A/N Hello lovelies, huge thanks to all of you who have read, reviewed and added to lists already. This one was going to be up a little earlier, but somehow this chapter got away from me a bit and ended up longer than I initially intended. Not too much of our boy in this one but it is time to meet the girls that will be in this fic.
Hermione Jean Granger sat upright; her back was ramrod straight, and her shoulders squared, as she perched on the edge of the worn Great Hall bench. Her warm, slightly absent gaze, was fixed dead ahead, at the raised dais where the teacher's table was placed. Like always. To any casual observer, her focus was solely on Headmistress McGonagall as the elderly witch stood behind the lectern, but her thoughts were a million miles away.
Hermione's hands were in her lap, and her fingers were closed around one of the scratched up teaspoons from the table. She turned it over and over in the hope of absorbing her need to fidget. She couldn't help that her mind wandered, all the speeches sounded the same now, there were only so many synonyms for unity that a person could use before it all became white noise.
Hermione felt guilty about her lack of attention, she held her former head of house in high esteem. After all these years she had come to regard her with a large amount of affection. To see her favourite professor take on the role as head of the school had been hugely gratifying but even her unwavering respect couldn't counteract the growing boredom she felt.
She had tried in the beginning, when the first term of her eighth year had begun. Hermione had watched the sorting ceremony at the Welcome Feast with rapt attention, gladly lending her own claps and calls of support to each new child that joined them on the benches. It had been necessary then, and not just to properly greet the new students. Hermione found that keeping her gaze trained forward avoided moments of painful eye contact, and not just on her side, for the others also. There were some in the hall that looked every bit as altered as she did, some of them had new scars, some were almost unrecognisable. But even with those that had flawless skin, you only had to look at their eyes to know they were no longer the same.
When Minerva McGonagall had stepped up to address them for the first time the whole room had quickly fallen silent, every head had turned to face her, the teachers as well as the students, all of them waiting for something. Hermione had looked at the new headmistress's face, and as usual, she didn't look remotely phased by the magnitude of the task, but then again she had seen this witch on a battlefield, had fought alongside her. Hermione wondered what her professor would have considered a more difficult task.
"To those of you that have entered these walls for the first time, and to the rest of you that are returning to Hogwarts to continue your education… Welcome home."
Hermione had felt her throat tighten at the opening address; it would have been all she could think about if Ginny hadn't been holding her hand in a near crushing grip. The headmistress had kicked off their final school year with a speech about how it was high time for change, how they were to treat each other with tolerance and acceptance, how the building of their new world began at the school, with the education of those that would go on to shape it. Her words were soothing, rational and informative. A pattern that had continued throughout that term, with Professor McGonagall in charge there was a good deal less deliberate nonsense.
It should have been comforting, and it was, Hermione felt safe. Safe and bored.
Hermione's eyes darted about the room, the students around her were paying no more attention than she was, she wasn't surprised. When she had been here before, in what now felt like a previous life, she had quickly gathered from Ron and Harry's blank looks following feasts that they would have been barely attending; it was just unusual that she noticed. Before, Hermione would have been hanging off every word, looking out for any hidden meaning, searching for what wasn't being said. There was little more than the surface level to be gained from information on when the next Quidditch match would be.
Resigned to inattention, Hermione tried to mentally list the additional reading she wanted to get done over the holidays, to save herself time before her planned trip to the library the next day. Her homework had long been completed, but she found herself uneasy whenever she had a lack of backup work to do. She could never be sure when a bout of insomnia would hit; it was best to be prepared with a couple of lofty tomes to help pass the time.
Lack of homework notwithstanding, Hermione's lessons were going surprisingly well, considering she had half expected to fall back when she resumed her education. Despite Ron and Harry's good-natured teasing when she had accepted Professor McGonagall's offer, she was less keen than they imagined, school work didn't seem as vital as it had years before. Only, Hermione found that once she was back at the castle, she was doing better, with no distractions, no looming threats and no boys to drag along academically. Even though she was no longer so militant about studying every hour that was available.
Hermione glanced over the table at Ginny who was doing a far worse job than herself of disguising her restlessness. The redhead almost bounced in her seat as her hand rested protectively on a piece of parchment. Hermione smiled to herself; it wouldn't have taken a genius to work out that Ginny was impatient to finish responding to Harry's latest letter. The two had finally gotten together at some point after the final battle and had been keeping amazingly regular correspondence ever since Ginny had come back to school.
In direct contrast, Luna, who was sitting next to the redhead, sat serenely, with her hands folded in her lap and her torso twisted towards the front of the hall, and though her gaze looked a good deal more absent-minded than her own, Hermione had no doubt she was attending to every word.
One of the first initiatives that Professor McGonagall had put in place was to remove the necessity to sit at house tables for every meal. The Welcome Feast became the last time they had to sit in such a way. The next morning when Hermione had arrived in the Great Hall for breakfast the usual long lines of tables were broken up. In place of the unbroken chain were smaller areas that would comfortably sit ten to twelve students at a time. Hermione had sat with Luna and Ginny from the first day, more often than not with a few other members of their respective houses, or anyone they might have walked in with from their classes.
Hermione took tremendous comfort from both girls presence. In many ways they had seen just as much as she had, there was so much she didn't have to explain. When the boys had both decided to join the Auror Academy, Hermione had felt unsure about her decision not to join them and to go back to school instead. The boys must have felt the same as they tried to talk her around, but the girls seemed to understand. They had banded around each other when they had arrived at the platform in King's Cross and had talked unceasingly, the whole way to Scotland, about utter nonsense, anything to make it seem more normal.
Sensing the Headmistress was drawing her end of term address to a close, Hermione brought her fingers back up to the table and put down the spoon gingerly, lest she drew attention to herself with an echoing clatter. She often found herself wondering if this was what her school life would have been like, without the war. Calm, sedate and functional, maybe even a little tedious.
Once the gentle applause died down the food arrived in a noiseless puff, like always, and as expected Ginny sprang into action, pulling her quill from somewhere and furiously writing out a few lines. Hermione knew better than to attempt conversation; she must have been hoping to get her reply off before they went back to the dorm for the evening.
Luna was now much more animated than she had been before, her dreamy focus was directed across the table at Rolf Scamander who had been joining them at mealtimes for most of the last week. He had sat next to Hermione that evening, managing almost to cover his disappointment that both seats on either side of Luna had been taken.
Rolf had come to Hogwarts a month before, at the request of their teachers. It had been decided this year that the school would host a series of guest lecturers and Rolf had been the first to attend. The magizoologist had just got back from a year of travelling and was apparently planning to update and re-write his grandfather's book.
At Luna's insistence, they had all gone along and sat in the front row. Hermione hadn't complained nearly as much as the others; she had been engrossed from the first slide and found the subject more fascinating than she ever had before. Her enthusiasm was no doubt helped along by the passion of Rolf's address, though their lecturer seemed to encounter something else he would like to study a lot more carefully when Hagrid introduced him to Luna. Hermione found she liked him all the more for the way he looked at her friend, even if it was occasionally a bit awkward.
"Hermione," Ginny called, grabbing her attention and sliding a piece of parchment over to her, "I forgot to give this to you earlier, Harry put a letter for you in with mine."
Hermione smiled as she tucked the note inside her robes, already looking forward to hearing Harry's unflinching account of how difficult training could be, both himself and Ron were in their element, but it was clear that it was a good deal tougher than they had expected. Hermione missed the boys, but that feeling was mixed in with a sense of guilt that she didn't miss them more. She had expected to feel more vulnerable without them, to worry that she had been left behind, not needed anymore, especially after the last year where they had been together so often, and yet, somehow, the separation was a relief.
A tsking sound from the other side of her made Hermione roll her eyes. She didn't need to turn her head to know that Pansy would be eyeing the newly appeared food with disdain.
"Would it kill them to serve a passable vegetable?" the brunette sighed, huffing to sit further back on the bench and dramatically flapping out a rolled up napkin to place in her lap, making her glossy bob bounce as she moved.
"Must we speak of death every time we eat?" Hermione groaned.
"If I saw asparagus just once, I wouldn't feel so many violent urges," Pansy countered, lifting a terracotta lid warily only to see more of a different kind of potato lurking within. "I would settle for green beans."
Hermione ignored her bleating and filled her plate, wrestling with a moment's indecision before she settled on parsnips, plopping them down in a way that she had already been told was inelegant.
Pansy, however, did not care for being overlooked. She turned herself to face Hermione, narrowing her eyes. "It's alright for you, Granger, you don't worry enough about your appearance to care about being 'hippy'. For those of us that like to look lithe, this fare is a disaster."
Hermione's hands instinctively moved to brush against her hip bones assessingly before she swore under her breath at triumphant Pansy's snort.
She took it all back; she did miss the boys.
Dinner theatre over, Pansy loaded her plate without much further fuss, and Hermione stopped herself from wriggling in her seat. It was probably for the best that the boys weren't here, her newfound friendship with Pansy Parkinson, of all people, was something they already expressed concern for over letter. They seemed fixated on how it could have ever happened, but Hermione had no answer to give them, in fact, she had little explanation for it herself.
-/-/-/-
By the second week back at school a routine was established, though one somewhat different than any she'd had before. Hermione would eat an early breakfast ahead of going out for a walk on the castle grounds. Food had been more than scarce during her year on the run, and she was still adjusting to eating a decent meal a few times a day. Hermione tended to get cramps and feel uncomfortable after breakfast and Poppy Pomfrey had advised her to go for walks, which seemed to alleviate some of the discomfort, at least enough to help her maintain her focus in classes.
Hermione was rounding the furthest greenhouses when she collided straight into a taller shape, almost falling back onto her bum.
"Watch it, Granger," she heard in a waspish tone, and Hermione felt herself sag. She had heard the clipped voice directed at her in anger a great deal over her school years, though not at all in the last few days.
Pansy stood before her, dusting imaginary dirt off her school skirt and sneering. Hermione didn't respond. Instead, she rearranged her bag around her shoulder and made to continue past.
"What no quip?" Pansy taunted, "no telling me in your snotty little superior way 'to watch where I'm going'?"
Hermione sighed, they had been doing this for so long, and back then it had seemed meaningful, that was before other battle lines had been drawn, ones that made the schoolyard squabbles they used to get into seem ridiculous. There used to be gangs of them on either side of this little face off, and now there was only the two of them.
"No Pansy, not today," she replied in a tired voice before she walked off. Not noticing how the other girl didn't move until she had disappeared behind the next bend.
-/-/-/-
Hermione hadn't said anything to the other girls about her interaction with Pansy, and after a few hours she had mostly forgotten all about it, but she did become slightly more aware of the scowling girl. There hadn't been that many that had come back from Hermione's year and of the Slytherin group, Pansy's friends in particular, almost none. Hermione had realised that if she had been finding it difficult it must have been nearly impossible for the former Inquisitorial Squad member, not helped, she imagined, by Pansy's blurted words ahead of the final battle.
Hermione had been livid at the time, ready to rush over there and tell Parkinson exactly what she thought of her, it had been Luna that had changed her perspective on it, quietly asking one night what she would have done, how far she would have gone to save her friends. Hermione had looked down at her hands, a lot further than Pansy had as it had turned out.
In truth Hermione hadn't thought too much more about it, other than she couldn't be bothered to maintain a hostility that they should have outgrown, she assumed that she wouldn't see or hear much of Pansy again that term, but she had been wrong.
A week after they had collided out on the grounds Hermione had been setting up her parchment in Charms when Pansy stood behind the stool next to her.
"Is this seat taken?" Pansy asked though Hermione had never heard a request phrased less like a question. The brunette glared at her when Hermione had looked up, slightly startled, her defiant piercing gaze almost daring Hermione to say no.
She didn't.
First, it had only been that one class and then it was most classes. There was never any discussion of why it just was, and about halfway through the term Pansy moved into the dorm room Hermione was sharing with the other girls.
Another of the modifications that had been put in place before their arrival at the castle was a corridor of smaller, non-house affiliated dorms for the two oldest years of students that were returning. The official line from the staff was that they were old enough now to have some degree of independence, and slightly leaner rules, that could not be implemented while they lived within their towers or dungeons. Hermione thought about what wasn't being said; she knew in her own heart that moving back to her old dorm and facing the reality of the prematurely empty beds was too much.
When Hermione had expressed her preference to move into one of the fifth-floor dorms Ginny had readily agreed, keen to be seen as 'grownup' as possible. Hermione had suspected her friend's insistence was probably so she could add it to her stockpile of arguments to help in the battle that she was due to fight with her mother about moving into Grimmauld Place when the school year ended.
Luna had never been particularly fussed about her old tower, or its inhabitants, and had taken the third bed, unpacking a significant amount of the curiosities she had never felt comfortable to bring out in front of people that had bullied her for years, and draping almost every available surface in some form of glittery fabric.
That had left an empty bed, one that was claimed when Pansy had opened the door one day, saying nothing as she dumped all of her bags around her area.
Hermione pushed her half-eaten plate away and flicked her eyes over the desserts, nothing caught her fancy, but she was determined to have one that evening if only to show Pansy how much she wasn't bothered by her comments. Not that she believed the girl had intended to be cruel, Hermione had spent enough time around Pansy now to know when she was just trying to get a rise out of her. Pansy snarked and she bitched about all of them, but she was there at breakfast each morning and had nearly stopped calling them names, at least in other people's hearing.
In many ways, the addition of Pansy took away from the sedate nature of the friendship group, but Hermione couldn't have said it was for the worse. The Slytherin's fiery temper was more than a match for Ginny's. Pansy could be an out and out bitch, and the redhead had a short fuse that could rival her youngest brother some days. It hadn't helped that at the beginning of relations Pansy had found one of Harry's 'love notes' soon after moving to the dorm. Hermione had privately thought that the dramatic reading Pansy did of it was rather funny, but that she had probably been pushing it when she graded it.
Their fallouts were never serious though, and strangely, they both seemed to enjoy the exchange of barbs as a weird form of tension release. Ginny had grown up in a house full of boys; arguing was an almost recreational pastime for her. It wasn't as if Hermione was a delicate flower either, but she got too emotional about fights and screaming was frequently followed by tears. It was impossible to argue with Luna, she mainly ignored sarcasm, and if you somehow managed to get her angry, she was far more frightening than the rest of them combined.
When the feast was finally over the girls all filed out together, Luna trailing behind to say goodnight to Rolf. Hermione should have been more anxious about the packing that she still hadn't done, but as they had arranged to travel to Grimmauld Place via floo instead of the train, she knew she could always do it in the morning.
"I wonder if I might borrow you for a moment, Miss Granger."
Still contemplating sorting out the knickers that were strewn all over their dorm, Hermione hadn't heard the headmistress approach, and she started for a moment before she nodded, waving the others off.
"I'll see you later," she said with a shrug at Pansy's pointed look of inquiry. Her friend lingered for a moment until Luna caught her up and looped her arm through hers. Pansy rolled her eyes but resumed walking with the blonde in tow, no doubt muttering to herself the whole way.
Hermione followed the headmistress to the entrance of her office, using the divide the taller witch created in the milling students to cross the entrance hall in record time. They engaged in typical small talk about her classes and their respective plans over the Christmas holidays. Hermione intended to spend as much time as possible in her own flat, hopefully sorting out some of the furnishings she had yet to unbox, but that would be somewhat dependant on how much of a fuss Harry intended to cause about her not staying with him for the entire two weeks.
When they crossed the threshold of the headmistress's office, Hermione was surprised to see the Minister of Magic sitting casually in one of the nicer wingback armchairs, a tea tray out on the table in front of him. He looked tired, with more than a day's growth of stubble lining his jaw. She dropped her bag to the floor, suddenly overcome by an all too familiar feeling of trepidation.
"Minister, is there something… is something wrong?" she asked, her voice wavering more than she would like. He looked at her kindly, but it was her professor that responded.
"Not at all Hermione," she soothed, guiding her from where she had stopped dead in the doorway and into one of the chairs. Hermione arranged herself neatly, smiling to herself when Minister Shacklebolt remembered how she took her tea.
"Thank you, Minister," she said politely as he handed her the cup, to her amazement he held it firm in his grasp.
"For the last time, call me Kingsley."
Hermione giggled at his put out tone and tugged the cup into her fingers. "I'll try," she placated honestly. She would, but it was something she found incredibly difficult, she'd already had Madam Pomfrey insist on 'Poppy' this term.
When they were all sitting comfortably, Hermione felt the need to fidget that had been eating at her an hour earlier come back to prickle at her skin. "Not to be rude," she began, knowing she was being just that, "but what is this about?"
The headmistress sat forward, putting her cup down on the table. "Well, we thought now might be the most opportune time for us to begin looking at your next steps."
Hermione heard a noise over on the far wall, and her eyes darted to regard the portraits warily, most of the framed characters appeared to be asleep, but she couldn't shake the feeling she was being watched.
"It's still just the end of the first term," she deflected, she wasn't sure why thoughts of the future panicked her so quickly, she just wanted to soak up the last remaining weeks of just being at school.
"Yes," her professor agreed, "but a significant number of the most desired wizarding establishments have their application processes beginning soon."
Hermione's fingers trailed the rim of her saucer. "Forgive me, but I would imagine it's not common for each student to have a consult with the head of the school and the Minister for Magic."
Despite the sheer amount of times she had heard it, Kingsley's booming laugh made her jump. He held his hands out in front of himself in a parody of contrition. "I will declare a selfish interest as to why I am here," he said with a broad smile, "I would like you to give serious consideration to options within the Ministry, Miss Granger."
Hermione sighed. "Surely if you're Kingsley, I'm Hermione, Minister?"
He smirked at her, and it took years off his worn appearance, Hermione was filled with the slightly troublesome realisation that the look would have been fairly devastating when he was younger.
"Fine, Hermione," he continued, adjusting the deep purple jacket of his pristine robes. "I am in the midst of a sizeable shakeup, and I believe your input would be most valuable. I need people I can trust, individuals with a different… moral outlook to the established order."
Hermione chewed on the inside of her cheek; after all she had done in the last few years, she wasn't sure she had the most well maintained moral compass though she decided to keep those thoughts to herself.
"Did you have a role in mind?"
Kingsley sat back in his chair steepling his fingers. "I think the more pertinent question is, do you?"
"I don't… I don't know… there hasn't really been the time-"
Hermione's rambling was cut short as the headmistress placed a warm hand on her arm. "We understand, which is why we wanted to talk about it here and now, to open a dialogue. I am here, and I would encourage you to seek out my counsel if you so wish it."
Hermione nodded gratefully though a weight settled over her, the unsaid detail of why she might need it lingered between them, her parent's memories. Her professor had done all she could to help Hermione in her quest to restore them, but it had proved fruitless. They weren't' coming back; they thought she was in need the counsel as she had no one else to give it.
Hermine considered that she might have sought out Minerva's guidance, in any case, her parents were not magical after all, though they were compassionate, and they did understand her, in ways that no one else in the magical world would ever do. Sure, they wouldn't have comprehended all of the references she made, but they would have tried.
"Thank you, for your kindness," Hermione said eventually, though it made a tidal wave of self-pity crash over her to express such sentiment. "I will think about it."
By the time Hermione had been excused she had worked herself into a bit of a bad mood, she missed her parents, and on top of that heartache, she was now beginning to panic that she might miss out on her perfect future because she hadn't had the forethought to plan what she wanted. Worst of all it was all her fault, her actions or lack of them, had put her in this mess.
Hermione trudged through the door, intent on climbing into bed and not dealing with any talk of what was bothering her until the morning, by then she hoped that her initial emotional response would have cleared and she would feel more able to weigh and measure the road ahead dispassionately. Unfortunately, she had never been very good at masking her emotions, and all of the girls present sat up from their beds as she walked through them.
"What's wrong?" Pansy asked, throwing a thick, expensive looking magazine to the end of her covers. "Did they tell you that you can't take all of the exams on offer or something?"
Hermione let herself flop face down on the bed and remained perfectly still until a dip beside her let her know at least one of them hadn't picked up on her slowly emitting 'keep your distance vibes'. When she could feel fingers running through her hair she knew it was Luna; it was something Luna did whenever Hermione was obviously sad. The blonde had something different for all of them, with Pansy she organised her lipsticks, though not by colour, by threat level, with Ginny she ran through Quidditch drills, with Hermione she tried to tame her hair back in any number of different elaborate, braid based, hairstyles.
"No, nothing like that," Hermione finally replied when it was clear she wouldn't get any peace until she responded. "They wanted to talk about future career options. Kingsley was there, it seems he would be keen for me to join the Ministry."
"Well, that's enough to depress anyone," Pansy retorted dropping onto the end of Hermione's narrow bed before going back to leafing through her magazine.
Hermione rolled herself over, careful of Luna's fingers, and pressed her foot into the back of the glossy pages until Pansy looked back at her. "I didn't think it will be that bad, would it?" she asked.
Pansy looked thoughtful, but it was Ginny who answered, taking a run leap to drop down on the covers, nearly knocking Hermione Luna off the bed in the process. "What are your other options?"
Hermione struggled to think, "Ah… Ministry worker… or Healer," she replied, "that's it I think."
Pansy looked at her incredulously. "You only have two options? You. Seriously?"
Hermione felt a prickle of the fear she had felt earlier in her stomach, but she mainly masked it in irritation. "Why would that be a problem?"
"Not a problem Granger, I just assumed you would be considering anything and everything, I thought you would be one of those people that has three careers. You know," Pansy said before effecting an incredibly scary mimic of Hermione's stressed voice. "I actually work for the government, but in my spare time I'm working on a cure for Dragon Pox and writing my memoirs."
Hermione threw a pillow at her. "I'm not that bad!" She protested with a laugh.
"I've only got one option if it makes you feel better," Ginny interjected, and Hermione smiled at her friend's infectious grin. Ginny's tryout at the Holyhead Harpies had been the week before and to use Ron's vernacular; she had smashed it.
"One, well, two for me," Luna said, not looking up from her fingers that were working through Hermione's hair. "I'm going to start full time on the paper with Daddy, though I might delay for a little while to go travelling with Rolf."
Hermione stilled. "You kept that quiet," she murmured. She tried her best to keep the worry out of her voice, but she knew she was transparent, especially when Luna gave her a knowing look before shrugging her shoulders.
"He only spoke to me about it last week."
"Right," Pansy said with a slap to her thighs, untangling herself from the other bodies on the bed and getting to her feet. "If we are going to talk about serious stuff we need supplies, come on Lovegood I need you to charm the elves."
"Saying you can't do it yourself, Parkinson?" Ginny sniped, jumping into the larger spot that was now available.
"Ginevra," Pansy responded making Ginny scowl at her. "I can charm those creatures into giving me whatever I want, except elf-made wine. They give Luna anything, hence why she needs to come."
After a series of barbs back and forth that eventually descended into hand gestures Luna gave in and went with Pansy. Hermione had just changed into pyjamas when the two girls made it back, almost entirely loaded down with an impossible amount of junk food.
Hermione pulled a bag of crisps from the pile and brandished them at Pansy. "These don't look like asparagus."
"No," Pansy agreed, ripping them out of her fingers, "but at least they're not covered in gravy."
An hour later the girls were sprawled out on their dorm room floor, in various positions that Pansy would usually have turned her nose up at. The cushions and duvets from their beds were strewn all over, covered in the remains of the snacks that were arranged in little pockets, close enough to each of them that they didn't have to move far to reach.
"You're really going to go away with Rolf?" Ginny asked as she laid on her back, her legs kicked up and propped against the end of her bed.
Luna paused in her current occupation of lazily charming a stream of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans to dance around her. "Maybe, Daddy doesn't need me at the paper yet, and Rolf's next adventure sounds like fun."
"But as what though?" Ginny pressed, when Luna looked back at her blankly she expanded, "friends, a couple, what?"
"Does it matter?" Luna asked though something in her eyes told Hermione that she might have had more of an idea than she was letting on.
"I suppose not," Ginny replied absently before a wicked smirk crossed her lips. "He's quite fit though."
Luna resumed her enchanting of the confectionary, smiling into her lap. "I think he's lovely."
Pansy rolled her eyes so aggressively she moved her head from where it was resting against Hermione's knee. "Not sure lovely is the word I would use."
"Oh?" Luna piped in as she tried to bite one of the beans that whizzed past her lips.
"No, he's, well, a bit rough looking, like a pirate from one of those erotic romance novels."
Hermione choked on her wine, but the others just beamed wider.
"Do you know, I think he might have a sword," Luna supplied, and then they all fell into giggles.
"I don't believe we want to call into question his swordplay," Ginny said with a wink that made Hermione certain the girl would have no problem contributing to locker room banter, "but he's certainly got lovely hands. They're not as nice as Harry's though, his are all calloused and scarred up from flying," she said with a suddenly dreamy expression, "they feel fantastic when they-"
Though what exactly they were fantastic at was never revealed as Hermione began to dry heave, an action that was only half faked.
"Oh, grow up Hermione," Ginny chided.
"She's not exactly wrong Weasley," Pansy replied, sitting back up. "The thought of you two going at it is somewhat repellent."
"Bitch."
Pansy stuck her tongue out before rooting through the piles to see if there was anything worth eating left. "All this talk of boys makes me think of marriage, and I don't much fancy that yet."
"Whatever Pans, you know you can't wait to be a professional wife," Ginny taunted, and Hermione sighed, immediately moving nearer to Luna. This debate, if it could be labelled as such, had happened a few times before and breaking it up didn't work, they needed to be left to run it out.
"Yes, because chasing various balls around a pitch would make me more of a professional," Pansy sneered, brushing her displaced hair out of her eyes.
"It's not exactly a career is it, being a housewife."
"Not the way your mother does it."
Hermione looked over to Luna and pulled on the sleeve of her pyjamas, "You need to do something Lu, they've both had a fair bit of wine, and it might not be pretty."
Luna looked thoughtful. "You could break it up you know."
Hermione shook her head. "Not this argument; they would try to drag me into it; they listen to you."
Both girls looked back over to Ginny and Pansy who were now on their feet. They were fairly evenly matched in height, which was easy to tell as they were standing so close together.
"Really, you want to go there?" Ginny screeched, and Luna stood.
"Shall we play a game?" she asked, and at the sound of her cool melodic tones, the room went silent.
Unbelievable, Hermione thought to herself, Luna should have been considering some role in international relations.
"I've always wanted to do the soul mate spell," Ginny said a good while later, after Luna's insistence that they play Muggle board games had redirected their anger at the inanimate bits of chipboard that they struggled to make any sense of.
"That's for kids," Pansy snapped, but there was no real heat there anymore, and considering they were now leaning against each other there didn't seem to be any immediate danger of another outburst.
"Some of us didn't get the luxury of behaving like children," Ginny muttered, almost entirely under her breath and Pansy looked towards the ceiling as if willing herself to have patience.
"The soul mate spell?" Hermione asked.
Pansy laughed. "Sorry my backwards Muggle friend," she said before she ruffled Hermione's hair patronisingly.
"It's a simple spell, typically done at sleepovers and those kinds of things, I saw it in an old Teen Witch when I was in St Mungo's as a kid," Ginny explained. "You say the spell, and it is supposed to bring up the name of your soul mate."
"How?" Hermione pressed.
Ginny and Pansy both shrugged. "Who knows, as far as I could tell it was totally random and it's only a first name," Pansy supplied.
"Who did it say for you?" Ginny demanded with a grin, and Pansy's cheeks went a little pink.
"Marcus," she mumbled, albeit very reluctantly.
"MARCUS!," Ginny screeched, "as in Marcus Flint?"
"It's a very common name."
"Not that common."
"Maybe not in the circles you belong to Weasley."
"Luna?" Hermione asked, "What do you think?" Hermione was keen to pull the attention away from Pansy who she noted looked genuinely uncomfortable.
Luna waved a hand absentmindedly. "It's fine. It's like any magic, you are safe to do it as long as you take into account the circumstances. In this case, as long as you are truly willing to face whoever comes up."
"It doesn't actually work Lovegood," Pansy grumbled.
Hermione, buoyed by Luna's reassurance, and more intrigued than she would have admitted aloud, followed the blonde's precise directions and cleared the swaths of blankets and food packets from the floor, leaving just the cushions. Luna convinced them to light some candles though they all moaned about it, Hermione could sense that for all they may have dismissed it as folly, Ginny and Pansy were anxious about too. She had a weird nervous energy about herself that made her want to get on with it before she could change her mind.
Hermione had done many reckless things in her short life but very few that were so vain or so totally in her own self-interest. That said, Ginny had been right, though the direction of her complaint had been misguided, none of them had had much of a chance to be children. What was the harm?
Luna sat on the floor, her legs crossed with the palms of her hands resting on the bends of her knees, facing up. "Sit like this," she instructed, "in a circle."
"I don't remember doing it like this at Millie's 14th," Pansy said, but she dutifully folded herself down and copied Luna's stance.
"It's how my mum taught me," Luna replied which effectively silenced any further objections.
"Who are we doing?" Hermione asked, and all of the girls around the circle exchanged glances with one another. "Ginny?" she tried, "It was your suggestion."
Ginny paled a fraction, or maybe a lot for it to have been noticeable in the little amount of candlelight that the room now had.
"Problem Weasley?"
Ginny twisted her hands together and looked dead at Hermione. "What if it's not Harry?"
Hermione looked at her compassionately, if there were such a thing as soulmates, which she highly doubted, Harry and Ginny would be it. Taking pity on her friend she turned to the blonde next to her. "Luna?"
"I think I know mine," she responded, not looking up from where she was tracking a pattern onto the top of her knee.
"Of course you do," Hermione sighed looking to her other side at Pansy, but it seemed the other girl had foreseen her question.
"You first," Pansy said, her tone almost daring.
In spite of herself, Hermione felt anxious. "This doesn't seem like something we should mess around with."
"Scared Granger?"
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "If anyone ever doubted you and Draco grew up together," she responded dryly.
"So, are we going this or what?" Ginny said, almost bouncing in anticipation.
Hermione looked around the circle once more to find three sets of eyes all looking back at her expectantly. Not knowing what else to do she sagged, "Fine."
"We need something of yours, Hermione."
Hermione looked around herself not seeing anything of particular significance until she remembered the headband on her wrist. "Will this do?"
Luna looked at it for a few moments before appearing to deem it worthy then the girls got back in position, this time linking hands face up, one on top of the other until the circle was connected. Hermione wasn't sure what to expect, but a moment later Luna began chanting, the words weren't something she recognised but soon after Pansy, and then Ginny joined in, and she started following too. It wasn't a language that Hermione readily understood, but the sounds were simple and the cadence melodic so it wasn't difficult. Under Luna's instruction she kept her eyes resolutely closed until some time later, she thought she could feel a breeze on her face. It weirdly put Hermione in mind of the sea.
She opened one eyelid, just a crack, warily not looking into the centre of the circle in case she caught sight of a glittering name she didn't want to acknowledge. Her eyes flew open when she registered that outside of the ring they had created books and other random objects from the dorm were rushing past them. It was like being in the middle of a twister. When her gasp didn't get any attention from the others, Hermione squeezed Pansy's hand tightly, causing the girl's eyes to open instantly.
"What do you want Gran… What the fuck?" Pansy's eyes flew wide, and her shout brought the others out of their states
"Shit."
"Luna?"
"This… this didn't happen before."
The candles that Luna had insisted they light began flickering, first only a few and then it was like all of them were constantly flashing. Hermione wanted it all to stop; she made to pull her fingers away from the others, to get to her feet, but when she tried her hands were stuck fast.
"What do..."
Before she could finish her desperate sentence, there was an almost deafening bang followed by what sounded like the roar of waves, and suddenly, all at once, all of the candles blew out.
Then, all was black.
Hermione didn't know what had happened but moments after the spell seemed to reach its apex her hands were suddenly free. She fell back on the carpet and got the impression the others may have done the same; they had all been pulling quite hard on each other. Ignoring the winded feeling in her chest, she immediately scrambled to her feet, glad that they had cleared up the mess on the floor earlier.
The lights came back on.
Hermione didn't know what she was expecting to see, maybe debris, a few scattered parchment pages and some broken objects, perhaps, but she knew she didn't expect to see a person on the ground. A boy on the ground. A boy all in black on the ground. A sopping wet boy all in black in the ground.
On the ground of her school dormitory.
"Hermione…" Pansy began, her face more shocked that Hermione had ever seen it, but whatever she was going to say was halted when the stranger opened his eyes. He blinked heavily for a moment before his gaze fixed on a point above her head. He groaned lowly before throwing a hand over his face, his teeth gritted as if he was in pain.
Hermione followed his line of sight. He had been looking at the extensive Gryffindor related merchandise that was suspended over Ginny's bed. When the boys had learned of Pansy moving into their dorm their reaction had been to send almost every conceivable red and gold banner in existence, and a few that Hermione suspected they had created. Hermione had point blank refused to have any of it in her section; Ginny had too until she and Pansy had their first fight, then she had practically covered a quarter of their ceiling with the stuff.
Hermione's heart was beating out of her chest; they were in trouble, real trouble, old school trouble. None of them had said anything further to Pansy's one word, she wasn't sure if it was the fear or part of the spell, but her mouth felt almost glued shut.
Her eyes dove back to the stranger when he convulsed suddenly, he threw himself onto his side and brought up thick streams of water as he heaved. Hermione's first instinct was to drop down to the floor and help him; maybe she would have let herself a few years before, but not now.
Her hesitation proved to be fortuitous when what felt like minutes later the boy seemed to get command of himself, stretching before his arm jerked in a movement Hermione was sure they would all recognise.
He moved, quickly, but nowhere near fast enough.
It was far from the first time Hermione had felt a wand tip pressed against her throat; it was, however, a relatively new feeling to feel robust enough to fight back. She had her own weapon trained on him not even a second later, even if it was a bit of a stretch to reach, and then, they both just stopped. She was close enough to hear his breathing which was incredibly laboured, close enough to register his strangely familiar slate grey eyes and high cheekbones. She could feel the dampness of his jacket and the warmth coming off his chest.
Hermione felt more than heard the other girls close in around her, and a moment later her silent stare-off with the stranger was broken. He took a step back, and although he nearly tripped over a cushion he never seemed to lose his composure, he even managed to lower his wand without it looking like an act of surrender.
When he eventually pocketed his weapon it was as if the tension in the room burst, like a pricked balloon, his eyes were still trained on her face and just as strong as the compulsion to hold her tongue had been earlier, now it was forcing her to speak.
"H-Hello?" She stuttered out and then shook her head.
"Are you alright?" Ginny asked, twirling her wand in her fingers, seemingly caught between wanting to brandish it and put it out of sight.
"You're very wet," Luna observed, her head tilted to the side.
"Who are you?" Pansy demanded, stepping forward in a way that made Hermione cringe, she wasn't sure they should be getting that close to the stranger, there was something about him, something dangerous.
"Have you come far?" Luna asked conversationally as if nothing about this was in any way peculiar.
Hermione thought she was going to be sick and then his eyes found hers again and then she was sure she was going to throw up. She noticed the wet black hair that was pressed against his forehead, his skin that looked almost impossibly pale against the shocking darkness of his robes, his wet robes, should she have offered a drying charm?
Then he spoke, in a voice that was so confident it was almost ridiculous, given their situation. "I'm Regulus, Regulus Black."
Hermione felt all of the air leave her lungs in a painful rush as she sputtered out, "Your… what?"
A/N: Phew, I think that was the most dialogue I have ever included in one chapter. Well, there we are… some explanations all round in the next update.
