43.

Hermione:

Fancy a girls night out?

"Walk to number 1283 and then turn right," she repeated in her head. She had learned the address of Pansy's house by heart and from time to time she checked to remember it well, since although she knew London, she was not entirely used to its streets and the last thing she wanted would be to get lost; however, she had a paper with the address in her pocket, one was never careful enough.

One thousand two hundred and seventy-nine, one thousand two hundred and eighty… Hermione turned right at the next intersection. It took a moment to process the change. She could even feel it in the air, the barriers that diverted Muggles into thinking there was no street between the thousand two hundred and eighty-third building and the store that occupied number one thousand two hundred and eighty-four.

"Now I just have to go down this street to building 4790," she recalled. She set off as she looked curiously at the architecture of the place, far older than any she had crossed today, built of sturdy materials that defied time, and also the cobbled streets, so striking to her now, as Muggle London had removed most of them so that the vehicles circulated without difficulties. Hermione felt like she had gone back several decades, magical things almost always generated that feeling for her.

When she finally stopped in front of the building she was looking for, she swallowed nervously, even though her mouth felt thick and dry; It was not nice. She looked at the sign again: four thousand seven hundred and ninety. It was here, there was no doubt. She looked at herself in the reflection of the glass and tucked her hair behind her ear. She looked at the rest of her clothes: her shirt was fine, her sneakers didn't look stained. She was about to ring the bell, but she hesitated. She looked in her pocket for the address, just in case she remembered the number wrong, but it wasn't like that, she was fine, this was the place. She took a deep breath, rubbed her hands on her pants, pulled her shoulders back, and brought her finger to the button. She stopped at the last second, panicking at the furtive idea of not smelling good. She had walked around the city quite a bit, as she used the train instead of asking her father for a ride. She pulled the fabric of her shirt up to bring it closer to her nose. You could still smell the fabric softeners her mother used, lavender, not so strong, but it persisted. She checked her wrist, the perfume she put on before leaving home was still there. The same should be true for her neck, right? Sigh. She was just pacing around so as not to call Pansy. Again she fixed her hair with the reflection of the glass and then touched the doorbell button: floor D, number 7.

She had never been in a magical apartment building, so she was surprised to see how the button shot out of the wall and rolled so fast on the floor that in a blink it was out of sight, leaping up the steps. As quickly as it left, it came back, generating a "Ding!" when it slid back into the place it had left empty. Hermione got distracted looking at the buttons and trying to figure out what the hell had happened, so she didn't notice when the elevator downstairs opened and let Pansy out, who walked to the entrance to open the door. Since Hermione paid her no attention at all, she leaned against the frame and stared at her, trying to figure out what was wrong.

"What are we supposed to be seeing?" Pansy sneered, leaning close to her ear. "Have the buttons offended you?

"I think there's an enchantment here, but I'm not sure if they applied a velox spell or..." Her concentration fell, being aware of her surroundings, and she turned her body slightly to look Pansy in the face. "Hello."

"It knocks a little bell hanging on the side of my door a couple of times," Pansy explained. "An exspiravit lignum was also applied."

"So it can go through wood, like a ghost," she realized. "So the bell rings inside the apartment? Does it walk through the door like it doesn't exist? One button programmed for each apartment."

"Exactly. And each apartment has its own muffliato, so no one mistakes the noise of the bell, the noise does not come through our walls."

"Fascinating," she said, looking back at the buttons.

"Do you want to go up or... do you need some time alone with them? If you want I can give you privacy, turn around while you kiss each other goodbye."

"You are an idiot."

Pansy laughed, as she let Hermione in. When they got into the elevator, Hermione clarified:

"Do you have any idea how many germs and bacteria are in places like that? It would be impossible for me to kiss that thing."

"Hey, I'm not the one looking at them intently and saying 'fascinating.'"

When the elevator door opened, Pansy led the way to apartment number seven. Upon entering, Hermione concluded that the place looked... pretty good, actually. She had heard her girlfriend say a thousand and one complaints about the apartment, about the walls, about the small space, because the armchair should be a couple of shades darker, and that it was bad how the kitchen and the living room were connected, only divided by half a wall (and therefore she was convinced that the architect of the building was an idiot). Maybe it was always about Pansy having too high expectations.

In the wall in front of the door there was a window that allowed you to go to a balcony. She leaned closer, to get a better look. Pansy moved away from her, going into the kitchen to get something from a drawer. A rapidly moving speck appeared just as Hermione stood in front of the glass. It was Mrs. Pest, which flew and fell gracelessly over the edge of a flowerpot, causing it to wobble a little. She grimaced when she noticed what the owl had in its beak: a white mouse. It was not moving, it was hanging lifelessly, held by the neck; it had probably been severed. The big eyes of the owl met Hermione and she did not move a muscle, analyzing her.

"Pansy," she called her.

The aforementioned approached, surprised, but when she saw what Hermione was looking at, she wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Damn, I told you to stop doing that," she complained, tapping her finger on the glass a couple of times, and then commented to Hermione in frustration, "My mother and I feed her all the time. I don't know why she keeps hunting!"

Mrs. Pest released the mouse, letting it fall into the pot. She settled down, her back to Pansy and Hermione, and bent down to eat the mouse, lifting the limp body up and widening her beak. It was unpleasant to watch. Also, before it disappeared down the owl's throat, they even noticed that the mouse's white fur was stained with a bit of dirt.

"Nasty savage," she muttered. "If you think you are going to enter the house today, you are very wrong."

Hermione covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a laugh, and commented:

"I wonder if Hogwarts noticed her absence."

"I don't know. She always comes alone and refuses to leave," Pansy said. "Anyway, look." She held up two papers, allowing Hermione to read them, it was what she had been looking for in the kitchen. "Which one do you want? I'm starving."

They were two magical food business advertisements. The reason Hermione was here today was because they had decided by letters that she should one day visit Pansy's house, as it was the "fair thing to do." They agreed on something quiet, maybe a pizza, music... hang out together.

"That one," she pointed out, choosing the one with the name written in red, since it was prettier. She'd never tried either option, so she couldn't rely on anything better for her choice.

"Good," she murmured, as she turned to go to the fireplace.

But Pansy stopped after just taking a few steps, backed up to face Hermione again and leaned in to give her a quick kiss on the lips. That seemed to please her as she went back to ordering the pizza.

A little overwhelmed, Hermione let out a sigh. That had not been expected. Sometimes Pansy was so... unpredictable. If she had the desire to do something, no matter how suddenly it had occurred to her, she did it. Right now, she just wanted to kiss her, and she did. That simple.

Pansy was talking into the fireplace, her arms folded as she absently looked at the papers in her hands. She had on a loose t-shirt today, which revealed one of her shoulders, and her hair was pulled back in a quick ponytail from which a few strands of hair fell gracefully, giving her a carefree and jovial style. She was not wearing makeup, in fact. She felt a bit special to be able to see her in such an everyday way, and she wondered if there was anyone other than her mother who had that right. Pansy was serious looking at the fireplace, also ordering some ice cream. Hermione had to smile at that, she always wanted sweet things, of course her girlfriend also wanted ice cream after pizza. Pansy glanced at her at one point, giving her a soft smile before refocusing on what the wizard on the other side of the fireplace was saying. She shuddered inside because of that, and who knows if she did outside as well, because suddenly she felt very much in love, with the whole situation, and with her; especially her.

"Where's your mother?" She realized then.

That she had been nervous about the idea of seeing Aurora again was an understatement. Especially since she knows that Hermione is her daughter's girlfriend. Pansy had finished ordering, so she carried the papers back to the kitchen before answering.

"Working," she said, raising her voice to be heard from a distance.

"Will she be back soon?"

"No. Most of the time she doesn't come back until dark."

So... She and Pansy were alone. Good. Hermione was fine with that. Not at all starting to get nervous.

"Let's go to my room?" She asked.

Hermione tensed and straightened, her eyes widening.

"I'll let you choose the music," Pansy added.

"Oh, music. Pizza and music," she recalled. She followed her, very embarrassed at how easily her thoughts had strayed.

Being alone with Pansy was not something that happened often. A part of her appreciated it. Another part, a much larger one, hated it. She liked to lose herself in her lips, to have her just for her, to listen to her and to see things that no one else saw. Just like their first meeting that night at the fountain, or that spring afternoon before the OWLs where she felt her breath hot, as much as the room and the Sun, her gasp, the burning in her lower part of her belly... Pansy drove her crazy in so many ways and she enjoyed every one of them, from rage to exciting her senses. That, of course, scared her too.

Her friends tease her about it, even Pansy, because of how "prudish" she is. But so what if she is? And how to admit it without feeling pathetic? How should she explain that she wants to do it and not at the same time? Many times she could only think how beautiful Pansy was to her. When she looks at the ceiling of her room before sleeping, remembering it, for example. Or that day, after they said goodbye with a kiss at the door of her house. In those kinds of situations Hermione only had that certainty, that her girlfriend was so pretty that her legs could shake as if death were in front of her. Not even Hermione could be rational in love. How to not be scared by wanting to undress and be undressed? Of knowing someone as few could? Because this was more than just arousal, for Hermione it was much more than lust, that's why she got stuck.

Sometimes she suspected that the Slytherin was being scammed, of course she would never say it out loud. Hermione felt like she had already seen Pansy naked; in dreams, in abandoned halls and dark nights in which she only heard her voice. She had seen so many shades of green, so many expressions, so many fears and insecurities. Pansy opened up to her, her eyes overflowing with emotions and her lips always singing feelings. Hermione felt like she only knew how to get angry, repel, and cross her arms over her heart. What would it be like to get naked in front of Pansy? Did she trust enough?

"Maybe today you will become a singer," Pansy teased, as she opened a drawer to allow Hermione to check.

"Keep dreaming."

There were different music boxes and she began to read the titles unhurriedly. Her eyes strayed to look around her as well, wanting to know more about Pansy. She could always bare something else about her, and she never denied it. She always gave herself to Hermione.

There was only one photograph on the desk. Pansy was surrounded by two adults. If Hermione remembered her physical appearance well, it must have been taken during her second year at Hogwarts. To the left was Aurora, she looked radiant, a happiness that if she had to be honest, she did not see in her in the present; she wore extravagant and very beautiful clothes. On the right, there was a man who looked a lot like Pansy in appearance. She had never seen Narcisso, beyond the things her girlfriend had told her about him. She was almost disappointed. Supposedly, he looked like Pansy. How? Did appearance count for so much? They had the same eyes, but in her opinion they were not half as expressive as his daughter's. Also the same crooked smile, only it was charismatic on him, when Pansy's was rather mischievous, savage and roguish. Narcisso reminded her of her former teacher Gilderoy Lockhart, haughty, beaming smile, full of self-confidence. Even if they had the same nose, the same jaw... to Hermione they looked like two strangers on paper. Narcisso, in the photo, was dividing his attention between Aurora and up front, whoever it was who took the picture. She did not like it. She didn't trust him, or maybe she just didn't like that she was so focused on everything except his daughter, that little girl he had by his side...

Thirteen-year-old Pansy had been a headache, and in fact, she associated it a lot with the photograph in front of her. Head high, chin sticking out, a strong gesture framed by her short hair, which was above her shoulders. She seemed to scream "look at me". She always asked for that: walking the hallways with model attitudes, which she now knew were Aurora's teaching; spouting insults with an audience that laughed behind her back. That version that Hermione had hated so much did not exist now.

Judging Narcisso by small pieces of the puzzle, by a photograph, was useless. Hermione would never know which father Pansy was crying for, nor which lover Aurora missed. She just... couldn't understand why they were comparing them. Why did Aurora, according to Pansy, compare them like this, father and daughter?

Along with the photograph was that book that she gave Pansy on her birthday: "Children's Tales: A Thousand and One Creatures, Magical and Muggle." Leaning against the spine of the book was the Mrs. Pest Keychain that she had found and bought in Scotland, and also, in the corner, the silly McDonald's toy that Pansy had insisted on getting. Further to the right, between the door and the desk, was a full-length mirror. She could see Pansy's reflection in it. She was sitting on the bed, watching her go through her things. She looked beautiful, with her carefree face and calm gaze. Her smile was kind, her features as soft as her, and her gaze so transparent, real... Pansy was unique, incomparable. She loved her so much she wanted to say it, but she hated that her parents never made her feel like she was.

Pansy's photograph reflected her insecurities. The mirror instead inverted them, making her look confident. Hermione turned around. That was the best way to see her, the real way.

"What happened?" Pansy asked, surprised by Hermione's abrupt action.

"I would like to have relations with you."

Pansy cocked her head, blinking a few times as she processed the information. His face turned redder than ever.

"Wait. What?"

"I just wanted you to know that... that" the confidence she felt began to evaporate, "I like you and if we... if you're ready, that's fine with me."

"Jeez. What did I say? What did I just do?" she thought, beginning to collapse inside. She certainly hadn't thought about this well.

"What the hell?" She said between laughter. "Hermione! Do you know that when we talked about consent, it didn't have to be so literal?"

"I... shut up. Stop teasing!" She complained, but soon joined the laughter as well, feeling her face burn. "Stop laughing, you'll infect me."

Pansy got out of bed, going to the drawer, reached for a music album and shook the box of her choice in the air.

"And I thought you were thinking what to choose!" she mocked. "You were just thinking dirty."

"I didn't... I wasn't!" She yelled. "Don't make that face, I mean it."

"And what were you thinking?"

"That I love you very much and trust you," she confessed, with an annoyed tone.

That seemed to throw Pansy off balance as she looked down in embarrassment and ended up playing with the ring she always wore. She let out a loud sigh after a few seconds of silence, surprising Hermione, and stepped forward to hold her face in her hands and give her a quick kiss on the nose.

"You're so adorable you gross me out."

"Eh what?"

"I love you too and I trust you."

Hermione smiled shyly at that and tried to kiss Pansy back, but the sound of a bell stopped them.

"Oh, food!" Pansy cheered. "Sorry Hermione, my priorities are clear."

She hurried to the bedroom door, sticking her tongue out to tease her before scurrying down the hall. Hermione snorted, putting her hands to her face, covering her happiness and grief. She loved Pansy too much.

. . .

The music was playing in the background, Hermione in the end had decided on an album that she remembered that Rachel had praised in a conversation about the best bands in the wizarding world. She was staring at the pizza box on Pansy's desk, not sure if she really wanted another slice or it was just a gluttony. She was lying on her back on the mattress, reading a book that she had found on the side of the bed. It was poetry, and every once in a while he'd recite a verse out loud for Pansy to hear.

She felt movement on the mattress and looked down. Pansy was on her stomach, digging her elbows into the bed to keep her head up and read her magazine. Sometimes she would also comment on something she read, which was not exactly of interest to her, but it was worth it when she heard her laugh or make a sarcastic comment.

Hermione loved books, but right now she couldn't pay attention to the one spread over her head, so she dropped it gently onto the bed. Pansy was moving her legs as she read. His knees were bent, so her feet were up, moving in the air in a smooth, steady rhythm, back and forth, like a swing. Pansy was wearing only shorts, had removed her sandals to get on the bed, and her shirt was flush to the skin of her back, contouring it due to gravity. As she turned the page of the magazine, she caught Hermione's attention, who looked up higher, enjoying her profile. She loved watching her read, even if they weren't books.

"Pay attention to me," Hermione asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Pansy gave her a lopsided smile, but didn't even glance at her sideways.

"Hmn? But the magazine is interesting."

Hermione snorted in amusement, picking up the book again to put it back overn her head while muttering a "whatever you prefer" that was so low, it was surely lost in the new silence. Her arms were getting tired in this position, outstretched, but she didn't feel like moving. It was when she turned the page for the third time (with some difficulty) that she felt a weight on her legs that startled her. The book was snatched from her hands and then she saw her, Pansy was on her, with a smile that promised nothing good. Hermione's heart raced.

"You weren't supposed to ignore me."

"You were ignoring me," she reminded her.

"Rather annoying. I wanted you to keep looking at me."

"What...? You realized?"

"That you were drooling over me? Yes, it is hard to ignore."

Hermione turned her face away, dead with shame. She hated that Pansy always noticed those things. But a hand grabbed her cheek and forced her to look forward again. Pansy's nose was too close to hers, both faces too close. She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but all she did was give Pansy a way to kiss her deeply. Her hands, which had been uncomfortable on either side of the mattress earlier, moved, touching the body on top of her. Her waist, her legs. That was the safe place, until now it was always this, no more.

"Hermione," she whispered, parting from her lips. "I was also paying attention to you."

"Really?"

"You are so beautiful," she said, stroking the outline of her face with her thumb. "I barely made progress with the magazine, I can't stop thinking about... Well, when you said... I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't want to scare you, ruin this."

"Why would you ruin it?"

"I don't know, I never did... I didn't want to get confused, think that you wanted to but that it wasn't like that and make you uncomfortable... When we were alone in the room practicing for Transfigurations, you didn't seem comfortable."

"I was not. I didn't want to do it in an old classroom on a table," she admitted, pouting in disgust, and added, more timidly, spluttering, "I haven't done this before either. I'm a little scared, actually. Does it hurt? I heard it hurts the first time. I'm not sure what to touch, nor... By itself, I'm not used to undressing in front of others either, I usually close the curtains on my bed in the bedrooms at Hogwarts, I'm not that confident and I'm not that pretty…"

She was distracted, feeling again Pansy's hands gently caressing her face. From this position, watching her from on top of her, she felt like she couldn't focus on anything else. It was overwhelming, but it also felt comfortable, sheltered.

"First, I know it shouldn't hurt, there's no need to force things and hurt each other. If it hurts, I'm not going to continue, I don't want it to hurt either. Second, I literally just told you that you are beautiful."

Hermione didn't dare to contradict her, not when she looked at her like that. She raised her arms, entangling her hands behind her neck.

"Since you said you wanted to, I couldn't stop thinking about it." Pansy leaned in, brushing her lips with Hermione's. "Tell me if you still want to."

"Yes," she managed to articulate, feeling her heart pound louder and louder.

"Great. I would have pricked your eyes otherwise, you can't look at me like that and then do nothing."

Hermione turned red and started laughing, all at the same time. She closed her eyes and kissed Pansy, sliding her tongue into her mouth. Again that feeling of security, with her everything was easy. She dispelled her insecurities with one sentence, always honest. Or with a look, her eyes were so frank... Or just when she made a stupid joke that broke any tension. She adored her so much that her chest ached.

She explored her neck, kissing her, noticing that Pansy's pulse was racing as much as hers was. Her hands moved under her shirt, she enjoyed her skin, so soft, better than any fabric or paper. It was easy to take courage, turn, sit on her hips, enjoy the friction as she balanced against her, overshadowing herself as she watched the ponytail of her hair unravel to let it fall onto the pillow, beginning to tangle, partly the fault of her hands, that moved restlessly, scratching gently behind the nape of the neck or the ears. She had adored Pansy so many times, and this one was no different: slowly, little by little, shedding layers, stripping her being. She lost herself kissing her curves, biting when she got close to her hipbones and in the tingling that all of this created.

She never liked giving up control, fully trusting someone was beyond her abilities. Or so she always thought, until now. Because with Pansy unbuttoning her shirt while she was still lying on her back and watching every part of the clothes that she was losing, touching carefully and curiously as she arched against her, it wasn't that difficult for her. Her heart was in her throat, and she loved it. She loved the adrenaline rushing through her, the sensation that prickled between her legs. It was okay to lose control here. She was in a bed that smelled like Pansy, surrounded by objects that made her think of her, being explored by her hands and lips...

The touches were clumsy, very high, very low. They ended up laughing, feeling their cheeks burn, from embarrassment, from pleasure. Wanting at times to cover her chest, or even her face. Even crossing the legs, to cover or get closer to the other.

It was wet, too: the kisses, what she felt on her fingers as she caressed her, between her legs, from all the sweat that ran down her back, her calves, and down her neck. With Pansy she would jump into the water, close her eyes and let herself be drowned in sensations. She groaned at the end, gasping for air, loud enough for her to surface again once she finished swimming.

. . .

Hermione raised the spoon to her mouth, savoring the taste of the ice cream, chocolate. She was sitting on the couch in the living room. It wasn't long before she had to go home, but she didn't want to. She enjoyed looking up to find Pansy looking at her, smiling at her. At times she felt ashamed, because not long before they had been naked, kissing under the covers, caressing each other before and after orgasm, and although they were now dressed, she could still feel the traces, the look of Pansy burning her skin, and the more she thought about What they did, the more she wanted to repeat it, the more she became excited again, and the more it pained her... It was a strange combination, but with Pansy that was fine, it was a lack of control that she knew would not cause problems.

"Don't hog the chocolate," Pansy complained, pointing the spoon at her threateningly.

"You said you wanted vanilla."

"I said I wanted some vanilla. Not that you could go to the other side of the couch to hog the chocolate ice cream."

Hermione looked down, scooping into the ice cream and bringing it back to her mouth. She nearly choked when she felt a kick to her leg near her foot. Before she knew it, Pansy was close by, kneeling in the free space between her legs to reach for the container she held. Hermione pushed her away and used her free hand to grab Pansy's wrist.

"I dislike you," Hermione said.

"You are the most selfish girlfriend in the universe. Since when do you care about desserts?"

"It's chocolate!" She exclaimed, considering it obvious that it was not comparable to any other sweet thing.

They froze as a bright green fire appeared to the right, from which, seconds later, Aurora emerged. Pansy's mother raised her eyebrows at the situation, which must have looked pretty ridiculous from her perspective. Hermione let go of the wrist, ceasing to struggle and shrugging her shoulders a little, uncomfortable. Pansy, unlike her, did not seem concerned as she leaned even further and stole the ice cream she had been holding away. She smiled triumphantly, returning to sit down normally in the chair. Hermione forgot for a second that Aurora was there, glaring at Pansy. She cheated! Also, she wasn't done with the ice cream! Pansy knew she only liked the chocolate one, and she still asked for several flavors!

"Are you eating straight from the ice cream container?" Aurora asked indignantly. "You are filling it with slobber. What am I going to eat?"

"Leftover pizza," Pansy said.

Hermione raged silently, embarrassed to continue the fight over the ice cream when Aurora was in the house.

"Have you been here long?" She asked, as she moved into the kitchen to look for the pizza.

"No. We had a quick lunch and then we went for a walk. We wanted to do various things. We bought ice cream before we came back, and you see, we're still eating it," Pansy replied.

She tried not to show the surprise on her face, although luckily Aurora was not in front of her. How easy she had lied to her! Had she already had it planned?

"I think I should go now," Hermione said, getting up from the couch.

She felt that her face could fall in shame in front of Aurora. She wasn't a good liar like Pansy, she would ruin her if she kept trying her luck.

"It won't be long until the trains stop running for today," she added, trying to sound more confident, turning to see Aurora.

Pansy stifled a laugh as she raised the ice cream scoop to her mouth. Hermione was wishing she could kick her, if only it wouldn't make everything even more suspicious...

"I'll walk you to the station," Pansy offered.

"Well, that's a good idea. But don't be long in coming back, don't get distracted," her mother warned her.

"It's okay, it's okay," she said, walking toward the door.

Hermione followed her and when they left, Aurora peeked out the door as well.

"Hopefully another day we can talk a bit, I'd love to get to know you better," Aurora said goodbye.

"Of course, I'd love to too."

Aurora smiled before going back inside and closing the door.

"Well, that worked out," Pansy said happily.

"I can't believe you're lying to your mother like that."

"Did you want me to tell her the truth?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione crossed her arms, annoyed.

"If you want I can tell her the truth, huh. I'm going to go tell her right now that we had sex."

"Shut up! You are an idiot."

"But it will be a shame, I'm sure she'd be more careful in the future not to leave us alone and we won't be able to do it again," she continued to bother her.

"Ha!" Chuckled a third, causing Pansy and Hermione to turn sharply toward the door. "If you think I'm going to let my house be your new love nest, let me break the illusion for you," Aurora said, peering through the half-open door with an evil smile, and then pointed at Pansy with her index finger, putting an authoritative gesture and tone. "We'll have a chat later, you and me."

"Were you spying ?! Pansy screeched, turning red all the way to her ears.

Hermione brought her hands to her face, wanting to die.

"You talk very loud," Aurora excused herself.

"You were sticking your ear to the door!"

Aurora in response, slammed the door in Pansy's face.

"I won't be able to see your mother again, I don't even want to imagine what she must think of me," Hermione lamented. "All of this is your fault."

"What? But I... Agh. Let's just go to the train station."

. . .

For many reasons, it was a miracle that her heart was still working. Hermione walked into her house, letting out an exhausted sigh. She just wanted to go take a shower and lie on the bed for a while. So many emotions and a long round-trip train journey destroyed anyone. She could have used the Floo Network, but she wasn't close to any wizard in her neighborhood and she was embarrassed to take advantage of such a stranger (even if Pansy had insisted).

"Hermione?" Her mother called as she approached the stairs. "You're back? Did you have fun with your friend?"

By that time, she must have been talking to her from the kitchen, so she went there. She was cooking, her dad was also in the room, it seemed they were talking before she arrived. She drank a glass of water, leaning her weight against the wall.

"With which friend? Pansy?" Asked Thomas. She hadn't told him about her plans for the day, so she wasn't sure what they were talking about.

"Friend", she felt a little itch of guilt every time they said that. Pansy had told her mom about them, though well, it seemed like Aurora had been pushing for the information. But her parents still thought that Pansy was just a friend. They had been together officially for half a year now, Hermione wasn't sure if that was a lot or a little. Rather, the problem was that she loved Pansy very much, more than as a friend, and the idea that she "couldn't" clarify it made her feel horrible. Perhaps there was the question? Regardless of how long they had been together, regardless of whether or not they formalized things, it hurt her not to feel the security to be able to tell the truth, express her true feelings.

"I was with Pansy. I had a great time. I care a lot about her. I… I really love her," she replied, trying not to let her voice shake.

Her father smiled, a little lost. Kayla didn't seem to be much more sure, as she said:

"I'm glad dear. There is something about the friendship between two girls that has something special about it. No? There are things you just can't comment on or enjoy with guys…"

"What do you mean by that?" Thomas complained.

Hermione smiled somewhat uncomfortably. She was dying to say no, that Kayla was wrong. With Harry and Ron, her male friends, she could talk about her feelings, insecurities, or the person she liked, which was not a gender issue. That in fact, the gender of the person she liked was not what they expected. She had a partner, a woman. But she didn't, the words didn't come out. Better to face one fear at a time.