November 1998
Her chest heaves and her are feet unsteady beneath her as Hermione runs. Sprints. Tries desperately to escape. There's something near her stomach that burns, and her muscles ache, but she can't stop. She has to keep going because there's something following her.
Chasing her.
Some presence that forces her up when she falls. Means she almost doesn't feel the sharp sting of open cuts on her knees and the jarring pain in her wrists from where she's caught herself. Just keeps on running, something coursing through her blood that drives her forwards.
Makes her ignore the almost wet feeling in her lungs as she struggles to breathe. Focuses entirely on the creature she can feel behind her. Those eyes that trail her around the castle made vicious as it follows — as it hunts.
It's different somehow to the ice cold of seeing Lavender covered in blood. Of watching her tear open Ernie or feel her unnatural strength as she shoved Hermione away.
Instead, it makes her blood burn in her veins.
Reminds her of desperately running through the woods with Harry and Ron while trying to escape the Death Eaters.
She can't stop to think about it, though. Can't catch her breath. Just has to keep moving. Feels it getting closer and closer. Wonders how it hasn't caught her — questions if it really wants to.
Tears stream down her face as her body drips sweat despite the autumn chill, and she's so confused — so terrified — Hermione almost thinks it may not be happening at all. That she's having some kind of post-war breakdown, but she can hear it.
Whatever's chasing her.
Because even if it is Lavender — it's nothing close to her friend.
She doesn't even think it's human.
It moves too quickly. Almost seems to circle her. Taunts her as it growls. A low sound that echoes through the woods, so Hermione knows there's something there.
Let's her hear it's heavy breathing — deep breaths that are nothing like her own. They're slower. As if it hasn't been following her for what may have been hours — Hermione doesn't know.
Has barely felt present for any of it. She'd taken off running as soon as Lavender ordered her to. Didn't stop to think about it. Just started sprinting. Her legs moving underneath her faster than her brain could command them to. It was like she wasn't in control of her own body anymore. She moved on instinct alone.
Her mind hazed over. Focused only on getting back to the castle. On getting away. She hadn't thought about where she was running. Her legs outpacing her brain, she was in the forest before Hermione even knew where she was.
Only realised when she was hunched over taking uneven breaths. Sobs tearing between them as she could still feel Lavender's sticky, wet fingers on her skin and knew whose blood it was when Hermione felt it again.
The presence from the castle. The one that has to be Lavender — even as unnatural and unfamiliar as it feels.
It circled. Tried to spook her more than it already had when Hermione's blood started to burn again. Forced her body to move even when she wanted to collapse. Has made it keep moving ever since.
Running desperately. She doesn't know how long it's been toying with her. Can only see the trees rushing around her as she sprints — tries to find some way out of the forest — but it's like it's enjoying the hunt.
Like it's taunting her. Trying to disorientate and exhaust her. It's like her mind's covered in a haze. She can't think. Can't try and find some way out. She can only keep on running. Flashes breaking through the cloud covering her brain of Lavender's unnatural teeth, Ernie's terrified screams, and blood splattered across Ron's bed.
Fire still burning in her veins, the trees finally start thin, and Hermione throws herself forward faster. Feels the creature realise where they are and speed up — like it can't follow her out of the forest.
That one hopeful thought shoves her towards the edge. Makes her legs speed beneath her even though they feel like lead. Heavy and uncontrollable, it's instinct that keeps her moving despite how much her muscles want to give out.
Somehow, she keeps going even when she breaks through the treeline. Needs to put as much space as possible between her and whatever's in the woods. It doesn't make any sense that Lavender wouldn't be able to follow her out of them, and yet, she feels the presence drain away.
Feels it give up.
A realisation that forces Hermione to her knees. Makes her collapse onto the open ground. Hunched over, she coughs up spit, bile, and maybe blood. She can't tell it's so dark out but hears liquid hit the ground as her lungs shake.
Her breaths are ragged. Make her lungs ache as oxygen floods back into them. Her whole body hurts — burns — and is shaking almost uncontrollably, but Hermione knows she can't stay here.
She's not far from the castle, but she knows it's not actually safe despite how much it feels like it compared to the forest. The illusion of safety almost enough to make her consider not moving — the reality of the danger forces her up.
Makes her rush back up the tower. Hermione runs — doesn't care who she may wake despite how late it is. Her footsteps slap against the ground, and her heaving breaths fill the halls with noise, but still, no one hears her.
The time passed in the forst making is so late there aren't even stragglers from the pub left — those who celebrated Halloween just a little too thoroughly.
The whole tower's dark when she stumbles into it. Doesn't stop to look around the empty common room; she up the stairs before she even realises what happened. Rushes into her and Lavender's room, just needing the familiarity of their dorm — even if she can't stop thinking about the other girl covered in blood.
She doesn't know how she ends up in the bathroom. Is in the shower before she can even question if it's a good idea. The water streaming around her, almost burning her skin as Hermione scrubs desperately — tries to get the blood off her.
She knows it's mostly hers. Scratches down her arms and legs that sting where the water hits them. Her palms are covered in abrasions from where she'd fallen too, but she swears she can feel Ernie's blood. Somehow knows it's stuck to her cheeks where Lavender had touched her. Dragged down her neck by the other girl's fingers.
She still can't breathe. Sobs tear out of Hermione's chest; tears mix with the water from the shower, and her whole body shakes as she tries to get it off her. Finally sees the water run clear even though she still doesn't feel clean.
Her mind is in a haze. Barely a conscious thought passes through it as she all but falls out of the shower. Dries herself frantically with a charm and stumbles into her pyjamas. Just wants to forget everything that's happened — convince herself it's all been some kind of terrible dream. That she's going to wake up, and none of it will have been real.
The room is still dark when she staggers back into it. Rushes towards her bed and pulls the covers up around her head. Logically, Hermione knows it's useless. A childish superstition that it will save her from the monsters, but it's all she has — even her wand seems useless with the way her body's still shaking.
"It wasn't real. It wasn't real," she keeps on repeating over and over. Has been for longer than she can remember. Some desperate plea to whatever deities are listening. She scrunches her eyes closed as she mutters around tears. Cradles her head in her hands as she lies there shaking.
"What's up, Granger?"
A voice breaks through the darkness. Hands clasp Hermione's waist, and there's warm breath on her cheek as something tries to wrap itself around her.
Hermione screams before she can stop herself. Her heart races and she throws herself out of the bed as adrenaline suddenly burns through her muscles. Her breath comes out in gasps as she yells. Her stomach clenches, and her legs seem to twitch beneath her.
She spins towards what touched her, spell begging to be cast as she hears laughter that Hermione knows she recognises but at that moment can't place. Doesn't know what she's going to see as the candles burst into flame around her but feels her heart stop in her chest when she sees it's Lavender.
Feels the organ freeze further when she realises the other girl's completely fine.
Hermione cries stop instantly at the sight of her friend. Stunned into silence, too confused to move because Lavender looks perfect. Glowing. Beautiful. Her hair shines with health rather than blood, and any redness to her skin is the pink that's always there.
There's no indication she's anything close to the creature Hermione had seen by the lake, and she feels her mouth open in confusion. Just stares back as the other girl looks at Hermione like she's gone crazy and she stays silent until her lips curve into a familiar smirk.
Pulls up one side of her mouth as Lavender asks, "Miss me?"
Her words are joking. Like Hermione can't remember the other girl's nails digging into her skin. Not quite breaking the surface or even scratching hard enough to leave marks behind, but something she'll never forget.
Looks back at her like Hermione hadn't seen her covered in blood and monstrous — barely human — as she continues, "Merlin — calm down. It's only me," when Hermione doesn't reply.
"Lavender," she finally finds her voice, but it's a gasp — disbelieving, "What — what happened?"
Looking at the blonde, Hermione doesn't know what she's asking. Isn't sure if she's asking about the lake, Ernie, or the girl herself because she doesn't look like any of it happened.
Instead, the other girl just smiles back at Hermione while standing there in pyjama shorts and what she thinks is one of her t-shirts. The longer she looks at the blonde, the more Hermione's heart rate slows. Calmed by the sight of her friend so far from the creature Hermione was so sure she'd seen, but that now seems impossible.
The two ideas so opposing in Hermione's mind that she's almost forced to dismiss the posibility. Instead, she looks at Lavender with her pretty flushed cheeks, her slightly concerned smile, and let the other girl take her hand when she reaches for it.
Her skin tingles at the contact. Goosebumps form on the skin where their fingers interlock, but not the kind Hermione had felt outside. No — they're the pleasurable shivers Lavender's always elicited from her. Yet another piece that makes Hermione feel like the whole night has been some terrible dream.
Like between the firewhisky, how overdrawn she's felt with that constant, unnerving presence around the castle, and how panicked and wrong she'd felt in Ron's bed had manifested in some terrifying manipulation of the memory from the battle.
It doesn't really make sense, but it's at least an explanation. One that reassures Hermione as Lavender looks back at her. Makes more sense than the thought she's somehow having visions as Lavender kills. That Lavender's killing at all, but the idea Hermione's somehow witnessing it even from across the castle makes even less sense.
They've always been attuned to each other, but nothing like that and there's nothing Hermione knows of that would explain it. So, she's forced to assume it's something else entirely. Even as unsettling as the thought she'd had some kind of panic-induced vision is.
Hermione's so distracted trying to rationalise the evening. Assuring herself that none of it could have been real, she almost doesn't notice Lavender sitting up. Has calmed herself enough, she just lets the other girl play with Hermione's hair while keeping a grip on her other hand.
Brushes it behind Hermione's ears as she says, "I've missed you."
"What?" it's barely a whisper, but Hermione can't find it in herself to be any louder. Is oddly entranced by the fact Lavender's okay — reassured there's nothing actually wrong. By the justifications Hermione's given herself, and by whatever's sparkling in Lavender's eyes as the other girl smiles in her.
"I've missed you," Lavender repeats. Pulls Hermione back towards her, so her knees hit the edge of the bed.
"What — what are you doing?"
Lavender laughs at her question. A soft sound that makes Hermione's heart stutter. One that she knows from soft moments that have always felt exactly like this. Lavender's hands on her skin, the air buzzing between them, her breath catching in her throat.
They're not thoughts Hermione should be having considering her evening. They're not thoughts she should be having at all, but Lavender doesn't do anything to stop her. Just shuffles backwards, tries to get Hermione to follow the other girl onto the bed. Her body moves before her brain can stop it.
"We always share your bed," Lavender teases, and she's not lying.
Lavender's always spent more time in Hermione's bed than her own, but there's something more to the words this time. Something that makes it clear she's not talking about sleeping.
Hermione's breath hitches at the thought. At the memories, at the things they've denied themselves, and at the fact she knows she should be screaming for them to stop. That the whole idea's insane considering she'd been begging to get out from under Ron not even hours ago, but it feels so different — Lavender is so different — Hermione can't equate the two. She never could.
She's as entranced as she's always been. Completely unable to stop them both from giving in to their desires. Hermione flicks her eyes down to Lavender's lips and sees their plump softness rather than where she thought they'd been covered in blood mere hours ago.
Finds the closer Lavender gets — her fingers trailing up Hermione's arms as they kneel in front of each other — the easier it is to forget. To focus on the inches between them and how her skin tingles wherever Lavender touches, the rest of her begging for attention, rather than the way her brain should still be screaming danger.
Hermione doesn't know who moves first. Whether she's pulled in by the gravity of Lavender's presence or if the other girl gives mercy and presses her lips to Hermione's but her brain hazes over as they meet.
Goes blank. Can only focus on the way Lavender's cupping her chin, tilting Hermione's head backwards for better access. Warm and wet, ever so slightly demanding the way Lavender's lips have always been, the other girl breathes in her gasps as Hermione's heart stutters.
Doesn't stop to let her catch her breath — just keeps taking. Tastes Hermione's mewls and sighs as they leave her lips. The sweet scent of her invades Hermione's mind, and she feels almost drunk on the touch of Lavender's skin.
Drags her hands down the other girl's arms without thinking about it. Hermione can only focus on how Lavender's uneven breathing matches her own. Sighs and gasps as she rests her hands on Lavender's waist. She wishes she could feel the soft skin hiding beneath the other girl's clothing.
Gives in to the urge before she can stop herself. Sneaks her fingers underneath the blonde's shirt and soothes over the panes of her stomach. Brushes the curve of her back, relishes the contact they've denied themselves for months. Ventures upwards, runs her fingers over Lavender's ribs and gets tantalising close to her breasts. Feels the sight swell of them as the other girl tugs lightly on her hair in response.
She lets Lavender's tongue slip into her mouth and feels a shudder run through her as it brushes Hermione's own. Just tastes her for a moment, reacquaints herself with what was once familiar, and that part of Hermione begs for it to be again.
She whimpers as the other girl parts their lips. Tries to follow. Doesn't want it to be over. Doesn't know if she could bear that being the end. Her brain entirely caught on the feel of the girl's body against her own and uncaring of any realities.
She lets Lavender guide her back. Rest her body over Hermione's as the other girl trails her lips down Hermione's neck. Licks and sucks, tastes her. Makes Hermione gasp and shudder at the feel of her lips on the sensitive skin.
Runs her own hands up Lavender's spine as the other girl kisses along her throat. Hermione's fingers tingle where they touch the blonde's skin, and her hips wiggle against the bed — beg for more. For Lavender to touch her the way she's been craving for longer than she dares think about.
She's so distracted trying to find something to press against. For friction, for Lavender's hands to slip under Hermione's shirt and trail over her stomach, her ribs, her breasts, she doesn't expect it when it comes.
Flinches at the feel of teeth on her neck. It doesn't hurt, the light scraping that should make her brain haze over. That she usually associates with bruises she'll have to glamour in the morning — if she can bring herself to — but for some reason makes her heart freeze.
The sting of enamel against flesh shakes her violently out of the haze Lavender washed over her. Makes her muscles burn with adrenaline rather than desire. Suddenly shoves Lavender away from her. Launches herself from the bed, chest heaving, mind racing.
Finally, gasps, "What the fuck is happening."
Her vision's almost blurry as she looks back at Lavender. Sees the other girl sitting on her bed which she looks at her in concern. Doesn't reach to touch her, which Hermione is thankful for, but she still has to force herself to keep still when the other girl moves towards her.
Watches as Lavender raises her eyebrow and says, "I think you know."
The words are just dry enough to shock Hermione out of her panic. Stops her panicked huffs just long enough for her to breathe normally, as she looks back to her friend and says, "What?"
"Really? You don't know what was just happening?"
"Of course, I know," she snipes back. Irritated at Lavender's calm, relaxed demeanour. So different to the way Hermione's body is still coursing with adrenaline. How her breathing is still ragged, and her brain can't focus on any one thing.
Just keeps jumping between memories. Between the feel of Lavender's lips against her own, her teeth that made the wrong kind of shiver run through her, and back out to the forest. To the other girl covered in blood.
Eventually, finds the words to spit back, "But we said we weren't going to do that anymore, and it's not even what I'm talking about. What the fuck is happening with you? I saw you out there. You were — you were covered in blood."
Each word is more frantic than the last. Sounds like the ramblings of someone losing their mind, and Lavender rolls her eyes slightly at Hermione's reactions.
Replies, "Oh, calm down. I'm going to explain it all. I just got…distracted."
"Distracted?" Hermione hisses in confusion. Part of her still thinking about the taste of Lavender's tongue when she should be focusing on anything else.
The other girl seems to notice. Smirks as she shuffles closer. Moves her hands slowly enough Hermione could avoid them if she wanted to but can't bring herself to do it. Finds herself drawn to Lavender's touch even when she knows she shouldn't be.
The other girl holds one of Hermione's hands in her own. Threads their fingers together while she brings her hand to Hermione's face. Brushes her thumb over her lips where they're still wet from their kisses. Gathers the wetness and meets Hermione's eyes as she brings it back to her mouth.
It feels like she can't breathe again. Her whole being focused on Lavender's mouth as she watches the other girl suck the tip of her thumb into it. More erotic than it has any right to be, Hermione's breath leaves her in a deep shudder as the digit pops free.
She's still trapped in the other girl's spell as Lavender says, "You always did taste better than the boys."
Hermione can't reply. Just stares stupidly at the other girl. Let's Lavender drag her back towards the bed. Settle Hermione opposite her, so they're both sitting; it feels like her brain has been switched off. She's so confused by the night's events — feels exhaustion tugging on her that's not helping clear her mind any — that Hermione's just left to do whatever the other girl wants.
Sits and waits for her to explain. Watches Lavender press her lips together like she's anxious. Feels her grip tighten on Hermione's hand to just the right side of painful; it betrays the nonchalant way she asks her first question.
"You remember the battle?"
"Of course," Hermione agrees. Doubts she'll ever forget it.
"And you remember how I got caught in the woods?"
Hermione nods even if she's not sure she believes Lavender's words. Assumes she's going to get whatever explanation the other girl didn't give anyone else.
"Well, I wasn't meant to be there. Obviously. It was Greyback—" Lavender tenses at the name. Her grip tightens, and Hermione has to suppress her wince but finds herself distracted by the way Lavender's eyes haze over slightly. Like she's caught in the memory of the battle, the words start pouring out of her.
"He took me into the forest. Basically, dragged me by my hair. Was saying how good I smelled — ripe — I knew what he was planning, I tried to fight, but he's so strong—" her breath hitches slightly, and Hermione knows why.
Can remember Greyback's nails digging into her own flesh and worries that what happened to her friend was what that monster hadn't managed to do to her. Feels her heart stop when the possibility occurs to her.
Lavender doesn't notice, though; she just keeps talking. "Imagine my surprise when we're deep enough in the woods it should only be Death Eaters there, and someone still commanded him to stop. My saviour—" she spits the words. "Makes Greyback leave me in his care . Sends the monster back into the forest, saying he had plans. I was so relieved I'd been saved I didn't even question if I'd have been better left to the wolf."
The words make a shudder run through Hermione, but she can't look away from her friend. Oddly entranced by the way Lavender seems almost detached from the story she's telling. No expression on her face as she speaks.
"I tried pleading with him — Dolohov—" she spits the name. Finally identifies the monster who'd hurt her so badly she'd rather have been left to Greyback, and Hermione feels a sick sort of pleasure wash over as she remembers how they'd found the man's body.
How it had been torn apart. How he must have died in agony. And even without knowing the details of whatever happened, she feels relieved. Almost happy that, as she's always suspected, he got what he deserved.
"But he didn't care," Lavender shrugs. Almost like she's trying to make light of what she's telling. Her tone turning oddly jovial in a way that's entirely disconcerting. "Kept going on about how he had some great plan to assure the Dark Lord's succes—" she rolls her eyes. "How he needed me. Started going on and on about a sacrifice and how he needed a virgin."
Her tone's mocking, like she thinks that requirement is ridiculous. Looks at Hermione with amusement shining out of her eyes at her next words, "I did try telling him. Really — I did. It's his own fault it didn't work. Maybe Justin should be considered our Saviour for those few short seconds in fifth year, remember?"
She nudges Hermione like she expects her to laugh but she's frozen in the horror that Lavender doesn't seem to be feeling. Turns her gaze back to her friend, expecting to see something other than mild annoyance as she recalls the story, but Lavender 's expression is still blank apart from mild irriation.
"Anyway — he's going on and on about some great warrior for the Dark Lord or something. Truthfully, I blocked most of it out as crazy person talk, but next thing, I know he's looking back at me with a massive knife."
Hermione's breath hitches as what happened dawns on her, but Lavender still doesn't seem to care particularly.
Continues, "Starts calling out some spell, I guess, and then he's stabbing me. But I didn't blackout or anything—" she sounds almost excited by the prospect while Hermione's stomach turns at the thought of it. At the idea, she'd felt it.
"I could feel it in my body. In my lungs and ribs," she's still nodding in excitement, "Even in my heart. I felt every one."
"He killed you…" Hermione whispers. Can feel the horror on her face. How her mouth's dry where it's hanging opening and how she's blinking like she's not sure if she should cry or not.
Lavender nudges her again, smiles as she reassures, "I'm still here, aren't I? The idiot couldn't even manage that. No wonder old Voldie kicked the bucket if that's the best he had working for him."
Hermione doesn't know what to respond. Just stares in confusion at the other girl. Still trying to process what Lavender's told her. That she somehow died, months ago, and yet she sits before her perfectly fine.
"Anyway," the girl shakes her head, like being murdered wasn't the most important part of her story. "I didn't die — clearly — and I found my way back here somewhere. Back to you, remember?"
Hermione nods numbly. Remembers the way her blood had run cold at the sight of her friend that night. Feels ice settle in her veins again at the thought of what she hadn't known. At what had happened to her friend in the hours they hadn't seen each other.
"I was so hungry. I've never felt anything like it. I thought I might die, but I still couldn't bring myself to hurt you. I could never hurt you."
There's something about the words that Hermione knows with absolute certainty is true. It makes no sense; she can remember how terrified she'd been that night outside the castle. How the way Lavender had growled 'hungry' had stuck with her for days — weeks even.
It still occasionally appears in her nightmares, but listening as Lavender tells her story, there's some part of her that genuinely believes the other girl will never hurt her. Even as she recalls Lavender's nails and teeth on her skin this evening.
Remembers the terror of being chased through the woods. How her muscles still ached from being overworked in her fear and how certain Hermione had been she was in danger. It makes no sense, and yet, part of her is sure she's telling the truth.
She's shaken out of her confusing thoughts by Lavender picking up her wand. Turns her attention back to the other girl as she twirls the wood around her fingers. Smirks up at Hermione before she starts talking again.
"But ever since then, I've just known what I needed to do. How I can be strong when I'm full. Like, I'm pretty much immortal right now. Watch this!"
She twirls the wood one last time before she points it out her outstretched arm and cries, "Sectumsempra."
Hermione screams as the spell leaves the other girl's lips. Watches in horror as her arm is sliced open. Cuts appear along the limb; there's so many that blood starts to stream off her arm, and Hermione reaches for it frantically.
Tries to remember the counter curse, any spell that might slow the bleeding, but before she can even get hold of the other girl's arm, Lavender is laughing.
Stops Hermione's desperate attempts as she says, "Look — it's fine. See. I'm basically a God."
She thrusts her arm back towards Hermione as she says it, and she watches in startled silence as the cuts heal themselves. Seal before Lavender can lose any more blood. She casts a quick cleansing charm and is left with unblemished skin. Looks unbothered by the wound that should have been deadly she just inflicted on herself.
Instead, the other girl turns her attention back to Hermione and looks at her as if she expects Hermione to feel anything other than the way her breath is coming in gasps. Is trapped in her throat, not providing her with enough oxygen despite the way her chest is heaving.
Until now, she could pretend it was all some fever dream. That she really had had that terrifying nightmare, Hermione told herself she had. That none of it is real but presented with unquestionable proof she's left to face the reality that it's real.
That Lavender really was out by the lake. That she really had been covered in Ernie's blood and that Hermione had somehow watched as she tore the boy to pieces. That she'd feasted on his flesh. Scooped blood out of his hollowed chest and devoured his organs. Left his body a scattered mess for them to find in the morning.
Her stomachs turning, her brain moving so quickly she asks before she can stop herself. Hopes the other girl will say something that completely dismisses her fears, but that Hermione somehow already knows won't be the case.
"What — what do you mean full?"
The words are shaky. Betray Hermione's nerves, and Lavender looks at her with something like pity while she moves towards her. Threads their fingers back together, Hermione thinks she should snatch her hand back, but she's frozen. Her mind still frantically spinning through possibilities — explanations for what she just saw and what she's slowly understanding about the girl next to her.
Lavender bites her lip before she says, "You can't tell anyone, okay?"
Hermione knows she shouldn't nod. Shouldn't agree to keep whatever Lavender's about to reveal a secret but finds she does anyway. This bond between them stops her from doing what's smart, not for the first time in her life, but for what is almost certainly the most damning.
"And I'm not doing it to anybody who doesn't deserve it," she continues, and Hermione feels her heart stop at what's essentially confirmation.
Looks desperately back up at her friend for some sign she's wrong. That she's entirely misunderstood the situation, but Lavender just looks back at her blankly. Perhaps with the slightest hint of pleading in her eyes.
"I just — I just get so hungry, and they're the only thing that really fulfil me."
"Lavender…" it's barely a whisper. Falls from Hermione's lips unbidden; she doesn't know what to say. Starts trying to pull away as the reality of the situation sets it. She's been pushing it off for so long the weight falls heavily around Hermione.
It's all been real.
All of it.
Lavender's bloody fingers. Ernie's shredded torso. Crabbe's screams.
She remembers all of them and has refused to see the truth that was in front of her. The way Lavender's miraculous health always coincided with someone's death. Those moments when she's known something bad was going to happen.
She tries to pull away. Tries to throw herself off the bed. Put some distance between her and the girl Hermione no longer knows if she can call her friend, but Lavender's grip is impossible to shake off.
Clamps around her wrist so tightly Hermione hisses sharply in pain. The bones aching, creaking, her earlier assurances Lavender would never hurt her thrown completely out the window.
As soon as she does, though, Lavender drops her arm. Starts desperately apologising, "Sorry — I'm sorry. I just — I need you to hear me out. Please. Please hear me out."
Hermione knows it's stupid. That she's somehow damning herself more than she is already, but Lavender's pleading eyes break through her resolve. She still won't get any closer. Pulls her aching wrist into her chest like an injured animal. She can only assume it's exhaustion that makes her nod slowly in agreement.
The looks Lavender gives her warms Hermione's heart more than she ever wants to admit. Even knowing what her friend has just admitted to, there's some part of her that's still comforted any time the other girl gives her that soft look.
Lavender pauses, wrings her hands together like she doesn't quite know what to say before she takes a breath and preserves, "I didn't even know what I was doing at first. I just knew that I was hungry and that I had to get away from you because of it."
Hermione nods along with the other girl's explanation. Remembers how she'd stayed frozen against the castle wall long after Lavender had disappeared into the darkness. How her legs had shaken beneath her when she'd first peeled herself away from the cold stone and how her heart had raced for what felt like days afterwards.
"I was just…wandering. I didn't know what was happening to me — what had happened to me — I just knew I was starving, and you smelled so, so good."
Hermione shivers as she says it. Recalls the way Lavender's teeth had stung so differently that night to tonight. How Hermione's brain had screamed danger rather than fallen into the numb, silent place, Lavender usually sent it.
Still, she keeps listening. Can't bring herself to stop the other girl despite how little she thinks she wants to hear what comes next, "I didn't expect to see him again. He was there when I woke up, of course. Unconscious. But I wasn't exactly sticking around to find out whether he was alive or not. I just…ran. Wanted to get away from there. So, I left him. And yet there he was — the man who'd just killed me. Stumbling out of the forest. Tempting me.
"I didn't even know what I'd done until it was over. I kind of…lost myself to it. To the warmth of him—" her eyes haze over slightly. Her tongue peeps out and runs over her lips, and Hermione has to stop herself from shuddering as Lavender seems to bask in the memory.
"—the way he tasted—" a shiver runs through the other girl as she continues. "And then I was done. I wasn't hungry anymore. I felt good. And he — Dolohov, the man who'd just murdered me — died screaming. And what else did he deserve."
She looks back at Hermione with dead eyes that pin her in place. Dare her to suggest Lavender wasn't owed her justice. Something Hermione would never deny despite how much she knew a younger, less world-weary version of herself would hate it.
She'd killed during the battle. She'd killed while on the run. And while Hermione has never killed for vengeance in quite the same way Lavender just admitted to, she can't deny she sees the appeal. Has considered it herself on occasion. Had thought it herself earlier this evening.
But even knowing that. Knowing Hermione can't begrudge her friend for Dolohov, there's still the matter of everyone else. Of what she'd seen her do to Ernie. How Hermione doesn't know if she'll ever be able to forget the look of terror on his and Crabbe's faces.
"Maybe — maybe he did, but what about Ernie? Did he deserve it?" the question's almost pleading. Like Hermione's begging Lavender to give her some reason not to see her as the monster she's revealing herself to be, but she doesn't know if any answer will be enough.
Still, the other girl laughs. A sharp, acidic sound that makes Hermione's heart freeze in her chest. Her blood turns to ice in her veins, and every muscle in her body tenses. Like she's finally seeing her friend for the predator she is. And yet, despite that quick, instinctual reaction, there's still that damned part of her that refused to see Lavender as a threat. Knows the other girl isn't going to harm her.
"You missed plenty last year, Hermione," she huffs as she explains it. Like it's almost amusing how out of touch Hermione had been, and she feels her heart stutter again for fear of what else she's missed. How much there is Hermione doesn't know.
"Macmillian was more than willing to enjoy the privileges of being Sacred 28. And it's certainly seemed he thought they'd tide over to this year too. So yes — I'd say he deserved it."
Hermione doesn't even know what to say in response. Her brain spins wildly. Tries to process everything she's just found out. The rest of the evening too.
It all feels like too much, makes her almost dizzy as she says, "I don't — I don't know. Lavender, you're killing people."
"No…" the other girl draws the word out, "I'm killing boys. And only bad ones — it's not like I'm going to eat Neville."
Hermione only shakes her head in response. Doesn't know what to say. What to do. Just looks at the other girl and wonders how this all happened. How their lives got to this point. Why she isn't panicking more — sure she should be. That she should be screaming, crying, trying desperately to get away rather than just staring at the other girl numbly.
She's wrapped her arms around herself in some attempt at comfort. Flinches slightly when the other girl gets up from the bed and walks towards her. Hermione doesn't know why she's not running. To McGonagall, to the Aurors, to anyone, rather than just standing her, but she can't make herself move.
Can only spin to follow Lavender as the other girl walks past her to the window. Opens it before she looks back at Hermione with a hesitant smile, "I mean it. You're my best friend; I could never hurt you. And I'd never do it to anyone who didn't deserve it anyway."
And then, before Hermione can reply or try and stop her, she climbs up into the window and disappears into the night. Leaves Hermione's heart hammering in her chest and her legs frozen beneath her like she had all those months ago.
September 1996
It's strange being back at Hogwarts. So much tenser than any other year, like everyone's waiting for something to go wrong. Last year had been difficult because no one believed Harry, but Hermione thinks it's almost worse now they know the truth. Like there's a helplessness that's permeated the castle as no one knows what to think even months after Voldemort revealed himself to the world.
As strange as it is, though, she's relieved to be back. Feels the sense of security that doesn't come so much from being at Hogwarts but from the knowledge she's not stranded in the muggle world the way it felt all summer. Or at least the few days she spent at home.
Her parents hadn't been thrilled when she announced her intention to go to the Weasley's after barely a week at home, but Hermione couldn't risk staying there any longer. Didn't want to take the chance the Death Eaters had followed her there. It had taken some convincing, but Hermione knew it was for the best. And though it hurts her heart, she's already considering some more serious options. More permanent ones.
The rest of the summer at the Weasley's had been strange. All of them reading the paper each morning in fear, no one dared mention Percy's absence and instead they all seemed almost relieved Fleur was there to explain away the uncomfortable atmosphere he'd left behind.
Hermione hadn't known what to make of the girl at first. During the tournament, she'd been wary of her more out of concern for Harry than anything else, but she had a begrudging respect for the other girl after their summer together at The Burrow. Any woman who would put up with Molly Weasley's unpleasantness more than earning Hermione's respect.
Ginny had followed in her mother's footsteps. Though Hermione suspected that was more out of some misplaced sense of protectiveness over her favourite brother than any real issues with the woman, but Hermione hadn't had that choice. Her barely passable french making her one of the few people Fleur could easily communicate with; she'd ended up spending a lot of the summer with the other woman.
Something she's now thankful for as she looks back over the holiday. Having realised a lot of Fleur's 'condescending behaviour' that irritated Ginny so much was simply the language barrier, and the other woman — on top of being completely besotted with Bill — just desperately wanted to fit in with her new family.
Something Hermione could understand. Having spent enough summers just on the outside of the Weasley's tight-knit group. Molly had welcomed Harry with open arms but always seemed warier of Hermione. Something she'd only made more obvious as Hermione and Fleur bonded, and Ron's eyes lingered on them both.
That didn't bother Hermione so much, though. She couldn't exactly fault him for blushing whenever the other woman looked his way — not when Hermione almost thought about doing the same. She doesn't get the same rush of warmth as she does when looking at Lavender, but Hermione can't deny Fleur's beautiful.
Even considering his mild infatuation, though, Ron had been attentive all summer. Had sent her letters while Hermione was still staying with her parents enquiring about her health. Had continued to ask when she arrived at the summers.
She saw the joking looks passed around the rest of his brother's and knew what they all suspected. That they were just waiting for him to make a move, and despite how conflicted she felt about everything with Lavender, part of Hermione hoped he would too.
It was confusing. Deeply so, and still is, the way she feels one thing for Lavender and one for Ron. Emotions that Hermione thinks are similar but at the same time are nothing alike. She just knows she feels warm under Ron's gaze but that her heart flutters whenever she meets Lavender's eyes.
That something in her had glowed whenever she received an owl from Lavender over the summer. It had hurt denying that moment in the Hospital Wing. They may have both agreed to it, have known it was for the best, but they still spent the last few days of term uncomfortable around each other.
Exchanging resigned looks, the distance had done them well. Let them trade their usual letters full of Lavender's exploits from the holidays and Hermione's tales from around The Burrow. They both tried not to dwell on this thing between them they're denying, but they both know it's still there.
And that it's felt oddly charged since they returned to the castle. They've spent the past few days avoiding each other, neither quite sure how to act now they're together again, but there's still an electricity that sparks between them whenever their eyes meet while catching glimpses of each other.
By tonight, when Partvarti finally decided to escape to Ravenclaw with Padma, it's almost thrumming. This attraction struggling against its binds as they cast fleeting glances towards each other now they're alone together.
Only as it struggles, it suffers — festers. Their attempts to deny their attraction poisoning their bond. Their friendship strained in a way it never has been before; it's left Hermione feeling itchy and wrong.
Off-balance, she's strangely disconcerted, and while she understands the reasons they've denied the parts of them begging for more, she never wanted it to affect their friendship. Hates that it has. Wants desperately to fix it but doesn't know how.
She has bigger concerns than this thing thrumming between them, though. Because Hermione suspects not even their resistance around each other will stop the inquisition she knows is about to come from Lavender.
She slips out of the bathroom in her pyjamas when she knows she would have changed freely in their dorm even a few months ago. The years of living together has long since robbed any of them of their modesty; Hermione knows Lavender's noticed the way she shields her body from the rest of them now.
She hasn't asked about it yet, but looking at the other girl's raised eyebrow, Hermione can tell it's coming. Sits awkwardly on her bed and just accepts her fate. The low light of the candles seems to make it easier, though. Protects her from the depth of Lavender's concerns, softens the look on her face.
"Want to talk about it?"
Lavender's tone is gentle. Doesn't press, just lets Hermione decide whether she really does want to explain what's happening. Why there's been this change.
She nods before she really thinks about it. Instinctually wants to tell the other girl even with the way they've been uncomfortable around each other. Hermione's always told her everything she could, and this isn't any different, even if she still isn't sure if she wants the other girl to see it.
Her scar.
The one that's slashed across a chest. A deep, unnatural purple even all these months later. Ron went pale when he first saw it over the summer. Swimming at The Burrow to avoid the summer heat, he'd kept shooting her looks of discomfort. Like it somehow made him more uncomfortable to see it than it was for Hermione to receive it.
She hadn't known it was there at first. Held together by bandages until the very end of last term, she choked when she first saw it. Is still shocked when she thinks of the way her body's been mutilated.
It's ugly — she can admit that much to herself. There's something unsettling about it. Like you somehow know she shouldn't have survived it. She'd tried not to give in to her vainer side, to embrace it as yet another part of herself, but it's difficult with the way Ron seemed unable to look at it. To look at her once he knew she had it.
She'd given in eventually. Glamoured it so they could return to his strangely doting attentions without his jaw clenching and his lips twitching like he was trying not to make one of the more disparaging comments from their youth.
It wasn't a permanent solution, though. And now they're back at school, and the heat of the summer has passed, it's easier just to cover it with clothes. The glamours are tiring. Exhausting even. The dark magic that lingers in the purpled flesh fights her charms and would leave Hermione's magic almost aching at the end of the day when she attempted to hide it — so she doesn't. At least not anymore.
She still doesn't want Lavender to see it for some reason, though. Thinks her heart may shatter if the other girl were to look at her with the barely disguised horror she'd seen on Ron's face. So she's kept it hidden. Changing in the bathroom and hoping neither of her roommates would bring it up.
Lavender has, though, and instead of trying to deny it the way she thought she would, Hermione suddenly wants to confess it all. The other girl's presence easing her into it; yhere's that odd electricity between them again as Lavender comes to sit on Hermione's bed.
Her skin tingles where the other girl threads their fingers together and she has to suppress a shiver when Lavender soothes her thumb over the back of Hermione's hand. The calming gesture made electric by the way this thing still sparks between them even with the way they're trying to deny it.
The thought makes Hermione pause, though. Makes her wonder when the attraction they're denying started to mean more than they do to each other. When their relationship started to be defined by labels and expectations rather than what they mean to each other.
And realising as much, the words tumble from Hermione's lips, unbidden, "After the Department of Mysteries," she pauses and looks at Lavender for confirmation as if the other girl doesn't know exactly what she's talking about.
She nods reassuringly, though. Squeezes Hermione's hand as a gentle encouragement to go on, "When I was in the hospital wing — they…they told me there was some damage but nothing like…nothing like…"
The words are stumbling and awkward. Unsure of what Lavender's reaction will be, but she doesn't have one. Just keeps looking back at Hermione, lets her bask in the comforting weight of their hands together and the warmth she can feel coming off the other girl's body. The two of them so close there's barely inches between them.
"There's a scar," Hermione final says in a whisper.
She hates that she's being so dramatic over something so meaningless. Feels petty and small-minded just thinking about it. They're in a war, she's likely to have far more scars by the time it's over, but it's more what this one represents. How it confirms she's a fighter even though she's still a child. How she's never had any choice.
"It's enormous and hideous, and I can't cover it without exhausting myself, so I'm just…stuck with it," she sounds exhausted by the end. Like telling Lavender even this much has been a trial, so she just stares back at the other girl — waits for rejection, or questions she doesn't want to answer, Hermione doesn't know. Just stares back at the other girl waiting.
Lavender doesn't say anything at first, looks back at Hermione. The air between them thickens with something Hermione can't describe. She thinks she should feel judged by the other girl's expression, the same way she has been by Ron, Ginny, everyone else over the summer, but she doesn't.
Thinks perhaps it's because Lavender hasn't seen the scar. That it's still hidden beneath the buttons on her pyjama shirt, but something tells Hermione isn't it as the other girl's lips twitch slightly in irritations before she squeezes Hermione's hand again.
Finally replies, "Why would you want to cover it?"
Hermione's chest freezes at her words. The thought she shouldn't have to cover it hadn't really occurred to her. So focused on how much she hates it and what it stands for that she's barely thought of embracing it after Ron's disdain rocked her initial attempts at self-confidence.
"It's…disconcerting," Hermione confesses. Tries to explain the way something about the injury just feels wrong.
"Maybe — but that doesn't mean it's a bad thing. It's a sign you survived what was meant to kill you. And I don't care how ugly you claim it is — anything that shows you're still alive is beautiful to me."
Logically, it makes sense. Dolohov's curse should have killed her. She's only here because of some fluke with a silencing charm, but amid her dislike of the scar and the fact she even has it, Hermione's almost forgotten what she's survived to have it.
How anyone else would likely be dead.
She may still hate the scar, but the new perspective makes it bearable. And even though she hasn't seen it, Hermione somehow knows Lavender isn't lying. That she wouldn't be disturbed by it the way the others are. That she genuinely would only see the beauty to it.
She moves before she even knows what she's doing. Shifts towards the other girl, gives her just long enough to protest, but sees the look in Lavender's eyes and knows that she feels the same way. Like she needs to taste Hermione as much as she does Lavender. Like they have to express this thing between them physically, or it will consume them both. Thinks perhaps it may do anyway.
Something sparks in Hermione when her fingertips brush over the other girl's jawline. Tilts the blonde's head down so she can join their lips — Lavender's superior height working against them for all Hermione appreciates the long lines of her body.
They try to be tentative — gentle — but there's desperation to their touches. Like they're frantic from the denial. Starving. Lavender's hands clasp her waist more tightly than they ever have before, and Hermione finds herself tangling her fingers in the other girl's hair to try and hold them together. Ensure that neither can escape.
They're both breathing heavily but can't bring themselves to separate, and when she's distracted by the sweet, sharp sting of Lavender's teeth on her lip, Hermione doesn't care. Would go without oxygen for hours so the other girl's tongue could continue to soothe the injury. Steal the gasps from Hermione's lips while she breathes in Lavender's mewls.
Wants to hear more of them. Make the other girl's breath hitch, and her body shudder. Feel her tremble and shake in ways she's dreamed of but never got to experience. Needs to have Lavender underneath her, or above her; Hermione doesn't care — she just needs more.
It's awkward as they shift. Neither quite willing to let the other go, Hermione somehow ends up on her back. Lavender looking down at her with heat and mischief in her eyes for a brief second before she steals Hermione's breath again.
Has her hands frantically grasping for something to hold on to. Feels herself tremble at the soft skin peeping out the bottom of Lavender's shirt. Brushes her hands up the back of it, entranced by the feel of her skin under Hermione's fingers. The soft curves of her waist, the notches of Lavender's spine, the way she can feel the other girl's breathing is just as heavy as Hermione's own.
The warmth of her almost overwhelming, Hermione can scarcely concentrate on how Lavender's lips move against her own. How they tease and send shivers through her. Tingle when they part and beg to be reconnected. Hermione whines unconsciously when the other girl's lips leave hers, and Lavender laughs softly at the sound.
Distracts her when she brings her lips to Hermione's neck. Presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to the column of her throat. Sucks bruises onto the skin that Hermione can't bring herself to care about. Not when it feels like she's being consumed by the heat that rushes through her veins.
She's so distracted by the other girl's lips on her skin. By how she can feel Lavender's heart as it pounds, Hermione almost doesn't realise what the blonde's doing until there are fingers on the top button of her shirt.
She freezes as soon as she notices. Body goes stiff despite the way it was soft and pliant mere seconds ago. She isn't sure if it's nerves from the fact they've never done this before — and that it feels like a step even further into the unknown — or if that for all she believes Lavender wouldn't judge the scar Hermione still hasn't fully accepted it, but her body goes rigid. Immediately tries to halt any further attentions.
Lavender notices instantly. Pulls away almost quicker than Hermione can comprehend. Doesn't quite fling herself from the bed but gives Hermione enough space it feels like she can breathe again. She's somehow still close enough Hermione doesn't feel the sting of the other girl's absence either and instaead feels the panic she hadn't realised was there disappear.
"Hermione," it's barely a whisper. So quiet, she almost thinks it wasn't real until she sees Lavender looking at her nervously. Like she's terrified she's made some terrible mistake.
"I'm — I'm okay," she reassures. "That was just a little…fast."
They're both quiet for a couple of seconds. Their breaths echo between them, still uneven from where their lips had touched. She sits up, doesn't want to be as vulnerable as she was lying back; even though Hermione's heart has stopped racing. Instead, she feels oddly reassured by Lavender's quick retreat.
"Are you sure?" the other girl whispers again.
Her hand stretches out like she's reaching for Hermione before she snatches it back as if the appendage is betraying her. It makes Hermione crave the contact, though. Takes it back into her own and feels that same rightness there always is when their fingers are entwined.
She nods in confirmation as the harsh reality they've resigned themselves to settles back over Hermione. Reminds her that they weren't supposed to have done that.
"We said we wouldn't do that," Hermione barely whispers but Lavender's eyes still flicker with pain.
"Yeah."
It's defeated. Like they're both exhausted from the days of avoiding each other around the castle. From the summer, which felt almost right but left them both unsettled anyway. From the pressure of trying to deny themselves.
Still, they've made their choice.
"It can't happen again."
Hermione tries to sound firm. Like she believes what she's saying. Like it doesn't break her heart to repeat it after the Hospital Wing, but she fails. Doesn't even sound believable to her own ears and Lavender gives her an equally unsure look back.
Before she asks, "Can we — can we still sleep next to each other. I don't sleep well without you."
Hermione knows she should say no. That it'll likely doom them, but she doesn't think she'll ever have it in her to do so. Those moments of comfort late at night the one thing she doesn't think she'll ever be able to give up.
So she sighs as she replies, "Of course we can. We just can't do more than that again."
But they do.
Time and time again. Moments snatched when they can't deny it anymore. Lips touch, hands roam, and gasps are stolen from each other's lips that never should have been made. They both know it's not the smart choice, but they can't seem to stop.
Desperation bred of the war unfolding around them. Of the panic after Katie's tragic trip to Hogsmeade and the need to reassure themselves they're both alive. Of watching each other disappear off with Ron and whoever Lavender's entertaining herself with, and of the pain that comes with knowing they can't be public in the same way.
It's stupid, and it's reckless, and yet it keeps happening because, truthfully, neither of them wants to stop.