41.

Hermione:

How can you live without having

ever eaten at McDonald's?

Why are magicians so strange?

At 8:30 am an alarm sounded, waking Hermione. She turned her head quickly, glancing at the calendar next to her watch. On the July page, the number three was circled in green. Previous numbers were crossed out with a cross of the same color.

"It's today!" She said to herself, getting out of bed and shoving her cat in the process, who meowed in annoyance. "Excuse me Crookshanks."

Ever since her vacation began, she had been anxious for the timing of her OWL results. She was dying of curiosity and nervousness to know how it went. And today was the day! She left her room and went down the stairs as fast as she could. Such was her excitement that she had no time to feel sleepy.

"Wow!" Thomas Granger exclaimed, putting his mug halfway to his mouth as he watched from the kitchen as his daughter streaked through the living room to the front door.

Hermione knelt on the floor and checked the letters there. The electricity bill, a couple of advertisements... and nothing else. She let out a dejected sigh. There was still time, until July 7, for them to send her a letter with her results. But that did not take away her disappointment, she really hoped to be one of the first students to receive them.

"Are you up, Hermione?" Kayla, her mother, asked from the kitchen. "The bacon is almost ready."

"In a moment," she replied, getting up to go to the bathroom.

She brushed her teeth, washed her face and combed her hair, or well, she tried to style her hair as best she could and went back to the kitchen. Her father was at the table doing the newspaper crossword while he drank some coffee. Her mother, standing in front of the stove cooking, hummed the music that was playing from the radio placed on the counter.

"What were you looking for?" Thomas asked, curious about the earlier show.

"The results of the OWLs. They haven't arrived yet," she explained as she searched the shelves for a cup to make some tea.

"Patience," her mother said, as she placed the plate of fresh bacon in the middle of the table.

There was also some bread, jam and butter for when Hermione sat down with her already steaming mug on the table.

"Honey," Kayla sighed, amused by her husband, and then drank some freshly squeezed orange juice.

Thomas had put several pieces of bacon on his toast, and when he bit into it, he couldn't quite bite through it, leaving some of the meat hanging out of his mouth. He made an embarrassed face.

"It's better with bread!" He defended himself, after grabbing the bacon with his fingers to pull it up and finish slicing it so he could swallow. He put the remaining bit on the bread again.

A knock on the window caught the attention of all three. Behind the glass was an owl with messy plumage.

"Oh, she came back..." her mother murmured, looking at the bird suspiciously.

"Please don't come in," Thomas begged.

Mr. Pest was not someone her parents appreciated very much. She had already visited the Granger house bringing mail several times, and had done everything from stealing food from her mother's plate, to throwing a vase to the ground with her wings when she flew.

It's Mrs. Pest now, actually. She had recently learned that Aurora Parkinson named her Bellona, but that Pansy did not want to say so because "she named her first." That "Mr. Pest", was a name, was questionable to Hermione, but Pansy was too stubborn to accept that she was wrong. And to make matters worse, she ended up renaming it as Mrs. Pest, since another thing that Aurora did was discover the true sex of the owl; Hermione ended up, out of curiosity, reading about the species to find out how Pansy's mother discovered it, but Muggle experts could tell little beyond the physical differences of the two sexes, such as body size, color of the legs or the plumage of the chest, which they also clarified, was not an infallible differentiation to know if it was a male or a female. To make matters worse, she had no idea which species of owl the bird belonged to. Was it some kind of magic, or had she just not read enough? It was a shame not to find out about this before class was over, so that she could use the Hogwarts library.

An exasperated peck against the glass forced her to get up and open the window. She placed her hands in such a way that the owl could not enter (which she did not seem to like, the way she looked at Hermione and her feathers ruffled).

"Excuse me," she whispered as she closed the window glass enough that she couldn't get into the house. "I'll give you something to eat. Yes? Would you wait outside until I answer the letter?"

Sometimes it was a hassle not to have her own owl, but her parents didn't want pets other than the conventional ones, so she had to settle for just having Crookshanks.

She went to one of the shelves where she had become used to keeping treats for her friends' owls, but as she stood on tiptoe to reach them, she heard her mother scream:

"Hermione! What did your father tell you?!"

She turned as fast as she could and dropped the envelope in fright. The Bird had lunged until she managed to open the window and enter anyway!

"I'm sorry!" She said, starting to chase the bird around the kitchen.

"This would be easier if I could use magic at home" she lamented, when almost catching her, the owl used her head as a base to take flight and escape to the living room. "At least she didn't break anything yet" she thought, when she spotted her preening her wings on top of the TV, and tried to walk as smoothly as she could towards her (luckily, she was wearing slippers). But Hermione celebrated too soon: Crookshanks had left her room to drink some water, and when he saw the intruding owl he ran towards her and also jumped on the television to hunt her down. A framed photograph decorating the cabinet under the television staggered from the blow and fell to the floor. She narrowed her eyes, frightened, and gave a strangled groan when the sound of breaking glass sounded.

"HERMIONE!" Her mother yelled.

. . .

After managing to catch the Bird and get it out of the house, in addition to cleaning up the mess, she sat down at the table again to continue with breakfast. Her drink was cold, but her mother, although still very angry, told her not to worry, she would make her another tea. Her father, on the other hand, seemed to be holding back so as not to laugh at her to her face. He was probably doing it so he wouldn't get in trouble with Kayla, not because he was a mature adult who didn't want to encourage his daughter to cause disasters.

"Here you go," her mother said, placing the teacup in front of her; and also the letter.

Amid the uproar, she had almost forgotten her. She opened the envelope right away and read:

Dear Hermione:

How are you today? Have you already freaked out waiting for the results of the OWLs?

Now that I have finished with the formalities, I proceed to explain the real reason why I am writing to you: this is a request for help. Please save me. SOS, as Muggles would say.

We've only been on vacation for a week and a half, but my mother has managed to be more excruciating than anything I have endured during the year. She is trying to get a new job, one that "motivates" her, on the advice of her psychologist. I suspect that she is not doing well, as she is very stressed about this and it rubs off on me in passing. Send me to buy things three times in a day because I always forget something on the list? Losing her wand and stealing mine because "I can't use it"? And then losing mine too! Or talk to me for hours during her insecurities until I get a headache, like she's the teenager here? Hogging the bathroom for hours? (I think she is going to cry, with the shower it is difficult to tell). And let's not even talk about when she relapses, gets depressed and gets drunk. Rachel was a true angel and I didn't appreciate her.

Anyway! Apart from my mother, my vacation started well. I've been exploring the stores near my house, even the muggle part (come on say it, you're proud of me). I didn't do it before, when I just moved in. Somehow it was like accepting that this was my new home and I didn't want it to be that way, so I just locked myself in my room. Now I regret not having done it sooner, there is a three-story clothing store here, Hermione. Not one, not two, three! Of course, there I got the perfect dress for when we go to the beach.

By the way, I'm already starting to get bored, and you don't live very far from London... When are you going to take your girl out for a walk? Gryffindor chivalry is being lost, what a disappointment, I should have picked a Hufflepuff.

Kisses,

by Pansy.

PS: I also got my bikini! I figured it was something you wanted to know.

"You should drink your tea before it gets cold a second time," Kayla reminded her.

Hermione winced, looking away from the letter. Her father was oblivious to the situation, looking at the newspaper with annoyance, he had been stuck with his crossword for several minutes. She grabbed her cup of tea and took a sip, then was aware of the tug on her cheeks. Damn, she couldn't stop smiling at the end of the letter. It would just be that, right? She wasn't blushing at all from Pansy's postscript.

"Who wrote you?" Her mother asked.

"Uh," she cleared her throat, beginning to panic. Was she or wasn't she blushing?! "Harry," she stopped, correcting herself, "no. Harry no, of course not him. You already know that with the Dursleys he cannot, because of his new punishment…"

"I really don't like those people," her father commented, without taking his eyes off the newspaper. "I only had to see them a couple of times at the train station to know. How can they be so indifferent to the boy? They are family, by God."

"I know, honey. I didn't like them either." She agreed, then gave her daughter a questioning look. "Anyway... why did you say Harry, Hermione? I asked you something else."

"Great, not at all suspicious to start raving when they ask you a direct question" she chided herself.

"Ron," she answered then. "Ron wrote to me."

"I like Ron," Thomas commented, still deep in his crossword.

Kayla gave an amused snort.

"Maybe I need glasses. I could have sworn the letter said Pansy Parkinson."

"Oh right, she picked it up" she recalled, feeling her soul drop to the floor.

"That girl was very cool. Do you remember Kayla?"

"Yes, and how nice of you to remind us of your impressions of everyone," she sneered.

"It's not a big deal," he murmured, finally writing something on his crossword.

"Why didn't you want to tell me the truth?" She laughed, going back to her original conversation with Hermione. "It's not like I'm going to read it, I always respected your privacy. In fact, I'm glad to finally see you chatting with more girls your age. Before you only spoke with Ginny Weasley, well, she is the younger sister of your best friend... I imagine that with Pansy it is easier to talk about other topics. Do you not? Talk about boys or things like that?"

"Guys?" Thomas was now looking at the two women with interest.

Hermione, in a panic, only managed to laugh nervously.

"You won't have a boyfriend, right? You're still very young," her father said, ignoring how Kayla rolled her eyes at his overprotectiveness.

"Pff. A boyfriend? Definitely not." Hermione technically wasn't lying. "I'll go to my room. To answer."

"Your drink," her mother reminded her before she left the kitchen.

Hermione retraced her steps, grabbed her tea, some toast, and ran away.

. . .

Coming out of the shower, she stood in front of her closet. She had the towel wrapped around her body and another on her head to prevent her hair from dripping. She paused with her eyes on each of her clothes, trying to decide which one she would wear.

She would be meeting Pansy in less than an hour. It would be an excellent distraction not to think about the results of the OWL exams, which she was still waiting for to this day, the Fourth of July.

It was when she was already dressed and sitting on the bed tying her hair (which was always suffocating in summer, because it was so bulky and there was so much of it) that the doorbell rang. She got up, throwing the brush on the mattress. She opened the door to her room, but regretted it and went back inside, looking in one of her drawers for some perfume; she almost forgot to put it on. Going down the stairs, she found Pansy inside the house, in the hall. She had both hands behind her back and a friendly smile as her mother spoke to her. She shook her head, amused by her knack for getting adults to like her.

"Are you sure you don't want a glass of water? Juice? I think we have Coca-Cola too."

"No, I'm fine, but thank you Mrs. Granger."

"You can tell me Kayla," she offered.

"Pansy," Hermione greeted.

"Hey," she returned.

Her mother took advantage of that moment to move away, being aware that she wasn't needed in the conversation. Pansy looked good, as usual. She was dressed in a black skirt, unlike her who preferred shorts, and also with a white tank top, with black stripes. She wore sunglasses on her head as an accessory, in addition to her already typical silver rings and earrings. Hermione had a looser but cool T-shirt. She looked good even when she wasn't wearing anything too pretentious. She felt comfortable this way and preferred it that way.

"You really don't want anything before you go out?" She asked.

"Yes. But, Hermione... What's a Coca-Cola?"

She put a hand to her mouth, chuckling.

"You," she emphasized, "should definitely try it."

Not expecting an answer from Pansy, she went straight to her kitchen to serve her some. Kayla raised a questioning brow, but said nothing. Thomas was there too, taking up his daily challenges against his newspaper crossword. Today, after breakfast, he did not have time to continue trying to guess words, since he had gone to buy food at a business close to home. There were a few things missing from the cupboards, like some fresh fruit and bread, and of course, the soda that she was serving Pansy right now.

Many sometimes exaggerated about having dentist parents. Yes, they hated that Hermione bit into hard candy and ate too much sugar in one day, more from dopamine and energy overload than anything else, but they never forbade her sweet cravings, as long as it was in moderation and she didn't wait a thousand years. to brush your teeth after that.

"That... looks like bubbly coffee," Pansy said, eyeing the glass suspiciously.

"In essence. Caffeine, soda and sugar. Taste it," she ordered and clarified to her mother, by her insistent gaze, "In the magical world there are no such drinks."

"It's... I don't know what to think," Pansy concluded, after taking a sip and wrinkling her nose at the gas bubbles. She took another sip, but seemed unsure whether she liked it or hated it.

"Hermione," her father called, putting on a pleading look. "I only have one word left. Help me before you go."

"Aren't I supposed to be forbidden to help you?" She asked, crossing her arms.

"That's when you go in there and tell me the answers before I can figure them out!" He complained, then recited, "Explanation, exposition of the action at the beginning of the dramatic poem." There are eight letters.

"Protasis," both teenagers answered at the same time.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, as she turned her head to see Pansy in the face.

"What? I like to read about poetry. I told you that."

"If you know so much about grammar, why are you never objective with books when analyzing them?" Hermione said.

"It's boring to be objective with a book," she objected, making a weary face.

"I like Pansy, too," Thomas said, his tone joking as he looked at Kayla.

"You said that yesterday," she complained.

Ignoring her parents' quarrel, she motioned for Pansy to follow her, to go out for a walk at once.

. . .

They were walking down a quiet street, crossing a few shop windows every so often, heading in the direction of a park at the end of the block. Hermione lived on the outskirts of London. With a little car trip she managed to get to the center; not far from civilization, and it had the advantage of being able to enjoy the tranquility of the suburbs.

"Where would you like to eat?" Hermione asked excitedly. "There is a Chinese food restaurant three blocks ahead, if you're interested. Or we could go to the park and eat something from the bar across the street, they have things like sandwiches or hot dogs, which are pretty good. Or we can also go for the classics, like McDonald's... We even have the option to skip the proper food and eat ice cream. There is an ice cream parlor here that has quite curious flavors, like…"

"Classics like McDonald's? Who is McDonald's?" She interrupted her. "Is he a well-known muggle cook?"

"No," she replied, laughing. "It is an American fast food restaurant that is so popular that it opened stores in several countries."

"Why is it fast food?"

"Because..." But she stopped, crossing her arms. Pansy stopped walking too, raising an eyebrow at her. "You know what? It is sacrilege that you are still alive without having tried it even once."

"How good is it?"

"It's quite an experience. You have to try their fries, I'm sure you've never had one that has been frozen before."

"Uh... why are Muggles so weird?"

"And wait until you see the ice cream, which is not ice cream, served there," she added with a smile.

"Well," she sighed, making a resigned gesture. "I guess it's still a better outing than your stupid idea of going to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop."

"Oh shut up!" She growled, resuming her walk.

It didn't take long for them to find the place, which was quite close to the park. Pansy was frowning as she gazed at the garish, intense red and yellow colors on the McDonald's posters and walls.

"Still better than Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, I suppose," she murmured.

Hermione rolled her eyes and went to the door, opening it and stepping aside to allow Pansy to pass. There were not many people today, as it was not the weekend and it was two in the afternoon.

"Look, you can choose any of the images," she said.

From the entrance, you could see the different photos of the food combos, along with their price and name.

"Why are you so happy about this nonsense?" Pansy asked with a half smile. "It's just a hamburger. Why is it fast food?"

"You'll see, impatient!" She scolded her. "And I'm happy because coming here sums up a lot of my childhood. It is something very typical of living as a Muggle. For the children they also give a toy as a gift. Sometimes, after school, you usually come to these places with your friends to hang out, it's cheap and comfortable. It's like Hogsmeade. I don't know if you noticed, but we passed a school. It is no coincidence that they have chosen to set up the premises here, between a plaza and a school, it is part of their commercial strategy."

"Do they give away toys?" She asked, raising both eyebrows. It seemed that Pansy's priorities were clear.

"They're no big deal." She shrugged. "But yes, you just have to ask for the 'happy meal' and they let you choose one."

"I want a happy meal."

"Pansy," she said, trying to hold back her laughter. "They are tiny, you will not fill yourself with that."

"I can buy more fries, right? I want to see Muggle toys."

"I won't get you to change your mind, will I?"

"Exactly. I'm trying to fulfill the typical muggle experience one hundred percent."

"Okay," she sighed in resignation. "Look, over there are the toys of the day. Choose the one you like, while I order at the checkout, and then you can find a table."

"Oh, get that face off," she scoffed, starting to walk away. "It was always my plan to eat more dessert than anything else." She gave her a quick wink, before finally turning completely.

Hermione tried with all her might to calm the heat on her cheeks and went to the box to order. Pansy came back shortly before her turn came and described the one she liked the most, then left again to find them a place to sit. When Hermione arrived with the tray, she noticed that Pansy chose a seat away from the majority, well away from the windows. She was staring at a decorative clown statue, but didn't say anything about it.

"I forgot to tell you, but today you won't be able to get away easily from Coca-Cola. It is the drink that accompanies this. I can get you water or juice if you really don't like it."

"Are they paper cups?" She asked.

"Yes. They are disposable. Here is one of the keys to 'fast food'. There are no dishes to wash when customers leave, everything is made of cardboard, paper or plastic and is thrown away before leaving. Most of the things they cook here are frozen and prepared in such a way that they don't take long to cook and serve. If we had gone to the Chinese restaurant, for example, we could have ended up waiting as long as thirty minutes for our order to be finished, or maybe more. Here, in ten minutes we already sat down to eat. And without waiters or bills at the end to hinder the whole process."

"Should I be concerned about your fascination with fast food?" She teased, as she grabbed the toy and moved it between her hands to inspect it.

"If you turn the nut on her back and leave it on the table, it'll jump," Hermione explained. "And I'm not fascinated by fast food. It happens that McDonald's is a type of restaurant that marked a before and after in the United States. And why not say that in the world as well? There are some interesting articles in the library, interviews with the owner, among other things..."

Pansy turned the nut on the toy and put it on the table. When it jumped, she shrugged in surprise.

"It was higher than I imagined," she admitted. "Have you ever used or seen toys from the wizarding world? You know, how dragons spit smoke, ropes of a thousand and one tricks, or all the colors of Bounce Ball.

"Bounce Ball?" She repeated, nearly choking on her own soda. "But no. I saw them in shop windows in Diagon Alley. Honestly, most of the things in that toy store didn't seem to be very safe for children."

"One of my first baby teeth to fall out was because I made one of my jump ropes angry and in revenge it got tangled in my legs and made me fall flat on my face."

"My point exactly!" Hermione exclaimed, and began unwrapping her burger.

Pansy then succumbed to curiosity and opened her happy meal. As she did so, she began to shake with laughter.

"It's so small," she said with a laugh. "I have never seen such an adorable burger."

"It's for children," she reminded her.

Pansy kept pointing out things like "Why do fries look like mashed potatoes on the inside?" or "What kind of cheese is this? It doesn't taste like cheese." Anyway, she liked both. She also tasted Hermione's burger, saying "wow, I do feel grown up now."

"Pansy," she began, as there was something she hadn't stopped thinking about lately. "Are things with your mother going well?"

She made a face of disgust at the subject, as she put a fry in her mouth.

"Depends on the day?" She said doubtfully. "It's like I told you in the letter. There are nice days when I tell her things, we eat something together or she even asks me if I want to go shopping with her. Other days, we pull each other's hair out."

"I understand."

"Really?" She asked. "It's hard to believe it…"

"What are you talking about?"

"I mean... I'm happy for you, of course. But you get along well with your parents, I could see it today. They are very affectionate, they always take you to King's Cross, they look like the kind of normal and kind people who do not get drunk in the living room of the house at three in the afternoon on the weekend…"

"My relationship with my parents is far from perfect," she declared. "Although it is true, your relationship with your mother is very complicated, it's difficult to compare it with others."

"Well, I imagine you fight every now and then…"

"That's not what I mean," she murmured, and then let out a heavy sigh. She played with a fry while she thought about how to explain himself. Pansy was patient, noticing the change in mood. "It was not easy for them, nor for me, to turn out to be a witch."

"Why? It must have been exciting, knowing that you could blow things up with a stick."

Hermione giggled at her joke, but shook her head and continued:

"I only saw them on vacation after entering Hogwarts. The rest of the time I could only send them letters explaining everything I could about being a witch and the wizarding world. But they couldn't totally empathize with and understand that. Your daughter, after a whole school year, wasn't supposed to come over and tell you about a talking hat and a troll that entered the castle on Halloween night."

"So that you understand, right now, I told you that this place is part of my childhood. Can you really empathize, beyond being curious or amazed?"

Pansy shrugged, muttering that she really liked the place, accidentally stumbling when she said "the decorations are very curious."

"Do you see what I mean?" She asked then, sadly. "Did your parents find out about that? The troll?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "My father thought it was a great way to end a dark night. My mother is more cautious and worried, but she considered that those kinds of experiences that Hogwarts gives you always enrich you as a witch."

"My parents, when I told them, were so scared that they sent a letter to Headmaster Dumbledore asking for explanations. If it weren't for whatever he told them, and my insistence that I loved going to Hogwarts, they would have gotten me out. If just the story of the troll put them like that, I could not tell them everything else, I did not dare to explain how it was that I got many points for my house for bravery, for knowing how to calm down and apply logic in the face of fire. I couldn't tell them that my best friend needed me, being the target of a dark wizard. Forbidden Forest? Dementors? Sirius Black? I had to hide so many things from them... that they were dangerous and that I knew they would not take it well. You wizards even have toys with killer instincts from birth! It is all very different."

A laugh escaped Pansy at the last comment, and she looked apologetically.

"Things like 'Hogwarts is the safest place, it has Dumbledore' didn't work with my parents. And I lied to them, a lot. I started dodging their questions, inadvertently making them feel like I didn't want them to be part of that side of my life. Dinners, whole vacations in which we really had nothing to talk about... I ended up feeling more like Molly Weasley was my mother than my own mother. I could tell her about my school without problems.

Then... the fourth year came. I think it was the most terrible year and, at the same time, hopeful. So many great things happened... until things started to go really bad. Molly, almost my mother figure, believed all the nonsense Rita Skeeter said about me and it hurt a lot. Or Voldemort, of course!" Hermione ignored the way Pansy flinched. "My best friend arrived wounded, escaping death by a miracle, after shortly before almost being killed by a dragon, by a lake full of mermaids and a sphinx in a tournament for which he was not old enough to participate. All because a Death Eater put his name in the Goblet of Fire! Do you have any idea how I felt?" She spat, still with traces of pain. "One of our classmates, Cedric, died. It could have been me a thousand times before, and I felt guilty. Did you see Mr. Diggory? I was close to him, he's a friend of the Weasleys. I never saw anyone cry like that, and I realized that that could have been my parents, thinking that I was safe until it was too late and something irreversible happened to me. If Harry hadn't managed to upend Voldemort's cauldron before he resurfaced, he might have died that night, and we would now be in the middle of a war. When I came home that summer, feeling betrayed, guilty, afraid... I told them everything. I didn't care if they took me out of Hogwarts, if they punished me, if they hated me. I just... needed someone, needed my parents again."

"I... had no idea," she murmured, shocked.

"Since I was more honest with them, things got better there. But at the time, I too felt like a stranger in my own home. In my own culture."

Pansy then looked around her. Hermione wasn't entirely sure, but she felt Pansy give the place a different kind of appreciation, as if she really understood that this was more than a "sightseeing tour."

"They didn't get you out of Hogwarts in the end," she pointed out curiously.

"Don't think they didn't want to." They were furious. "Headmaster Dumbledore even came to our house for tea and chat shortly before the start of the year."

"What convinced them?"

"How much I cried, probably."

Hermione blushed when she heard Pansy's shrill laugh.

"Sorry Sorry! You said that too seriously." She laughed.

"Don't be mean," she muttered.

"It must have been difficult," Pansy acknowledged, sounding much more serious and contemplative now.

"But we worked it out," she insisted.

During the summer before starting fifth year she dedicated himself to reconnecting with her parents, with her muggle side. Somehow, she managed to feel more at peace than ever, and realized how much she had missed them even seeing them every summer and writing letters to them. No one would ever love her so unconditionally and selflessly as her own parents and she had wasted too much time without realizing that. They were never the ones who "didn't understand her", the ones who "just wanted to get her away from magic." It was always about love, protecting her, trying to do the right thing in their own way, and she should have allowed them to care for her, to trust them.

Her parents also did their part: they began to comment on more things that happened while she was gone, no longer feeling that Muggle things were something alien to her, something that she was not interested in hearing. They began to shoot movies and take more photos, records of everything, which they actually showed her a few days ago, to take advantage of the time together during the holidays. Hermione could still see in their eyes the fear that one day she would not return, that one day she would let go of everything about the Muggles, about them... so she was trying hard now to prove otherwise. Somehow she had to make it clear to them that a daughter's love for her parents was also strong and as loyal as their love for her.

The relationship was not perfect yet and it surely never would be. But if Hermione was sure of one thing, it was that love, the real kind, managed to flourish even in adversity.

. . .

"I could eat this every day," she commented, when she finished the last of her ice cream cone.

"Please don't," Hermione asked, nibbling the cookie from her own cone. "Besides fast food, it is called junk food. You'd die young, it's not nutritious. It's okay from time to time. But every week? Or every day? Bad idea."

"Roger Dr. Granger," she teased, and leaned closer to her, putting on an innocent smile.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, Pansy was planning something.

"What?" Pansy asked, still smiling.

"Are you about to say something inappropriate?"

"How little you trust me!" She exclaimed with false offense.

In a blink, her gestures changed: from looking like an angel fallen from heaven, she became the normal snake that she was, smiling in a sly way and taking advantage of the proximity to steal Hermione's remaining ice cream.

"Hey!" She got annoyed, and spread her arms to try to protect what little ice cream she had left.

Pansy smiled, self-satisfied, taking advantage of the fact that she was taller and therefore also had longer arms. When Hermione gave up, letting out a frustrated grunt, the other took the opportunity to eat the dessert. Little was left, no more than two bites.

"It's full of my saliva."

"Oh no, how disgusting! How could I have forgotten!" She dramatized. "If you think about it, it makes more sense for me to eat ice cream with saliva, than just your saliva for the sake of it. You know, when we kiss."

"You're unpleasant," she grumbled, crossing her arms.

"You can't deny that I'm right..."

Hermione didn't say anything, she just made a worse face. She wouldn't give Pansy what she wanted to hear.

The sun was no longer that high by the time they reached Hermione's house, although it still seemed early because the sky was still blue. It must have been around six in the afternoon.

"Are you sure you don't want to go in?" She asked Pansy.

"I must go home soon, I promised my mother."

"Can't I accompany you?"

"It is not necessary, there is access to a Floo Network two blocks away, and it is still daylight."

"But…"

"Stop being so spoiled," she said, managing to frustrate Hermione. "I can do things alone."

"I just don't understand why you insist on this. If I accompany you, we will spend more time together."

Pansy clicked her tongue, looking away slightly. She could have attributed the pink on her cheeks to the heat, but she doubted it. Maybe the Slytherins really were cold-blooded, since Pansy didn't seem particularly affected by temperature, high or low. Hermione stared into her eyes, insistent, she knew Pansy wasn't saying something to her.

"I want to say goodbye to you here. Okay?" She muttered. "Like in the stupid muggle book you loaned me."

She tried to remember, among the various titles she lent to Pansy, which one she was referring to.

"Oh," she sighed, when the scene she was referring to came to mind. She had only loaned her two romance books, and in fact, in both, the cliché of the front door happened.

"Your life outside the wizarding world is also important," she murmured, grimacing roughly and crossing her arms, not wanting to meet Hermione's gaze.

Pansy is cute, that was one thing she was very sure of. It seemed that their conversation about their families touched her heart more deeply than she imagined. Her idea, honestly, was silly. She didn't feel like "a goodbye kiss at the door" was a "muggle thing" she needed to experience. Still, it was the implication behind the gesture that motivated her to move closer to Pansy, wrap her arms around her neck and pull her down. She closed her eyes as she wore a small smile, because suddenly kissing her girlfriend was a necessity. But she stopped abruptly, tensing midway. She was about to kiss Pansy on the street. She looked around, there was no one on the sidewalk, it did not seem that her neighbors were close...

"What happened?"

"Excuse me," she whispered, pulling away a bit. "I was suddenly scared. I don't know what happened to me, I guess…"

"I would cast a spell on anyone who dares to say anything foolish."

"You can't use magic here," she reminded her, touched by her concern.

"I can, in self-defense."

"Pansy…"

"I won't let them hurt you. I did research on all of this, as I know it makes you nervous. There are several laws passed by the Ministry of Magic that protect our rights. Muggle society may not yet guarantee them, but you belong to both sides... And the truth" she was suddenly offended "even without laws, would cast a spell on any idiot who…"

She tugged on Pansy's neck again, not letting her finish. She smashed her lips with hers, because if she had the need before, now she did even more. Despite the urge, she savored it. She kissed her slow, sweet. There were still traces of the ice cream flavor. Pansy hugged her around the waist, pulling her closer. It felt safe. And not because of the threats about hexing idiots, but because she couldn't fear this feeling; not in the arms of the girl she loved, even less so when she caressed the softness of her lips.

Hermione was afraid of disappointing those she loved, those she cared about. Yet she couldn't find a reason, even deep in her heart, that loving Pansy was something to fear.

"Didn't you tell me that your neighbor said that gays deserve to die of disease?" She asked, jerking away.

"Uh... yeah," she said, confused. She had expected many responses from her, but this one had taken her by surprise.

"I hope she sees us," she murmured grumpily.

"Pansy... don't seek to fight with my neighbors..."

"Me? How could I?" She blurted out in an innocent tone, leaning back toward Hermione's mouth.

This time the kiss was firmer, making the friction between their mouths more pleasant. She pulled away a bit, wanting to switch sides and deepen the kiss, but out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Pansy was making an obscene gesture with her middle finger. She moved further away, noticing now that she was doing it towards her neighbor, who was at the entrance of her house and seemed quite shocked. Hermione paled.

"It's not that neighbor!" She yelled, on the verge of panic.

"Oh," she managed to say, lowering her hand.

Mrs. Williams recovered from her shock within seconds, going into her house so fast that she slammed the door. "Well, she never spoke to my parents," she thought, "and hopefully she doesn't start now." Then, to her dismay, she noticed that Pansy turned her head to look suspiciously toward the opposite neighboring house.

"Stop looking for a fight!" She exclaimed.