Touched by the Arcane

by lisbeth00

Catherine Potter dreams of things that should not be - a Paleblood sky and the distant screams of a being not quite dead, wrested from its mother's bloodied grasp.

27. All Soft, My Burning Hearth

Chapter Twenty-Seven | All Soft, My Burning Hearth

Humming at the back of her throat, Catherine buried her head deeper into the soft warmth her cheek was resting on, letting out a small noise of confusion as it shifted. She blinked a couple of times, frowning at the faint darkness as she looked at red curtains and a shock of brown curls.

"What the…"

Dazed, she went to drag herself up before suddenly realizing she was back at Hogwarts, her head resting on Hermione's shoulder and one arm slung over her waist. "Oh."

She smiled, burrowing against Hermione's side. Catherine had almost forgotten about this development. Almost.

As carefully as possible, she reached for her wand and gave it a flick, sighing audibly in relief when her tempus told her it was still early, but close enough to start waking up.

"Hey." She prodded softly at Hermione's cheek. "Get up."

"Mmh?" Hermione grunted in confusion, a hand reaching up to slap at her face, before dragging over her eyes. "Give me a minute," she murmured, still half asleep.

"Do you want the whole dorm to start asking questions about us?"

After a moment her eyes shot open, and Hermione almost rolled off the bed, Catherine catching her by the waist and dragging her back up, Hermione's back pressed against her front.

"Woah, woah. Easy. Don't go hurting yourself."

"I- what?"

"Good morning to you too."

"Good morning? Catherine… oh."

And Hermione let out a squeak, spinning around to face her and slapping Catherine with her hair, who spluttered, spitting it out. "You're back!" she whispered excitedly. "Are you okay? Were things alright? You-" her words cut off, a look of horror falling over her as she reached towards Catherine's face, fingers trailing softly beneath her left eye. "What happened?"

"Bad fight. It… fell out and didn't heal up properly. Got scarred like the rest of me," she explained, gesturing to her throat. "Any others I didn't notice?" Catherine continued, as Hermione snatched her hand and looked it over.

"You've got lichtenberg scars. Were you- were you hit by lightning?"

Catherine glanced down to see strange lines emblazoned into her flesh, fractals bursting across it in harsh red, as if someone had given her a tattoo of dripping water.

"One of the beasts… it spat lightning. Was covered in the stuff."

"Oh my god." Tears came to Hermione's eyes, glimmering softly. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, really. Not the worst that's happened there."

"I know, but… I wish I could do something."

"You're already doing enough being my friend. Being…" Catherine's voice hitched. "Whatever we are now."

"Whatever we are." Hermione's words echoed hers, a hint of anxiety in them. "What do you want us to be? Last night… all of this is so new to me. I never thought I could- well, I never gave it any thought at all. But…" she couldn't help the smile pulling across her face, shyness wrapped up in excitement and all there for her. Hermione closed the distance, pecking Catherine softly on the lips. "Whatever it is, I'm happy about it."

"I want us to be whatever you're comfortable with. You saw into my head, so I think you know where I stand on things."

A blush, and Hermione ducked her head. "I definitely remember that." Slowly, she looked back up at Catherine. "You're a lot more confident now. Even compared to last night."

"Am I?" She frowned. "It's been a… week or so for me, I think. I stopped keeping track. I… I managed to save her, that little girl, and a bunch of other people too. I feel- I feel more like me, doing that. Maybe that's why."

"Confidence suits you."

"I don't seem cocky?"

Hermione snorted. "You've always been a little bit cocky, but not in a bad way. No. This is a good confidence, I think."

"That's good, then."

Already Catherine could feel the mask of Yharnam pulling away, returning to the modicum of normalcy she could feel in her brief stints at Hogwarts. It was disorienting, left her feeling a bit naked if she were to be honest, but something about this moment also left her feeling grounded in a way she didn't think she had ever felt in her entire life.

Not relegated to longing. The constant aching to escape the Dursley's, to see the only people she loved on this bitter island, but returning to home instead.

"How bad was it, this time?"

"Yharnam?"

Hermione nodded.

Pursing her lips, Catherine wondered how much to actually tell her. "It's… I'm dealing with it, but things there are so much worse than I ever could have imagined. Are you sure-"

"Yes, I'm sure. I know it's been a while for you, but to me I looked into your thoughts just last night. It hasn't even been twelve hours. They're still up there," she said, tapping her head. "I can still see… god, I can still see the blood."

"Hermione-"

"Don't. Please, don't. I knew that whatever I was getting myself into, it was going to be more than anything we had ever seen before. It's… going to be hard, but nothing in comparison to what you're going through."

"It's bad, Hermione. Really bad."

"Tell me, please."

Catherine drew in a sharp breath, her lungs swelling as she tried to figure out how to best phrase the reaping of the Yharnam unwashed she had witnessed in Hemwick.

"Organ harvesting, for… rituals, I think. There was this village I went to on the city outskirts, maybe a day out, called Hemwick. Witches lorded over the place, and they would take the homeless and god knows who else and- and use them for parts."

Pressing her hand to her mouth, a horrified choke whistled out of Hermione's throat.

"I put the village to the torch. It couldn't be allowed to continue on, so I stopped it. I got knocked out on my way back, though, hit over the head and taken to a prison south of Yharnam." Catherine chuckled quietly. "Staged a jailbreak, helped this nun escape and got her to safety."

"That's…"

"What?"

"Like something out of a book. A jailbreak? How- did they not take your wand?"

"Magic doesn't really exist there. Not the same as it does here. Not exactly. However the use magic, they don't use a wand or the like. Just…" she wiggled her fingers. "Alakazam."

"So they didn't take it?"

"No. Must have thought it was some sort of trinket. I lost my spear though, when I was fighting that… Darkbeasts, Adella called it."

"Who?"

"A nun I saved in the prison. The one I helped break out. She's… god, she reminds me of Ginny almost. Stars in her eyes and all that. Keeps thinking I'm blessed by whatever thing is up inside my head, like a priest meeting god."

"She looks at you like… Ginny?" Hermione laughed quietly, looking at Catherine like she was the biggest idiot in the world. At least, that's what it looked like to her, trying to figure out what that strange amused stare was. "Ginny fancies you."

"Huh?"

"She's obviously fancied you for ages. How have you never noticed this before?"

"What. Wait, wait wait wait." She scrunched her eyes shut and shook her head, pressing the side of her hand to the bridge of her nose. "Ginny. Ron's sister. Ginny Weasley, fancies me?"

"...yes? She's had a school girl crush on you for years."

"I thought that was hero worship. She grew up reading those stories and… you're not having me on, are you?"

"No." And Hermione giggled, a quiet, playful thing. "You're more dense than Ron sometimes."

"No I'm not! And- and… wait should we be talking about something like this anyways? I don't know about dating etiquette but… er- isn't it bad taste?"

"Catherine. It was only a glimpse, but I saw and felt what you feel for me. It…" her mouth opened and closed, air whistling through her teeth. "It was almost overwhelming. I'm having a hard time explaining this, but I don't feel threatened, if that makes sense." Hermione pressed her hand to Catherine's chest. "I know what you feel, and I know it won't change. I mean, if there's any way to be sure of someone's feelings it's feeling it yourself, right? I just thought it was a bit funny you never noticed."

"Oh." Catherine's voice was quiet. "That does. Uh- make sense, and- and I just don't want to be disrespectful, you know? I'm kind of… rubbish at people, so I worry."

"You overthink things. Except for running into danger."

"People are hard. Fighting things is easy."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Understatement of the century."

"Hey, with my upbringing and the constant barrage of attacks from Voldemort it's a miracle I can even hold a conversation."

"And you're all the more admirable for it. What time is it, by the way?"

"Almost six."

"Should be getting up then, don't you think?"

Catherine smiled. "Sounds like a plan."

-::-

"Albus, I have to object. Catherine has just a few days ago attempted-"

"I know full well Poppy. I truly do understand, but if Catherine believes she is well enough to attend classes then would that not be the best course of action? We cannot stifle her, or try and keep her locked in a soft room until she is completely healthy. She is not in the state she was when she went up to the tower, otherwise she would still be back at St. Mungo's."

Catherine looked back and forth between the two, trying to find a way out of the situation, trapped in a room with an angry nurse and a Dumbledore trying desperately to allow Catherine her own freedoms during such a trial.

She'd forgotten about this meeting, Dumbledore having mentioned it to her offhandedly during their discussion in his office. Even now with Catherine's mind tainted by Yharnam, a primal part of her knew Poppy Pomfrey was still a force to be reckoned with.

"Madame Pomfrey…"

"Yes, dear?"

"I really am feeling better. I know I don't really look like it, scarred up and all, but I can't… I can't just hide myself away. I have to go back to classes soon anyways. Wouldn't it be better to start now, and if I start feeling worse we do something then?"

Madame Pomfrey tutted loudly, her frown growing deeper. "Please, a moment, Miss Potter." She pulled the headmaster away a distance, leaning towards him. "Albus, you know I'm not a mind healer," she whispered at the man, far too quiet to hear unless Catherine didn't have ears steeped in blood. "You'll need to hire someone to come in and help Miss Potter here. I've asked for years if we could have counsellors or the like brought in."

"And I have. I've demanded it, but the Ministry has denied me at every turn. You remember Hornby? I did not remove him, the Ministry did. Lucius stepping over my head and whispering in Fudge's ear about 'muggle propagandists,' degeneracy, and all sorts of mindless pureblood rubbish."

"They surely can't argue that case anymore after a suicide attempt. It's a miracle she survived, let alone came out of it only half blind."

"It wouldn't surprise me if they tried to push the issue. Poppy, you know how the Ministry is, and…" Dumbledore glanced over his shoulder, making eye contact with Catherine, who nodded at him. "Keep an eye on any students being given detention by Dolores."

"What?"

"It's come to my attention very recently that she's been… extrajudicial in her punishment of students"

"Albus…"

"Blood quills," he sighed, the anger in his voice evident. "Catherine brought it to my attention after her incident. The scarring on her knuckles didn't match any wounds that could be obtained from her fall."

"That bitch. I have half the mind to skin her myself. And Fudge knows?"

"Undoubtedly, though he'd never admit to it."

"It's torture, Albus. There must be something we can do."

Catherine lost her focus at that sentence, having already forgotten her own suffering at the hands of Umbridge.

Not that it felt like such a thing, not anymore, but she knew that she wasn't exactly a stellar example of what would be considered normal. Not by any means.

She could always kill Umbridge, or simply just scare her away.

And the thought didn't bother her, because all she could think of was those witches down in Hemwick. How good it felt to drag evil kicking and screaming to its death. Umbridge, to her, was not too different from those witches in Hemwick. An opportunist through and through, and above all else, hateful.

Catherine couldn't comprehend the hatred that woman felt. Towards people like Remus, someone afflicted with a disease, with no option but to deal with it as best they could. Towards people like Fleur, because to Umbridge she wasn't just inhuman, she was less than. Towards people like herself, as well. She had no doubt in her mind that were her falling in love with a woman to become public, Umbridge would be one of the first in line to harass and harangue her, citing some twisted ideal of tradition.

She'd have to talk to Dumbledore about her. Or not, and simply deal with the consequences when Umbridge disappeared one night never to return. Perhaps Aragog would like a snack?

Blinking furiously, she pushed the thoughts away. Catherine wasn't about to go- go and do that. She was a wretched, spiteful hag of a woman, but she didn't deserve to die.

Did she?

"I'm keeping an eye on her. Documenting everything so thoroughly that not even the Ministry can argue her case. You know if I were to bring it up now I'd be sacked and replaced with her."

"There has to be more we can do. Have Severus poison her for all I care, get that child abuser out of here." Poppy slowly turned back to Catherine, smiling far too sweetly at her. It was as if her teeth were dripping venom, her ire obvious and the fury in her eyes burning bright. "The Headmaster and I agree, and believe it would be good for you to start attending classes again on a provisional basis, until we can work out a therapy schedule. And I want no arguments about that, do you understand?"

"Of course."

Madame Pomfrey walked back up to Catherine, chest deflating as she breathed out a large sigh. "I truly do care for you, Catherine. It's why I'm so terse. I must emphasize how imperative it is that you attend therapy regularly and be as honest with your mind healer as possible, once one is hired of course. Do you understand?"

"Yeah… yeah, I do."

Her lips twisted into a pinched smile, and Poppy softly patted Catherine on the arm. "If you ever need me, don't hesitate to come to my office. Understood? I specialize more in broken bones and schoolyard injuries, but I'm always here to offer an ear to my students, even if I teach none of you."

"Still a better teacher than Professor Snape," she whispered, grinning at Madame Pomfrey.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that." Though the smile that pulled across Poppy's face this time was something true, not the forced grimace of earlier. "A bit of humour to put me at ease, huh? Don't think you have me completely convinced. I want you to come check in with me or Professor Dumbledore at least once a week."

"I'm already talking to the Headmaster once a day. He's helping me out with things."

"Good. And I'm sure Professor McGonagall would be more than happy to sit down and speak with you if you need it. At least until we find you a mind healer."

Catherine tried not to let any panic well up in her chest at that, suddenly realizing that if they were to bring a mind healer to the school, she would have to lie until her tongue fell out. "Alright."

"Catherine?" Dumbledore said, interrupting the two. "I can escort you to your first class, if you'd like."

She nodded, thankful. "I've got-"

"Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall will be more than glad to see you, I'm sure."

Catherine inclined her head towards Poppy as she climbed off the cot, her bed in the Hospital Wing. Might as well have had a plaque above it. "Thanks."

A hum was her reply, though Catherine could see the concern still lingering in her eyes. Madame Pomfrey really did like her, it seemed, even after years of harrying her with injury after injury.

Following behind Dumbledore, Catherine sighed quietly as he turned to her the instant they left the Hospital Wing. "Your eye," he questioned. "You've been back."

"Passed out last night. Was exhausted after… well, after everything. I'm on good terms with Ron and Hermione by the way, they know- at least Hermione knows everything, Ron most of it - but the week caught up with me, and knowing they're fine… it put me at ease, I guess. Oh, and I was imprisoned while I was there, so that was new."

"You were imprisoned?"

"Got knocked out, captured, and then staged a little break out." Catherine chuckled quietly. "But I had my eye knocked out maybe… a week before that? I was also hit on the head when I was taken to the prison, so I'm not sure how long I was unconscious for, or... why I didn't just show up here when I was unconscious now that I think about it…" She realized she was rambling and still hadn't answered the original question, slamming her mouth shut. "My eye, I uh- fought a very, very large dog and it hit me hard enough to take my eye out."

"And how did you defeat it?"

"Climbed on its back and tried to saw its head off."

Dumbledore swallowed loudly, his throat bobbing as he looked down at her. "Tried?"

"Thing was too big. My spear got stuck in its spine." She scowled, remembering how she would have to find a new weapon when she returned to Yharnam. "Lost my spear in another fight. It's destroyed now, so I'll need to pick up something new."

"You seem significantly more calm regarding your curse, as you put it."

"It all sort of clicked for me when I went back there. After chatting with you, figuring things out with Ron and Hermione… it didn't put things into perspective but it made them easier to deal with. It's still horrifying, the things I saw there on my last trip." Catherine was tempted to shake the images out of her head, smash her head against a wall until she could no longer think or feel, but knew it would be futile. "That whole city deserves to be burnt to the ground, and if I have to do it to get free of the Dream I won't hesitate."

He gave her an odd look, and Catherine felt the apology before she spoke it. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For being so blasé about it all, I guess." She rubbed the back of her head. "I'm getting more and more used to things each time I'm over in Yharnam, and it's starting to feel like… a job, at this point. A really awful, frightening, nightmare of a job, but still a job. Should that worry me?"

"It should and it shouldn't." Dumbledore's brow furrowed as he raked his fingers through his beard. "It's… to be expected, I suppose. You've spent a number of months in the city at this rate, around two judging from what you've told me, and maybe half the time here in the castle. What does worry me is how you're no longer worried about it."

"But that worries me too, that I'm not - you know - worried. God, it's all so confusing."

He laughed at that, quiet, but still a laugh. "Then I believe you're just worried in a different way. I think I was the same, coming home from the war, but it's all so long ago now that I… I have a difficulty recalling the details, swept up in how rapid the change was moving from the continent back here. It was as if I wasn't given a chance to collect myself, the naivety I had arrived with left shackled in Nurmengard. But you? You have no chance to collect yourself either way. Back and forth, back and forth…" Dumbledore clicked his tongue in frustration. "I wish I could take it away from you."

"I know, but, I don't think I'd let you now."

He turned to her, a question in his eyes.

"I'm not embracing my life in Yharnam, but it's a part of me, whether or not I want anything to do with it. I'm young, which makes it that much worse, but also that much easier to deal with, I think?" Catherine's arms waved as she tried to explain herself, face pinched. "I think you've seen too much in your life, have too much to worry about, and I wouldn't ever want you or anyone else to go through what I am right now. The fact that Voldemort went through it just makes me sure that Yharnam was what put him over the edge. So even in that… I don't feel bad for him, per se, but I definitely pity him, because I know how bad it is there and I know what it's doing to me."

"I don't exactly follow, but I understand what you're trying to say. You think this is your burden."

"Yeah, something like that."

"Well, would you let friends or family help you carry it? If someone you knew were to go through the same tribulations you have, would you not do everything in your power to see them through it?"

"Yeah."

"Then worry all you need. Don't be ashamed of it, and do not hide your tears if they come. You're allowed to feel what you feel, Catherine, and no one can ever take that away from you."

A small noise erupted from the back of her throat, and Catherine found herself having a bit of an epiphany at his words, an ownership over herself she'd never once given thought.

"Never thought of it that way before."

"Not many of us do. Even as old as I am, it took me many decades to understand that we cannot help our emotions, but instead how we act on them. One can be angry, and never lift a hand. One can be saddened, and keep those feelings bottled up so that all they can do is fester. It's what we choose to do with those feelings that matters most." He popped his lips, that familiar self-assured smile on his face whenever he had his little moments of wisdom. "And I do believe we've arrived at your class," he announced, with a small wave of his arm. "I'll be seeing you this evening?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I'm excited."

"And that's one of the many things that makes me admire you Catherine. An eager mind." His fingers waggled as he walked away, and she was happy to see him so light, not the man she had come to know recently, burdened with the weight of so many terrible years of responsibility.

If there was one thing she knew about Dumbledore, it was that he looked for the small, silly things in life.

As quietly as she could, Catherine opened the door to the class, McGonagall halting briefly in her lecture to cast a glance at the door, her eyes widening at the sight of Catherine.

She continued on, gesturing with her chin towards Catherine's usual seat, although McGonagall's gaze lingered painfully on the scars dotting Catherine's face.

The class, one normally quiet so as to not draw the ire of one of the, arguably, most stern professors in the school, was almost deathly so, some of the students staring at Catherine with morbid fascination as she sat down.

Ignoring them, she took out her quill and parchment and set to work writing down the notes up on the blackboard. Hermione caught her eye, sending a faint smile Catherine's way, while Ron tried to lean over from his seat near her to say hello, only to have McGonagall clear her throat loudly, offering him nothing but a pointed stare.

McGonagall soldiered on with her lecture, but Catherine found herself noticing how she refused to call on her, a soft, yet pained look in the professor's eyes any time she turned her gaze in Catherine's direction. She wasn't the only one, Hermione turning around to sneak shy glances here and there, more pointed ones every so often, until Catherine caught Hermione staring at her lips with a pinched expression, the one she always got when she was thinking.

It caused Catherine's gut to flip flop and a stupid, silly grin to pull across her cheeks when she noticed, which promptly caused Hermione to realize where exactly she had been staring, blushing furiously and turning back to face the chalkboard just in time to be called on by Professor McGonagall.

Ron, of course, noticed everything, and was practically vibrating in his seat the whole class, hardly able to pay attention to the lesson and instead focused on grinning back and forth at the two girls.

The bell soon chimed, marking the end of the lesson, and McGonagall raised her hand after listing out the coursework for the evening. "Miss Potter, please stay for a moment."

Catherine nodded at her, expecting the chat, and motioned for Ron and Hermione to head to their next class without her as the rest of the students filed out, some staring openly at her as they left, shocked expressions as they saw her scars up close.

"I'll catch up."

"It's fine," Hermione said. "We'll wait outside for you."

"You know we've got Umbridge next."

"Like she said, we'll wait outside for you," Ron argued, jabbing his thumb towards the door. "Don't want you to have to deal with all these gawking idiots on your own, right?"

"I'll be quick."

Catherine set her bag down on top of her desk, leaning against the wood as the two shuffled out. McGonagall stood by her lectern, stiff-backed and pale faced.

"Miss Potter…"

"It's not your fault."

Shocked, McGonagall clenched one fist, the only sign of her turmoil. "I am your Head of House. I should have noticed, and for that I owe you a great apology."

"Don't blame yourself, please. I've… hid my feelings all my life. If those two couldn't pick up on it, I'm not surprised you didn't as well."

"But I should have. I've never made myself available to you and the other Gryffindor's in the way that the other heads do. It's why Professor Sinistra will be taking over as Deputy Headmistress at the end of the month." She announced her resignation with the same cold flair that always tinged her words. "I've chosen to better dedicate myself to the house and my students, rather than spread myself thin across three jobs, and... I thought you should be the first person to know."

"Oh."

Because what could she say to that? That through her attempted suicide she had shaken the foundations of Hogwarts?

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize for anything, you silly girl. You've given me a much needed wake up call, and I pray I can make it up to you." Tears came to McGonagall's eyes as she looked at Catherine's own, one clouded with an inky gray, though both bore deep bags, a symptom of her sleeplessness. "Lord, how I wish I could have done more for you."

Awkward, but feeling like it was the right thing to do, Catherine closed the distance and hugged the taller woman, squeezing her tight. "Don't blame yourself. Please. And- and… shit, I'm sorry-"

"No. It's… it's fine." And McGonagall returned the gesture, her arms wrapping around Catherine's shoulders. "I'm afraid it's far too late to say it, but I would have been an aunt of sorts to you, had your parents lived through the war."

"What?"

"Lily and James were some of my brightest students, and we came to be friends through the Order." She let go of Catherine, sitting on the edge of her desk. "They would be proud of you, you know. So very, very proud."

"I never knew…"

"And that's my fault. Too wrapped up in my work, too solitary for my own good." She smiled. "I'm a cat animagus for good reason. But I want to say that if you need anything from me, even just a cuppa and a chat, my door is always open for you. And, again, words cannot express how sorry I am Catherine. My heart nearly broke when I had heard what happened…"

McGonagall's jaw clenched violently, tamping down her own self-directed anger and the horror that she had very nearly lost her student.

"I simply want you to know that this world is a far better place with you in it."

"Thank you," she said, realizing she'd spoken those words many times today already. Not that that diluted them. Catherine truly felt thankful for McGonagall, and a part of her looked eagerly forward to the end of her trial not solely for escape, but for the good she knew would come after.

A spark of her old self built up, taking over her for a moment. "I'm not calling you auntie."

"And I would hope not! Not in front of the other students at least, that would be wildly unprofessional." Her words may seem stern, but the smile on McGonagall's face told otherwise. "If you're comfortable with such a thing, I'd be more than happy to kindle what we could have had."

"Families growing, looks like. I've got Dumbledore for a grandfather, Sirius for an uncle, and you for an aunt. Who needs the Dursley's anyways?"

"What horrible people."

"I don't plan on going back to them anyways, and Dumbledore has agreed that's for the best. Sirius wants to take me in, and hopefully we can clear his name by the end of the year."

"My fingers are crossed. Now, I believe your friends are waiting for you." McGonagall hesitated, before pulling Catherine in for another hug. "Please, never scare me like that again."

"I promise," she murmured, pressed against tartan robes. "I don't plan on doing something like that again."

Not unless she could help it.

Lips pulling awkwardly, Catherine snatched up her things and left, a friendly wave being her goodbye as she ducked out of the classroom.

"Hey."

Ron and Hermione looked up from their conversation, the two smiling.

They fell into a familiar walk, huddled together as they strode down the hall to their next class. Ron had other ideas, throwing his arms around their shoulders and pulling them against his chest as they walked, grinning down at the two of them.

"So, you got something to tell me?"

"I've no idea what you mean," Hermione stated, stubbornly looking down the corridor, though her lips curled ever so slightly.

"Uh huh. Catherine?"

"I don't kiss and tell."

"Ay! You did actually talk to her! I thought you would've taken another week to draw up the courage, but look at you!" He ruffled Catherine's hair, causing her to scowl and bat at his hand, half-heartedly wrestling his arm off her shoulders. "Hey!"

"You're alright?" Catherine asked, casting a pointed look to Hermione, before shrugging her shoulders, hand waving towards herself. "After what you told me last night."

He shrugged, turning to Hermione, who now looked truly concerned. "Just fine. It sucks a bit, yeah? But… not the end of the world. Honestly, I'm just happy for you two. After talking to Catherine last night I really did realize how bloody obvious it was. So… in hindsight, took you long enough."

"You can't say 'took you long enough' if you didn't know and I didn't know either," Hermione argued. "And- and-"

"You were pining for her and just didn't know it yet. Face it, Hermione. You two were gonna' end up snogging instead of arguing over arithmancy one day."

"We wouldn't- I object to that!"

Catherine frowned, but deep down she felt relief and a small amount of giddiness to know Ron approved. She couldn't bear to hurt him, even if she had no choice in the matter. It wasn't as if she could choose who she was attracted to, but if she didn't happen to be unfailingly queer, she imagined Ron would be a kind partner. "We really are that obvious, aren't we?"

"I think the rest of the school's just as clueless as you two. Now that I know where to look, it's like…" he put his hands up, fingers wiggling. "Big red light, just blinking at you and screaming 'look at these hopeless twits'."

"Oh, that's kind of you."

"What! It's true. I was oblivious too, but... hindsight, right?"

Hermione and Catherine's eyes met, and her chest grew warm. "Something like that," Hermione murmured. "I'm just glad she told me."

"Scared the life out of me, but I did."

Sort of.

"If anyone gives you two trouble, I've got your backs every step of the way." Ron's face scrunched up. "Or are you planning on keeping it hush hush, for now? I can't imagine how scary it is to have to be public about something like that."

"I don't know. Hermione?"

"I've dealt with Rita Skeeter, I don't think schoolyard gossip is going to bother me all that much. And… I don't think it would bother you."

"Yharnam kind of puts things like that into perspective," Catherine admitted, voicing quietly how much the city had changed her. "Whatever you're comfortable with, I am."

Ron looked between the two of them, slightly bewildered, probably at the sight of Catherine being… open with her feelings, for perhaps the first time in her life and not under the stress and duress of an attempt on her life, be it from Voldemort or herself.

"Let them know."

And Hermione budged Ron out of the way, laughing quietly as he made a mocking noise of offense. She took Catherine's hand in her own and pressed them together arm to arm. Catherine herself beamed, and could feel her face flush.

She guessed they were really doing this.

They walked into Umbridge's class a few minutes later, jokes being cracked between the three and a mood Catherine thought long lost instead thriving, the friendship she had been so convinced would die now burning brighter than it ever had.

It made her feel giddy, higher than any rush Yharnam blood could ever hope to muster.

Ignoring the looks and stares directed towards Catherine, studying her scars and openly gawping at the unimaginably light mood the three carried with them - didn't she just try to kill herself? One whispered, aghast - they took their seats, Catherine kicking back and setting her (admittedly useless) textbook out on the desk in front of her.

Making eye contact with Umbridge, she felt a stirring in her gut that screamed of conquest as the woman dared to look down on her, an expression on her face that reeked of contempt and an already assured victory. At least, in her mind it was assured, Umbridge most likely thinking her broken beyond belief, her suicide attempt national news at this point and another attack the Ministry could add to its shameless repertoire.

She met the stare, the faintest smirk on her lips as she realized she would destroy this woman as she had Hemwick, and take great pleasure in doing so.