Seventh Year at Hogwarts had been a much more laidback affair for Hermione Granger.
For one thing, no one had tried to kill her best friends, and that small detail had taken load off her shoulders. Secondly, the boys had elected not to return, thereby relieving Hermione of any responsibility she felt to nag. Harry and Ron could never ever be replaced, but Ginny and Luna became the other two sides to a new triangle that had taken plenty of time to get used to.
In light of the recent events, Headmistress McGonagall had declared it open season on dormitory selection and let the students themselves chose the group they would be roommates with, in hopes that interhouse unity would come a bit more naturally to them from then on.
At this announcement, Hermione had thought for sure that the populace of Hogwarts would go insane and take down the rest of the still-mending castle in a blaze of flames and sheer stubbornness. In actual fact, it had been quite a civilized affair. Though students were still sorted into their official houses by the Sorting Hat based on personal values and strengths, the unspoken Great Hall House Table System had already been abolished. Students at the end of the previous year had already been mingling and mixing while trying to heal both physical and emotional wounds and over the course of the last few weeks at school, it had become commonplace to co-habitate with other houses.
That was how Hermione, Ginny, Hannah Abbott and Daphne Greengrass found themselves in the topmost dorm of Ravenclaw Tower for their seventh year with Luna Lovegood. The five girls had grown close in the aftermath of the Second Wizarding War but it wasn't until there was a knock at Hermione's door on the morning of Harry's birthday that she realized how close.
"Daphne?" Hermione opened the door, still in her pyjamas, bare feet soft and warm against the white-painted floorboards.
"Hi, darling," the blonde gave her a small smile and tipped her head to the side. "I know everything must have you completely frazzled – and I know how you hate being frazzled – but do you think I could come in? I brought croissants."
The Slytherin was obviously holding back the urge to walk in of her own accord, her commanding presence warring with her obvious concern for Hermione. One glance at the bag Daphne was holding had her frowning.
"Did you go all the way to France for those?" she squeaked, stepping back and allowing her friend into the apartment. The cream trench coat she wore hung open to reveal a tailored dress of the finest quality Hermione had ever seen and she resisted the urge to stare at the woman.
"Well, yes. What else was I supposed to do? I hardly thought you were up for a jaunt to Hévin's and so I brought the salon de thé à toi, n'est-ce pas?" she giggled at her joke and Hermione rolled her eyes.
She set her purse down on the small dining table and disappeared quickly into the kitchen, the sounds emerging making it quite clear that Daphne knew her way around Hermione's house better than she did at the moment. Hermione hugged her arms around herself tightly before sitting on the couch. Daphne emerged a moment later, a tray of chocolate drizzled croissants floating in front of her as she carried two steaming mugs of tea on a tea service.
"Is that mine?" Hermione asked and leaned forward as Daphne set it down and went to remove her coat.
"Yes, it's yours. I bought it for you and you never use it so we're using it," she laughed.
"No wonder," Hermione said, touching her fingertips to the sterling filigree handle of the cream decanter. "It's very ostentatious."
"No dear, it's beautiful, we've gone through this," Daphne settled on the chair close by. "Now why don't you tell me what's going on now that you're back at home?"
Silence fell between them but Daphne didn't blink. Instead she crossed her legs and twirled a lock of hair around her index finger and observed Hermione with a shrewd eye. Never once did she give the impression she was about to speak again until Hermione had said at least something.
Hermione sighed.
"Daph, I can't remember – remember that you bought that for me, or how I felt about it before, or the conversation we had about it being beautiful, not ostentatious. That's how I am," Hermione finished with a sigh, looking up at the other woman unblinkingly.
Daphne hadn't really changed much compared to the image Hermione was holding in her memory of Daphne in seventh year. Her hair was still a peculiar shade of blonde with a touch of strawberry red and her eyes were the very same shape, hooded with a bright brown iris. Her nose was a bit longer than Astoria's was, but it suited her longer oval face more than it would suit her younger sister's rounder one. Daphne sat as elegantly as ever - if one could even sit elegantly – with class and good taste still an aura about her.
"I mean, I haven't even been able to look myself in the mirror, or – or look at this apartment, I just – I feel so out of place, Daph. I feel like I'm in a strangers house living a stranger's life -"
"Well, you aren't really living it are you?" she asked, blunt.
"Daph, it's been one day since I got home, what do you think I should be doing?" Hermione asked, dropping her head into her hands.
Hermione's breathing was heavy and she continued to stare through the gaps in her fingers at the floorboards, willing herself not to cry again, tracing the pattern of the painted slats with her eyes – herringbone, maybe? – until Daphne finally moved.
"Get up," she commanded. "Come on."
Her heels clicked away in the direction of the hall and Hermione begrudgingly looked up at her retreating back. Pulling herself up, she followed Daphne back into the bathroom and the other woman placed her in front of the mirror.
"Look, there," she pointed, looking at the reflection of Hermione over her shoulder. "What do you see?"
Hermione looked over herself, seeing her emotions play over her features like an outsider.
"I don't know," she responded.
"What a load of shit. Get it together, Granger," Daphne held her stony expression for a moment before giving her a tiny smile.
"I…" Hermione sighed and went back to really look.
Her skin was still fair and she leaned closer to the glass to inspect the freckles over the bridge of her nose. They were exactly as she remembered them. Her eyes were the same, the slope of her nose identical, and her teeth just as perfect. The curves of her shoulders, the shadow of her collarbones, and the hollow of her throat, all the same. Her face was a little less round perhaps, but that was the only difference she could see.
"I see me," she said.
"Precisely," Daphne nodded pointedly.
"But it's not just that! It's not about looks," Hermione turned quickly to look at her friend.
"Then what's bugging you? You have to tell me, as I have no idea what it's like to lose my memory, darling."
"It's about – it's about this," Hermione gestured around. "It's about not recognizing all of this. It's about not understanding how I got here! Things are so different than I thought they would be when we were in school, planning our futures and figuring out what we wanted to do."
"You're panicking because things aren't what you expected? I can see how that would be a bit off-putting but darling, nothing turns out the way you think it will. Nothing. Just look at you! You never thought you'd lose your memory but here you are having lost it!" she laughed. "Nothing happens when or how or with who you think it will. Life just isn't like that."
"I never thought I'd end up engaged to George Weasley," Hermione slumped onto the edge of the bathtub. "How did that even -"
"Engaged? Like engaged engaged?" Daphne interrupted her with wide eyes.
"Yeah, I – how come you didn't know?" Hermione shook her head, confused.
"My question exactly," the blonde huffed and raced from the bathroom. Hermione jumped up and followed her down the hall and out into the sitting room again. Daphne had already flooed someone when she came around the corner.
"You asked her to marry you, and you didn't even tell me? Don't you think you should have asked me for her hand in marriage?" There was a pause as Daphne listened. "No, you twat. Will you please come through?" Another pause. "Well, you're going to need to talk eventually. Now's a good time!"
"Do you usually talk to George like that? Seems a bit informal," Hermione frowned as Daphne pulled her head out of the fire and brushed soot off her shoulder.
"Considering I'm -"
A great whoosh interrupted her and in a blaze of green flame, George was stepping out into Hermione's living room.
"How was I supposed to know Perce wouldn't say anything? I assumed you knew obviously," George directed at Daphne.
"Well, I know that now," Daphne rolled her eyes.
"Hi, Hermione," George cast a brief glance in her direction.
"Percy?" Hermione questioned.
"No," George shook his head. "I'm George. You can't have forgotten that."
"No, you said Percy – what does he have to do with anything?"
There was a beat of silence before Daphne and George burst into laughter, Daphne somewhat more enthusiastically.
"It's complicated," Daphne hedged.
"How complicated?" Hermione asked.
"We're married."
Daphne broke into laughter again at the look on Hermione's face.
HI HAPPY SUNDAY BABES
Wish me luck for finals as it's my last nine days of class and projects and send reviews to keep me strong.