried so hard not to inhale until now. And yet… the fact that the blonde was voluntarily here in her room with her was enough to hold the tears at bay. Even if temporarily.

Because above all else, Narcissa was painting her world with colors she never thought she’d see.

Above all else… Narcissa was her safest place to land.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure you won’t be joining us for the break, Hermione?” Ron asked as she stood with her friends in front of the Gryffindor common room fireplace to see them off.

Even before Narcissa made the offer of Hermione joining them for the break she had opted not to join her friends for the entire break. Hermione wasn’t sure why. Maybe she wanted to experience what it would be like to spend the holiday season truly alone before (if ever) that actually happened. At least while there were people around in Hogwarts. That wouldn’t be always the case, after all, nor could she rely on the Weasleys forever. Despite their constant reassurances Hermione still didn’t want to impose too much on them. It didn’t matter how much of a second family they were to her.

Hermione shook her head as she sent Ron a soft smile. “No, Ron, I… I just… want some quiet time this year.”

“Are you sure, Hermione?” Ginny took her hand. “We mean it when we say you’re always welcome.”

“Always.” Harry bumped her gently. “Grimmauld Place agrees as well.”

Hermione smiled. “Thanks guys. I’ll be fine, really.”

“Just don’t spend the entire time moping about, eh?” Gunny squeezed her hands. Then she smirked. “Especially not about…” her voice dropped to a whisper, glancing around to make sure no one heard, “You Know Who.”

Hermione tilted her head. Raised an eyebrow. “Voldemort’s dead, Ginny. Still can’t say his name?”

Ginny groaned. Then dropped Hermione’s hands to face palm. “Ugh. I give up. VOLDEMORT!” she bellowed so loudly some students jumped and swung around to stare at her with pale faces. Neither of them paid them no mind.

“Congratulations. You finally said his name,” Harry muttered at the same time Ron winced and hissed, “Don’t say his name!”

“Vol… de… mort, Ronald, grow a spine. But back to the matter at hand. You and,” her voice dropped to a whisper again as a gleam came into her eyes, “Professor Black were looking rather… cozy last night. Disappeared rather abruptly too. Any developments?”

Hermione choked on air. “Mind your own—”

“You’re really not fooling any of us, Hermione,” Ron cut in, sighing deeply into his palm. “We all have eyes.”

“Especially after the dance,” Ginny’s sigh matched Ron’s in terms of levels of exasperation.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at them. “I’m well aware,” she muttered under her breath.

“She… admits it,” Ginny said, turning to stare at Ron and Harry in awe. “At least there’s that?”

“Oh go on, you buggers. See you at New Years?”

“I’ll hold you onto that, Hermione,” Ron pointed a finger at her. “We’re already letting you off for Christmas!”

Ginny stepped into the fireplace, holding a sprinkle of floo powder in her hand. “Try not to land yourself in the hospital wing again, yeah? I’ll kidnap you to the Burrow if that happened.”

“Don’t worry, Ginny. Once was more than enough.”

“I’ll say,” Ron muttered.

“You just don’t wanna have to right tons of notes again,” Harry grinned, nudging him.

“Study notes for Hermione during Christmas break? No thanks.” Ron shuddered.

They laughed. After her friends gave her one last hug they disappeared into the fireplace one by one. Hermione sighed as a sudden feeling of emptiness washed over her. Headed over to an armchair to slump down on it. She’d awoken alone this morning—something she hadn’t been surprised about and had expected, and yet… What if that made things awkward after arriving at Andromeda’s this afternoon?

Hermione heaved a sigh. She’d seen neither hide nor hair of the blonde the entire morning. Not during breakfast at the Great Hall. If that ended up what happened throughout the beak despite them being under the same roof…

Well, color her not surprised.

 ***

Hermione joined Draco out in Hogsmeade where they’d be able to apparate to Andromeda’s come 2pm.

“Hi Hermione,” Draco greeted when he saw her siding up to him in a quiet corner near the fountain. “Ready?”

Hermione took his arm. With a crack they disappeared as Draco apparated them to the foyer where Andromeda was waiting for them next to a staircase.

“Auntie,” Draco greeted as she pulled him into a hug. “Thank you for inviting us over for Christmas.”

Andromeda smiled at Hermione over Draco’s shoulders as she released him. “It’s lovely to have you here with us, Hermione. You’re welcome here anytime. At Narcissa’s insistence.”

Hermione’s eyebrows rose. 

“Thank you for having me,” she replied softly, shaking away the tinge of warmth that settled over her at Andromeda’s words.

“Speaking of mother,” Draco sent Hermione a grin that made her bristle. (In front of his aunt, really???!!), “She’ll join us later today.”

“Some last minute shopping. That woman,” Andromeda sighed deeply. “She did always go overboard with Christmas decorations when we were younger. Before…” Andromeda’s voice trailed off, then she shook her head and plastered on a rather melancholic smile. “A tour of the house, Hermione? Draco, can you keep Teddy company?” Andromeda sent Draco a pointed stare as she motioned down to the little boy hiding behind her legs.

“Hello Teddy.” Hermione crouched down to greet him, not noticing something unspoken pass between them, nor did she see Draco’s eyes widen in understanding.

“Yes, auntie,” he said, quickly grabbing his luggage and heading for the stairs. “See you later, ‘Mione. C’mon, Teddy. Show me your drawings?”

Teddy squeaked in excitement and raced off into the living room.

Uh oh. Hermione gulped as he disappeared after him. Was she about to get grilled by the eldest Black about… whatever she wanted to grill her about? Hermione gulped again as she followed Andromeda up the stairs. To her relief the woman said nothing save for pointing out various bits and pieces of decoration. Just from the foyer Hermione could tell how old and ancient everything was, an impression that held the further in they wandered.

“And here’s the garden,” Andromeda said softly as they walked up to a little corner in the house that overlooked a beautiful garden dotted with all sorts of flowers.

Flowers and shrubs of every kind had been planted, it seemed; certainly reached the same level of grandiose as Hogwarts gardens.

“It’s beautiful,” Hermione gasped, leaning against a couch that pointed to the window. “I could sit here and read all day.”

Andromeda’s eyes twinkled. “Narcissa did tell me how much you loved books. I’ve never met anyone who enjoyed reading as much as my sister does.”

“She is such a voracious reader. She finished a huge ancient tome within two weeks!” Then she stopped short. Her brain short circuited. How was she going to explain that she knew that?!

Andromeda narrowed her eyes at her. “You seem to know her quite… well.”

Did she?

“I’m… not so sure about that. She’s just my teacher after all.” Hermione was sure her skepticism must’ve been written all over her face, for Andromeda pinched the bridge of her nose and heaved a great sigh. A trait in the Black family, apparently.

“Hermione. Are you so sure that that’s all you are to her?”

Hermione shrugged helplessly. “How am I to know?”

Andromeda rubbed her temples. “Godric, Hermione. Are. Gryffindors. Really. This. Dense.”

“…Yes?”

“Evidently.” Andromeda rolled her eyes. She tilted her head to study Hermione with an even more narrowed gaze. And opened her mouth to say something, before shaking her and turning on her heels to march up to the third floor. “Here’s your bedroom.” She opened a door at the end of the hallway. “Feel free to browse the shelf over there.”

Hermione was still scrabbling to process the abrupt change of topic as her eyes followed where Andromeda was pointing… to a huge piles of books organized on a shelf anchored to the wall above her bed. Barely noticing how roughly she dropped her things on the floor, Hermione hurried over to the shelves and stared at the books in wonder. They looked like books that belonged in the restricted section of Hogwarts’ library, old and fragile with spines yellow with age.

Andromeda chuckled. “Enjoy, Hermione. Don’t forget to come down for dinner at 7.”

“Thanks again for having me,” Hermione said.

Andromeda paused under the doorway to smile back at Hermione before disappearing through it. As her footsteps faded down the stairs she headed over to trail a careful finger down the books, surprised by how firm they felt despite looking fragile. After selecting an appropriate book Hermione padded over to the desk besides the window. Only then did she notice a small gramophone placed on a coffee table near the corner. Ahh. So that was why she’d noticed a stack of records on the topmost shelf. Heading back to choose a disk that consisted of slow songs by the Weird Sisters, Hermione put the record on the gramophone and headed over to the armchair besides the window.

Summoning a comfortable blanket that Hermione cocooned herself in, she sank down on the armchair with a contented smile, letting the sun warm her cold toes despite her already wearing thick woolen socks. The view over the gardens were gorgeous. There could definitely be worst ways to spend the break. She didn’t even care if Narcissa was really going to spend most of it avoiding her. Just being here with Draco and Andromeda was enough.

 ***

Narcissa joined them near dinner time. Hermione heard the front door opening downstairs, and putting down her book she went down to greet her.

“Mother,” Draco greeted as he and Andromeda appeared behind her, Teddy in her arms. “Let me help you with those bags.”

“Thank you, darling,” she cupped Draco’s chin when he took her bags from her. Then turned to Andromeda without looking at Hermione. “Hello Teddy.”

Teddy made grabby hands at Narcissa, and Hermione grinned as she took him in his arms, cooing softly at him. “It smells delicious. Need any help in the kitchen, Andy?”

“That’d be lovely.”

“I’d be happy to help as well,” Hermione grinned.

Andromeda’s eyes rose. “Can you cook, Hermione?”

“…Just enough to survive?”

“Better then me,” Draco groaned. “I somehow managed to burn the toaster when I was trying to toast bread!”

Hermione giggled. “Duly noted. Draco and toasters do not get along.”

“Oh no. Not just the toasters. Forgetting to turn off the stove… burning the counter with a piping hot pan… I’ve learnt never to let my son near the kitchen ever again,” Narcissa rolled her eyes. Ahh yes, so she was finally addressing her now was she? “I know a lost cause when I see one.”

Like Hermione’s feelings.

“We’ll be fine, Hermione,” Andromeda said as Draco pouted. “Thank you for the offer, though. And besides you’re our guest, please just relax.” Andromeda took Narcissa by the elbow and practically manhandled her towards the kitchen which was combined with the dining room.

Draco nudged her. “Chess, Hermione? While we wait?”

Hermione nodded and grinned. After Draco set the bags down they set up a chess board in the far end of the room, far enough that they couldn’t hear what they were saying. They played in silence for a while, Hermione determined to learn from disastrous attempts while playing Ron yesterday. She was rather proud of herself when she managed to corner Draco’s king several times, though she never quite managed to catch it. She heaved a sigh when, once again, her king was confiscated within five minutes of the game.

“I’m hopeless at this,” Hermione muttered with a sigh.

“You did well for a Gryffindor playing against a Slytherin, though,” Draco grinned. “Especially considering how much I flattened you last time we played.”

“Flying and chess? A big no no for me. Apparently.” Hermione sighed. “I do admire how Slytherins can keep their cards so closely to their chest and play their moves without revealing too much until the end. Cunningness that I wished I had.”

Draco’s eyebrows rose. “Huh. Never thought about it this way.”

“Gryffindors are too obvious. Too… rash. Easy to be tricked. Traits that have proven… inconvenient and misleading time and time again.”

“Well… if you’re talking about the Harry and Ron type of Gryffindor…” Draco smirked as Hermione shook her head. “But you?” He tilted his head at her. “You know, sometimes I feel like you’re more of a Ravenclaw than Gryffindor.”

“I’m surprised you came to the same conclusion as the Sorting Hat.”

Draco raised an eyebrow in question.

“He was initially going to put me in Ravenclaw first, but well I decided I wanted to be in Gryffindor. I’d been fed up with people around me telling me that I’m smart that I wanted to be put into a house whose ideals I thought were my greatest weakness.”

“That makes sense,” Draco murmured. “You did single handedly keep them alive for what—”

“Seven years,” Hermione sighed.

“For another, you’re deadly smart—maybe not when it comes to mother—” (Hermione squawked), “loyal but not blindly so; a perfectionist about grades, though you can break rules for the greater good; curious and always hungry for knowledge; cares about grades a little too much, but not to the point of stabbing others in the back when they do better than you…”

“…I came close to that when Harry was far too obsessed with Snape’s potions book,” Hermione grumbled under her breath.

Draco’s eyebrows rose. “No wonder he was suddenly so good at potions! The cheater!”

“Or maybe there is some Slytherin in Harry after all.” Then Hermione’s grin widened at the unintentional pun. “And not just you.”

Draco pinched his nose and sighed. “Well, you had good reason to feel like stabbing him in the back that year. Turns out you were right after all, was it from that book where he learnt Sectumsempra?”

Hermione nodded.

“Honestly he could’ve done much worse to me than that. After all I’ve put you guys through…” Draco trialed off. Shook his head as Hermione squeezed his arm. “The point is. If there’s anything the war taught me, well, the world isn’t as black and white as most people think it is. Houses can share traits too. Like you and mother? You both are probably winning the title for the world’s most oblivious idiots since the inception of time!”

“Keep your voice down!” Hermione hissed at him, glancing nervously at Andromeda and Narcissa who looked deep in conversation.

Before she could be caught staring Hermione snapped her gaze back to Draco, trying to will heat away from her face.

“Hermione,” Draco sighed, leaning forward to take her hands. “I’ve given you my blessing before, and I do so now again. Especially after…” his eyes twinkled, “that dance.”

Hermione breathed out slowly. Looked down at the table.

“You made a halo shine in her eyes, Hermione. I’ve never seen anything like it. You know… before she came to Hogwarts, mother was terrified.”

Hermione stared. Narcissa Black? Terrified?

“She hyperventilated so much and lost so much sleep about it prior to actually starting here that I was getting concerned for her. I don’t know what she was panicking about. Every time I tried to get her to talk about it she’d wave me off and say it’s nothing. Nothing my ass! There’s been a lightness in her shoulders that I saw during the dance. A lightness that never seemed to happen. At least, not until… I dare say you.”

Hermione swallowed as Draco tapered off into silence. Searched her eyes carefully. “Why… why me? Of all people in this world, why does she have to hold this kind of power over me?”

Draco shrugged. “Why you? I’ve asked myself that countless times. You’ll have to ask her that yourself. But you make her happy, Hermione. As she does you. I can see that. That’s all I’d want for the both of you.”

Hermione choked back a teary chuckle. “How are you so ok with it?”

“I just want you both to be happy,” Draco shrugged. “And if that means being with each other, then so be it. She’s sacrificed so much for me. This is but a little thing to ask of me.”

“Thank you, Draco,” Hermione sniffled. “And don’t worry. I will try not to traumatize you. Not that it would ever come to that.”

Draco’s eyebrow raised and pointed his wand threateningly at her. “I’ll hold you to that, Granger. I do not want to walk in on you and mother going at it.”

Hermione threw a chess piece at him.

“Is this how you treat your comrades, Granger?” Draco raised his eyebrow at her as as he caught a protesting knight and placed it down gently back on the chess board.

The knight gave Hermione a withering glare. “How dare you! The audacity! Knights are not for throwing!”

“My most sincere apologies, O gracious knight,” she said, bowing her head to it.

It glared at her with the same ferociousness as Narcissa’s glares before becoming still once more.

“Merlin. I hope it doesn’t betray me next time we play chess,” Hermione muttered.

“You sow what you reap,” Draco said with a laugh. “C’mon. Let’s go help set the table.”

 ***

Hermione wandered out to the gardens for some fresh air after a delicious dinner. Conversation had flowed easily between the four of them, which then turned into Draco being teased about Harry much to his horror, regaling him with rather hilarious headlines as the newspapers had gotten wind of it. Even Narcissa had joined in, cooing about how handsome he and Harry had looked together at the dance. It was only when Hermione took pity on him that the conversation took a different turn.

Wrapping herself up in her warmest coat after helping them clear away the dishes, Hermione refrained from casting a warming spell on herself as she wanted to feel the biting cold against her face. Snow was falling gently around her and Hermione smiled happily as she lifted her head to the sky. Hopefully the snow would stick around long enough for there to be a white Christmas.

Walking around the garden, Hermione admired how neatly it was kept over the years. The flowers looked handpicked and planted, thriving under meticulous care. Stopping near a patch of flowers that were the exact same shade as Narcissa’s eyes, she stared mindlessly at it as she let her mind replay every second of the waltzes last night. She hadn’t quite let it sink in since that first step. Not even since that first dance what felt like ages ago. At least, not when all eyes were on them. Even if they were alone, even if they were in a public space, Hermione hadn’t dared let herself feel Narcissa’s touch to the fullest extent.

But now that it was over Hermione couldn’t help but shut her eyes and sink into it. Into the way her blood sang every time Narcissa was near, whether or not she was touching her. How Narcissa’s gentle fingers guided her every step, led her through every turn, made sure to catch her whenever she felt like falling. How much Hermione felt like she was flying every time she met Narcissa’s gaze with a mere inch of breath between them. Not that that sensation changed when Hermione caught her eyes from far away.

How could someone labeled the ice queen make her feel so much? What was wrong with Hermione? Did Narcissa know what she meant to her? Did she know about the bond? Hermione knew that they were going to have to talk about it at some point. That they couldn’t keep tiptoeing around it forever. But every time Hermione thought about actually talking to her something stopped her. Like an invisible barrier that would never get dismantled.

Hermione sighed. Where was that Gryffindor bravery when she needed it? Some Gryffindor she was. Especially in the face of something that had never felt this impossible before. If she thought she’d experienced enough of it before what with being on the run (really, her entire time at Hogwarts), all the woes Voldemort wrought upon them suddenly felt… minuscule in comparison. Never would she have thought that would happen. And yet fighting Voldemort had become far easier than fighting her feelings for Narcissa.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Andromeda’s voice made her jump and swung around to greet the eldest Black sister.

“Andromeda,” she greeted, scooping up Crookshanks who had come out into the garden to greet her just as Andromeda opened the door. “Just admiring the garden.”

“Hmm.” Andromeda hummed, tilting her head to study Hermione with a curious gaze. Not unlike how Narcissa liked to look at her. “You’ve been out here for a while. Narcissa sent me out here to check on you.”

Hermione said nothing.

“She cares about you a lot, Hermione,” Andromeda said softly. “After all she actually listened to me and asked you to spend Christmas with us! Since when does Narcissa listen to me.”

Hermione giggled. “Was she a rebellious child?”

“As rebellious as she could behind our parents’ back,” Andromeda’s eyes turned somber as memories seemed to flash by in her eyes. “At least, while she still could.”

Silence fell over them. She knew full well how little she knew the blonde. That despite being let into her cabin every Sunday, there was a world behind the blonde’s facade she had yet to explore. Hermione often found herself brimming with questions every time she found herself thinking about her. Questions that went something like What on earth happened to you? and What made you like this? and Will you let me understand?

“Andromeda, can I ask you what is probably going to be a sensitive question?”

Andromeda blew out a slow breath. Nodded.

“What was it like growing up with… parents like… like yours?” Hermione said haltingly. “I mean, I know full well it wasn’t a happy family, and—and you don’t have to answer if it’ll bring up bad memories—”

“Relax, Hermione,” Andromeda placed comforting hands on her shoulders. “I’m glad you asked. Perhaps it’ll help you understand where Narcissa is coming from.”

“Not only Narcissa,” Hermione protested. “You as well. And Draco.”

Andromeda stared at her in astonishment. “I can see why Narcissa likes you.”

Hermione flushed.

“It was… horrible,” Andromeda began heavily. “As soon as we could walk and talk mother and father began drilling pureblood etiquette into us. Things like… walking and sitting with the perfect posture. Which utensils to use at dinner. Dainty bites of our food. If we dropped crumbs on the floor or on our clothes we… we were starved for a week. We were taught to believe that Muggles were always beneath us. That purebloods were the right way to go no matter what. Prejudice had been hammered into our bloodstream since birth. We learned rather quickly that we had to agree with mother and father at all times. If we didn’t…” Andromeda shuddered.

“Bellatrix was the best sister ever. She… she shielded us both and took the brunt of father’s beatings. But there was only so much she could do. I’m… I’m sure father used Imperio on Bellatrix after one particularly unpleasant row she had with him. I remember huddling with Narcissa outside the room father had locked Bellatrix in. She was shouting at him, something about refusing to join the Dark Lord, but then there was a crash that sounded like glass breaking on table and then silence. The next thing we knew Bella had taken the Dark Mark. A… complete change of personality when 24 hours before she was vowing to us that she’d run away with us if father forced her. She… never got the chance.”

Hermione took in a sharp breath. “And when she continued down that path… I assumed it was hard for her to break away from it? Fake it till you make it,” she said darkly.

“Indeed.” Andromeda brushed at a drop of tear that fell from her eyes. “I’m sure that near her death she’d all but succumbed to His ways. She’d known no other path, had perhaps let Molly Weasley kill her at the final battle because that was suspiciously easy. The unkillable Bellatrix Lestrange dying at the hands of a Weasley? Never!” Andromeda scoffed.

“Sirius and I are the epitome of what would happen to a Black if we went against our parents’ wishes. Yes, we might’ve been disowned, but I dare say Narcissa had it worse out of all of us. Despite… not getting disowned. At least we were granted freedom early on in our lives. I had no idea Narcissa was just like us. How she must’ve had to suffocate far longer in the shadows. Even now… despite having… lost,” she swallowed, “lost my dear husband, I never regret meeting him. He, he saved me. And I will be forever grateful for it.”

“As you should be,” Hermione said quietly, keeping her voice devoid of pity as she turned and faced Andromeda, taking her hands. “I’m… truly sorry about him. And your daughter—”

“I will forever have them in my heart, and that’s enough.”

“You’re much stronger than any of us.”

A small sad smile graced Andromeda’s lips. “Thank you.”

Another few beats of silence. “Can… can I show you something? you’ll have to use legilimency on me.”

Andromeda held her gaze. “Are you sure?” Hermione nodded firmly. “Alright. In three… two… one…” Hermione braced herself, “Legilimens!”

Hermione was 13… Hurrying down a dark alley way… The crooked man was approaching her from behind, a flash of fear, but then Narcissa was swooping down on him like her knight in a shining armor… Their hands were connecting… And then that flash of warmth, Hermione’s wand lighting up as warmth spiked through her senses as strongly as though it happened yesterday, as though she’d never tried to forget it…

Hermione was 18… Fighting Draco, Crabbe and Goyle in the Room of Reqirements… Crabbe had just tried to kill her, but Draco’s (well, Narcissa’s) wand rolled towards her… Like Knockturn Alley it lit up, a strong sense of warmth flashing through her as she picked it up, a flash of sanctuary in the midst of chaos… How that calmness stayed for the remainder of the battle before they defeated Voldemort forever… How it had already stayed when she was tortured… As she processed the scroll…

Closing her eyes tightly Hermione broke the connection with a gasp. Opening her eyes she saw Andromeda staring at her wide-eyed, hands over her mouth in shock.

“Impossible,” Andromeda muttered softly as Hermione hid her face in Crookshanks’ fur, trying to soothe herself as the past drummed like fire through her veins. 

“Do you know what this means?”

“Bellatrix told us a tale long when we were children,” Andromeda said with a hand still over her mouth. “A tale about…”

“Soulmates?” Hermione said the same time as Andromeda said “‘Predestined soulbonds.”

Hermione gasped. “So she knows about—?”

“Way longer than you did,” Andromeda said softly. “Have you… tried talking to her about it?”

Hermione shook her head. All this time wondering if she did, she did!

“Why ever not?”

“I’m… scared,” Hermione said quietly.

“What’re you scared of?”

“I dunno. The fact that she’s my teacher? Draco’s mother? The age gap?”

“And?”

“And?! And!!! I—I—”

“Like her,” Andromeda finished for her.

Hermione’s shoulders slumped. Buried her face in her hands. “Yes.”

“Hermione…” Andromeda took her hands away from her face. “It’s ok.”

“It’s not—”

“It’s ok.”

“But if… if it ever came to fruition, I don’t think I would survive if I lost this,” Hermione said quietly. “Is it truly better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all?”

“It is,” Andromeda placed her hands on Hermione’s shoulders with the utmost conviction in her eyes. “It truly is.”

If only she could believe that.

 ***

It was near midnight by the time Hermione headed back in. Eyelids drooping, Hermione yawned as she quickly brushed her teeth and changed into her pyjamas. Settling in her bed, she was about to pull out Great Expectations for a bit of light reading before bed when her notebook buzzed. Hermione nearly dropped her book in shock. It had been quite a while since that last happened. She’d always kept it near her just in case, but when days turned into weeks she’d all but given up on expecting anything from it.

Heart hammering Hermione reached over Crookshanks and hastily opened her notebook. Wow. The last entry between her and Narcissa was… wow. October 30th.

You were outside quite

a long time with my sister.

Hope she wasn’t

giving you a hard time?

Hermione grinned.

Nothing I couldn’t handle.

A pause.

I’ve been meaning to ask

I’ve always wanted to

listen to “Les Misérables”

It’s one of the musicals on

my ‘To Watch’ list

Would…

Would you like to watch it with me?

Hermione’s heart leapt. Being the book worm that she was she’d read Les Misérables in the summer before her fifth year. When she heard there had been a musical version of it she’d begged her parents to watch it with her. It never was on the program anywhere near them… until it was too late.

I’d love to.

I love the book, I’ve been

dying to watch the musical

Excellent

I’ve already reserved two tickets

for the West End concert

on Christmas Eve

Of course you have

I like to be prepared

Dinner after?

Or would you like to just watch the

concert and head directly home?

Yes!

Yes to what?

The concert?

Or straight home afterwards?

Both.

A second later.

everything

Everything, huh?

Everything.

Are you sure you know

what you’re signing up for

I’d like to know

Hermione’s eyes widened as she nearly drowned in panic in the pregnant pause that followed. That sounded unintentionally… flirtatious. Then nearly dropped her notebook when it vibrated with Narcissa’s response.

I’d like to know as well

Hermione’s heart hammered. Looked down at Crookshanks who had been lazing in her arms watching their conversation with rapt attention the entire time as though he could read. Noticing her gaze, Crookshanks purred excitedly and thumped a furiously wagging tail against her arm.

“What the fuck?”

“You know full well what just happened, dearie,” her reflection in the mirror muttered.