35.

Hermione:

How many ways are there to disappear?

Is it possible to use them all at the same time?

Rolling over on the bed, she let out a frustrated sigh. She put her hands to her face in shame. She didn't want to go to the prefect's bathroom, she just wanted to sink into bed until she was gone. She had dreamed of Pansy. Which, it wasn't the first time, everyone dreams from time to time about those they appreciate. However, it was the first time that the dream became more... more... she didn't even want to think about it! Well, a little yes. She couldn't help but fall for that, how attractive and sensual Pansy was in her dream. But it was so embarrassing! No. Definitely not. She didn't want to remember!

She jumped to her feet, trying to fight her internal tantrum. She didn't even tidy up her bed before leaving the dorm. She just needed a bath, to relax, to ignore all this. It was silly actually, she had had wet dreams before. Although they used to be meaningless: she wasn't the one involved or she was with someone she had never seen in her life. And they certainly hadn't left her feeling this way.

She reached the bathroom, appreciating the solitude. Bath salts, foam, she let the tub fill as she undressed and plunged into the water without delay. She closed her eyes, enjoying the heat.

In the dream she also felt heat. Pansy would ask "Do you find me sexy, Hermione?" with that deeper voice that she sometimes used to tease her in a mocking way, and they... they kissed, they touched. There was much more skin than in reality, she'd never seen Pansy shirtless, but that did not complicate the task for her mind: she imagined her without problems, in more detail than she ever dared awake. Now her cheeks felt hot too. She hugged her knees and submerged herself completely. A part of her wanted to drown herself so she wouldn't have to face her girlfriend. But in the end the need for air became overwhelming and she got out.

. . .

Today was finally her meeting for vocational guidance. McGonagall was waiting for her in her office. She arrived on time and the door was open, so she entered shyly, not sure if she should have waited to be called.

"Granger," the teacher greeted her when she recognized her, nodded to the chair in front of her desk, "sit down."

"Thank you," she murmured, obeying.

The place reminded her in part of the Gryffindor common room, with red curtains, several wooden seats with soft cushions, and a fireplace on one of its walls (which was not lit). The teacher's desk was neat, with a stack of scrolls on one side and a quill in the inkwell on the opposite side.

She noticed how different her experience already was in contrast to Pansy's. She felt comfortable here, she trusted her teacher. Snape did not try to foster this with his students, he did not even invite them to his office, but rather faced them in his usual classroom, in addition to making fun of his student's interests and aspirations, let alone how he demonstrated to be as blood supremacist as Draco Malfoy and his little group with the things he said to Pansy! Hermione was surprised that the teachers themselves reaffirmed those attitudes in their students. Why did Headmaster Dumbledore allow all of this?

"This meeting is to talk about possible majors you thought you might like to study, so that we can help you decide which courses you should take in sixth and seventh grade," McGonagall explained, and then her lips curled, so imperceptibly, that to Hermione almost didn't miss the detail. "I suspect you've already figured out what you'd like to do once you get out of Hogwarts."

"Yes," she said. "But I am not totally convinced by any option."

"That's what I'm here for. What do you have in mind?"

"I thought of various departments of the Ministry, I wish I could make changes for the better in the obsolete laws and customs of the wizarding community. At the moment I'm very interested in the rights of magical creatures, although I don't know if I want to dedicate myself to that my entire career," she explained.

Memories of her conversation with Pansy flashed through her mind: Snape's disdain for Muggle Studies. After learning that, Hermione wished she hadn't stood up for this professor so many times against Harry and Ron's accusations. But could she just blame him for discrediting that subject?

One of the brochures that had caught her attention during the return to Hogwarts was the one that said "DO YOU THINK YOU WOULD LIKE TO WORK IN MUGGLE RELATIONS?" For that job they required nothing more than an OWL in Muggle Studies. Worse still, the final part of the text was still ringing in her head, saying "Your enthusiasm, your patience, and your sense of humor are much more important!" At times like these, when she saw the hilarity with which wizards treated her origins, she didn't feel that being a witch was a privilege or luck, but a struggle. There were so many things wrong! In wizarding society she had to deal with things like this, where her peers almost seemed to assume that Muggles were idiots, that her own parents were worth less than any wizard. In muggle society she had other problems: such as LGBTphobia or bullying that she suffered in elementary school, which she also suffered at Hogwarts, due to discrimination because of her blood and also only because of her personality and interests. Hermione had come to accept that magic or not, people were just that: people; selfish, cruel, always pointing out those different from them. And she was no different from the rest, although she hated to admit it, she was as much of a person as anyone, like Pansy, Harry, Ron or Draco Malfoy. Hermione could only think of one exception: Luna Lovegood. That girl was without a doubt one of the most intelligent people in the whole world, few minds were open enough to overcome any prejudice.

There were many things that Hermione liked, but her greatest passion was trying to do the right thing, trying to be the best person possible every day. She wanted to live in a world where she felt accepted, she and everyone else. She wanted better laws for house elves and all other magical creatures, wanted them to start treating Muggles and wizards born to them more seriously. Did waiting until they were eleven to learn about anything seem right? Not all Muggle medicine was useful in wizards and could bring complications, they had no education about wizarding society or their magical abilities until it was too late and they were stuck in a school thousands of miles from their families and everything they'd ever known. She could also speak of Muggle Studies, which lacked rigor and in her opinion should be a required subject at Hogwarts if discrimination and ideas of superiority were to be avoided. Wasn't the fault in the educational system already obvious, if the Death Eaters existed? So many things wrong! So many more things left in the inkwell...!

Muggle-borns were practically forced to renounce one world or the other. Hermione was so many times on the verge of giving up on her own parents… She clenched her jaw in anguish. It was not the time to think about her summer before starting her fifth year, not in the middle of her interview.

"I expected no less from a student like you," McGonagall praised. "You are interested in a more political part of the Ministry, perhaps even, you could become Minister of Magic."

Hermione gave a nervous, embarrassed laugh. Minister for Magic, her? A hard road, but she couldn't deny that it sounded good.

"History of Magic is fundamental," McGonagall said. "How can you change a society that you don't understand? You will definitely need an NEWT in it. Your grades in the course are excellent anyway and I trust they will stay that way. Actually, I shouldn't call your attention to any, beyond Defense Against the Dark Arts, but I don't consider not getting as many Outstandings there as in other subjects a problem either. I even... I was wondering, Granger. Are you planning to drop any of the classes you take?"

"No Professor," she answered. "If possible, I would like to continue with all of them, even if they are not useful to me in the Ministry, I think that they are for me."

"It seems perfect to me, if you were another student I would worry, but after all these years I know what you are capable of. You should continue with them."

"Thank you," she said proudly. It made her happy to see the esteem her teacher had for her.

"Transfiguration, Defense against the Dark Arts and Charms are important, in the Ministry there are always unforeseen events and it is necessary that its employees are prepared for them, even if it is a NEWT in one of them, and two OWLs in any of the three. Potions, I would recommend a NEWT also in Potions if you want to be promoted as Head of a Department."

"Seriously? Why?" She asked, cutting her off. At McGonagall's stern gaze, she murmured, "Sorry Professor, I should have waited for you to finish."

"Things like veritaserum will not be foreign to you, have no doubt that more than once you will find yourself fighting against potions that interfere or will be necessary in your work, regardless of the Department you are in. Or in the worst case, dark magic, unforgivable curses. A good leader knows about everything and thus makes the best decisions. The most qualified are those who are promoted, generally."

A smile escaped Hermione at the listless tone McGonagall used when saying "generally". She understood what her teacher meant: many of the magicians who were in high positions in the Ministry did not seem to her the most qualified either.

"With all that, plus the extra NEWTs I already imagine you'll get, you'll be more than qualified for whatever position you want in the Ministry."

"Thank you very much Professor."

"Don't overdo it if you find yourself struggling," she warned. "There is no time turner this time."

She laughed and McGonagall gave a subtle knowing smile.

"That's all. Enjoy the rest of the day Granger."

"I will," she said, starting to get up, but stood in place for a few seconds, hesitating.

"Is there anything else you want to ask me about?"

"Actually, yes. Although it has nothing to do with my vocational orientation."

"If I can help you, I will," she reassured her, allowing her to speak.

"Good," she stammered as she sat back down. "This... Pansy was not very pleased with her own orientation with Professor Snape."

"Parkinson?" she was surprised. "I don't think it's wise to discuss her future with you, Granger. And I'm not her head of house, I don't know her well enough."

She swallowed hard, embarrassed to intrude, but a little anger began to wash over her.

"I know. But Professor Snape doesn't know her either, and he was unpleasant to her." She plucked up, and when she noticed McGonagall's surprise at her outburst, she whispered an apology.

"You care about her, I see."

"I just... I wish I could help her in some way."

Professor McGonagall let out a heavy sigh, leaned her elbows on the table, and with a straight posture, relented:

"We can guess. I insist that I don't know her," she remarked. "But still, we can guess. What do you think your friend wants?"

"Well, there's not much to assume" she thought, almost rolling her eyes as she remembered how Pansy told her in great detail all her conversation with Snape, as well as her insecurities about the future.

"She likes books, maybe working in a publishing house, or design," Hermione said. "Snape explained that Charms and Muggle Studies might be of use to her."

"Transfiguration too," she pointed out. "I don't know what her marks are like in Charms, but I do in Transfiguration."

"I know them too, they're not encouraging, in both subjects really," she rambled, frowning in dismay. McGonagall let out a sigh with a compassionate little smile as she looked at Hermione.

McGonagall always had a soft spot for her, her best student, a Gryffindor who made her proud. All of her students did, of course. But Hermione was her favorite, because of her talent and how much she reminded her of herself as a young woman. She herself was commissioned by the school to open Hermione's doors to the wizarding world for the first time, the one who went with Mr. and Mrs. Granger to talk about having a little witch in the family. She was interested in her enough to shake her hand more than once: calm her once when she was overwhelmed on one of her first nights inside the castle, offer her the opportunity to take as many classes as she wanted in third year, even recommend her as a prefect for this year. .

"Honestly, I don't think Parkinson will get an OWL in my subject. And I must add, in my NEWT classes I do not accept any student who has not obtained at least an Exceed Expectations."

"Maybe... There must be some way, teacher. Pansy is still not sure what she wants. What if her future is complicated by a couple of OWLs?

"She must study," she said. "There is no other solution."

"I'm not sure how to help her," she whispered, holding her own hands nervously. "The exams are very soon, I don't even know where to start."

"Isn't that a Parkinson's problem?"

"Well, yeah... But I... I don't mind helping her," she admitted, flushing. "I also help Ron, I've been doing it since vacation with Potions."

The teacher was silent, thinking. Hermione waited, trying to be patient, but every second she was more in a panic.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she said. "I know it's not my business."

"Stay in the classroom at the end of the next Transfiguration class. I can make you a guide. The answers will not be there, I will not give extra classes to a student if I do not give everyone that chance. But I can mark for you how I would decide to approach this little problem. The effort and hours of work will have to be put in by you."

"Really?" She asked in a thin, elated voice. "Thank you very much Professor!"

"Nothing to be thankful for, Granger. I hope Parkinson is as happy about this as you are."

"Oh, absolutely!" She confirmed with a smile. "Thanks again, Professor."

McGonagall nodded, and then Hermione rose from her chair, walking out of the office. She could only take a couple of steps outside before meeting Pansy. She was waiting for her with her arms crossed and a scroll in one hand, leaning against the wall.

"Wow," Pansy hissed, "what a beautiful, big smile you have. Professor McGonagall has a gift with women."

"What?" She screeched, her eyes wide in horror.

Then Pansy laughed.

"Your face!" She managed to say with a laugh, as she used one of her fingers to wipe a tear that threatened to fall.

"You are... Agh."

"And that's the reaction you should have with the teacher," she pointed out. "Not with me. By Circe, Hermione! You do everything backwards."

"It's your fault, for being so unpleasant."

"Am I nastier than McGonagall? As far as I remember, the one with the wrinkles and the mummy face is her, not me."

"Pansy!" She scolded her, moving closer to her. "Could you at least have the decency not to yell such things in front of her office?"

"Oh, calm down, I doubt that grandmother hears so well…"

Pansy complained with an exaggerated "ouch" about the blow Hermione gave her on the arm.

"FYI," Hermione said, starting down the hall with Pansy, "the teacher will help us with Transfiguration."

"Since when did you need help in Transfiguration?"

"We will study together."

"What?" She asked in confusion. "Don't we already?"

"I mean studying seriously, not sitting in the library thinking who knows what."

"Do you want to know what I think?" She asked suggestively, moving her eyebrows up and down several times.

Hermione felt herself blush to the tips of her feet. She was beginning to hate Pansy's innuendo, as they made her think things she didn't want to remember. She didn't want to hear her speak with that lower tone at all!

"No," she croaked, and before Pansy could continue bothering her, she ordered, "Let's go find Harry and Ron, they're waiting for us in the library."

"When did I agree to that?" She murmured with a grimace of annoyance.

"Stop complaining, drama queen," she teased, chuckling.

"I prefer the term drama princess."

"Really, Pansy?" She shook her head, thinking how impossible she was.

"I have the beauty of a princess."

"And the humility of a king."

"Hey," she snorted, offended.

Hermione looked down at Pansy's hands, curious about the scroll.

"What is that?" She asked then.

"Right!" She remembered. "The notes you asked me for from astronomy class. Not to show off, but your own summaries pale in the face of this here." She shook the paper as she finished speaking, as if it were a flag.

"And the humility of a king," she repeated, getting Pansy to give her a gentle push. "Thank you," she added, when she handed her the parchment.

Upon entering the library, they found Harry and Ron already seated. They were saving two seats for them.

Her friends were less and less averse to Pansy. After dinner at The Burrow, they seemed to forget a bit about the fact that Pansy was a Slytherin. Seeing her interact with the Weasley family in such a comfortable way and the great surprise that the twins revealed about the song "Weasley is Our King" served to finish breaking the ice.

Plus, even if Harry, Ron, and Pansy denied it, she was pretty sure the three of them were starting to get along. Between jokes and complaints about how "Hermione studies too much", they began to understand each other.

"Hermione," Harry greeted.

"How did it go?" Ron asked.

"Very good. As I told you, I'll try to get as many OWLs as possible, and the teacher agrees with me."

She remembered then that she did not explain to Pansy in detail about the end of her conversation with McGonagall, but she also did not want to do it in front of her best friends, since it was a more personal matter for her girlfriend... There was no other option but to do it later .

"You are a beast!" Ron exclaimed under his breath, afraid of arousing the librarian's ire. "I was hoping Professor McGonagall wouldn't encourage you in that suicide."

"It's not a big deal," Hermione dismissed, sitting down next to Pansy.

"You should be worrying about your own OWLS, Ron," Harry teased, who by his tone seemed concerned about his own as well.

"We're lost," the named complained, throwing himself on the table. "I no longer have my head and I have several weeks to take the exams."

"We brought your books," Harry said, ignoring the complaints.

"Really?" With a smile she looked at the titles of the books on the table that the boys weren't using. "Thank you very much, you're the best."

"You're welcome," they both answered at the same time.

As she opened the first book in the pile she heard Ron say to Pansy "We also brought the ones you needed, they weren't even half the ones Hermione needed." A smile escaped her at the little exchange.

A pleasant silence spread between the four of them. Under the pressure of the few weeks left before exams, they chatted and were distracted less than usual. Or at least, it was the case with Harry, Ron and Pansy. To Hermione's own embarrassment, she was the one who was out of focus today.

Pansy had reached under the table for her hand, to play with her fingers vaguely. She wasn't paying much attention to the gesture, she was doing it to keep herself entertained while reading her book. She was actually studying, in fact, while holding her hand. But the gentle caresses weren't helping Hermione, because with so much silence and peace, and being able to see Pansy's relaxed profile so easily, and being aware of how pretty she looked like that, she could only think about the start of her day. "Why did I have to dream about that!" she scolded herself. Unconsciously her eyes drifted from Pansy's face to the top of her shirt. She was dying of shame when she remembered her exposed skin, only in underwear, black and lacey... She did not know why she had to imagine her like that! Well, the color black made sense, very her. But why that? Why did she have to dream that? Now she kept wondering if it was true, if she was wearing something like that right now. Hermione didn't have those kinds of clothes. Should she? She wanted to bury her face in the book. Why should she have sexy underwear for Pansy ?!

A blowing in her ear made her skin crawl. It was Pansy, who whispered low enough that neither Harry nor Ron heard her:

"Are you okay?" She released her hand, rubbing it into her own lap. "Don't take it the wrong way Hermione, but your hand never really sweated that much."

Red. Her face was red. Her mind was blazing red screaming "NO". Pansy smiled in amusement at her embarrassed gesture and then extended her arm, resting her hand on Hermione's lower back. Although it tried to be a reassuring gesture, it achieved the opposite: Hermione rose as if the chair had become a nest of snakes, accidentally hitting the table with her knee and causing her chair to wobble back (but luckily Pansy managed to grab her just in time and she didn't fall to the ground).

Pince glared at Hermione. Everyone in the library was looking at her in surprise, and she really wished during the morning that she had drowned in the bathtub or sunk into her bed until she was gone. Then she could have avoided this.