I KISSED YOU THEN / EP. 2 of 2 / CH. XVIII
.
it must have been no less delicate than a butterfly
touching my lips with his florid wings
softly and barely—almost as if i was only imagining it
even then it felt like a faded memory,
but it was as real as a heartache
i felt during those summer days
and dear,
so many years have passed since then,
but anytime i think back to our moment
i like to remember it was the first time
i understood the pain of starving lips
.
Hermione would swear she fell asleep the second her eyes landed on the stack of pillows resting on her bed. She had no after-memory, therefore no job of getting herself changed and put under the blankets. It was most certainly Blair who had done all that for her and the poor girl couldn't feel worse once she woke up and put one and one together—she was so embarrassed she refused to acknowledge even a tiny piece of her, wishing she would have stayed at least a bit conscious to savour the feeling of Blair's hands on her skin…
'Oh Merlin!'
She sat up, hesitantly pulling at her nightgown—the nude underwear was still on.
'What did you expect, pathetic girl?'
Maybe not remembering was for the best. The level of hormones in her body went wild even at the concept and if she were to go through the whole experience half-awake, half-naked, on top of it drunk, she might have not handled the situation in the quiet, most mature of ways.
The girl imagined herself confessing everything to Blair: how she wanted to sit next to her on warm sand and talk about Chekhov; eat blueberry pancakes in the middle of the night and subsequently choke on a piece, thanks to her overly dramatic singing; how she wished to see her acting up on stage and be that special one Blair would anxiously look for in the ocean of people.
She'd say how she wanted to be there any time she'd break apart to comfort her; to hold her hand; to—no, no, no! She was not going down that road ever again! Yesterday was the first and the last time she allowed herself the luxury of fantasising about such a thing—and only because she was so out of control!
'How on Earth could I ever look into Blair's eyes after thinking of kissing her like that?!'
Sighing, the girl slowly put the covers aside. Would it be really that rude of her if she just stayed in this room with an excuse of being sick? The dire aftermath of the red wine was more than real, though it was nothing a simple potion wouldn't cure. Hermione was positive her mom had thought of everything while packing for Greece and surely brought at least a few bottles of Sobrius Sursum with her.
Yawning, she was just about to stand up and look for a sobering potion when a soft knocking sound interrupted her musings, making her stomach flip in a way that had her doing a lot to keep its contents where they belonged.
'Blimey!'
It must have been Blair.
She was in no state to face the woman right now—still hadn't had the time to reflect on the last night properly, hadn't prepared any answers—hadn't prepared for questions either! Should she pretend she was still asleep? Or—
'Hermione Granger, you little coward! You were brave enough to drink, now you'll face the consequences, however fatal!'
Sooner or later she'd have to see her and she might as well do it now. Postponing things just because of feeling uncomfortable was Draco's way of dealing with issues, not hers.
Screwing up her courage, Hermione took a deep, controlled breath.
"Yes," she called in a raspy voice, clutching at her blanket. She'd swear her heart was trying to leave an outline on her skin by racing so frantically but there was just no backing down.
"It's time to eat, asteri mou!" The maid, Maaria, opened the door and peered inside, making the young witch sigh with tremendous relief. The woman smiled, stepping further into the room and carrying a full tray in her plump hands.
Hermione stood up, but the world swirled and she sank back to her bed. "I'm sorry, I haven't realised it's already breakfast time," she said, casually crossing her legs as if falling backwards was a planned move.
"No, dear, it's almost one p.m." Maaria made her way to the bed and placed the platter on the white sheets. "Blair told me to check on you and bring you some water."
Hermione's eyes went wide. "One p.m.?! Merlin! I need to—"
"Relax! You don't need to do anything. Here, have this!" She forced a bowl of warm soup into her hands. "I've made you delicious chicken broth. You'll feel much better!" The girl didn't miss the amused undertone and lowered her head.
'Great! Now everyone knows I am a wasted mess.'
"Oh, come now," Maaria tsked upon noticing her discomfort, "you're young! Getting a little overboard is nothing to be ashamed of," she chuckled, sitting down next to her. "Everyone went through that—God knows I wasn't any different in my days."
"Yes, but," Hermione squeaked, feeling even more upset despite Maaria's well-meant solace, "I'd never done anything like this before! I've surely made a fool of myself! Blair must be very upset..."
Hell, she had every right to be: the woman had had to carry her home and then look after her as if she were just a baby and not at all a well-mannered young woman.
The grinning maid shook her head. "On the contrary, she said you were just yummy!" The room got suddenly so very hot. "Should I go and tell her you're up?"
"No," Hermione blurted, quickly placing the untouched bowl of soup back on the tray. "No, eh, I mean, thank you, Maaria, but I'll probably take a shower first and then—then I'll go see her."
"All right, but eat the soup while it's still hot, it will do you good! At least a spoonful while I'm still here!"
Fresh from the shower but not at all washed of her guilt, Hermione reluctantly made her way to the patio, finding Blair lying on a lounger chair in one of her fine dresses, reading Human, All Too Human by Nietzsche. Gulping, she tried her very best to keep her jaw from dropping—the woman had never looked more gorgeous than right in that moment.
She, on the other hand, looked like a naked hell. Her mane of curls was twice its usual size, completely untamable, and her eyes so puffy that not even a cold shower could be of any help.
If only she'd thought of braiding her hair to look a bit more presentable. Maybe that way she'd feel one step ahead of the deviant she had become last night.
'Yeah, that would definitely help. Next time you do something stupid, just dress nicely and everything will be forgiven—and while you're on it, do blame your inability to take care of yourself on something as equally absurd.'
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut under the weight of the irony.
She knew very well that trying to put a patch on her loose behaviour would be unbelievably unprincipled. She needed to take full responsibility for her actions and be prepared for the sour fruit of her wrongdoing. It wouldn't be easy but it was the right thing to do, so she took a brave step forward, silently swearing to herself this was the last time she had to apologise for being an unmitigated nuisance.
Clearing her throat, she opened her mouth, ready to recite the eminently prepared speech, but was spared the trouble when Blair shifted her attention from the book to her nervous form. "So how's your endolymph doing today?" she smirked, taking off her sunglasses.
Hermione frowned, her hammering heart skipping a beat. "I'm sorry?"
"Well, you kept talking about endolymph and semicircular canals." Blair dropped her long legs from the chair, sitting down. "How the alcohol in your blood confuses them and makes your head spin." She closed the book and placed it down next to her.
"Oh no... Blair, listen!" Hermione buried her face in her palms. "I'd like to apologise for yesterday." Her hands slid down, fidgeting nervously. "I am so so embarrassed about everything I—!"
"Come on!" Blair rolled her eyes, smiling. "You have nothing to apologise for! You were just having fun—I know I was!"
"But," the girl objected, firm to get everything off her chest, "I don't remember how I got in bed! Merlin, I was so sloshed and—and it's just not right! You had to change—" Her cheeks went hot. "Oh, I can't even look at you!"
"Hey, hey, hey!" Blair stood up and walked over to the blubbering mess of the girl, taking her wrist into her hand. She pulled her towards the nearest chair and softly pressed on her shoulder to get her seated. "Darling, it's fine!" She let go of her and grabbed a chair for herself. "If I had a quarter for every time I got drunk like that, I'd be a millionaire—well, actually—" She looked around the luxurious place.
The girl put on a very hesitant smile. She loved her sense of humour and she loved the tingling sensation travelling over the skin she'd touched.
"Don't worry about it, okay? There are far worse things in life ahead of you." Blair nodded seriously, brushing Hermione's hair out of her face. "Like marriage."
Openly giggling now, the young witch couldn't help herself. The sweet gesture brought so much warmth into her abdomen it was as if she'd just swallowed the entire sun and suddenly, she wanted nothing else but to curl her arms around the woman. She wanted it so much it hurt, yet her body didn't move an inch. She felt like she had lost the privilege to touch her the moment she'd realised what a corrupted mind she had. It would be like taking advantage of her—just as if she'd violate her in some way. Blair had no idea what was going through her head and if she did, she'd most certainly hate her and never wish to see her ever again.
Hermione's heart broke at the thought.
She decided right there that Blair must never know. She needed to tone down her sympathies, no matter the bloody cost. It'd be unbelievably stupid to lose a friend over such an anomaly as her sick feelings. After all, letting go couldn't be that hard.
People are forced to forget about the loved ones all the time, she tried to convince herself, it takes a while but in the end, they always manage to cope, one way or another.
Hermione'd always believed everything was possible with a good amount of will and she was determined to prove the theory once again. All she had to do was shift her thoughts, limit the amount of time they spent together, but most of all avoid any form of physical contact.
Fortunately, Blair'd never been a touchy-feely kind of woman. It was more of her mother's thing, spooning the very soul out of her whenever she felt like it. She'd always said it was a compensation for all the months she couldn't be there for her.
Her sweet, sweet mom.
Hermione didn't even dare to imagine what she would say if she knew about her malady. The woman certainly wasn't any bluenose, yet the idea of her daughter panting after her best friend might seem slightly alarming to her.
Goodness, if only she could get this overwhelming feeling by instinct right now. She'd get the first portkey and take Hermione away from her suffering in a matter of seconds. What a rotten luck though: Jean sent an owl the very next day, explaining she'd be unable to come for the girl until the following week at the earliest, for the circumstances at work had only gotten worse.
"What has that plumed creature brought you besides histoplasmosis?" Blair asked, leaning over and flooding the girl with her signature gardenia scent.
Merlin help her not to move her head those few tempting inches—the woman knew what histoplasmosis was and Hermione would be lying if she said she hadn't realised she was falling, hard and heavy, right at that moment.
Since the day of her lucidity, her stay had swiftly become nothing but a struggle full of suppressed feelings and impels. She tried to fight it with iron effort, avoiding as many promised trips to the city as she could, shutting herself in her room in early evenings with an excuse of being tired from all the walking she'd done just to avoid Blair. But despite all the strict following of her rules, the need for the woman's presence had become painfully unbearable.
Hermione had already given up the hope she'd be able to fall asleep without the disturbance of a burning abdominal ache. She was doing all the breathing exercises she could think of, but relief was only ephemeral. Desperate, she even tried Adflictio, a painkiller paste her mom had left for her together with a bunch of potions, but she would be a fool to actually believe it would work. How could it, if the pain's source wasn't located in any of her organs.
It was the grief itself, making her grab onto her stomach at twelve p.m., pointing out very clearly she would have to do something eventually, but as stubborn as the girl was, she would even refuse to cry about her breaking heart, for she thought it would be nothing but vain self-pity.
She'd often lie awake until dawn, wondering whether she was a bad person for feeling this deformed sort of emotions, but the clear answer could never make it for a plethora of valid arguments from both points of view.
If only she could go back in time to stop herself from going to Malfoy Manor and meeting Bellatrix. She tried so hard to blame her for being the trigger but deep down she knew that however vile the witch was, the fault wasn't hers.
Maybe a little… for being so bloody alluring.
'Very well, Hermione, as if you haven't had too much trouble sleeping already.'
The girl pushed the thoughts of both women out, focusing on the third, the most important one. Her mom. Only two more days of this misery of speculations and she'd come for her.
Hermione knew she should be happy—ecstatic—but she wasn't. For some reason, it had brought even more sadness upon her and she was forced to leave the house in the middle of the night and go running along the empty beach to shake the sore feelings out; exercising was the only thing to help her weeping soul to take at least a little break from the struggle.
Sweaty and out of breath, she was making her way back half an hour later, ready to take another cold shower and maybe try to get some sleep again, but Blair crossed her plans and despite Hermione's promise to herself to spend no more alone time with the woman after eight p.m., she didn't have the strength to object anymore.
She sat down on the sofa in the vast living room while Blair stayed standing by the partition window, unusually serious. There was something cold about her voice when she asked her to stay to talk. Something the girl neither liked nor could place. She didn't want her to be mad or worse, to know, but that would be beyond impossible, wouldn't it? She'd never breathed a word about it to anyone, so what exactly was this about?
A small wrinkle formed in between her brows when considering the possibilities. She didn't have any other choice but to play stupid for the sake of her own good—and damn did she!
"What happened?" she asked, tilting her head, sounding so beautifully clueless she had to mentally congratulate herself.
"I'll tell you what happened." Blair's tone had gone a few degrees colder and the girl could practically feel a fine amount of icicles growing inside her lungs. "You're avoiding me and I'd like to know why," she finished, her voice suddenly mellow, making the winter inside the girl's body disappear in a second.
'Oh, so this is the deal!'
"I am not avoiding you, Blair, what are you saying?" Hermione gave out a weak, surprised chuckle, pretending to scrub non-existent dirt off of her shorts, following the rule number one—'Just don't look at her and you'll be fine.'
"This is the first time I am talking to you in five—sorry," the woman paused and Hermione caught a glimpse of her silver watch lifting up, "six days. What's going on?"
"I had to study."
"Really?" She heard the clicking of the heels and the sofa she was sitting on sank a little. Blair was now beside her and Hermione had a strong urge to run.
"Uhm." She nodded instead, folding her arms across her chest. It wasn't a complete lie; she had studied her feelings, that counted, right?
"Look," she went on, inconspicuously presenting her exit speech, "I really need to take a shower, don't even come near me." She let out a forced laugh, moving further from the woman. "I'm soaking wet."
'Stop-talking-immediately!'
The young witch turned her head aside, closing her eyes, grimacing at her own words and their double meaning. Her chin brushed against her shoulder to mask the movement.
"But hey, we can talk later." She leaned forward and stood up, rather satisfied with the way she had closed the debate. She barely took a step though when Blair's mild hand seized her forearm and she suddenly wasn't able to move an inch. She felt she could stand there for the whole eternity if it meant the woman's hand would also remain placed over her skin—warm, soft, and so assuaging. She'd gone unbelievably skin-hungry over those past few weeks and even a tiny contact was a spark of Eden in her pit of hell.
"Oh please, I can't see a drop of sweat on you."
"I smell."
"Very pleasantly, darling."
'She did not just say that! She-did-not!'
Hermione's lips curled against her own will and her cheeks felt like she had a tiny flame burning in each one of them. Why did Blair have to be so sweet? It would be a lot easier with Bellatrix who acted like a prick most of the time.
She sat back down, reaching for a few cinnamon-coated almonds resting in a crystal bowl on the table in front of them. Despite her not feeling a bit hungry, she put a chunk into her mouth, only to be ahead and have an alibi for her late response if Blair decided to ask her a question requiring her to think hard.
"Tell me something," There we go. The woman didn't disappoint as she started conspiratorially. She uncrossed her legs, moving closer to Hermione, who'd rather she didn't. "Are you seeing someone?"
'What?!'
The girl's eyebrows shot so high she was surprised they didn't fall off her face. "Wh-No!" she blurted, accidentally spitting the tiny bits of the half-chewed nut out. "I'm sorry!" She immediately placed a palm over her mouth, cursing her former idea. She quickly swallowed the remaining pieces and cleared her throat. "I am not seeing anyone! How on Earth did you come to such a conclusion?" Hermione finally looked at her, blinking a few times. Even at one a.m., the woman managed to look like she'd just stepped out of a salon and meanwhile she sat there like the sweaty, almond-spitting mess she was.
A smile spread across Blair's glowing face as their eyes met and Hermione melted like sugar into warm caramel.
"How did I know?" She raised her eyebrow, grinning even wider. "Easy. You look lovesick."
"I do not!"
"Are we in denial?"
"I don't know, are we?" she spat, blushing furiously, making Blair tilt her head in confusion.
'What did you just say, Hermione Blubbermouth Granger? What what what?!'
The words had left her mouth without a logical thought and she had to quickly come up with something to fix this; otherwise, she'd be so damn screwed.
"I mean, don't tell me you're not dating anyone!" Hermione quickly attacked her, turning the tables. She'd wanted to ask her anyway but had never found the right opportunity until now—still not a perfect occasion but as the saying goes, 'Don't look a gift horse in the mouth.'
She dug her nails into the hem of her shirt and went for a, hopefully, curious smile, as if the idea of the woman dating someone made her happy.
Blair frowned her eyes in jest. "Now you're just trying to avoid my question."
"So are you!"
"If I answer yours, will you answer mine?"
Hermione nodded before she could stop herself.
"Fine." Blair's tongue slid across her upper lip as she chuckled. "I—" Hermione held her breath, knowing that whatever would come out of the woman's mouth, she'd have to act insincerely. Either she'd have to be happy Blair'd found love or 'sad' she still hadn't.
"Well?" She encouraged her, casually pulling her legs up, resting her chin against her knees.
"Well," Blair repeated, amused, "I am seeing someone." She widened her eyes for dramatic effect but Hermione had her act already put together.
"Oh!" Her lips curled into an unnecessarily wide smile. "Wow, that's—that's just great!" She kept grinning, unable to tone it even a level down, channelling the huge amount of disappointment into fake happiness. "Do I know him?" she asked, aiming for a jubilant tone.
"Oh, you certainly do."
"Who is it?"
"Uh uh, it's your turn now! Who are you seeing?"
"Nobody," Hermione answered truthfully but still earned a playful nudge into her thigh. "I mean it! I'm not seeing anyone, I swear!"
"But you like someone, am I right?" Blair winked and Hermione lowered her head.
"Yes," she sighed after a few seconds of painful silence, "yes, I do. I like someone a lot." Her eyes helplessly landed on the woman.
'You—I like you!' She ached to say but knew better than that. She'd rather confess an undying love for Ronald Weasley than tell the truth and lose the woman's friendship.
"Aww, sweetheart!" Blair parted her lips and pressed her right hand against her chest. She was looking at the girl in the exact same way one looks at a cute bunny snacking on raspberries and Hermione had to blink a few times to stop the first signs of stubborn tears from forming. She let out a shaky breath, practically feeling her heart breaking. She didn't want Blair to be happy about the idea of her liking someone else. She wanted—she needed her to be as equally crushed as she was when hearing about some random man Blair was dating.
"Who is it?" the woman asked in a velvet voice, her entire face shining from generous, selfless happiness, and Hermione had to do a lot not to break down right there as a brand new perspective knocked on her brain.
Was it even possible to be a bigger self-centred ass than she was?! Blair was sitting there, unbelievably happy for her, and what was she doing? She felt disappointed the woman was in love. Why? Just because she didn't want her to be with anybody. How childish of her!
Blair was such a good human being and she deserved to be loved—she really did and as long as she was, it just didn't matter by whom. It shouldn't have...
But it bloody did and the girl couldn't stand how much she cared. She was a horrible, horrible person. If she could, she'd rip her heart out of her chest and rather live an emotionless life than carry the knowledge of her cruel nature.
"So? Will you tell me on your own or do I have to persuade you?" Blair raised her eyebrow, trying to bring the girl back from her reverie. "Because I'll do it, you know I will!"
Hermione blinked, trying to focus, a sudden plan slipping into her head. "No, it's your turn to answer my question!" She shifted towards the woman, lowering her left leg to the ground. "Who is it you're seeing?"
Blair pursed her lips, clearly dissatisfied. She gave the girl a long, serious look and took a deep breath. "All right," she started quietly, closing her eyes, "it's Maaria."
Hermione parted her lips, speechless, not sure whether she'd heard her right—but soon got the answer. The woman opened her eyes and burst out laughing.
"God! You're just terrible!" the young witch cried, grabbing the first pillow she could reach, and smacked Blair's leg with it.
"I couldn't help it, you should have seen yourself." Blair leaned into the sofa, slapping her thigh.
"Ha-ha, very funny! Now the truth!" Hermione folded her arms, demanding the answer—she had to know.
Still laughing, Blair took a few almonds into her palm and threw one at the frustrated girl, who crossed her arms in front of her face, trying to avoid the flying nut. "Hey!"
"Why do you want to know it so much?"
Hermione gulped, unbelievably grateful the lights weren't so bright so the redness on her cheeks wouldn't be visible. "Because," she started, trying to radiate cool tranquillity and not at all the distress spreading through her entire body, "I just do."
'Very mature, Hermione.'
Blair laughed. "Oh, okay, I have no arguments against that—now I really must tell you."
"So?"
"I'm not seeing anyone right now," she announced, nodding slightly.
A spark of hope gleamed through the darkness. "Really," Hermione asked, practically feeling her eyes widening, "why?"
'You just couldn't help it, could you?'
Blair's face flashed with surprise. "Why, maybe because I don't want to," she laughed, throwing more almonds at the girl, "and before you ask me again why," she raised her eyebrow, "let me tell you fourteen years of marriage have taught me enough not to want to step on the same rake twice."
"Doesn't have to be the same," Hermione suggested, occupying herself with the search for the lost almonds all around her, "might be a completely different rake this time."
"But still a rake."
"Can I ask you something?" The girl put a handful of nuts on the table and moved the bowl out of Blair's reach.
"Go ahead."
"Do you still love him?"
Blair parted her lips, completely taken aback.
"What?" she let out a contemptuous chuckle. "I couldn't give fewer damns about Bill!" His name came out with such venom Hermione'd almost believed the statement. Almost. "Why would you even think that?"
"Because," the girl gulped nervously. "You've got a lovesick expression, too."
Blair turned her head away, clearly uncomfortable, and Hermione had a feeling she'd crossed the line. "I'm sorry," she apologised quickly, "I probably shouldn't have brought it up."
"He's a damnass, Hermione," Blair said after a while, "such a damnass that if there ever was a contest for the biggest damnass, he'd be such a damnass he'd be a runner-up."
The girl buried her face into her palms, smirking. God, this woman.
"But—" her voice got all of a sudden sad, "I just can't help it. No matter what I do or where I go... I—" Blair almost whispered, looking into the distance, her hands loosely resting in her lap, trembling.
Hermione clenched her teeth. She wasn't disappointed or jealous anymore, no—she'd suspected something wasn't right for quite a while now. No matter how hard the woman tried for a careless image, in her silent moment when she aimlessly stared at the ocean, Hermione just knew—and she couldn't stand seeing her in such a state because it was even more painful than all the agony she'd been through during those sleepless nights.
She acted without much thinking. Her own shaky hand reached out and coyly touched the warm, olive skin. She was trying her best to ignore her beating heart. This wasn't about her.
A short smile flashed across Blair's face as she opened her palm so Hermione's hand could fit better.
"I don't want you to be sad," Hermione whispered, tightening her grip, pressing her fingers into the back of her hand, "you'll meet someone wonderful, I know you will!" Merlin, she wouldn't even mind if it meant Blair would be happy again—truly happy.
The woman snorted, "I don't think so. Bill was and always will be—"
"No," Hermione objected firmly, "Bill was and always will be a prick! You just need to give someone a chance, you'll see!"
"I simply don't want to get hurt again," Blair admitted, lowering her head, making Hermione sigh in despair.
"You won't, I promise!" She moved closer, completely forgetting about her rules. She needed to comfort her.
"It would be the same scenario all over again," the woman went on, completely ignoring the soothing words, "he'd leave me for someone younger, prettier—"
"Blair, no! Listen!" Hermione's other hand reached to her jaw, brushing against the tips of her hair. "You don't even understand!" She smiled, her fingers softly touching her skin. "You have no idea how magnificent you are. You're smart and funny! Far more beautiful than any other twenty-something! You—" Hermione lowered her sight, afraid that those blue eyes, now gazing directly into hers, would see right through her.
"Darling, you're sweet, but you don't understand men."
"And what if I do?" Her shaky voice broke and her eyes, for the first time absolutely sincere, locked with Blair's and started filling with tears.
Hermione was sure that had it been any other situation, Blair'd definitely laugh and say something ironic, but the woman was far too intelligent not to notice the full meaning behind that statement.
"Hermione...?"
"I—" There wasn't an atom in her body with the strength to fight it anymore. Hastily, she leaned forward but froze the last second mere inches from the woman's face, touching her cheek with the tip of her nose. Her eyes fluttered shut, her breathing became unsteady and her heart—her heart was long since mad with the longing.
It was as if time had stopped; none of them dared to move. Blair was still like a porcelain doll, and only a fragile ghost of breath coming from her parted lips, so warm against her cheek, suggested she was a living being.
Hermione shuddered upon feeling a pair of hands slipping to either side of her face. Her heart was beating so fast she was sure it was trying to break her ribcage.
She let out a shaky moan as the softest touch made it to her forehead and she couldn't help moving her chin forward. Her breath hitched because she was close to the warmness of Blair's breath. So close—
"No, sweety, no..."
Blair pulled away and Hermione's whole body screamed in protest. Her still closed eyes let out the first tear.
The smooth hand slid from her cheek to her shoulder and pulled her forward.
She blindly grabbed onto the slender form, fully moving into the embrace. The woman was so maddeningly soft and warm Hermione doubted she would ever be able to let go. She was pressed against her so tightly as if her entire life depended on it; in that excruciating moment, she would swear it certainly did.
"I'm so sorry." Hermione muffled into her shoulder, her voice cracking with a sob, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." she kept repeating, unbelievably crushed, her tears blending into Blair's top.
"No, stop it!" Blair said firmly. "Nothing happened." She unhooked her arms from her back but Hermione wouldn't let go.
"Hermione," she said soothingly, stroking her long hair. The girl slowly pulled away but still reached for Blair's hand.
Nobody said anything for a while.
"So, Maaria's got quite a rival, I see," the woman let out finally, probably trying to lighten up the mood, but Hermione didn't feel like joking.
"Look—" Blair started but the girl interrupted her.
"I think I love you," she confessed, wiping her tears, "and I am so so sorry," she sobbed, "I tried to fight it, I really did! That's why I was avoiding you, that's why I—" She took a deep breath. "I just can't help it!"
"You sweet English muffin," Blair whispered and Hermione quickly looked up, locking their eyes, "don't you dare to apologise for something so beautiful," she emphasised, squeezing Hermione's hand and making her stomach flip. "Do close that mouth, because I'm not finished," she ordered when she saw Hermione was trying to object. "Are you hurting me in any way with your feelings? No! If anything, I should be the one apologising, because clearly—"
Hermione suppressed another sob. "This is not right!"
"Who said so?"
"Me."
Blair only raised her eyebrow. "Hermione, you are such a smart girl and yet so incredibly foolish. Imagine if it was someone else in your shoes, would you also be so narrow-minded?"
"No."
"See?"
"I don't know what to do, I..."
"Nothing," the woman said simply. "time will do everything instead of you, darling."
Needless to say, the goodbye wasn't the most pleasant thing Hermione'd ever experienced. She cried together with Blair, who'd managed to give her a huge piece of her mind the day after her confession to make sure no self-hatred was left in the girl's heart.
"I'm sorry for hurting you," she whispered into her ear while Jean tried to set up the ministry approved portkey, "but you're a strong girl, you'll get over it, I promise!" She pressed her lips to her cheek, making all the sleeping butterflies inside Hermione's body come to life at once.
'I hope so, but right now you're making it very difficult.'
A few more words fell between them and it was over. All was over.
A/N: Gotta say, thank you so so much for all the beautiful reviews, faves, follows, Tumblr posts even - which totally cracked me up, it means THE WORLD to me!/