She took the moving staircases up to Gryffindor tower, hopping from one to the next with practiced precision. She knew the castle like the back of her hand at this point. It was as old a friend to her as Harry and Ron. Older even, considering the lonely first few months of first year, where she only had the books in the library to keep her company. She still felt that way sometimes, but now that was more her own doing, not her classmates'.
She saw her mind healer religiously over the summer, and did a ton of reading on trauma psychology. She knew now that she isolated herself from her friends because she didn't want them to see her weak. Didn't want them to know that she didn't have all the answers. But how did she stop feeling this way?
The fat lady greeted her with surprise, taking the whispered password and swinging open to reveal the comfortingly familiar Gryffindor common room, filled with eighth year students. She had only been up here once since her return to the school, on the very first night back, when Seamus threw a raging party to celebrate the reunion. It was a painstaking night. There was a forced cheerfulness in the atmosphere that made it all feel a bit awkward and sad. Like they were all overcompensating for the melancholy they really felt and everyone knew it.
She hoped tonight would be different, because her night had already been shaken by her fight with Malfoy. She pushed the thoughts of him out of her mind and immediately went to greet Ginny, who was standing by the butterbeer keg, refilling her mug.
"Hey, Gin."
"Hermione! Hi," Ginny greeted her with surprise. "The boys were just talking about where you must have gotten off to."
Hermione poured herself a half a mug of the nonalcoholic butterbeer and scanned the room for her two friends. "Oh, I just got finished with rounds. It took a little longer than expected." She didn't know why she left the real reason she was late, Malfoy, out of her sentence. Maybe she just didn't want to talk about him. Or maybe her grievances with Malfoy felt more personal and private than the one's her friends held against him.
"Yeah, I heard about Malfoy sticking Ron with the worst possible duties. He didn't get done until a minute ago either. Makes me glad I refused to be a prefect this year. And Harry."
"Yeah, I'm starting to wonder if it was a smart choice as well."
"Hermione Granger, you did not just say that. Is it Malfoy?"
"I'd rather not talk about him, actually." She took a deep sip of her butterbeer, hoping the sugar rush would melt her brain enough that she didn't have to think about him.
"That bad, huh?"
"Worse," she said hoarsely. "Where are Ron and Harry?"
"Oh nevermind them, they can wait a few more minutes. I need to talk to you about something." Ginny grabbed her wrist and towed her through the crowd of students towards the girl's dormitory staircase.
She caught Neville's wave but Ginny was too fast for her to give much of a response. She followed the redhead up into what would have been her dormitory if she had turned down McGonagall's offer of head girl. Ginny dropped onto her bed and Hermione followed, fighting to fold her legs under her school skirt. She wondered how many nights they had sat across from each other just like this, talking about everything from boys, to magic, to war.
"So, my first question is how angry do you think my mother will be if Harry and I elope after graduation?" Hermione tried to school her expression out of one of shock. Ginny wanting an elopement didn't surprise her in the least, but she had always assumed Harry's wedding would be a Weasley affair. The few times she considered it. Ron would be his best man of course, and she would be there.
"Furious. Ginny, is Harry in on this idea?"
"Oh, there's no real plans for it, just something I was considering. I do want to marry him though. Sooner rather than later. I already feel like we lost so much time during the war. I don't want to be apart from him for a moment after Hogwarts. And mum will have kittens if I move in with him before we're married." That was true. The Weasley's were a bit traditional that way. Molly was scandalized when she found out that Her, Ron, and Harry slept in a tent together for the better part of a year. And they had been on the run for Merlin's sake.
"I get it Gin. I don't blame you. It just feels a bit fast I guess."
Ginny picked up a strand of hair and twisted it around her finger, looking down at her lap for a moment. "You know, that kind of brings me to the other thing I thought we should talk about." She cleared her throat. Hermione stared at her, breath quickening. During the war, she found she hated the feeling of anticipation. Especially in the case where other people had things to tell you. In her experience, the news wasn't usually good.
"I was just wondering, well I couldn't have helped but notice things between you and my brother seemed to have...stalled I guess." Hermione picked at a loose thread on the crimson comforter, watched it snag and fray for a second before she realized it wasn't her blanket and she shouldn't be tearing holes in it.
"Yeah, it's my fault. I just, I don't know. Ron has been great, but I have things I think I need to deal with first." She thought that was the truth.
"Right, no, of course." Her tone was kind but Hermione couldn't tell exactly what Ginny was feeling. This was her brother they were talking about. How much should she share? "It's just that, he really thinks that things between you will resolve themselves soon. And we're not rushing you Hermione, really. That's the last thing anyone wants. It's just, well, I was starting to wonder if you can see things working with him."
Hermione raised her head and looked Ginny in the face. Something inside her deflated and cracked at the same time. Because she felt it. The shame and guilt of being caught in a lie. Even though she didn't know what she was lying about. Tears welled in her eyes before she could stop them. She kept them from spilling over by sheer will. There was a slight panic in Ginny's eyes now, but there was no turning back anymore.
"I don't know, Ginny. I don't know. It all feels so messed up now." Her voice was weak and she hated it.
"Oh, Hermione." Ginny grabbed her hands. "It's okay. You can tell me. I won't say anything to Ron. Or Harry."
"It's just...I always thought, that if anyone from Hogwarts would be interested in me, it would be Ron. Harry is, quite literally, like my brother. We've only ever had a platonic friendship. But it was different with Ron, you know?" She broke off to wipe at the corner of her eye. "I knew he must've felt something more for me by the time we got to sixth year. Because it upset him so much that I had been with Victor. And I thought I felt something too, I really did. During the war, everyone's emotions were just so touch and go. One minute, I thought he must love me and the next, he was leaving us. Which I've forgiven him for, but that's besides the point. And then he was professing his love for me after the final battle and I think maybe, it conflated our emotions a bit. I do love him, I do. I'm just starting to think that maybe that love is not the kind of romantic love we were both hoping for."
She didn't tell Ginny the rest of it. How messy things had truly gotten. They had kissed a few times, that much Ginny knew. But she didn't know that twice they had slept together. And Hermione knew it was a mistake. She knew it was a mistake when he was climbing into her bed. She knew it was a mistake when he was undoing his pajama bottoms. She knew it was a mistake when he pushed into her for the first time, but she let it happen. And then she let it happen again, because she thought it was what she was supposed to want.
The first time was because she had wanted to comfort Ron and she didn't know how. It was the night following the morning of Fred's burial. Molly Weasley's sobs were still echoing in her head when she climbed into bed that night. The bed across from her was empty. She knew Ginny and Harry were walking through the fields like they did most nights and probably wouldn't be back until dawn. That was if they decided to stay at the burrow and not escape to Grimmauld Place for a little while. When the door creaked open, she knew it was Ron.
He had been crying; she could tell and when he slipped under the covers next to her, she stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. Before she knew what was happening, he was kissing her. And it was familiar, distracting from the grief that permeated through the cracks in the walls.
They kept kissing and she let him take what he wanted from her body. She was shaking with nerves. It wasn' t her first time, but it was her first time after Greyback, and she desperately wanted to erase the feeling of that monster's hands on her. Better it be her best friend. There was none of the kind of foreplay that she had read about in witch weekly, but then again, her memory with Viktor's methods of foreplay didn't really make her miss it. She wasn't wet, and it was uncomfortable, but mercifully quick. Ron cried afterwards and she held him to her until the sun rose.
They had tried one more time after that. It went pretty much the same way, minus the crying. They had a rare moment to themselves while all the Weasley's were miraculously elsewhere, and she ended up in his bed, on top of the Chudley Cannons quilt he refused to get rid of, even though he was a man now. He tried to make it better for her this time, but after a few minutes of him rubbing too hard in the wrong spot, her leg was starting to cramp and so she just took him out of his pants and let him brace himself over her. It wasn't as scary this time. More just a feeling of fondness for him and a slight twinge of pain between her legs, because she still wasn't wet enough.
When he was finished, he promised they would work on it, that he wanted to please her. She believed him. But imagining a future where the two of them did anything like this with any regularity, kissing, sleeping together, holding hands, exchanging caring words, felt foreign. It was like she planned her way up to this moment and then had no idea what to do now that she had gotten there. Was starting to realize that she didn't really want to be there.
"Hermione, if you don't think you're in love with him, maybe it's time to tell him," Ginny said quietly. On top of it all, she worried how turning Ron down would affect her relationship with the girl sitting across from her and of course, her friendship with Harry. They were the golden trio, as the daily prophet called them. Would this fracture them?
"I just don't know how, Ginny," she whispered. " I know it seems like I'm leading him on, but I want you to understand that I was hoping that eventually, I would just start to feel what I'm supposed to be feeling."
"Hermione, there is no way anyone is supposed to feel when it comes to these kinds of things. And I think...that if you can't see yourself with him, it's better to rip off the bandage now, before it gets worse."
She was right of course. Anyone could see that. But there was still the matter of actually ending things. Ending them before they had even really started. But she needed to. For the sake of her friendship, she needed to.
"You're right. Yeah, you're right." She took a deep, steadying breath. "I'll talk to him tomorrow. I just don't think I can do it tonight. I need to think of what I want to say to him."
Ginny nodded. There were tears in her eyes too, and Hermione wondered if she was also mourning what could have been. After all, they might have been sisters by marriage in another life. She flicked her hair over her shoulders and looked up at the ceiling.
"I'm assuming you don't want to see them tonight then," Ginny asked.
"No, I- I think I just need to go back to my room." She didn't think she could fake being fine in front of everyone. Not right now.
"Wait two minutes, I'll distract them. Then just leave. I'll make something up, like you were sick or there was a studying emergency in the library." That brought a sad smile to Hermione's lips, but Ginny was already on her way to the door. She did exactly what her friend said, waiting for two minutes before slipping down the stairs and back through the common room, keeping her head down all the while. She didn't look around for Ron or Harry, not wanting them to spot her face. The fat lady closed behind her and she breathed out a sigh of relief.
She knew what she had to do now. The hard part was to actually do it. But at least Ginny had bought her a night to prepare what she needed to say to Ron. And it wasn't as if she was going to get much sleep anyway.
As she crossed the threshold into the head dormitory, she could already pick up on the flirtatious tinkling of female laughter. She rolled her eyes and attempted to mentally prepare herself for another night with Malfoy. The ugly words they spoke to each other were still bouncing around her head, but she wasn't surprised to see that he moved on with his night quite quickly.
He was just leading Pansy Parkinson up to his room when she rounded the corner into the main living area. They both stopped walking with her arrival and looked at her like she was a lower life form.
"Oh, I forgot you lived with the...what is it they call you now? The golden mudblood?" Pansy smirked, proud of the insult. Merlin, how she hated that word. She couldn't escape it. It was cut into her skin. She chose not to dignify it with a response, and instead turned to hang her outer robes up on the hook near their door.
Malfoy's eyes roamed over her slowly, a slight curl to his upper lip. "Pansy, go wait for me upstairs. I have something I need to ask Granger."
The raven haired girl turned to him, her brows scrunched in annoyance. "Seriously? Can't it wait?" she whined.
"No."
Pansy was brimming with silent irritation as she turned and climbed the stairs to Draco's room, alone.
"Well? Out with it Malfoy. It's been a long day."
"Trust me Granger, I'm aware. But it's your fault we're having this conversation." He crossed his arms over his chest and she noticed that his tie was undone and the first few buttons on his shirt were undone. This seemed to be the norm for him. Like the Hogwarts uniform made him claustrophobic. She rarely ever saw him in robes.
"And how is it my fault?"
He tipped his head back against the wall. The shadows in the room carved his face and body into something even sharper, moonlight glinting off his near white hair.
"You need to tell your little friends that our common room is not their common room."
"What are you even talking about? I've only had friends of mine here twice. And that was just to show them the room the first day and a half we had it."
"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about them showing up and trying to get in here when we're on rounds. Trying to bypass the painting?" She had no idea what he was talking about. Her friends wouldn't just show up at her dorm and try to get in. They would ask her the password.
"Bypass the painting?"
"Yes. The frame had clearly been tampered with when I got back tonight." She didn't like his accusatory tone. Especially when he was the one that kept bringing people up to their dorm.
"Well, my friends wouldn't try to break into the head dorm. You should go complain to your friends, because I'd bet everything I own it was one of them."
He scoffed, but she wasn't done. "In fact, I'd appreciate it if you stopped bringing visitors into our space every chance you get, Malfoy. Jenny Higgs, both Greengrass sisters, now Pansy Parkinson?"
"Wow. Have you been keeping a guest list? Just because you've decided on celibacy doesn't mean we all have to live that way."
"Don't act like this is normal. You're running from something, Malfoy," she spat.
"Don't try to diagnose me, Granger. I'm not interested." He turned away from her now, no doubt bored with their conversation.
"You don't have to worry. The last place I want to be is in your head." It was true. Malfoy may have defected during the war, but he was still just as rotten as he always was. She had no desire to try to understand him.
"Then if you don't mind. I have a witch waiting in my bed." He was nearly to the stairs when he turned back to her. "Oh, and Granger?"
"What?" she growled.
"Mind you're fucking business, yeah?"
Then Malfoy was gone and she was standing in an empty common room, drained of emotion. As she was climbing into bed, the noises coming from Malfoy's bedroom were already starting. Despite the fact that the staircases to their respective rooms were on opposite sides of the common room, their bedrooms were nestled right next to each other on the second floor of the head's suite. She knew his headboard met the wall right behind her own. That meant Pansy's breathy, feminine moans might as well have been directly in her ear.
She sighed and reached for her wand to put a two way silencing charm around her room, but something stopped her. When she would question her actions the next day, she would try to forget that is was Malfoy's rough whisper of "fuck" that made her go as still as a rabbit caught in a predator's gaze. That made her heart beat into her ears and a strange kind of buzzing sensation dance along her nerve endings. Because there was just no way that she, Hermione Granger, was feeling anything but disgust overhearing two of the worst Slytherins she had ever met screw next door.
Not when she had other, bigger things to think about and agonize over. She had to break up with her best friend the next day for Merlin's sake. But the erotic sound of his voice came again, following Pansy's long, irritating moan and the low, grittiness of it brought a flush of warmth to her chest. In the low light, she watched the skin of her bare arms prickle with gooseflesh. No, this wasn't happening. She should just pick up her wand and whisper the silencing charm. But she was frozen.
More moaning and cursing from the woman in the room behind her. Whines of praise and neediness for Malfoy. Draco, fuck. Yes. Oh gods, you're so big. The words were muffled, but Hermione could make them out, even over the sound of her roaring heart. Then something worse; what she thought was a soft, low groan from her dorm mate. Wet heat pooled in her core. Shame coursed through her. This was Malfoy she was listening to. But for some reason she would never be able to understand or explain, the shame in it brought an even hotter ache to her center.
At this point, Pansy was screaming bloody murder and she tried to tune her out. It was hard, considering her ears were strained to pick up on any sound Malfoy made. Pansy's screams went hoarse for a moment, her volume dropping suddenly, and Hermione knew, just knew, that Malfoy had his hand wrapped around her throat or maybe covering her mouth. Thank Merlin, she thought. And then she was rewarded by another groan from Malfoy.
The mental picture it conjured, him driving into Pansy with his hand clamped over her mouth, brought a vicious need to her core. Her fingers twitched where they sat on her T-shirt clad belly and she nearly gave in to the desire to let them trail lower, over the center of her knickers to relieve the ache. She resisted, pulling her arms tight to her upper body, her fists clenched under her chin.
She didn't understand why she was being affected this way. So Malfoy was, conventionally, very attractive. Everyone knew that. He had always been attractive, but Hermione liked to think of herself as someone who wouldn't lose her head over looks. He was an awful person. He was mean to her and her friends. She didn't like his arrogance and cruelty and spite. She repeated that mantra to herself until she was interrupted by Pansy's garbled cry. Fuck Draco, I'm coming again. She broke off into an ear splitting scream that made Hermione wince. Finally, she heard Malfoy curse again, breaking off into a deep groan. The pleasure in his voice brought a hot wave of arousal over her yet again.
Pansy was still whining softly, but Hermione had no desire to hear any kind of pillow talk from the Slytherins. Although, she knew there wouldn't be much, since Malfoy always seemed to kick his guests out before they got too comfortable. Regardless, she finally found the strength to reach over to her nightstand for her wand and cast a silencing spell. Now entrenched in a blanket of quiet, she rolled onto her side and curled into a ball. What was wrong with her?
She mercifully did not have to see Malfoy the next morning. He was still asleep when she left the head's dorm. It was Saturday and he was no doubt sleeping in like every other sane person. Hermoine, by contrast, was already dressed, showered, and in the library before breakfast. Her muscles had been cramping with anxiety since three in the morning, dreading her impending breakup with Ron. Laying in bed, the aftershocks of the cruciatus curse crept up on her, the way they did when she was particularly stressed or upset about something. They were like phantom pains, a less intense version of the torture curse's sensation. Her muscles would spasm with shooting aches and her head would pound like she had a migraine. Sometimes, all she could do was curl into the fetal position and gasp like a fish until it went away.
Afterwards, she could either pass out from exhaustion or more rarely, be so keyed up on nerves that sleep was impossible. Last night was the latter. By five she decided to get started on finding Ron study resources for his astronomy exam. It felt like the least she could do.
She had also managed to scrounge up her old astronomy notes tucked away in a random sheaf of papers. All before the castle became alive with students. It alleviated her guilt a bit and served as a distraction from remembering the night before.
What the hell had she been thinking? She felt dirty, like a skeevy voyeur. She had no idea how she was going to sit down at breakfast and look at the head boy without a traitorish blush staining her cheeks. If she had any luck, he would be preoccupied with his own friends this weekend.
The great hall was nearly full for breakfast and her gut twisted when she spotted Ron's familiar mop of ginger hair. He was pouring syrup over a stack of pancakes and laughing at something Seamus was saying. He had no idea that she was about to blow his morning to smithereens. Harry was sitting next to him and for a stupid moment, Hermione figured she should include Harry in the conversation. It was so rare that they made any decisions without one of the three of them present in the last year. But she knew that was silly. This was between her and Ron, no matter how deeply her choice would affect all her friendships at Hogwarts.
"Good morning Ron, Harry." Her voice came out too quiet and she had to repeat herself to get their attention.
"Morning, Mione," they chorused together with a smile. She fiddled with the belt loop on her muggle jeans wishing that Harry would turn back around and let her single out Ron without too much fanfare. She was still holding the notes and books she put together for him and the fact only served to make the whole situation more awkward.
"Are you going to sit?" Ron asked her, already clearing her a spot.
"Um, actually I was hoping I could talk to you maybe. Do you think we could take a walk?" Harry, politefully, turned away from the two of them with feigned nonchalance.
"Sure. Yeah, sure," Ron said softly, seeming confused, but hopeful. He stood up and brushed off the front of his jumper. An infamous Molly Weasley made jumper. Merlin, how she would miss those. He followed her out of the great hall, through the courtyard, to a path leading to the lake. They walked in silence for a moment, until she decided to start with the easiest part of the conversation.
"I found my old astronomy notes. And went to the library for some guide journals. Thought they might be useful." She shoved the papers and books at him, holding them in front of her like a shield. He took them clumsily, the papers getting smashed against his chest from the way she dumped them into his arms.
"Blimey, Hermione. This is a lot. I'll never be able to get through all these notes. You practically rewrote the textbooks," he said exasperatedly. A quick surge of hurt flashed through her, forcing words out of her mouth before she could stop them.
"A thank you would be nice. I spent a lot of time putting that together," she snapped. His cheeks colored.
"I-thank you. You know I'm grateful for it, Mione. Really." She knew that. She did. But since the war, negative emotions would pop up with little warning.
"I know you are. I'm sorry, that's not what-" she winced and broke off. "There's something I need to say to you. About...about us. He stopped walking. They were at the pebbly beach of the lake now, and he moved to sit on a small boulder near the water's edge. It was a grey day and the lake looked dark and still. She moved to sit across from him.
"I figured you had more to talk about than how I'm going to pass my astronomy exam. What is it?"
She picked up a pebble from the beach and ran her thumb over it. "I know that over the summer, we made some insinuations that we would be together when things started to feel normal again."
"Yeah. I know you need time. After everything that happened. The snatchers, the manor. I get that." He clasped his hands loosely between his knees, studying her face as if it was the first time he ever saw her. "Do you want that? To be together, I mean." She met his eyes. They were the clear blue of a sunny day, the same blue they had always been. She would recognize them anywhere.
"I-" how was she supposed to explain this when she didn't fully understand it herself? She dropped the pebble in her hand. It clattered on the other stones like a gunshot in the silence. "Have you ever gotten yourself into something that you thought you wanted. And then you realize that maybe you had just tricked yourself into thinking you wanted it. Because everyone else expected you to?"
"What are you saying, Mione?" Ron grabbed her hands, like he was afraid she might disappear on him. "Is that...is that what you think happened with us? Because it's not. It can't be."
"Ron, I-"
He shook his head in disbelief. "No, we...for years we've been leading up to this. Don't ruin it now." His face was so open, so honest. Her Ron. And he would always be one of her very best friends. Someone she would go to hell and back for. But he would never be the boyfriend or husband she always wanted for herself. And she would never be the woman he wanted. She couldn't let them make this mistake.
"Ron, I don't want to spend the rest of my life feeling like I need to be someone that I'm not. And I know you don't want that either. I'll lecture you too much, and talk about things you have no interest in, and get mad at you for things you can't help but do. And you'll resent me for it. I just- I don't want to go on disappointing each other. I'm not the woman for you. I think...I think we were just wrapped up in too much grief and fear and stress to realize it.
His mouth pressed into a thin line and she could see the shining of his eyes in the watery light. And oh gods, that killed her. Because she never wanted to hurt him. It was the last thing she wanted, especially after everything they had been through in such a short amount of time.
"Fine, I get it."
"You'll always be one of my best friends, Ron. That will never change. You know that. You know I love you and Harry so, so much." he pressed her hands to her chest, tears overflowing onto her cheeks now. She had to make him understand. Understand how much he meant to her. How much it meant to her to know his friendship. How much it meant to her to try to move on from her assault with him. It hadn't been good sex. It was clumsy and dry and a little painful, but she would never forget it. Would never forget the emotion they just couldn't put into their touches or their words.
"I know but, I need some time, okay? Fuck. I need time to get over this." He stood from where he was perched on the boulder and scooped up the books she had handed him what felt like hours ago. Another lifetime.
"I understand."
"I don't think I can be around you all that often right now. Not right now," he shook his head.
"Okay." Her voice was small. Ron was looking everywhere but her.
Then he was walking away from her, back towards the castle. She waited until she couldn't make out the shape of him anymore to make her way back as well. She bypassed all the student gathering spots, avoided any familiar faces, didn't stop until she had reached the library. She buried her face into an arithmancy textbook and read her assigned chapters until her tears started dripping onto the pages, bleeding the ink.