November 1998
She doesn't see Lavender again for days. The other girl doesn't return to their dorm, and without classes to leash her to the castle, she's free to come and go as she pleases. Something that makes Hermione nervous as all she can think about is what the other girl may be doing out of the castle.
Who she might be killing.
Hermione hadn't slept after Lavender disappeared. Just paced their dorm over and over again. Running through everything the other girl had told her and trying to make sense of any of it. That Lavender had apparently been murdered, and no one had noticed. That she'd somehow survived it. That there's some strange magic Hermione doesn't know that can explain it all — even as unnatural as the whole thing feels.
For a brief second, she'd feared Lavender had become a kind of Horcrux. The magic similarly unnatural but different in every other way. While whatever Voldemort had been reincarnated as was a foul creature — even discounting the depravity of man himself — Hermione has spent enough time researching Horcruxes to know he never had to feast on flesh.
She has no doubt he would have if he thought it would have given him eternal life. Or any of the powers that Lavender now apparently possesses. Returning to herself as the girl she'd been before she died, her magic unaffected but with preternatural healing abilities.
As horrifying as the source of her power is, Hermione's confident the Dark Lord would have revelled in it if he thought it would have worked for him.
That doesn't mean she knows how Lavender's alive, though. Doesn't understand anything apart from what the other girl has told Hermione herself and what she's been able to piece together.
That when she's full, she's beautiful. Glowing. And the longer she goes between feeds, the worse Lavender looks — vitality fading when she doesn't steal more. Hermione is at least fairly confident the other girl only needs to eat human flesh and that she's only eaten boys is a choice Lanever's made to punish those who prey on those who can't defend themselves. A chance to make them as vulnerable as they've made others.
Besides, they're probably easier to lure into the woods.
That first morning, Hermione was still in a panic. Had run into Ron and tried to convince him something was wrong with Lavender, but he'd dismissed her. Sent her away, claiming he didn't want to see her — clearly still fuming about the night before. She's not entirely sure where they lie anymore, but she's almost relieved for the space.
That doesn't mean she knows how she feels about how she'd run from his bed, though. The whole experience has left her on edge — tensing at random moments, generally unsettled. Hermione knows they should be because of Lavender, but she thinks they're more to do with him.
Still, they've always dealt with things like this together in the past, so his rejection stings on that level. Especially considering the way he'd dismissed her even after everything they've been together. He'd rolled his eyes as she told him; told her she sounded crazy. That the stress from the war must be getting to her. He'd even reiterated his thoughts after they'd found Ernie's body in a distinctly condescending tone that suggested he was above such things.
Days later, she's barely seen either Lavender or Ron. Passed time questioning what's happening with Ron and trying to figure out what to do about Lavender — how she feels beyond the initial panic.
It didn't take them long to put together the funeral. They're well practised after the war, but Hermione thinks it's numbed a lot of them as well. Everyone's faces blank as she looks around the graveyard that's filled with the Eighth Years, most of Hufflepuff House, and the Macmillians. Almost no one has any kind of reaction to seeing Ernie's closed casket lowered into the ground.
They've all just accepted his death — at least among the Hogwarts students. Mrs Macmillian sobs quietly as they fill in the grave, and Mr Macmillian tries to keep a stiff upper lip, but none of the students really seem to care.
In fact, not one of them is crying. And when she looks closely at some of the girl's faces — at Susan Bones, Luna, and a couple of girls younger still — there's something oddly settled about them. Like they're finally getting peace.
A thought that reminds her of Lavender's disbelieving words about how much Hermione had missed during her year on the run. She hates that she may have missed it. That she may have at least tried to mourn his death if she didn't know, but looking at the girls' faces and seeing the relief there, Hermione finds she can't bring herself to care the fact Ernie's dead.
Just keeps up the charade of mourning they're all playing at. Raises her wand with the others despite how much she doesn't want to. The graveyard's silent apart from Mrs Macmillian's echoing sobs, and Hermione can't help but think it's almost what he deserved.
That Crabbe likely had even less than his mother's cries, and maybe Ernie should have had that.
By the time the funeral's over, and they're all wandering into the castle, she's almost made peace with it. Not how Ernie died — whenever she thinks about it, she can almost still see Lavender covered in blood. Sees it dribbling from her lips and running down her chin — but Hermione's strangely okay with the fact Ernie's gone.
Like she's somehow separated how he died and that fact he's dead. The reason why he's dead.
Lavender had at least reappeared in time for the funeral, but even now, she looks unremorseful. Smiling next to Hannah and Neville, Luna next to her transfixed. Barely a week after her last feed, she's still beautiful. Not that the other girl is really ever anything but — even when she's sickly.
Looking at her, Hermione almost can't believe any of it's true, but she knows it is. Will never forget the way her heart had stopped when the blonde cast the Sectumsempra. She can't bring herself to go to McGonagall, though.
Knows she should have. That she should have run there as soon as the other girl disappeared out of the tower. That she shouldn't even have waited to tell Ron before she told the staff what had happened to Crabbe and Ernie.
But she hadn't.
Can't even explain to herself why she still hasn't gone. It's like there's something stopping her. Lavender's pleas she doesn't preventing her from doing what's right. They've kept enough secrets in the past, but nothing like this and yet Hermione keeps it anyway.
Wonders if it's because she knows no one else will believe her. That they'd all think it's some insane story. She'd somehow known it was what would happen even before she tried to explain it to Ron, and even he — her supposed boyfriend and best friend — has dismissed her. Belittled her the way he has so often through their friendship — their relationship.
She's always been who he's blamed when things go wrong, so she doesn't know why she's surprised by the way he'd clung to his rage about her running out. By how she'd 'embarrassed him' by disappearing. For her mad little display.
She'd been so deep in her terror Hermione hadn't even realised there were other people in the common room when she'd rushed out of it. People who'd seen the two of them go upstairs together and seen her run out, Ron bellowing behind her.
He'd wasted no time in telling his side of the story. How Hermione had overindulged, got sick and ran out in embarrassment. By the time she found him the next morning, he'd all but made her a pariah in the tower.
The others all giving her looks that weren't quite pitying. With Ron's easy manner and popularity compared to the way she holes herself away in her dorm, Hermione can understand why they'd believe him so readily, but she doesn't exactly appreciate the way it feels like third-year all over again.
The common room falls silent whenever she enters. Looks that linger just a little too long. There's just something off about how they're treating her, and she's nearly certain it's to do with Ron. Never mind that their relationship should have just been about them.
Even now, as she enters the Great Hall alone, he's happy and laughing with Seamus and a few of the younger Gryffindor's that Hermione can't remember the names of. All making plans for a 'drink in Ernie's memory' with no sign they actually mourn the boy's death.
It's more likely they're looking for an excuse to celebrate, and part of Hermione twists with fury that Ron gets to be so happy while she's still filled with confusion and fear over both him and Lavender.
So, when he looks up and makes a place next to him, she ignores him. Pretends not to see the vague gesture he makes for her to come to him — one that looks less like an invitation and more like a command.
Acts like she doesn't see it as she gathers a few items of food. Tries to not notice the wash of fury that crosses over his face. How he clenches his jaw and tightens his grip on his cutlery, glares in her direction as Hermione ducks out of the hall before he can summon her to him.
Instead, she heads to the library and tries not to focus on how her stomach twists slightly when she thinks about how he may react to her snub. Forces herself to focus on how this one 'act of betrayal' has set something right in her.
On how Hermione finally feels ready to fight for something she believes in again. And while that may only be herself — and the fact she doesn't have to subject herself to Ron's moods and whims — it still feels like something the old Hermione would have done.
Before the war, she never would have let herself be quite as trampled as she has been over the past few months. She has no doubt Ron will send yet another whining letter home. Write to his Mummy about how Hermione's been dismissing him — she's already received one pointed note from Molly Weasley this week, even though Ron's been more to blame for their distance — but she finds she doesn't care.
That she's willing to accept whatever fallout there is for the peace she feels knowing that she hasn't just given into him again. Let him show her off as a kind of trophy, touch her as a sign of possession rather than with any real interest in how she responds to his hands.
It's freeing in a way Hermione hadn't thought it would be, but it's like there's a weight lifted off her soul now she's started to distance herself from him. She's still far from the girl she was two years ago but thinks perhaps she's closer to it.
Or at least a version of herself Hermione can accept more readily than who she's been for the past six months. She may be darker now — more willing to accept Crabbe and Ernie's deaths. To let Lavender wander the halls when she should be doing everything in her power to stop the other girl, but there are parts of her that haven't changed.
It's almost like she was suppressing them because Hermione didn't know what else to do. Couldn't decide if it was worth risking the family she had left to be the person she should have been all this time, but now she's finally freeing herself of Ron's hold, she thinks it is.
Like seeing Harry and realising that while their relationship may change, there would always be some fundamental thing that ties them together. Has reminded her that while things may change, that doesn't always mean they'll end. And that it's a risk she's willing to take with the Weasleys.
Thinking of Harry reminds Hermione of her other conundrum, though. Why she hasn't told him about Lavender — sent an owl or a patronus begging him to come and talk to her. It makes even less sense than why she hasn't told McGonagall — Harry has always been the one she's talked to — but she still can't bring herself to do it.
Wonders if it's that strange distance or just that even now, she still can't bring herself to betray Lavender. Besides, as much as she wants to think Harry would believe her, she knows the chances are slim. That it doesn't really make sense and that there's nothing the Aurors would be able to do without evidence. Not when they're already so busy tracking down the remaining Death Eaters.
So, Hermione still hasn't done anything. She's just left Lavender to her own devices, in too deep a state of shock to consider starting to hunt down an explanation or do anything but try and process how they've got to this point.
She sits there numbly. Eats the food she took from the Great Hall more out of obligation and the knowledge she should eat than any real desire to do so and then quickly vanishes the evidence before Madam Pince can return. Not wanting to risk the wrath of the librarian.
Finishes the homework she still has to do. Finds it easier than she should and thinks about how underwhelming this year at Hogwarts has been. Hermione has always had these great plans for her final year at school — that she'd be head girl, relish her classes and generally thrive, but she found the opposite is true.
Almost like she doesn't belong here anymore. Like she's outgrown it. She's become a kind of spectale; here for everyone elses entertaiment rather than to learn. She doesn't know what else to do though, so forces herself to continue with her work.
Finishes writing an essay she knows Slughorn won't actually read. Does the problems for Arithmancy and wonders if even the most complex of equations could untangle the mess she's found herself in. Suspects that it couldn't. That nothing could.
It's late by the time she heads back to the tower. Walks aimlessly through the halls as she wonders what to do about Lavender. Hermione already knows she's going to have to break into the Restricted Section if she hopes to find anything helpful.
She'd hoped coming back to the castle — having been promised all the privileges of being an adult — she'd be given free range of the library. Would no longer have to ask for permission slips to read the restricted tomes but has found the opposite to be true.
It's almost harder to get permission now. Madam Pince guarding the books even more closely. While the truth of Voldemort's horcruxes is a closely kept secret, Hermione knows McGonagall is aware of them. That she was told how Tom Riddle learnt about the darkest arts from the Hogwarts own library, and in response, McGonagall has increased control over it even beyond the tightly held grip Dumbledore already had.
It's something Hermione can't agree with and truthfully never has. There are perhaps items that don't belong in a school library resting among Hogwarts books, but she's spent enough time in the Restricted Section to know that's not all it contains.
That there are books with notes about Slytherin's that weren't solely evil in there. Ones that suggest magic isn't inherently Light or Dark. Books that discuss it in a far more holistic manner that Dumbledore didn't approve of, so he hid away.
Censorship at its finest — and McGonagall is continuing his legacy.
Still, there's nothing Hermione can do about it. So, instead, she continues back to the tower. Stumbles slowly in its direction — she's exhausted. Like distancing herself from Ron has finally stopped her from fighting something she hadn't even realised she was. She's relieved, but in desperate need of rest now she has some semblance of peace.
In fact, her bones feel so heavy with exhaustion Hermione wonders if she'll finally get a full night of sleep without Lavender at her side. Having slept even more restlessly than before over the past few nights. She thinks it must be dreams that she doesn't remember. That she must be seeing flashes of Ernie's death, or the war, that shake her from sleep, but she never remembers when she wakes.
Jerks from sleep with a pounding heart. Her muscles always burn like they had in the forest; something in her screams at her to run, that she isn't safe. Not a thought so much as a reaction to something she can't see, but she can feel.
She wants to believe it's Lavender. Truly does — it makes sense, but as much as the thought the other girl is just watching her makes Hermione shiver, it doesn't feel right. She almost wonders if it's what Lavender's become.
If it's the creature that killed Ernie rather than the girl Hermione still couldn't stop herself from kissing, even having seen her rip someone apart. There's still some part of Hermione that's convinced it's not, though — can't bring herself to see Lavender as the danger she is because it's sure there's something else watching. Something worse.
It's that part of Hermione that stops her from sleeping. Keeps her lying awake as her heart races, and she tries not to miss the feel of Lavender's fingers in her hair. Tells herself that it's ridiculous despite some part of her mourning the loss. Some part of her that felt safer with the other girl at her side.
She's so tired, so distracted, she doesn't see him when she first stumbles through the portrait hole. Tries to head directly up the stairs but starts when a hand slaps down on her shoulder so roughly it throws off her steps.
The grip is tight as he pulls her to face him. A rough movement that throws her further of balance as Hermione struggles to look up at him.
"Ron," it's a gasp. Confused, scared, she's immediately unnerved by the anger she can see in his eyes.
Between everything else, how tired she is and the situation with Lavender, she'd all but forgotten about her snub at dinner. How she'd showed him up to his friends.
She's been so caught in the high of freeing herself from him. Of how it's felt like she's regaining herself and leaving him in the past, she hasn't let herself think about how his entire expression darkened when she did it.
"What — what are you doing?" she tries to ask. Tries to act like she doesn't understand what's happening. Not that she truly knows.
She can just see the anger in his eyes, feel the weight in his arm and the firmness of his grip as he still hasn't let go of her shoulder almost pushes down on it. Jostles her until she drops the wand Hermione hadn't realised she'd unleashed from its holster.
She's so focused on the tightness of his grip, on how he's looming over and trying to make her feel small, Hermione almost doesn't notice the loss. Her brain more focused on the man in front of her and how something in her screams than on something practical like keeping hold of her wand.
"Waiting for you," there's something twisting in the words that almost reminds Hermione of the tent. Of the way he'd spoken right before he snapped away into nothing.
Abandoned her and Harry in a fit of rage, but this has even less helplessness to it. Is only founded by anger and something Hermione can't quite identify. Wonders if she thinks it's jealousy, but towards what she doesn't know.
"Oh. I was — I was at the library."
"Right," there's an odd tension to his eyes. His smile ever so slightly cruel, it doesn't light up the way it used to, but she can see something swirling in their depths. "That why ignore me at dinner?"
"Ignored you," Hermione tries to laugh like it's ridiculous. Like she hadn't done exactly that, but she can tell he doesn't buy it. Suddenly hates herself for having spent so long just giving in to his whims because he now expects exactly that.
And looking up at him, she can tell he's getting mad she isn't already begging forgiveness. Still, she can't bring herself to go back to the simpering mess she was before he started turning people against her. Before he got tired of not having her warming his bed. It's only been days, but he's taken her up there often enough Hermione knows he'll be getting lonely without her.
A thought that almost makes her scoff as she continues, "I've just been busy. Snuck dinner into the library — even thought it was worth risking Madam Prince's wrath to get in some extra time for Arithmancy."
"I know you saw me," his grip tightens again on her shoulder. Makes her wince and try to shake it off. Something she instantly regrets as he pushes down on it and makes her stumble again. Uses the motion to force her back towards the wall, follows with his body until she's crowded against it.
The whole thing sets her on edge. Immediately has her heart racing like it had when she was trapped in his bed; she tries to force her breaths to remain steady but finds it's difficult to do so with how he's looming over her.
There's something distinctly aggressive about the whole process. Hermione never given the chance to argue against it; she's simply manhandled towards the wall, but once there then Ron's touch loosens.
Doesn't let go, but his hand drags down her arm. Would brush over the skin were she not so bundled up against the autumn chill. His other hand comes up to her face, runs his fingers over her jawline, strokes his thumb across her lips.
She shivers as her stomach flips, and Hermione feels bile threaten to creep up her oesophagus. She tries to gently shove Ron away — attempts to shoulder her way out from where he's pressing her against the wall, but he's unmoved.
Keeps stroking his thumb along her jawline, spans his fingers down towards her neck — it makes her hair stand on end. Makes another shudder run through her that he smiles at, and Hermione wonders if he thinks it's from pleasure. Looks into his eyes again and is sure he knows it's not — is suddenly certain he doesn't care.
Again, she tries to escape. Pushes back against him a little harder, but he brings the hand not on her face to her waist. Digs his fingers into its curve as he pushes her back towards the wall, bangs her head against it, all while he smiles at her.
Chuckles slightly and pushes his hand into her curls to soothe the bump as he laughs, "You're okay."
She's fairly sure she isn't. Can feel her skull throbbing slightly, but she doesn't get a chance to protest before he presses his body back against hers. Brings his lips to her ear and ghosts them over the skin.
She feels that bile try to sneak up her throat again as he speaks, "I haven't seen you all week."
He tilts his head, drags his lips down her neck as she tries to protest, "Ron—"
"I've missed you," he presses his lips against hers hard. Forces a squeak out of her as his fingers grip her head and her waist while she tries to push him off her again. Her words muffled as she tries to say, "Ron—"
Again, he ignores her. Trails his lips down her neck as he says, "And I've forgiven you — you know, about last time. So come on, it's late — none of the other guys will be awake."
She still can't get out from underneath him. Finds her brain focusing more on the fact he smells like firewhisky and milk the day before it goes bad. On how his stubble scratches her neck as he presses himself against her more than anything he's actually doing.
She still keeps trying to get out from where he's trapped her, though. Finds she's as trapped where he's got her held against the wall as she was beneath him.
Says, louder this time, "Ron — get off — I'm not—" her words are silenced again as he brings his lips back to hers.
Uses her protests to plunge his tongue in her mouth, her throat twitches at the contact, and she almost gags into his mouth. Wonders if that would get him off her but finds she can't say anything. Is still just left trying to push his weight away from hers.
Nothing works. No amount of shoving, or trying to kick at his legs, pushes him off balance and his hands just keep taking. Tug her shirt out from her skirt and slip underneath it — she can feel the fabric strain against her buttons at the unwelcome intrusion, but he brushes off her attempts to push his arms out from underneath it.
Pins her body against the wall more with his own. She can feel where he's hard pressing against her stomach, and every time she tries to pull away from it, he follows. Encroaches into any space she makes.
She's crying. Still trying desperately to get him off her. Prays that someone will come down the stairs and rip him off her before he gets the chance to clamp a hand around her wrist and drag her but them, but it's late enough Hermione fears that no one will.
A thought that makes her fight that much more desperate. She shoves more forcefully than before; has a rush of adrenaline that gives her the strength she's lacked until now, and for a second, it works.
Feels a burst of relief rush through her as she tries to escape to the stairs — knows that he won't be able to follow her up them — but he grabs her wrist exactly like she'd feared. Tugs her back towards him with strength Hermione can't ever hope of matching and sends her careening towards the wall again.
This time she actually does cry when she makes contact with it. Has the breath forced out of her with the impact, her head almost bounces off the hard stone, and she swears for a second she can feel her brain shake.
Hears the impact keep ringing in her ears as nausea washes over her but doesn't get a chance to try and escape again before he's back on her. Press his overly warm body against her own, his grip aches where he holds her wrists, and she could swear the bones creak as she twists in their grip.
He laughs as she struggles. A dark sound she's never heard before and looks up at him and wonders when he became this person. Something entitled in his eyes as he weighs his body against hers to keep her trapped.
"You don't get to say when this ends, Hermione," there's something cruel about the tone. Almost mocking about the situation he's put her in. "You don't get to just ignore me."
"Ron — please," she's pleading now.
The words desperate and begging, Hermione hates that he's reduced her to this so quickly. That no matter how much she tries to fight against him, she can't get away. Distantly she wonders where her wand is, knows she would be able to overcome him if she'd just kept her grip on the vinewood and hates herself for letting go of it.
"Why?" he chuckles, "Don't you want to come up with me — I know you've missed me."
"No, I don't," she tries to shove him again, but he ignores it. Leans back over her, so Hermione's trapped as he bucks his hips into hers.
Her head is still ringing, and his overly hot breath on her neck makes it worse. Almost like she can feel the moisture condensing there, the longer he keeps touching her, the more urge to fight leaves.
Not as she starts enjoying his touch, it's more like her mind is going someplace else. Like it can't stomach being left to feel his fingers dig into her arms as he pins them down to stop her from hitting him.
The more he touches her, the more she drifts away. Finds herself focusing on the fact the rug is flipped up at one end and that the Wizard's Chess set is missing a Knight — something that feels oddly ironic given the situation.
She's so focused on those two tiny points rather than her surroundings she doesn't notice the other girl appear at first. Doesn't recognise the bone-deep feeling Hermione gets whenever she knows Lavender's nearby, even if she doesn't know where.
The other girl appears over Ron's shoulder, and for a moment, Hermione has a vision of her ripping him off her. Placing herself between the pair of them like some kind of protective mother bear, but none of that happens.
Instead, the other girl calls out, "Couldn't even take her to your room, Weasley."
There's something mocking about the words, and they immediately get Ron's attention. Make him turn away from her and face Lavender. Sees the challenging look on her face, Hermione watches him set his shoulders from behind.
Rolls them back, she can tell there's something confused about the motion. Like he doesn't understand why he feels the need to challenge the other girl, but when she has his attention, everything changes.
Lavender switches somehow, goes from antagonistic to more teasing as she walks towards him, hips swaying in an almost comic display of overt sexuality that Ron doesn't see through.
Instead, he's entranced as she brushes her hair behind her ear and smiles up at him through her lashes. Bites her lip the same way she had in The Three Broomsticks days ago, and Ron's transfixed. Shifts towards her unthinkingly; it gives Hermione the space to slip out from behind him.
He's so distracted trying to puff up his chest in front of the other girl, he doesn't realise Hermione's escaping. Stumbling none too quietly towards the stairs, for a second, she worries she shouldn't leave Lavender with him, but she knows Ron's rage was directed towards her.
For Hermione's perceived snub rather than him just being angry and drunk. She knows he isn't willing just to let her leave. That he'll want to end things on his own terms — something he may have been contemplating but that he certainly won't have been willing to let Hermione do on her own.
So, when she sees the way he's completely disarmed by Lavender's coy smile, Hermione escapes up the stairs. Some part of her knows that the other girl can take care of herself, even if she doesn't like to think about how.
Her head rings as she stumbles up them; she can distantly hear Ron answering Lavender with an almost joking, "Well, sometimes you just can't wait, you know?"
Hermione thinks the other girl laughs softly, has some faintly teasing answer on the tip of her tongue, but with the rush of nausea she's trying to suppress, she can't really tell. Just focuses on getting further away from Ron.
It's not until she's in her room, breaths coming in quick gasps, that Hermione thinks the back of her head feels wet. Lifts her hand up to it as it comes away sticky; she knows she should do something about it. Cast a healing charm or, better yet, go and see Madam Pomphrey, but the thought of having to go back down the stairs turns her stomach, and she's tired.
Just wants to slump onto her bed and fall asleep. Thinks the world looks faintly fuzzy around the edges — like there are dark clouds pouring in around her. Her whole body aches too. Muscles burn with the remnants of adrenaline; there's a tiredness to them that means when she collapses onto her bed, she can't face the thought of getting up again.
Instead, she just lies there for a while. Seconds, minutes, hours pass — Hermione isn't sure how many as she stares up at the canopy of her bed. Her head pounding, throbbing pain radiates through the back of her skull, and she drifts.
Her mind cloudy, almost spinning; she isn't sure how long she's been there when the door clicks open. The candles are brightened with a muttered spell, and Hermione has to bite back a cry as the light agitates her eyes.
"Hermione," it's a whisper in a voice that should alarm her but instead calms her. The same one that's always been at her bedside, she doesn't get to reply before the other girl crosses the room and crouches next to her bed.
"Hermione," Lavender whispers again — more instant this time. She takes hold of Hermione's hands and pulls her up. Calms her gently when the motions makes Hermione's head spin more, and she groans as for a second, she thinks she's going to throw up. "Hey — you're okay."
Hermione wants to hate that she's so reassured by the other girl's presence. That some part of her thinks everything will be alright, but it always has been when Lavender's appeared at her bedside, and she can't stop an instinctual reaction.
Not even when the other girl runs her fingers through Hermione's hair and growls slightly when they come away red. Her expression goes dark in front of Hermione's slightly blurry eyes.
Some part of Hermione thinks she should shove the other girl away from her. Demand she leaves her alone, but instead, she just sits there awkwardly. Slumps around herself and squeezes her eyes closed as she tries to make her head stop hurting by fighting off the light that's burning her eyes.
Lavender notices. Tuts softly as Hermione tries to turn her head away from the hand the other girl brings back up to her head. Hears her mutter, "That arsehole."
There's something dangerous in the word that Hermione can't bring herself to care about as Lavender's tone softens when she continues, "Here — wait — just give me a second," while she fumbles with her wand.
Confused as she is, Hermione doesn't know what to do at first. Just sits there and watches the other girl, thinks about how pretty she is. Her skin still soft and glowing, her bottom lip plump where Lavender bites down on it in concentration. Hermione knows she should consider the other girl a monster but finds it difficult to do so when she's crouching before her and relieving the pain blurring her vision.
Wonders if she ever really has been a monster to her or if she just should be to the rest of the world.
Pain disappearing, Hermione blinks in confusion. The exhaustion is still there, and her body aches, but she can think clearly. Or at least more clearly than she could a moment ago as she looks down at the other girl.
"Lavender?"
Hermione hates that she sounds so weak, so confused and tired, but Lavender only offers her a gentle smile in response. Cups her cheek with a hand that's perhaps just a little too warm but is still comforting when Hermione's feeling so off-balance.
"What happened?" she asks, and the other girl's expression goes dark again. Her eyes flash with fury and something not quite human, but Hermione doesn't have it in her to care.
"He gave you a concussion," her jaw stays tight as she speaks. Like she's trying to give in to the rest of her anger. "I came down there, for some reason, and he had you held up against the wall while you were trying to escape, and he was…" she trails off, but Hermione knows what he was doing.
Is actually thankful she doesn't rehash with how off-balance she's feeling. Like her emotions are all a little too close to the surface, it's like there's something rising in her chest, and for a second, Hermione thinks she wants to cry but finds she's too tired to do so.
"You're okay, though," Lavender reassures, "I stopped him."
"You did," Hermione replies numbly. Still trying to work through the evening. How she went from so relieved to be freeing herself from Ron's grasp only to be reminded quite how unwilling he is to let her go and how she's tied herself to him until that day comes.
The thought makes her whimper. A sound she doesn't want to release — she doesn't want anything to do with the whole situation. Hates that he's reduced her to this pathetic creature so quickly when she felt so much like herself again mere hours ago.
"Of course, I did — I always told you I'd save you someday. Who knows — maybe this is just the first of many."
Hermione doesn't know what to say in response to that. Doesn't appreciate the thought of becoming some damsel in distress but is still relieved Lavender appeared tonight. She wants to say something in reply, wants to argue, or beg the other girl to say something to soothe the way Hermione's ached with the space between them, that she knows is of her own making but can't justify closing.
She yawns before she can, though. Is almost surprised as it happens, suddenly aware she's not just tired, she's exhausted. So much so she can't even begin to think about doing anything else, feels her eyes flicker with the desperate need for rest.
"Come on," Lavender coaxes quietly, "Let's let you get some rest."
She doesn't protest. Just lets the other girl tuck her beneath the covers, stroke over her hair and cheek one last time with a soft expression, as she dips down and presses her lips to Hermione's cheek just a little too close to her lips again.
Whispers as she says, "I'll stay with you until you go to sleep and then he'll be gone in the morning."
Hermione's asleep before she can even think about what Lavender's said. Falls into nothingness and stays there. Doesn't dream — just seems to cease existing. The world meaningless around her; she's nothing within it. She sleeps peacefully for the first time since Lavender disappeared. Days of exhaustion catching up with her.
At least until she's shaken from it. Sits bolt upright. Has that uneasy wrong feeling she had lying in Ron's bed and knows it's to do with Lavender. She can't see anything like last time. No mirage of the other girl appears, but Hermione's sure something is about to happen. That someone's about to die.
And as soon as she thinks it, she remembers Lavender's promise — that Ron would be gone by the morning and Hermione knows what's about to happen. What Lavender's about to do.
She's up before she even thinks about it. Rushes down the stairs only just thinks to grab her wand from where she'd dropped it earlier. She's out of the castle before she realises what she's doing. Runs towards the forest without thought for what a stupid idea it is, only thinks she has to do something because she knows what Lavender's about to do to Ron.
Runs desperately until she's hit, yet again, with that feeling from Ron's bedroom. One that forces her to her knees as she cries with the realisation of what's happening. What she's been too slow to stop.
Still, she scrambles up, keeps on running in the direction she knows she needs to go because there's some part of her that always knows where Lavender is. That bond between them that neither of them quite understand guides Hermione to the other girl.
Into a clearing where she sees Lavender pressing Ron up against a tree, Hermione's heaving breaths announce her arrival louder than any words ever could, but she doesn't even get the chance to voice them.
Just screams silently as Lavender snaps around to look at her. Face torn open the way it had in Ron's room, the boy makes an odd gurgling nose where she's still keeping him trapped against the tree and red coats both their clothing.
It covers Lavender's chin and neck, those unnatural teeth that have torn into Ron's neck. Gashes Hermione can see even from across the clearing, she stares back at Lavender, her lips parted in shock and her breath coming in sharp gasps. Though whether that is from fear or the way she sprinted here, Hermione isn't sure.
Instead, she watches with wide eyes as the other girl seems to light up. As she smiles and those pointed, unnatural teeth vanish — leaves her covered in blood but looking at Hermione happily. Like she's pleased she's here.
"Lavender," Hermione whimpers. Still can't quite believe what she's seeing.
"Hermione," the other girl's eyes are totally fixed on her. Seemingly all the blonde's attention is on her as Ron tries to escape Lavender's grip that way Hermione had his earlier.
Twitches and tries to push at the other girl's arms. Can't match her preternatural strength no matter how much he struggles; the movement only seems to make blood pour from his neck.
Coats Lavender's hands when she shoves him back against the thick trunk of the tree she's using to keep him steady; she doesn't even have to think about it. Just keeps her eyes on Hermione while she holds Ron like a wolf holds a struggling rabbit.
"What — what are you doing?"
Hermione knows she should do more, but she can't move. Her legs are frozen beneath her, even if her mind's oddly clear. Hasn't hazed with fear the way she thinks it should have; instead, it's like it's stopped working. Like she can only watch what's happening.
The other girl tilts her head as if Hermione's said something confusing. Looks at her for a second as if she expects Hermione to elaborate, but she's distracted when Ron starts to slump forward. His head lulls and his body starts to give up the fight — the red still oozing down his neck, explaining his sudden lack of fight.
Her expression hardens as she turns back towards him. Slams his body up back against the tree hard enough to jolt him out of unconsciousness.
Makes him start sobbing, "I'm sorry — I'm sorry — please."
They're desperate pleading cries. Terrified — Hermione knows she should try and intervene. Should try and stop her friend but still finds herself frozen. Doesn't know what to do. She's nearly certain the bite on his neck is fatal no matter what she does, so she finds herself just watching as Lavender laughs.
Let's out that short, almost amused cackle Hermione had heard that night with Ernie. It makes Ron quake with terror, but she's still stuck watching in fascinated numbness as Lavender strokes along Ron's cheek condescendingly.
"You're sorry," she fakes a pout as she says it. Let's Ron look up towards her with hope in his eyes despite her mocking tone. "Are you? You want me to stop?" she continues to mock him. Ask him questions in an almost baby-like voice that's at odds with the way she's covered in his blood.
At least until the tone turns toxic, the words caustic and cutting, "Like you would have stopped?"
She shoves him back again. Slams him against the tree so his head bounces off it and grips his arms so tightly Hermione could swear she hears the bones creaking, but she still doesn't do anything. Finds herself oddly entranced as she watches Lavender taunt him.
"Please," Ron sobs again, and Hermione thinks her heart should hurt for him — but it doesn't. She feels almost numb as Lavender laughs again, forces him to his knees in front of Hermione.
Crouches behind him and runs her lips over his neck. Drags human teeth along the cuts, so her teeth are soaked red again while Ron cries in pain. Tries to flinch away but can't go anywhere in Lavender's tight grip.
"Apologise," she growls this time. Her voice the unnatural reverberating thing it was the night with Ernie.
"I'm sorry. " He's crying — big sobbing tears Hermione's never seen from him before. Not even when Fred was in the hospital. They stream down his cheeks and tint red where blood has splattered across his face. "I'm sorry — I didn't mean to hurt you, Hermione. I didn't."
"Didn't you—" Lavender bites into the cuts this time.
Seems to tear a chunk away from them with human teeth; Hermione knows she should be terrified. That she should run screaming. Do something other than stand there and watch as the front of Ron's jeans gets darker by the second — the scent of urea flooding the air.
"You didn't want to put her in her place for denying you. For running from you. For the fact she's never really wanted you?"
Ron cries almost cover the sound of cracking bone at the last part. Lavender's grip shatters his wrist as she rages. Turns almost feral, forces his back down onto the ground as she crawls on top of him.
Hermione knows what's coming but can't bring herself to intervene. Almost thinks she doesn't want to as Lavender leans over Ron's sobbing form. Rips open his clothes and drags her nails down his chest.
They leave deep scratches that can't possibly have been caused by human nails, and Hermione feels her lungs stop working at the other girl's next words.
Watches as Lavender digs her fingers into Ron's chest enough for him to scream again — digits disappearing to the second knuckle as she growls, "I only let you have her because I thought you'd be better for her—" she drags her hands downwards.
Pulls Ron's flesh with them as she starts to tear open his chest — does it so slowly Ron can't even pass out. Somehow he doesn't die — like Lavender wants him to feel every moment of his death.
Hermione's frozen as she watches — doesn't move for reasons she can't quite bring herself to accept but thinks there's almost a sick fascination as she learns quite how much damage a human body can take.
She thinks she can almost see his ribs. Is distantly aware that Ron's screaming. That his head lulls against the ground, he's so close to unconsciousness or death, but it's the way that he desperately clings to life that Lavender savours.
Leans down and licks along trenches she's ripped in Ron's torso. Seems to savour his blood, bites into his flesh and tears pieces away but spits them out as if they disgust her.
She drops her head down to lick along the lesions on his neck again as she says, "If you'd just treated her properly, this never would have happened. You only have yourself to blame."
She doesn't give Ron a chance to respond. Doesn't give Hermione the chance to stop her before she truly turns into a monster. Plunges her hands into his chest and tears him open with a sickening squelch.
Blood soaks the ground immediately, warm enough to burn through the frost covering it. Hermione's seen Lavender feasting before, remembers watching the way she devoured Ernie, but it's different when she's actually there.
Can hear the odd wet suction like sound as organs are ripped from Ron's torso. The way she growls and almost chokes as she tries to swallow too quickly. Slurps blood from his open chest cavity.
She doesn't seem to care that she has an audience. Is as messy now as she was then, flings the chunks of him she doesn't care for; Hermione thinks she feels blood splatter across her clothes as she's still just stuck there frozen — watching.
She doesn't know how long it takes — how quickly Lavender gets bored. Gets full — leaves most of him untouched. His body's a mess. The organs missing, the blood makes the ground squish as she steps away from the body, but the odd analytical part of Hermione's brain thinks there's more of him left than Ernie or Crabbe.
As if she wasn't hungry but ate anyway.
As if she killed without needing to.
Hermione knows her mouth is open as she stares at the other girl. Sees the thick red film covering her body — notes how she looks human beneath it. And somehow, even as Lavender walks towards Hermione, wipes her mouth with the back of her arm that does nothing to actually rid her face of any blood, Hermione's heart doesn't hammer.
She's shocked, confused, still processing that Ron is dead. That Lavender killed him. But she's not afraid and is instead strangely certain that the other girl isn't going to hurt her. That she never would.
It doesn't make any sense, and yet, she doesn't run when Lavender approaches her. Stays totally still when the other girl reaches towards Hermione's face and cups her cheeks with warm, sticky hands.
Hands that are covered in Ron's blood.
She only swallows as she makes eye contact with the blonde. Sees Lavender's eyes are the familiar soft blue they've always been rather than the strange, unnatural things they were when tearing Ron open.
Stares into them and doesn't push the other girl away like Hermione knows she should. Instead, she just swallows and keeps looking back at her. Watches Lavender's lips curve slightly at the fact she's not running.
She's still cupping Hermione's face when she says, "You should run now. The forest isn't safe for you."
Words that send a cold wave through Hermione despite her confidence that Lavender isn't going to harm her. They bring the cold rationalisation of what she's just seen, what she hasn't fought against, and she can only nod slightly as tears start to well in her eyes. And then she runs.
June 1997
Stumbling back up to her dorm, Hermione feels oddly numb — like it still hasn't quite sunk in yet. She may have just spent several hours trying to calm Harry down, may have lit her wand in the courtyard with the rest of the school, but she still can't quite believe it.
That Dumbledore is dead.
It almost can't be true because if it is, that means the war is really happening. That there's no one to protect them from it anymore. She's been under no illusions that the war has been ongoing. She's read the newspaper articles, fought in battles she shouldn't have been anywhere near while still a child, but there's something about Dumbledore's death that feels like everything is about to escalate.
In fact, Hermione's almost sure it is. Is trying to brace herself for what she knows she's going to have to do when she gets back to her parents. How quickly she's going to have to do it — how she almost won't have time to say goodbye.
It's not something she wants to dwell on but finds she's distracted by it anyway. The thought of removing herself from her parents' minds haunts her as she wanders into her dorm. It's late enough she assumed she'd have to change in the dark. Fall into bed as quietly as possible, but when she enters, the are candles still lit.
Parvarti's missing from her bed again — likely disappeared off to see Padma, but Hermione can't judge the other girl for wanting comfort tonight of all nights, so bites down the part of her that thinks Parvarti may as well have had a bed in Ravenclaw for all the time she spent in Gryffindor Tower.
Instead, she's met by Lavender, where she sits up in bed. Something mournful and apologetic in her eyes when she meets Hermione's.
"What?" It's drawn out. A cautious question Hermione isn't sure she wants the answer to based on the way Lavender's expression twists when she asks it.
The other girl bites her lip slightly before she says, "Just — just change and come here. I think we need to talk."
It's the last thing Hermione wants to hear. She wants to fall into bed next to Lavender and drift to sleep, praying neither of them will have nightmares but suspecting that wouldn't prove to be true.
She wants to curve herself against the other girl's body and pretend that the rest of the world isn't out there. That they can just be happy next to each other the way they've stolen moments all year, but somehow, Hermione knows it's not going to happen.
That whatever Lavender's about to say is going to tear at them equally but leave them both bleeding, nonetheless.
She's almost reluctant to sit down. Settles opposite Lavender as Hermione wraps her arms around her chest like she's trying to protect herself. She can see Lavender mirroring her actions and thinks how they'd usually entwine their fingers. Soothe thumbs along the back of each other's hands to comfort each other.
Lavender takes a breath before she speaks. A quiet heartbroken thing that does nothing to reassure Hermione, "I think we need to stop."
It's not said in a rush, but it somehow feels like it. Like Hermione's brain slowed as soon as Lavender said the words and can't process them with how quickly the other girl said it. She feels something in her cry out in confusion about where this is coming from, even if part of her knows it was always going to happen.
"Lavender —" Hermione tries to protest. Doesn't want to admit that their wandering hands and quick stolen moments mean more to her than the flame that's burnt for Ron but that Hermione thinks is slowly dying.
Like it's a tea light trying to outshine a bonfire. It's burned for as long as it could — shined brightly in that time — but it will never be enough to outdo the other.
The other girl cuts her off before Hermione can protest any further, though. "No, Hermione, you know I'm right." She hates that she does and has to bite her lip to stop from trying to argue against what Hermione knows is the truth. "Everything — everything we talked about last year is still true, but things are worse now."
"So, all the more reason to—" Hermione tries to argue against logic but, yet again, when it comes to their relationship Lavender is the rational one. Hermione's emotions for the other girl are one of the few things she can't deal with logically.
"No, Hermione," it's gentle. Almost soothing, and there's something in Lavender's eyes that's breaking as she says it, so Hermione resolves not to fight any further. Doesn't want to hurt the other girl more than this whole situation already is.
Still, Lavender continues, "Maybe if things were different. If we both weren't already in danger—" she shakes her head as if to clear it. Dismisses that train of thought as she looks back at Hermione, "It'll be…it'll be better if we just leave everything here because we don't know what's coming. We don't know what they'll do to us — do to you — and as much as I want it not to be true, it's not worth it right now."
Hermione forces herself to nod in agreement. Tries not to let the tears fall from her eyes as the other girl keeps speaking, "Besides, I think…I think Ron's still the better choice. His family can protect you in ways mine never would — even if they're not as connected as some, they're still pureblood."
Again Hermione knows everything she says makes sense even as much as she doesn't want to admit it, but forces herself to nod to agree. "You're right," the words almost stinging as they come out.
"You're right — we don't know what's coming. I don't know if I'm even coming back—" she stumbles over the last part. Realises she probably wasn't meant to tell Lavender as much, but the other girl nods like she already suspected as much. "So, we just…we just leave it. Say maybe after the war. Maybe if things are different."
Lavender nods solemnly as she agrees, "We say maybe after the war, but for now, we have to promise no more. We're friends, and that's it — right?"
It hurts Hermione to do so much she nods again. Agrees, "None of it happened. We try to forget it all. We don't do it anymore."
Lavender nods again. Both of them silent as they try to process what they've just agreed to. Something that neither of them really wants but that they both feel they have to do because Hermione knows Lavender's reasoning makes sense.
That when she thinks about it, Hermione doesn't know what's coming but knows that being in a relationship with a mudblood can only spell trouble for Lavender, and that's not something she ever wants to risk putting the other girl in.
So she nods again, looks back at Lavender and tries not to let tears form in her eyes as she says, "I'm going to go sleep in my own bed then."