"You'll be a good boy for auntie Kyra?" Hermione knelt before the handsome German shepherd and gently dug her fingers into the fur under his pointy ears to rub his neck.
He whined a little, knowing whenever he was left with his auntie, he wouldn't see Hermione for a few days.
"I know, I'll miss you too, handsome. If you promise to be a good boy, I'll bring you a treat from Switzerland," she promised and smiled when his tail thumped on the floor at the word 'treat'. He really was a very clever boy. "Alright, I'll go now, you be good," she kissed his snout and got up, nodding her thanks to Kyra who was still resting in bed.
The combination of potions and muggle intravenous fluids had done their job to stabilise her a bit and she was regaining her strength. The pregnancy was however deemed high risk. Muggle or witch, healers tended to err on the side of caution in cases such as these. They would be losing a brilliant potions mistress in the lab but Hermione agreed to take the lead in the development and check in with her twice a week to discuss progress and come up with routes to refine their current progress.
She closed the door gently with a last reassuring smile at Byron and sighed wearily.
"He loves Hogwarts, the students will spoil him as always," Neville tried to reassure her and picked up her leather holdall, escorting her down the stairs towards the gate.
"I know, and I'm glad she's not going, I just…hope I will have enough space," she said simply, the meaning clear. She was not looking forward to this trip in any way, shape or form. A large conference, too many people and their curious stares, and then there was Pansy Parkinson. So much for keeping a distance from her for now… Her harpy would hopefully remain in check for the duration of the conference and they could go their separate ways once again in three days.
"Would it be so bad if you didn't?" Neville, ever the devil's advocate, asked the question her subconscious has been whispering to her rational mind for the past couple of weeks.
Hermione's gaze momentarily shifted, the whites bleeding out as they were swallowed by the darkness of the creature. She blinked a couple of times to shake the surge of emotion off, glad no one was around. "At this point, I don't want to endanger either of us. I don't know what I'm capable of," she admitted softly.
He handed over the holdall by the apparition point and pulled her into a warm hug. "You'll know what to do. I think you should give her more credit than you are currently. She knows something is up," he reminded her of their dinner interaction and with a final kiss to her cheek waved her off before she set off.
As luck would have it, fates decided to mess with her once again, not that she expected any less.
"What do you mean it has been cancelled?" Pansy's gaze narrowed and she crossed her arms, clearly indicating her displeasure as only a pureblood witch unused to hearing the word 'no' ever could.
The concierge began sweating. Hermione didn't even need her harpy senses to see the perspiration rise on his temples. "My apologies, Dame Parkinson. Your assistant notified us a few days ago to indicate your potions mistress has taken ill and will no longer be attending the conference. The room was cancelled," he explained carefully.
Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. Fucking splendid. She misunderstood the original conversation with Kyra and thought the conference was in Geneva. She had never visited before and looked forward to discovering the beautiful city in between seminars and their presentation. Geneva had sadly only been the portkey point, where they received their apparition instructions to the other side of the country to a secluded hotel in the St Moritz area.
"Clearly there was a miscommunication. My assistant followed up to change the name on the room, not to cancel it," Pansy pulled up the communication on her iPhone and showed it to the man. The last email was clearly stating their request and remained unanswered.
The concierge checked their system once again but shook his head. "Apologies, we did not receive this message in time and the room was simply cancelled."
Pansy's foot was beginning to clock sharply on the floor in her irritation. "Just replace the room. It doesn't have to be adjoining as it was."
Hermione was starting to feel sorry for the concierge who was clearly struggling to accommodate their request. "Unfortunately the room was re-booked and we are fully booked for the conference-"
Pansy was losing her temple with this imbecile very quickly. "Oh for Merlin's sake-"
"It's fine," Hermione interrupted the upcoming tirade. "I can see if I can find accommodation in the muggle resort," she tried to resolve it to the best of their ability. The muggle ski resort was on the other side of the mountain. This luxurious magical hotel was the only building around for miles so that was her only option.
The concierge's apologetic gaze shifted to her. "Apologies Madame, but the muggle ski resort has an anti-apparition ward on the area and we will not be able to currently supply you with regular access between the resort and our hotel due to security measures," he began explaining.
Pansy just raised her hand to calm him down. "Fine, we'll make do with one room. But this is utterly unacceptable and I expected better," Pansy said clearly and signed the check-in sheet with a flourish before marching over to the lift.
Hermione thanked the concierge and shook her head at the doorman who was offering to help with the luggage. She levitated Pansy's case into the lift and followed her down the corridor on the seventh floor towards their room. As it turned out, it was a beautiful spacious room with a queen sized bed, a small dining table and chairs, and a lavish bathroom. The place was clearly geared towards comfort and luxury, maybe she would be able to transfigure a chair or a pillow into a bed.
Pansy set down her handbag and looked at her. "I've heard such great things about this place only for this to happen. It looks like we're stuck with each other, but I'm sure we can make it work? I do take the left side of the bed though," it was the most she had spoken to the brunette in a couple of weeks but she wanted to get things clear.
Hermione shrugged. "I'm sure I can transfigure something into a bed," she offered.
Pansy shook her head. "Not in here you won't be, house rules of magical hotels are set to avoid additional guests. At least the bed is spacious, I'm sure we'll manage," she explained as she stepped out of her high heels and headed for her trunk to unpack some of her silk pieces and her brocade suit jacket.
"Right, sure," Hermione mumbled and walked over to the right side of the bed, unpacking her books and hand cream on the dressing table, trying to get comfortable while her mind reeled. She had to sleep next to Pansy Parkinson. What if her harpy comes out? What will she tell Pansy? Would Pansy throw her out? Will she lose her job? Her mind was working so fast it would have been dizzying if she were anyone else.
For now, she decided to carefully avoid skin contact with the other witch, especially any accidental touching, and focus on the programme. It was the first day of the conference and already late afternoon. The conference was to open this evening with a gala dinner and the real seminars were to begin tomorrow. She was quite glad that their company was one of the earlier presenters, scheduled just before lunch tomorrow morning in one of the main halls. They will be demonstrating blending of ingredients and processes for consumption by both wix and muggles, and she would be answering questions about certain ingredients currently up and coming in skin care and healing. That she could do, she was passionate about the subject, and the two hour presentation was just enough time to present in decent detail and allow enough time for a Q&A. She was sure there would be a couple of her Potioneer colleagues around, but more than that she looked forward to making new contacts and sharing in some of the thinking and ideas that conferences were always plentiful for.
"I'll grab a shower first if you don't mind?" Pansy asked, and after a quick nod from the brunette gathered her cosmetic bag and silk robe, and headed for the bathroom.
Once the shower was on and filling the room with steam, she unpacked her skincare regiment, shampoo and shower oil, and looked at herself in the mirror. She was pushing forty but quite happy and confident with her body. What worried her were the dark circles under her eyes, a sign of her exhaustion. The past week has been straining, to say the least. Several meetings with potential new investors, three business soirées and on top of that worry over Kyra. She was delighted for her friend of course, but even during their short FaceTime call could she see how pale and exhausted she was. Either way, Granger was now her head Potions Mistress and accepted the role to oversee Kyra's responsibilities for a duration of twelve months.
She could still remember their meeting yesterday where they signed the addition to her contract. Every time it was just the two of them in the room, Pansy realised she was distinctly aware of the other witch. It wasn't one of her instincts that helped her read people. When Granger was close, she felt…something. A pull? No, that wasn't quite right. There was no 'invisible hand' or whatever pulling her to the other witch. She snorted at how absurd her thoughts turned as she stepped into the hot stream of water.
And that dinner party at Hogwarts, Morgana that was something else. On the bright side, Hermione Granger was not a werewolf, that much was clear from her working pattern and lack of any other symptoms. Those endless black eyes held so much power, she could practically feel the shift in Granger's magical aura in the moment when they touched. The thought made her shudder, though not in disgust as some may think.
Was she curious? Absolutely. She was known for her drive to test and push boundaries to get an answer. Granger was another puzzle and she wanted to figure out what secret she held.
Was she a bit scared? Of course, her sense of self-preservation was far too strong not to be.
Did it put her off testing a few theories?
She switched off the shower and dried off carefully, glad her hair got to steam a little so it would curl naturally at the ends. As she went about moisturising, she caught another look at herself in the mirror and there was that familiar curious gleam in her gaze. No, she wasn't put off doing some more testing. She wanted to know, a part of her needed to understand why they had both reacted to each other this way.
She pulled on her underwear and silk robe, tying it tightly to ensure she was all covered before stepping out. "All yours," she motioned at the bathroom, noticing Granger was only in a thin tank top and her jeans. She could see the top of a large tattoo of wings on her back, a few of the feathers spreading to the shoulders. It wasn't something she imagined the goody-two shoes Gryffindor princess ever acquiring, that was for sure. The mystery grew even further.
They kept their distance while getting ready, and then at dinner, thankfully seated a few spaces apart at the round tables, so Pansy could see the witch interacting with her colleagues. Her voluminous curls hung around her shoulders, the elegant cinnamon coloured dress nearly full length and some clever layering of fabric hid most of her chest scarring, not that it would have taken away from the confident air with which Hermione debated with the Hungarian potions master sitting beside her. She had a presence, something Pansy noticed during their initial interview, but somehow that presence has grown over the past couple of weeks. Or was she just noticing Granger more closely now?
That night they quickly changed and went to bed, keeping a respectable distance between them under the large duvet. Hermione muttered a soft charm, drawing the rune of separation into her mattress with her finger, feeling an invisible barrier of her magic emerge between them, only sensed by herself and her harpy. She felt a surge within her chest but stumped it down, not willing to give the harpy a chance to react to the close proximity of the other witch. Feeling restless, she fell into fitful sleep as the breathing of her sleeping companion deepened.
"Granger….Granger?" Hermione could vaguely hear the call but frowned, enjoying the warmth of her pillow too much.
Pansy took a deep breath, shuddering softly at the warm nose nuzzling into the junction of her neck and shoulder. It has been a while since she slept with someone in the same bed through the night. She had been so comfortable and woke up feeling warm and contented, until she realised the human warmth pressed against her back was Granger, and the shell of feathers wrapped around them was a wing.
"Granger…." she tried again, looking down at the scarred arm wrapped around her body securely, only tightening its hold when she moved slightly.
She stopped moving and took a couple of deep breaths in. Granger had wings. Not just tattooed ones. She could clearly see the large, dark feathers attached to the wings cocooning them. What creature had wings? Veela surely, but you can't become a veela, you can only be born one. Whatever caused those scars clearly passed some sort of creature characteristics one but she couldn't tell just yet what she was dealing with.
The secure hold on her was clearly comforting as she slept through it without a hitch, but she still needed space from the other witch until she at least had an explanation as to what this was.
She needed to wake the brunette up, the sun was rising which meant they would soon be due down for breakfast and their sign-in badges for the day of seminars. So she tried a different tactic. "Hermione…" she coaxed, squeezing the witch's arm, hoping to rouse her with the use of her given name.
"Hmmm what is it?" she asked sleepily, her mind still not catching up on the situation.
"You need to let me go," she opted to respond softly but with clear instruction, hoping that tone would do it.
Hermione blinked her eyes open, breathing in the scent of lilac and something warm and musky for a moment longer before she fully registered the situation. Her runes failed while she slept and she was holding onto Pansy Parkinson with her arms and a wing. She quickly scrambled back, her wings extending fully, knocking into the bed frame but thankfully not knocking anything else over as she backed away from the bed to stand by the window.
Pansy sat up and turned around to look at her properly now that she could. She was an incredible sight, her dark honey curls wild and messy, large wings spread out around her lithe form dressed in only a pair of sleeping shorts and a tank top. Her gaze momentarily fell to Granger's heaving chest before flicking back up, taking in the powerful aura and dark gaze of the witch before her.
"Granger….it's fine, you're safe. I won't tell anyone, just try to calm down," she said gently, slowly getting out of bed to face her fully.
Hermione was still trembling, her fears realised. Fuck, she knew. Pansy knew. She needed to get herself under control so she closed her eyes and tried to calm down but the harpy within her swelled and before she knew it, she was across the room with the other witch pressed against the wall, wings caging them in.
"Granger…" Pansy's breath hitched at the proximity, their faces but an inch apart.
The hand beside her head thumped the wall, a look of fury crossed Granger's scarred features before she suddenly flew back a few feet down onto her haunches, breathing heavily. Pansy remained silent, fearing any other words from her would only incite the witch and her creature side.
Hermione managed to wrestle her instincts and need for the other witch down, her wings folding back into her skin and shoulders losing some of the tension. When she looked up at Pansy again, her eyes were back to their usual whiskey colour, her gaze still intense but features much calmer.
"I'm so sorry….." she whispered, getting up to her feet a little unsteadily.
Pansy took a step forward, wanting to reassure her she was fine, but the brunette held up her hands defensively and walked a few paces back, out of her way.
"I'm sorry…I don't…I couldn't make her stop…" she tried to explain, feeling an ache in her chest as the harpy tried to get back out, to be with free and with the other woman. Instead she quickly slipped into the bathroom and threw up a strong locking charm, sinking to the floor and putting her head between her knees to calm down her rapidly beating heart.
She had suspected.
A part of her perhaps knew what this was about.
But now, it was simply inescapable. Harpies as it turns out did have a mate, and Pansy Parkinson was hers….
In the bedroom beyond the door, Pansy only had one question. "What the fuck just happened?" she whispered to herself.