There was a moment—no more than a split second that split itself into an eternity of emotion—when Hermione was all but certain she had gone totally and completely blind.

She couldn't see the glittering lights that had just moments ago covered the starry skies; she couldn't see the glimmering golden wings of the Flickering Pixies; she couldn't see the ruins or even the shadowy forest that surrounded them. She couldn't even see Narcissa.

But she could feel Narcissa. Hermione felt her weight in her arms; she felt the witch's muscles ripple with movement under her hands; and most importantly, Hermione felt the tentative softness of Narcissa's plump lips moving tenderly against her own.

She wasn't prepared for the onslaught of feeling, for the force with which she experienced Narcissa's affectionate kiss, her warmth, or that faint eucalyptus scent that was Narcissa's and Narcissa's alone, infiltrating her senses much like an Elixir of Lunacy would, burrowing itself in her mind and making her go absolutely, unequivocally and irrevocably crazy for the witch she held in her arms.

While Hermione's arms instinctively tightened around Narcissa's waist, eager to feel, to hold, to possess, her legs did precisely the opposite, trembling with sensation. And so they buckled, just as Hermione had gathered enough presence of mind to kiss Narcissa back, fervently. Hermione tumbled backwards to the mossy ground, taking Narcissa with her.

The Gryffindor tried to break their gall, but they landed with a muted thud onto the mosses. Hermione had the air violently knocked out of her lungs; she gasped, forcing their kiss to break, and in that millisecond of pain Narcissa pulled away slightly, just enough for Hermione to see the worry reflected in her blue eyes.

Those worried eyes ignited a panic within her—Narcissa's lips parted once more to say something, but Hermione refused to give regret a chance to surface; at least not yet, not when she had ruined such a perfect moment.

Narcissa squeaked in surprise, eyes widening as Hermione lunged forward and upward, taking her lips in a fierce, desperate kiss, as if Hermione wanted—needed—to drink in her very essence from the source.

Hermione felt Narcissa stiffen in her arms; it lasted for only a moment, for Narcissa's body began to melt against her own as the Slytherin kissed her back, possessed by a similar want, a similar need that drove her deeper and deeper into the kiss.

Narcissa tasted sweeter than anything Hermione had ever tasted. She tasted of red wine and tea, of chocolates opened in a bright Christmas morning. She tasted of berries freshly picked from a winding forest trail; she tasted like a warm cup of cocoa taken in with a pink sunset.

Hermione didn't need to see Narcissa, not when she felt this much of her at once. Narcissa felt, tasted and smelled of complete and utter happiness; like the source of an unknown bliss that Hermione didn't know she had been looking for her entire life.

Her vision was slow to return, much like the passage of the moment itself, the one in which Narcissa's lips continued to move against her own eternally. Just as her eyes could see again, Hermione immediately closed them, because she was drunk, so drunk on the feeling of Narcissa's body pressed against her own that the ability to see now seemed utterly meaningless. What were the lights and the skies and the Earth itself in comparison to the feel of Narcissa's hands cradling her cheeks, the feel of the slow, gentle caresses of her kiss?

Despite the eternity of that one moment, it had to inevitably come to an end. Narcissa pulled back just enough to separate them; Hermione still felt the soft caresses of her breath upon her lips. It was then, and only then, that Hermione made the conscious effort to open her eyes and see.

She was drowning in blue the moment she raised her lids. The azure of Narcissa's timid gaze was deep and endless like the skies, brilliant and tempestuous like the deepest oceans.

Hermione began to think that her carelessness over her vision had been perhaps a bit premature.

She saw Narcissa's eyes, she saw her flushed cheeks, and she saw her parted lips. Hermione also felt the witch's breaths—they ghosted her lips, softly blew her hair, and pressed against her chest. She was too lost in sensation to think of anything else.

Narcissa did not seem to have that problem.

"Merlin" she gasped, breath tickling Hermione's cheeks. "I am terribly sorry. I... I don't know what came over me."

Hermione laughed, because wasn't that just the most Narcissa thing to say? She waved off the apology.

"Hardly an inconvenience" she quipped, delighting in the way Narcissa's cheeks flushed so deeply in pink. "I... I should be the one apologizing, really. For... uh. The fall. I was caught off-guard."

Narcissa's cheeks pinked further, and she dropped her head to Hermione's chest in embarrassment. Hermione could not find it in herself to complain; instead, she cradled Narcissa's head lovingly against her, running her fingers through tendrils of soft blond hair. It took the other witch several moments to speak again, but Hermione did not mind waiting when these moments felt so eternal.

"Still," Narcissa continued, sighing in contentment as Hermione stroked her hair. "It was a bit... impulsive on my part. I should have asked first."

Hermione chuckled.

"I'm a Gryffindor—I know all about impulsiveness!" she jested, drawing a shy laugh from Narcissa. "But if it'll give you any peace of mind... Had you asked, my answer would have been: 'yes, please'. Just so you know."

Now Narcissa's laugh was more genuine; it was louder, freer, and strong enough to make her body quake with laughter against Hermione's.

"I'm serious!" Hermione said. She sobered, hindsight putting the significance of the moment in perspective "I've wanted to, for a good while" she confessed, feeling a considerable weight vacate her chest. There was an almost imperceptible nod of Narcissa's head.

"I know," she whispered into Hermione's collarbone. "At the Astronomy Tower... In Molly's pantry... Even in my own classroom." She raised her head to look directly at Hermione. "I could see it in your eyes."

The admission made Hermione shiver; it was not at all unpleasant.

"Impressive," she breathed out.

Narcissa's lips tugged into a smile; Hermione could feel them against her skin.

"Well, you were not exactly subtle."

Hermione knew she was meant to be the butt of some joke about Gryffindors lacking discretion, but she was too consumed with joy to care even a little.

"Subtlety is overrated. I'm glad I wasn't."

Narcissa stiffened under her touch.

"This..." Hermione could suddenly feel every drop of uncertainty in her tone. "This is rather unlike me. To be this impulsive. This... Oh, I don't have the words. Whatever I say, it will undoubtedly convey a kind of regret I simply don't possess."

Hermione chose to latch onto that last part—the one with a distinct lack of regret.

"I'm glad you don't." She craned her neck to look at Narcissa. "You don't... do you? Have any regrets?"

Narcissa laughed wryly.

"I've lived a lifetime of regrets, Hemione. Several of them include you in one way or another."

Hermione frowned at the thought, but Narcissa dropped a comforting kiss to her neck.

"They are all of my own doing; I suspect I will never be truly free of them. But to answer your question... I don't regret kissing you just now, even though there is a great part of me that feels as if I should."

Hermione tightened her arms around the blonde. "Ignore it," she declared. Narcissa chuckled.

"That is the plan," she said, taking in a deep breath, as if she were trying to inhale Hermione's essence. "I've told you this—I am a greedy, awfully selfish woman. I am used to taking what I want—particularly when I least deserve it."

Narcissa propped herself up, elbows on either side of Hermione. Her gaze was clouded with a heat Hermione had never seen there before, and the Gryffindor at once realized that, the entire time she thought she had been able to read Narcissa, she was only reading what Narcissa allowed her to read. For the first time, the Slytherin's gaze was an open book, and Hermione wanted to lose herself in it.

"Right now," Narcissa continued, still breathless, "all I seem to want is you."

Hermione shivered at Narcissa's words and the breathless quality of her husky tone. She also felt herself grinning like an idiot, and the look must have been endearing to Narcissa, because the blonde smiled down at her tenderly.

"Lucky me." Hermione quipped.

"We'll see about that." Narcissa retorted, worry lining her features. "Admittedly, I have absolutely no plan—I don't quite know how to... take this from this point."

Hermione's grin widened. "Lucky for you, the girl you just snogged is the biggest know-it-all of the century!" That made Narcissa laugh, and Hermione felt happily smug. "I know exactly how to handle this."

"Lucky me, indeed" Narcissa jabbed sarcastically, but her smile was blinding. "Tell me, oh Brightest Witch of Her Age... how shall we handle this?"

"Simple," Hermione shrugged, unbothered. She had never been so certain of anything in her life. "Just like we have been ever since we began working together. We take it one day at a time."

Narcissa smiled broadly.

"One day at a time, you say?"

"One day at a time." Hermione confirmed. "I'll just add, I don't know, more wining and dining I suppose. I've been waiting for an opportunity to woo you properly."

Narcissa's smile faltered only slightly, but it was more than enough to light the fires of insecurity and uncertainty.

"I don't want to push you," Hermione quickly backtracked. "It's just... I've come to really like you as a person, Narcissa. As a woman. Not like, like like, but I do... I do fancy you, I suppose. Yeah. And I wouldn't want to... I wouldn't want for you to feel rushed or pressured in any way just because of how I feel, I just want you to know that..."

Hermione's lips were silenced by Narcissa's. That action did more to assuage Hermione's doubts that any words could ever have. The kiss was brief, but no less sweet, and Hermione swooned with the way it felt like a promise.

"You talk far too much. Rambling is undignified" Narcissa chided jokingly, pulling away. Hermione could not stop grinning even if she tried.

Narcissa's smirk held a hint of guilt and sadness that Hermione wanted to eradicate from the witch's features.

"There are a thousand and one reasons to put an immediate stop to this. A thousand and one reasons why it should never begin in the first place. But... for Salazar's sakes, Hermione, no one has ever gotten under my skin so much to make me completely ignore the voice of reason. I'm... I'm making a deliberate decision to be selfish."

Hermione knew exactly how precious a gift she had just been given. She chose to show her unending gratitude with a chaste peck to Narcissa's lips; a promise to echo Narcissa's earlier one.

"Agree to disagree on that 'voice of reason'" she quipped with a jesting waggle of her brows. "Be selfish all you like—you certainly won't find me complaining!"

Narcissa laughed; it was music to the brunette's ears.

"Perhaps not now, but I suspect there will be plenty to complain about" she retorted with a funny look.

"I disagree" Hermione said, and Narcissa rolled her eyes.

"I'm old enough to be your mother, Hermione."

"So? Age is just a number."

"I was married to a Death Eater."

"Keyword being: was. As in past tense. As in no longer applicable."

"My son—who is your age—was merciless to you in school."

"And we're great friends now. Next."

Narcissa laughed, but her eyes were sad. "There's... a great deal you don't know. Too much you don't know about me."

Hermione huffed as she hugged the blonde tighter. "On that we agreed" she declared. "You are full of secrets, and I find that unacceptable—I plan on uncovering them all."

"Hermione..." Narcissa tried, her tone a warning in itself, but Hermione silenced her with more resolute pressure from her arms. One of her hands found Narcissa's face; she stroked the blonde's cheek tenderly to stop her oncoming protestations.

"Secret number one: what is your favourite colour? I've been trying to figure it out" Hermione said resolutely, boring her gaze into Narcissa's startled blue eyes. "And don't you dare tell me 'Slytherin-green' because I know that is bull-crap."

Narcissa laughed, heartily and freely.

"And what's your favourite song? If you say anything by the Weird Sisters I'm sure I'll just die. How about your favourite book? Or your favourite game as a child? What's the worst Christmas gift you've ever been given? If you were a kitchen utensil, which one would you be and why?"

Narcissa's shoulders trembled as laughed rattled through her body. Hermione continued, undeterred.

"You are a woman of many secrets, Narcissa. I plan on discovering all of the ones that matter to me."

There were tears—happy tears, Hermione was pleased she could see the difference—brimming at Narcissa's lids.

"Hermione Granger," she breathed out, completely in awe. "You are extraordinary."

Hermione preened. It made her happy to make Narcissa happy. She sobered up enough to make sure Narcissa knew how much she meant her next words.

"I see you, Narcissa. And I like what I see of you – I like what I know of you. That's enough for me."

Narcissa looked pensive for a few moments. "We'll see for how long," she finally said, but she smiled as she did so and Hermione felt confident enough to wipe some of the tears from her blue eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Take it day by day, eh?"

"Of course," Narcissa agreed, shivering.

Hermione chuckled, only now taking stock of their awkward position, prostrate on the old grounds. The back of her robes had grown damp with the dew on the mosses she lay on—the dampness and the cooler temperatures of the night made her realize how cold she was, despite the comforting warmth of Narcissa's body against her own.

The ward lights still shone colourfully in the night sky like a dome made of stained-glass, though they now looked hazy, as if the rolling fog had become impossibly denser.

Hermione shivered once more, amazed to see the condensation of her breath in the air—her shivering was strong enough to make her teeth clatter, and Narcissa seemed to notice.

"I'm sorry, I believe my warming charm has waned," she apologised, rubbing Hermione's arms. The brunette vaguely felt another of the comforting charms descending upon them—it warmed her from the outside, but it did nothing to banish the cold within.

"How strange," Narcissa murmured, puzzled by the heat that was present but useless. Her gaze turned to Hermione's in question, but she was stunned into silence by the sight of Hermione's wide, frightened eyes. Narcissa followed the line of Hermione's vision over the moss, panic growing in her chest.

Hermione was looking at the mosses and plants covering the rocks of the ruins that surrounded them. More specifically, the brunette stared in abject horror at the dew that began to freeze instantaneously.

"Oh, no." Hermione heard Narcissa murmur weakly.

Hermione had no time to echo that sentiment. Before she could think about how their situation had gone south, the remaining Flickering Pixies disappeared completely; the ground below them froze; and a sensation of complete and utter hopelessness began to fester deep in her chest.

The domed glittering lights of the wards they had just unveiled were suddenly shrouded in a black, writhing mass, their brilliance extinguished by hundreds upon hundreds of Dementors.

Hermione had never seen so many of the foul creatures in one place; it was as if they had descended from the skies and sprouted from the earth all at once, their eerie cloaks of smoke billowing in the wind as they rapidly closed in around them.

A gasp was torn so deeply from Narcissa's chest that Hermione felt it in her own. They were completely surrounded, enveloped in a blanket of the ghoulish fiends. Hermione felt Narcissa stiffen in fear in her arms, almost as if she had been petrified. The only difference was the strength of her shivers—they wracked her body against Hermione's as the Dementors encircled them, swooping ever closer.

The Gryffindor thought fast, realising with a grimace that she did not have her wand in hand—it had most likely fallen from her grip when Narcissa kissed her. She could not locate it immediately, and a Dementor gliding closer only served to increase her panic tenfold. Hermione wanted to scream—another Dementor plummeted towards her, ripping remembrance and panic from her.

She had not felt that terrible sensation in years—that tearing from deep within, that violent tug of memories and feelings that made body and mind ache in absolute agony.

Another Dementor glided closer still, and Hermione could only watch with wide eyes and all-consuming terror as it targeted Narcissa. The blonde's mouth parted as if to scream, but nothing but a whimper of utter agony came out as the Dementor drained her of memory and sensation.

Hermione planted a foot onto the mossy ground, trembling but determined, and pushed upwards with her hips in one swift move, reversing their positions so that she hovered over Narcissa, shielding her as best she could from the soul-sucking fiends.

Her hands grasped blindly, desperately searching for her wand and finding nothing but moss. Dementors now hovered above in one frightening mass of cold and anguish and misery, and Hermione could feel them feed with every breath that was forcefully ripped from her chest.

There were too many. Too many at once. Her eyes grew heavy and her mind fuzzy; black spots began to cloud the sides of her vision. With horror, she felt Narcissa become completely limp in her arms, consciousness slipping away.

The Gryffindor's hand reached out into the dark one last time, a faint, desperate summoning spell echoing in her mind.

Her fingers suddenly grasped the comforting handle of her wand, curling around the vine wood with a determination she had thought lost. Her left arm tightened around Narcissa while her right shot forward and upward.

"Expecto... Expec..."

The memory of her parents' return seemed to evaporate into a puff of smoke. Her first time through Hogwarts' grand gates fizzled out of her view before she could even summon it properly.

One by one, each of the memories that had been so powerful and true to her Patronus faded away into nothingness. There were too many Dementors feeding on her happiness, doing so faster than she could summon them.

Hermione caught a glimpse of Narcissa's long blonde hair, sprawled on the ground beneath them. She saw the smallest bit of the warding lights still shining in the sky, not a faint gleam beyond the Dementors. She saw Narcissa's impossibly blue eyes fluttering closed and remembered the feel of her lips, the warmth of her body, the scent of eucalyptus.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Her wand burst into a beam of white light, summoning far more than her usual otter protector. A gaggle of the small critters burst through the air, swimming happy circles of bright light around the soul-sucking wraiths, driving them away with their powerful brilliance and overwhelming warmth. Heat finally returned to Hermione's chest, and she took a breath as if she had been trapped underwater, inhaling lungfuls of warmth to banish the anguishing frost left behind by the Dementors.

Hermione Narcissa jolt back into wakefulness beneath her. Blue eyes darted around, consumed first by fright, then sheet and utter relied. She opened her mouth to say something, but the swathes of writhing hooded monsters lurking beyond the edges of Hermione's Patronus silenced her.

"We need to get out of here," Hermione hissed, struggling to maintain her concentration in keeping the small army of otters bright and vibrant against the starving Dementors. She could feel the dark creatures chipping at her memory's resolve, overpowering it with their strength in sheer numbers. She gritted her teeth.

"Can you apparate us out?" she groaned under the pressure. A couple of her otters began to fade; she saw them disappear from the corner of her eye. "Narcissa?"

The Slytherin's eyes snapped to Hermione's. Fear was painfully evident in them, all-consuming and paralysing. Hermione nudged her, acutely aware that another of her otters had succumbed to the Dementors.

"Narcissa!" she cried. There was no way to apparate them while maintaining her Patronus—not with the absurd number of the foul creatures.

Hermione's panicked hiss snapped Narcissa out of her paralysing stupor. The blonde shook her head forcefully, desperately trying to ignore the revolting, writhing mass of Dementors that continued to close in despite the power of Hermione's Patronus.

"Apparate. Yes. Yes!" She hissed, reaching for her wand. She grasped it, and in the blink of an eye there was the familiar tug and crack of apparition.

To Hermione's horror, they remained where they were.

"It won't work!" Narcissa cried, and the hopelessness of the statement crumbled Hermione's resolve even further; her Patronus waned dangerously, and their cocoon of warmth and safety grew smaller by the second.

At any other time, Hermione's brain would have liked to stop and analyse why Apparation seemed to no longer be an option. She did not doubt Narcissa's ability.

Her Gryffindor brain, however, was in overdrive. There had to be a way out, any way out. She looked at Narcissa in complete terror, unable to think of a way to convey that she was out of ideas. This was how Hermione Granger and Narcissa Black would go.

To her surprise, all the fear she had seen before evaporated from Narcissa's bright blue eyes. A resolute, furious determination took its place. Beads of sweat had formed upon Narcissa's brow, and Hermione could tell the woman was gritting her teeth by the hard set of her jaw.

"Hold tight onto me!" Narcissa hissed through her teeth Hermione did not need to be told twice—her arms tightened around Narcissa like a vice as her Patronus grew weaker still. There were now only two otters shielding them from the soul-sucking beasts.

Hermione felt Narcissa's hand wind itself between them; the blonde reached deep within her robes. Her hand re-emerged clasping the silver locket she always wore around her neck in a white-knuckled grip.

Narcissa struggled to loop the locket's chain around the both of them; once it was done, her eyes snapped back to Hermione's in a gaze that said please trust me.

Hermione could only gulp in fear; the last of her otters evaporated and the mass of Dementors shot towards them in a frenzy. Narcissa held her tight, screaming an unknown spell into the night.

"Remettrium!"

Hermione felt the familiar pull of a portkey, spinning the two into nothingness.