Hermione told herself it didn't mean anything.
It was only because she slept better with another person there to keep her company.
Her nightmares — scenes of the endless rows of prophecies in the Department of Mysteries crashing down around her as she tried and failed to escape — only receded when she was held throughout the night.
It was just a coincidence that person was Lavender. It didn't mean Lavender was the only reason she felt safe again. The only reason she could sleep through the night.
It didn't mean anything.
The first night Lavender crawled in bed and wrapped her arms around her, Hermione's entire body tensed. She laid there, frozen, as Lavender made herself at home in her bed.
"What are you doing?" Hermione's voice cracked as she whispered, terrified of making any noise to startle the girl away and lose the soft, warm body currently pressed up against her.
Lavender brushed a hand over Hermione's hair in a soothing gesture, "I know you have nightmares. You silence your bed but I wake up and I see you thrashing around, so I know you're not sleeping. I just want to help and when I was younger, a bit of a cuddle always helped me sleep through the night."
And thus began their new nightly routine. They would wait until their other roommates were asleep and Lavender would sneak out of her bed and into Hermione's, where she would charm the curtains shut with a colloportus and then wrap the smaller witch in her arms to keep her safe from her memories throughout the night.
When, a few weeks later, Lavender's hand crept to her thigh and began to trace circles on her bare skin, it was all Hermione could do to remember this meant nothing.
Lavender didn't like her.
It took a moment for her to recognize that she was upset by the notion. But when she realized, it stopped her in her tracks.
Because she liked Lavender.
A girl.
A girl in her bed, with her hand on her thigh.
Oh Merlin, why couldn't she just have a normal year for once?
Her heart was racing. She couldn't like a girl. Could she?
Not boy crazy, flighty, clothes-obsessed Lavender.
Beautiful, kind, lovely, soft Lavender.
Hermione closed her eyes. Good Godric. I have a crush on my roommate.
Ignoring the thundering of her heart in her chest, Hermione willed herself to sleep and away from thoughts of the strawberry blonde girl spooned against her back.
The next time Lavender's hands wandered across her body, Hermione was almost asleep. The other witch wrapped her arms around Hermione's midsection and slipped a hand beneath the hem of her shirt.
Hermione's eyes flew open.
As Lavender's hands trailed across her flat stomach, she felt a tingle run up her spine. It only stopped when the other girl brushed her hands across the scar Dolohov left her and her hand faltered in its ministrations.
Hermione's face flushed with shame and she attempted to jerk away from Lavender's touch. She held strong, refusing to relinquish her grip.
"Is this from that night?" Her words were quiet, barely a whisper.
Hermione nodded, hating the fact that she felt tears burning in the corner of her eyes.
Lavender placed her chin on her shoulder, her mouth close to her ear.
"Will you show me?"
Hermione bit her lip and hesitated. She didn't want anyone to see her scar; she hated how ugly it made her. And yet, she found herself unable to deny Lavender.
Sitting up in bed, she tossed her shirt aside and rushed to wrap her arms around her chest. As Hermione laid back down, she glanced at the other girl with wide eyes.
Lavender's blue eyes bore into hers, shining with intensity even in the dark of their dorm before darting down to take in her torso. Hermione watched her face as she studied the scar that bisected her entire torso, from left hip to right collarbone. Instead of the disgust she was expecting, Lavender's face remained frustratingly blank.
She reached a trembling hand out and lightly touched her finger to the raised skin. Gooseflesh broke out across Hermione's body as Lavender carefully, reverently traced the scar from her hip, underneath her breast, to her collarbone.
When Lavender reached the end of the scar she met Hermione's eyes once more.
"You're so beautiful."
Hermione scoffed, unable to stop herself from making a scathing comment, "Right, because who doesn't want their girlfriend to look like she was sliced in half?" She reached for her shirt and struggled to put it back on under Lavender's watchful eye. "It's a horrendous scar. Vile. I'm hideous."
Now it was Lavender's turn to scoff.
"Pull the other one." When Hermione simply raised an eyebrow at her, Lavender's tone grew exasperated. "Hermione, love, you cannot seriously think this scar makes you ugly. You're beautiful — bloody gorgeous."
It felt like her brain was short-circuiting. All she could do was gape at the other girl, dumbfounded at what she was hearing. Stunning, charming, enticing Lavender was trying to convince her — scarred, frizzy-haired Hermione — that she was gorgeous. It had to be a cruel joke.
Hermione laughed, mirthlessly, "Alright, very funny Lav. You're barmy if you think I'd fall for that. C'mon, your curiosity about my nasty scar should be satisfied, let's just go to sleep."
Lavender refused to move, staring into her eyes unblinking.
"Holy shite, you really believe this. You truly think you're ugly?" Her voice was disbelieving.
Hermione nodded tersely. She really didn't want to talk about this.
"Have you lost the plot? You have a very cute face, with your little button nose and freckles, and your smile could light up an entire room." Lavender's tone moved from serious to cheeky. "You know we've shared a dorm room for the last five years and I've seen your arse more times than I can count — plus, I've just seen your tits so I think I can confirm that you, Hermione Granger, are bloody fucking fit."
The brunette shrieked and hit Lavender with her pillow, the two of them dissolving into giggles behind the silencing charm on her curtains.
Laughing, they settled into bed but instead of returning to their usual positions, they laid face to face, mere inches apart.
A heavy silence seemed to settle over the two of them as their laughter trailed off.
"Thank you." Hermione breathed, feeling like it was wrong to break the quiet moment.
Lavender merely hummed in acknowledgment, a small smile playing across her lips as she reached out a hand to smooth over her curls. "Of course, love. Now, get some sleep."
With a soft sigh, Hermione did as she was told, drifting off to sleep as Lavender gently played with her curls.
Over the next two weeks, Hermione pretended not to notice when Lavender held her a little bit closer each night, pressing her against her body in a way she didn't know she needed. She refused to acknowledge, even to herself, the way her touches lingered on her skin like phantom pains throughout the day.
It wasn't until a couple of nights later that things shifted, as Lavender crawled into her bed nearly vibrating with nervous energy.
Hermione rolled over and reached for her hand, which was shaking lightly, "Lav? What's wrong?"
The witch wouldn't meet her eyes. Hermione tilted her head, scrutinizing her roommate and bedfellow. Lavender glanced at her, eyes unreadable but softening as she took in the furrow between Hermione's brows. She reached her hand up and smoothed the line between them, huffing lightly under her breath, but freezing when she realized how close their faces were.
Hermione couldn't breathe. Lavender was so close and Merlin, she smelled so good — like a perfect combination of citrus and vanilla and jasmine. Her eyes drifted shut, overwhelmed by her presence.
When she opened them again, Lavender seemed calmer, as if she had come to a decision. Without meaning to, Hermione's tongue darted out to wet her lips. Lavender's eyes tracked the movement, her gaze trained on Hermione's lips.
Slowly, as if approaching a wild animal, Lavender leaned in.
Oh, Merlin, she's going to kiss me, Hermione thought wildly. She willed her heart to stop pounding. Oh, Godr—Oh my God. Jesus Christ. She barely even noticed that her internal monologue reverted to muggle phrasing as Lavender drew closer; her very distinct scent cloaking her senses.
She seemed to hesitate, giving Hermione time to push her away. When she realized she was not going to be rejected, she surged forward with confidence and pressed her lips to hers.
Lavender tasted like mint.
Spearmint, her brain unhelpfully supplied.
And oh, gods, her lips were so soft. Hermione reached out to wrap her hands in Lavender's hair, pulling her closer. Lavender sighed and melted into her, slanting her lips against Hermione's.
A soft moan left Hermione's mouth and she felt Lavender smile against her lips. She took advantage of the movement and met her tongue with her own, deepening the kiss into a full-out snog. The hand in Lavender's hair tightened and she responded with a whimper. It was Hermione's turn to smile against her lips as she cataloged the reaction for later.
Eventually the two separated, all mussed hair and swollen lips. They grinned at each other before breaking down into giggles. Lavender pulled Hermione into her arms, pressing a kiss to her brow as she wrapped her arms around her. Hermione was lulled to sleep by the sound of Lavender's breathing and her familiar, comforting scent.
In the weeks that followed their first kiss, a new element was added to their nightly routine. After Lavender snuck behind her curtains they would snog for a bit, before eventually falling asleep wrapped in each other's arms.
Their interactions outside the four-poster bed remained largely the same. There was the occasional smile or lingering touch, but ultimately their situation was defined by the time they spent beneath the sheets in their shared dorm.
And, until the night before the Slytherin versus Gryffindor quidditch match, they hadn't progressed past snogging and the occasional wandering hand.
The entire dorm was buzzing with manic energy and unfortunately, the sixth-year girl's dorm was not exempt. It was much later than normal when Lavender pulled back her curtains and crawled into bed. Hermione was already half-asleep, remaining on her side instead of turning to face her.
As Lavender curled herself into position as the big spoon, her hands slid under Hermione's shirt. Hermione squeaked, wide awake at the sensation of Lavender's cold hands on her bare skin. She traced the scar across her chest, her other hand hesitantly thumbed the edge of her knickers. Hermione's breath caught as fingers dipped slightly below her waistband before retreating back to her stomach.
"Is this okay?" Lavender whispered into her hair.
All Hermione could do was nod.
Lavender continued her movements for a moment before slowly slipping her hand farther into her knickers.
Pulling back, she laid her forehead against Lavender's.
"Gods," Hermione breathed, and Lavender laughed.
She looked at her bashfully and pressed a gentle kiss against her lips before snuggling into her arms. Hermione found she rather liked falling asleep with Lavender like this.
The next morning, Hermione woke up in an uncharacteristically good mood and excited for the day. At breakfast, Lavender stopped by their table to wish Ron good luck and winked at Hermione, leaving her with a silly grin on her face. Even Ron and Harry noticed something was up.
"What's going on with you today, Mione?" Harry asked, confused.
"Nothing, Harry!" She hurried to reassure him. "I'm just excited about the match today, that's all."
Harry and Ron stared at her, dumbfounded.
Ron spluttered, "Y-you? You're excited about quidditch?!"
Hermione bristled, "Yes, I can enjoy quidditch just as much as the rest of you lot."
Ron snorted and exchanged a look with Harry, but the three of them went back to their breakfasts. Hermione's good mood only dulled briefly when Harry spiked Ron's pumpkin juice.
"Liquid Luck?! Don't drink it, Ron!" Hermione whisper-yelled across the table.
Ron glanced between her and Harry and in one swift motion, threw back the entire cup.
Hermione groaned and placed her head in her hands. "Harry, you could be expelled for that."
"I don't know what you're talking about." He responded cheekily.
It wasn't until after Gryffindor beat Slytherin that Harry revealed he had, in fact, not actually spiked Ron's cup with Liquid Luck but only made him think he did in order to give him the confidence to win. Hermione thought it was a rather cunning move for Harry and told him as much. The grimace he gave her in return made her laugh.
Their laughter carried through the halls as they walked towards the Gryffindor common room together, the sounds of the celebration echoing around them. Hermione stepped through the portrait hole after Harry, just in time to see Ron and Lavender engage in a passionate snog in the middle of the common room.
Hermione's face dropped and it felt like the floor was spinning out from beneath her. She spun on her heel and ran from the room, ignoring the frustrated tears that flooded her eyes. She sought refuge in an abandoned classroom under the stairs, conjuring her signature yellow canaries with a whispered, "Avis."
Harry came rushing down the stairs after her, surprising her with his thoughtfulness.
She glanced up at him and noticed he was watching the conjured birds. "It's a charm. I'm just practicing."
He smiled at her softly, "Well, they're really good."
When she didn't respond, he spoke again.
"Are you okay?" He asked hesitantly. "I always thought maybe you and Ron…" he trailed off.
She was silent for a moment, contemplating how much she wanted to reveal. Contrary to popular belief, she wasn't upset with Ron — but with Lavender, who had kissed her breathless and made her come less than twenty-four hours ago.
"How does it feel when you see Dean with Ginny?"
Harry startled, his eyes wide as they flicked up to meet hers.
Hermione smiled gently, "Harry, you're my best friend. I see how you look at her." She sighed, "Ron and I are incompatible, I think. It's just frustrating."
Harry hummed in acknowledgment and they sat in companionable silence. The moment was shattered when giggling followed by hasty footsteps came crashing down the stairs around them. Hermione looked up, only to pale when she realized she recognized that giggle.
Ron and Lavender came tumbling down the stairs, unable to keep their hands off each other long enough to walk.
"Oh, Ron," Lavender breathed airly and Hermione felt her hair spark with magic.
"Ahem," Harry cleared his throat, looking pointedly at his friend.
Ron smiled lazily at them, "Oi, what are you two doing out here?" He snuck his arm out and wrapped it around a slightly more subdued Lavender, who was avoiding eye contact with Hermione. "We're looking for somewhere a bit more private if you know what I mean."
The blatant insinuation made Hermione see red. She stood, wand in her fist, and glared at her redheaded friend. Lavender, recognizing the expression, took a hasty step back.
Ron simply tilted his head in confusion and asked, "What's with the birds?"
Hermione whispered, "Oppugno." The flock of canaries descended upon Ron and Lavender viciously, sending them both skittering out of the room.
Harry turned to her with a raised eyebrow and she watched it play out across his face as he put the pieces together, offering her a sympathetic look. Hermione simply shrugged in return, unable to speak over the emotion rising in her throat. She allowed Harry to pull her in for a hug before he walked her back to the common room.
She quietly made her excuses, explaining to him that she just wanted to return to her room and read. Hurrying through the party with her eyes trained on the floor, she shoved her emotions down until she was safely within the privacy of her dorm. Hermione flung herself onto her bed, spelling her curtains shut and silencing them, before letting out a gut-wrenching sob into her pillow.
Hours later, after the party died down and everyone had gone to bed, Hermione felt Lavender's presence outside of her curtains. She lied completely still, her silencing charm having long since worn off.
The strawberry blonde witch rested her hand against Hermione's curtains and whispered, "I'm sorry."
Lavender didn't sleep in her bed anymore.