Disclaimers: JKR owns HP. Alex Day owns the lyrics in the brackets.
For: Amy and Steph's Alliterated Pairings.
(It started with a kiss)
Another session with the DA was over, and the students fled quickly, except Hermione. She had her eye on a certain someone, who was clearing up the room voluntarily before leaving. No one saw the point in tidying it up – the room could tidy itself – but Hannah Abbott always lingered behind to sort it out.
Hermione hovered in the shadows, watching the Hufflepuff silently, waiting for the right moment. The two girls had been darting around each other for weeks on end, and Hermione had had enough. She was going to resolve it, and honestly, if it weren't for the fact that she wanted to live up to the Gryffindor name, she'd never have gathered the courage to do it.
Hannah pushed the last set of books back onto the shelf, dusted her skirt, slung her bag onto her shoulder and made for the exit. Just as she started to step through it, Hermione came out from the shadows and caught hold of her wrist, pulling her round.
She pressed her lips against Hannah's before the Hufflepuff could so much as squeak in surprise. They stayed that like for a few seconds, silent, unmoving, nervous. Hermione didn't dare open her eyes as she dropped her grasp from Hannah's wrist to her hand, holding it limply. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest, nerves knotting her stomach. Hannah hadn't pulled away yet: that was surely a good sign. Hesitantly, Hermione started to move her mouth against Hannah's. It took the blonde girl a few moments to respond, but eventually, she parroted Hermione's movements.
They broke apart and Hermione's eyes fell to the floor, biting her lip as she awaited a rejection.
"Took you long enough," Hannah said, pulling Hermione into a hug, burying her face in Hermione's shoulder. Hermione was ecstatic.
(Ended with "I'll miss you")
Hannah looked awful. Her pigtails hung loose and messy, her mascara staining her cheeks. Her eyes were puffy and red, her bottom lip swollen from biting it so much. Her uniform was lopsided, messy, in disarray – as if she'd dressed in the dark, or no longer cared for her appearance.
Hermione, too, was crying. She hated seeing Hannah upset more than anything; it instantly put a downer on her day, her week, her life. She looked down at the parchment in her hand, not wanting to accept what it said.
Mrs Abbott: dead. Hannah Abbott: to be withdrawn from school for the rest of the year. It just couldn't be.
"Oh, Hannah," Hermione choked, pulling the other girl into a hug, holding onto her.
Hannah bit back a sob and pulled away after a few seconds. She sniffed and rested a hand on Hermione's cheek. "I can't do this," she said sadly. "Us, I mean. Not with everything going on. I'm so sorry." But Hermione understood: it broke her heart, but she knew why Hannah came to that decision. "I'll miss you."
Hermione moved her head sideways and kissed Hannah's palm, holding it to her face. "I'll miss you, too."
Then Hannah pulled away completely, picking up her Hogwarts trunk, taking the letter from Hermione's hands, and walking through the grounds towards Dumbledore's office. Hermione wanted to follow her, to see her off, but she knew she couldn't. Hannah had to go alone.
She stumbled to the bathroom where she sobbed openly in a locked cubicle, blissfully unaware of the other girls who left the room as quickly as they entered the moment they heard her pain-filled cries.
She emerged hours later, splashing water in her face and getting her breathing in control before heading to the Great Hall for dinner, where she'd have to pretend like everything was alright, like the shards of her broken heart weren't stabbing her from the inside.
(Yes I do)
Hermione stared down at the invitation in her hands, gripping it tight enough to turn her knuckles white with strain. She gritted her teeth, breathing heavily through her nose as she stubbornly fought back tears.
What on Earth made them think she'd want an invite? An invite to their wedding, no less. An invite to distant memories. An invite to another heartbreak.
Hermione had managed to keep Hannah at the back of her mind for six long years now. They'd been out of school for nine, though after Hannah left in Sixth Year, they hadn't interacted much. She didn't even know Hannah and Neville were dating. Neville was supposed to be a friend; granted, they didn't talk often, but he'd never mentioned Hannah before in their monthly five-minute chats.
And now, when they're getting married, they decided to acknowledge her presence, to invite her. Like Hermione wanted to see her ex-girlfriend give herself to a man she's grown up with, like she wanted to see how Hannah had moved on.
It wasn't like Hermione hadn't moved on, too. She was with Ron now, but it wasn't the same. Hannah was her first love, and no-one could replace that. Hannah still had a place in her heart, and Hermione knew she always would.
Hannah Longbottom, Hermione thought experimentally, scrunching her nose up at how wrong it sounded.
She was tempted to rip the invitation, to pretend she never received one, but mere curiosity and desire to see Hannah again was the only thing that kept the card in one piece. She'd go the wedding, she'd talk to Hannah, face everything she wanted to run away from. As long as she had a bed and a box of tissues waiting for her at home, she'd get through it.
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