The Black Lake was one of Hermione's favorite spots to spend her alone time. There was no one other than nature and magical creatures around her.
No responsibilities.
No upholding her reputation.
No judgment.
She usually spent time there in the evenings since no one was around. However, there had been cases where she could spot some students fooling around together, making out in the dark, and she would just cast a disillusionment charm around her because she wouldn't want to make them uncomfortable in case they noticed her in the pitch black.
There had been times when she saw people crying alone, and Hermione would watch them. She saw herself in them and it made her feel less alone. She wanted to comfort them, but she knew from personal experience that if someone came all the way to the Black Lake to cry, then there was a big chance that they wanted to be left in solitude.
When people comforted her, she felt like she couldn't let out all the emotions that were prickling inside of her. She felt like she had to keep most of it inside her and tried not to let her eyes tear up since it would show how weak and broken she actually was.
She closed her eyes and let the mist of the wind engulf her lungs. She loved to be hit by the breezy air at night. Everything was better after midnight. It was the time she felt her happiest and most creative. Darkness was her best friend. The one that never left her side.
While returning to her dorm room, she spotted Ron walking with someone to the castle. She couldn't exactly make up who it was, even while squinting her eyes to the max. Her curiosity got the best of her, so she followed them discreetly. She cast a quick charm to silence her footsteps. They entered the courtyard, and the figure next to him suddenly turned around, and Hermione quickly hid behind the column next to her.
She peeked her head slightly to the side, only bearing her right eye and caught a glimpse of the figure. Short black hair, black and green robes. Parkinson.
Ron was with Parkinson. When did that happen?
Ron and Parkison, she repeated to herself. What an odd combo. Even saying their names together felt wrong. She wanted to follow them, but it would've been difficult to disguise herself with all the lights in the corridors, so she decided to head back to her dorm.
She made a mental note to ask him tomorrow at breakfast.
…
The Golden Trio, plus Ginny, were seated at the breakfast table. It was the first time they could sit together since Ron would skip breakfast most of the time. Yes, you read correctly; Ron did skip breakfast since he valued his sleep more and would always arrive late for his first classes.
"So Ron, how have you been lately? It feels like I never see you anymore," Hermione inquired, spreading Nutella on her toast. Her mom had asked her via letter if she needed anything from home, and she requested Nutella. It only arrived two days ago, and the jar was almost half empty.
Ginny, noticing Hermione finally enjoying eating something, smiled internally. She wished she would behave like that towards other foods, but she knew that if she said that, then Hermione would stop eating completely out of stubbornness since she hated being told what to do. To be fair, the Nutella did look appetizing, and Ginny wanted to know if it really was worth the hype.
Ron looked up at Hermione, "Doing pretty good," he answered," and yeah, I know Mione. I wish I hadn't come back this year. They assign even more work than usual, and to be fair, I think 'helped kill Voldemort' in my resume would've been enough to secure a job in the ministry as an Auror," he admitted, and Hermione made a face, "Just saying," he added shrugging.
Hermione rolled her eyes. It really has become a habit. She couldn't stop herself, "Ron, you know why you came here," she paused, "And how do you expect to get a job without passing your NEWTS?" she asked, taking a bite of her toast. She saw Ginny pointing at the Nutella, asking her if she could have some, and she nodded.
"I'm not even going to use anything I learn this year in Auror training," he retorted, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.
"How do you know-"
Ginny cut her off, "Hermione," she said, taking another spoonful of Nutella and engulfing it, "Why in our seven years of friendship didn't you tell me how good Nutella is," she couldn't even open her eyes from the pleasure she felt licking every inch of her spoon to not leave a single particle of chocolate on it.
Hermione chuckled, watching her friend in a total state of arousal from the power of Nutella, "I mentioned how good it was at least ten times, but you never believed me," she replied, grabbing the Nutella jar back from her clasp before she finished all of it.
"I didn't know it was this good, Hermi. It's just. Wow," she was still licking her spoon as if any spread was left. Hermione rolled her eyes at that name again.
"Well, now you know. And Ginny, this is like the twentieth time I've told you to stop calling me-" she huffed in irritation, returning her attention to Ron," Nevermind. So, Ron. Nothing special going on in your life?"
Ron, who was preparing a second hot chocolate, furrowed his brows at her insistence, "No. Not really. Everything I just said," he replied, "Why do you ask?"
It was clear to Hermione that he wanted to keep it a secret, but it didn't make sense because Ron always shared everything with her. Or was it her fault for being distant from him after the war? To be fair, she was distant from everyone and didn't tell anything going on in her life unless she was forced to. Mostly by Ginny, but that's not the point. Or maybe he didn't feel comfortable telling it to Harry and Ginny? But one was his best friend, the other his sister, so it didn't make sense to her either.
"Oh, okay then. I was just curious since we haven't talked in a while," she made a mental note to ask him later when she caught him alone.
"Yeah, that's true," he answered, licking the hot chocolate stain on his top lip. "Actually," he turned to face everyone, "Do you want to go to Hogsmeade Saturday. We couldn't go to the Three Broomsticks. It's been a while, " he suggested.
"Is it okay if we go after three in the afternoon, I have my. You know," They all knew what Hermione was trying to imply.
"Yeah, that works for me," said Ginny, finally putting her spoon down. She turned to Harry and placed her hand on his shoulder, "Is it okay for you," she asked, and he nodded. Hermione couldn't ignore Harry's body language stiffening to her touch.
Noticing this, Ginny removed her hand and placed it back on the table, trying not to look offended.
When they first started dating, they were always touchy with each other, and every time she saw him, the spark was there, but ever since the beginning of the eighth year, Hermione could sense her best friend being less affectionate towards Ginny and she couldn't quite figure out why.
Maybe it was the war still affecting him, and it was a very fair reason, but why would he then be super close to her straight after the war in the first place?
It was like Ginny was planning a future, and Harry was planning on how to escape it.
"Okay then, it's settled," Ron said enthusiastically, preparing his third hot chocolate.
…
Nott and Malfoy were headed to Defense Against the Dark Arts when Evans, the sixth year that attacked him a couple of days ago, mouthed Traitor while passing them with a murderous stare in his eyes. Draco's insides flamed, and Nott, noticing this mouthed Fuck off back, grabbed Draco's arm to pull him into an empty classroom.
Once the door was locked, Draco kicked the nearest table he could find.
Then again.
Again.
Again.
Nott waited till he calmed down, "Fucking shit school," he muttered to himself out of frustration.
"Draco, fuck that kid," he said trying to calm him down, "You didn't have a choice," he crossed his arms, leaning against the door.
Draco, about to kick the side of the table again, turned around, "No, but I did. I did have a fucking choice!" he barked, another kick, "Fuck."
"It's okay. Let it out," he glanced over to the clock on the wall, "You have three minutes left of your one sided boxing match before a bunch of first years barge in," he pointed out.
Draco took his wand to repair the damage he had done to the table and ran a hand through his hair.
Breathe in, breathe out.
He leaned against a table across Theo, and they stood there silent till they heard footsteps approaching. Before the people outside could open the door, Theo opened it himself, "It's the wrong class. We need to go to the fourth floor," and gestured to Draco to follow him. They got out, passing the first years standing in front of the door and walked to class.
…
Classes for the day were done, and Hermione hoped that Ginny was in their room to ask her about Harry. When she entered the room, she saw Ginny seated at her table, writing in what looked like a journal.
"Writing your manifestations?" Hermione inquired, kicking off her shoes and placing them neatly in her cupboard. Crookshanks meowed and weaved around her legs in greeting, and she bent down to stroke her old familiar.
"Hey, No. I'm just replying to mum's letter. She misses me and wants me to go to the Burrow this weekend," she replied, continuing writing.
Hermione marched towards her, putting her curls into a bun, "Oh, so you're not coming Saturday?" she queried, calculating the best way to approach her with the Harry issue.
She shook her head, "Yeah. It's just that Fred's death has been very hard on her. I mean, it's been hard on all of us, and I know that even though she knows we're safe now, she's scared that something might happen to us and that she won't be able to protect us. I understand her. It's one thing losing a brother, but another losing a son that you carried for nine months," she said, and she could see a tear prickling in the corner of her eye.
Hermione bent down to hug her friend. She didn't know what to say. Or more precisely what the correct words would be to say.
She wasn't going to say everything would be fine because she didn't even believe it herself. No. Everything isn't and isn't going to be okay. Saying the contrary would only be delusional.
"Thank you," Ginny hugged her back, "Hermi," she hesitated.
"For this once I'll accept it," Hermione said. She didn't roll her eyes this time.
"I'll take it," she smirked, wiping her tears with the back of her hand and letting go of her.
This was definitely not the moment to ask her about Harry. She would do it after she came back from the Burrow. Plus, she realized that it made more sense to ask Harry first since he was the one behaving strangely.
…
She had her therapy session in an hour but decided to check on Theo in the library in hopes of spotting him at their table to see if he had made any progress. Once there, she saw Angelina sitting across from Nott and Malfoy.
Strange.
She supposed he didn't tell them about the agreement and how he lost. So, she decided not to say anything and continued as if the deal never happened, since she was already thinking of breaking it off.
"My favorite celebrity has arrived," Theo acknowledged, pulling out a chair for her in courtesy, and Malfoy ignored her presence.
"Why, thank you, Sir. Nott," the witch played along with it and sat next to him, "At least one of you knows how to be a gentleman," she commented, avoiding the blonde she was implying. Hermione wanted to test how much he would be able to resist.
"What's that supposed to mean," it turns out he couldn't; her comment had clearly made him irritated. Theo looked at both of them, amused.
"Oh," she drawled, "Nothing important."
"You were clearly implying something," he noted, underlining something with his quill in the open book in front of him.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she played dumb and started highlighting passages in her book as well.
"I found another book that might be helpful and summarized half of the chapters already," Angelina cut in, sick of those two's constant bickering.
Hermione took the book that was being handed to her, "That's great. I'll read them tonight," she gave her a warm smile, "In the meantime, you can check these if you want. I'm already done writing all the steps in the magical and brewing process. I've written all the ingredients and a step-by-step tutorial on how to do it, but I'm still trying to understand how alchemy relates to the process and what to look out for while performing the bindings," she said, sliding her notes over to her. It wasn't the only copy of her notes; of course, she never trusted anyone with her notes. They always creased the parchment or lost a page, so she always had two backup copies just in case.
"Wow. Your notes are so clean," she noted, and Malfoy glanced over. Of course, her notes were clean, he internally rolled his eyes. She was the fucking perfect Golden Girl princess, who never made mistakes, was always on time, loved by the whole world, war heroine.
He was tired of being reminded that he was just a piece of shit when she was around.
He, on the other hand, was a Death Eater, made thousands of mistakes, was always on time, hated by the whole world, and a war villain.
Their only similarity was being on time.
Not that Draco wanted to even remotely resemble her.
"I've actually got some notes on how alchemy relates to the whole process and how the bindings are formed, but I don't have them with me right now. So I'll just bring them next time."
"Sounds perfect," Hermione said, placing Angelina's notes in her bag, knowing she didn't really need them.
Draco checked his watch; he had three-quarter hours left to his therapy session. He wanted to take a quick shower before, so he got up to leave.
"Leaving already?" Nott asked, leaning against his chair.
"I'm already done with my part of the research. We'll test it out tomorrow in class," he said and placed his notes on the table.
When he left, Angelina got up to grab his notes, "What is this, the Bible?" she asked rhetorically and started to skim through the pages. He had left a big block of around seventy pages of written notes, front and back. Hermione would've lied if she said she wasn't impressed. Even she herself hadn't written that much; hers was only sixty-two pages front and back.
"What's a bible," Theo queried, and they both laughed at his question, "What?" he said, blinking, "How am I supposed to know muggle terminology?"
"It's a collection of religious texts or scriptures sacred in Christianity, Judaism, Samaritanism, and many other religions," Hermione explained, reaching for some of his notes.
"Hm. Sounds fun," he reacted non-enthusiastically, "well, have fun reading the bible then," he said and leaned back to doze off for a bit.
Before commencing to read his notes, she set the alarm to fifteen minutes before her therapy session. As Hermione started skimming his writing, she noticed that it is a bit difficult to make out some of his words, having been written with a type of cursive lettering that was somewhat outdated, but she still managed to get the gist of his phrases.
Her alarm went off, which woke Theo from his slumber. She packed her stuff and got ready to leave.
"You're leaving too?" Theo asks suspiciously.
"Yeah. I've got something to do."
"Super explicative Granger," he noted, eying her with curiosity.
"I don't remember the part where I said It was your business," she retorted, and his grin grew wider.
"Ah. That's the Granger we all love and desire," he said, somewhat dismissing her. She waived to Angelina and departed towards the sixth floor.
Hermione got there five minutes early. She felt a sense of victory when she heard her partner enter two minutes after her.
"You're not early enough," she pointed out.
"At least I'm not late," he retorted, taking a seat.
"I'm not late either," she said matter of factly, intertwining her fingers and positioning them on her lap.
"You were late last time," he remarked, crossing his legs. He felt like he was paired up with a teacher or something.
"That was in the past," she replied.
"So, the past doesn't matter?" he inquired, curious about where the conversation was headed.
Shit.
His argument was fair.
Hermione usually picked her responses very calculatively and always thought of her opponents' possible replies, but she had missed a step in her calculations this time.
"No, it does," she replied wholeheartedly, "But being late to an appointment isn't as crucial as other things. Such as," she paused for a second, "the war," she explained, but her response didn't feel satisfactory enough to her. But, she didn't want them to think that she needed much time to procure a comeback response.
Why did it matter, though?
They didn't know how she was. She could do anything; take as much time as she wanted. She always has the impression that the person on the other side of the wall can see her, but they couldn't.
Of course, she wasn't a hundred percent sure of that, but she didn't dare to assume that McGonagall would deceive everyone like that. She grew to know her as a respectable woman of her word.
"That may apply to you, but everyone has different values, and some might believe that turning to an appointment late is worse than a war," he challenged her.
Who is this behind the wall?
"What person would think in such a way?" she queried rhetorically, "So you think that showing up late is more dreadful than a war?"
He sighed, "I never implied such a thing. I'm just saying that some people might think that way."
"Well," she said, crossing her ankles, "If anyone thinks like that, they must be truly disturbed."
"Or maybe you're just too judgmental and want everyone to have the same opinion as you," he offered, leaning back against his chair.
Hermione's cheeks flushed red from irritation. These therapy sessions were really not a good idea for her. Normally when people go to therapy, they relax after trauma dumping, but she, on the other hand, got out of that room angrier each time, "You don't even know who I am, to begin with, and-"
"That's true. I don't," he affirmed, cutting her off, "But I can already tell that you're not the type of person I'd ever choose to associate with," having conversations with his therapy partner wasn't as bad as he initially thought. Even if he couldn't see who was behind that crappy magical wall, it didn't take quantum physics to figure out that he had infuriated his partner within less than five minutes.
"You talk about me apparently judging people when you aren't too good yourself when it comes to that," she said, rising to her feet. She started pacing from left to right to not focus on their words," Oh and trust me, I really wouldn't even come near you!" she snapped, her eyes flashing.
"I mean, that's better for me," he replied cockily, grinning, hearing the pacing footsteps coming from the other side of the room.
"Has anyone told you that you're insufferable?" she retorted, crossing her arms.
"No. Never," he lazily gazed at his nails, "Everyone thinks I'm lovely," he lied, "Except you apparently."
Hermione let out a low scoff, "Why do I find that so hard to believe?"
"I don't know. You tell me," he replied.
"Then my best assumption is that you haven't shown this side of yourself to anyone," she answered honestly.
It was partially true. This part of his old self ceased to exist, except whilst he was behind this wall, talking to a complete stranger. Or maybe they weren't strangers.
Draco didn't talk after that, neither did Hermione, and they both remained in silence.