Chapter XII
Black Princess
"Tom Riddle recruited followers from his house during his time at Hogwarts," said Dumbledore. "To my knowledge, his most fervent supporters were named Lestrange, Avery, Wilkes, Rosier. These were preeminent names in the pureblood community at the time, and I want you to remember them."
"Lestrange? Like the boys?"
"Yes. Their father was one of Tom's first Death Eaters. They, too, fell under his control. This was the way Lord Voldemort operated. He targeted the young, impressionable students while in school and sunk his claws into them. Once he had one, he had the family."
"He only wanted purebloods? He was a half-blood. Why didn't he go after half-bloods like… like Tracey or… Professor Snape isn't a pureblood, is he? He's a half-blood – Mister Malfoy said so. I don't believe he would prefer Pansy Parkinson to Professor Snape."
"Lord Voldemort found that purebloods were the most inclined to support blood purity – a radical philosophy easily hijacked for the dehumanization of his enemies, hence a tool to create him a passionate and determined army. He did, however, also attempt to recruit students that showed promise, such as Severus, regardless of blood. You yourself said that Tom was interested in your talent."
"That was a sixteen-year-old Tom. He could have – he might have had different motivations when in school."
"Whether he was sixteen or sixty, Lord Voldemort was very much a part of him. I believe that he values use more than blood. It just so happened that blood was of incredible use to him."
The dark cloud swirled around Hermione until she landed softly on a plush armchair. It had green upholstery and silvery serpent stitching. A central fire roared in the circular room, and other couches and chairs were arranged around it. They were in the Slytherin common room. Decades had not changed it much.
"Over here, Hermione," Dumbledore said, walking towards a group of students camped out on a nearby arrangement of tables and seats. Hermione followed him. There were four boys, two on a couch, two in chairs, sitting around a table filled with books and parchment. A girl sat in her own armchair, curled up with her books. Hermione recognized her thick, brown hair and her sharp face. "Andromeda in her sixth year," Dumbledore provided. "And you remember Rodolphus Lestrange. Seventh year."
Hermione saw the tallest boy in the group sitting on the left of the couch, staring intently down at the pages of his book. He had grown in the years since Hermione had last seen him. His face was more defined, his shoulders wider.
"Can you tell me who the other three are?"
She didn't recognize any of them, but chanced a guess. "Avery, Wilkes and Rosier?"
Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "Precisely. Two of them will be dead in ten years."
Hermione shrieked, jumping in place as something passed through her. She stared into a mass of black curls and the back of a girl's uniform. A boy passed through Dumbledore in much the same way, but he didn't react at all.
"Can't we get Uncle Arcturus to have Dumbledore sack that bloody ghost?" said the girl, perching herself on the arm of Andromeda's chair. Andromeda glared up at her and tugged a book out from under her.
"I won't sit through another one of his monologues," the boy said, dropping his bag under the table and making for the couch.
Rodolphus closed his book with a snap and placed it heavily on the table but did not let go of it. His arm blocked the boy's path to a seat. The boy engaged in a stare down with the elder Lestrange which he called quits on after a moment. When he turned, Hermione saw that he was Rabastan Lestrange.
"Bellatrix," Rodolphus said, turning his attention to the girl. "That looks uncomfortable. Why don't you sit next to me?" Bellatrix stayed in her spot. "Please? I only want to know how your day has been," he said. It didn't sound like anything more than pretense, but Bellatrix responded by moving slowly to the couch. Rodolphus guided her down next to him, arm around her waist.
"My day has been fine," she said with a bored look on her face.
"Excellent," said Rodolphus. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. Hermione saw her restrict her reaction to a slight lean away from him.
"It is January in Bellatrix's fourth year," Dumbledore said.
Rabastan slid over to Bellatrix's former place on Andromeda's chair, but the older Black girl stirred and made an indignant noise, driving Lestrange off with a withering stare.
"Why does Malfoy never sit with us?" Rabastan said, covering his lack of seat by turning to look over his shoulder.
Hermione followed his gaze and saw a little blonde boy. "Lucius?" she asked, and Dumbledore nodded.
"Because he's not the right kind of people," Andromeda replied in an annoyed voice.
"He's not one of them," he said with a quizzical look.
"He's not one of us, either," Rodolphus murmured. He was leaning on the arm of the couch but his eyes still rested on Bellatrix. Her dark eyes gave away nothing but boredom, but she was clutching her bag tightly to her chest.
"Our fathers don't know his father," said one of the other boys.
Another one looked up. "More importantly, his father doesn't know –"
"What's best for him," Andromeda said quickly, glaring at the boys. "And you don't either if you talk so loudly."
"Andromeda, we're among friends," Rodolphus said softly. "We can speak our minds."
"Not around my sister, you can't."
"Talk about what around me?" Bellatrix piped up.
"Nothing," said Andromeda.
"Our future," said Rodolphus. He moved his arm off Bellatrix's waist so he could brush her hair away from her face. "What do you intend to do after Hogwarts?"
Bellatrix shook her head so her hair fell back into place. "Andromeda is studying to go into healing."
"I know. I was asking about you, Bella."
She turned to look him in the eye for the first time. "Don't call me Bella. Only my sisters can call me that."
If Rodolphus was offended by that, he didn't show it. "Rab tells me you're handy in a duel. Says you can hex anyone in your year."
"He knows because I've hexed him a new tail on several occasions," Bellatrix sneered.
Rodolphus smiled slightly, eyes flicking to his brother. "He didn't tell me that."
"Ask him if he liked rabbit or lion better."
"Well, Rab? Answer my Bellatrix."
Rabastan went red. "My back was turned. I wasn't ready."
"A pity. She might have transformed your front into something more substantial if you were facing her," he leered at his brother before turning back to Bellatrix. "That's very impressive."
Bellatrix nodded. "I'm very impressive."
Rodolphus only smiled and stared at her more.
Hermione could see Andromeda glancing their way every few moments, looking concerned.
"Have you tried spells above your year?" Rodolphus asked.
"Many," Bellatrix said. "They're easy to learn if you have the right books."
"I have a lot of books," he said. "Seventh year books – and some of my father's personal collection."
"Your father's? Like… your family's?" Bellatrix asked, perking up.
He nodded. "Going back generations. Spells original and unique to the Lestrange family. Spells only for the Lestrange family. You've read from the Black books, right?"
Bellatrix looked pained. "Uncle Arcturus keeps them locked away out in the country house."
Rodolphus shook his head. "Father doesn't think he should hoard the family's knowledge. He wants every Lestrange to learn from our books."
Bellatrix shifted in her seat and licked her lips. "Every Lestrange?"
"Don't you have classes to study for?" Andromeda called. "You should really do your homework, Bella."
Rodolphus leaned forward to stack up his parchments and textbooks. "I'm going back to my room. I need to write Father a letter." He stood and took a step before turning back. "If you're interested in any of the books…"
"Bella," Andromeda said, sitting up, "Father would want you to be ready for your classes. If you need help on an essay –"
Rodolpuhs glanced down at Andromeda. "I've never gotten less than an Exceeds on any essay. Are you coming, Bella?" He held out his hand.
Bellatrix looked between him and her sister. Andromeda shook her head. Bellatrix stood slowly and took his hand.
"Rodolphus," Andromeda stood and hissed. "This is not appropriate."
"Andie," Bellatrix said clearly, "I can take care of myself."
"I'd never let any harm befall my bride-to-be," Rodolphus gave Andromeda a wicked smile. "I'll protect your sister as I expect you would protect my brother."
Rabastan exclaimed. "I don't need a girl to protect me."
"You can't protect yourself from a girl," Rodolphus sneered. He strode off down towards the dormitories with Bellatrix in tow. Andromeda stared at their backs, hand nervously twitching over her wand.
"Hey, Andromeda!" said someone. A little blonde girl came up to her. "I told my friends you could transfigure an owl into an ostrich – can you –"
"Go away, Narcissa!" shouted Andromeda, turning on her sister with a snarl. Narcissa recoiled and the memory exploded into black dust.
The Slytherin common room reformed, but now they were near the outer edge. The common room was much less populated, and the fire crackled low. It was probably late at night. Hermione was standing over a little shabby boy laying across couch and reading a herbology book and grimacing. Not recognizing him, she looked around. There were others sprinkled around the room, mostly reading, some dozing off, but Hermione quickly found her marks.
Narcissa was prominent in the nearly empty room, sitting with impeccable posture next to Bellatrix, who was huddled over a large tome. Narcissa had grown a lot in what Hermione guessed was only a few years. She was now remarkably more recognizable. She had been a rather cute child, but Hermione saw that she had progressed into being a very pretty girl on the cusp of real beauty. Her hair was perfectly set, even at this late hour, her skirt and blouse were crisp and her eyes were bright. The light struck her face just so to make it look like she was glowing. Bellatrix, on the other hand, was chaos. Her hair was a mess, uniform crinkled, eyes dark and drooping, and her nose was just a bit too big. All in all, even with Bellatrix having three years on Narcissa, they didn't compare.
Dumbledore picked up on her thoughts and explained. "N.E.W.T.s. Bellatrix is a seventh year now and her exams are weeks away. You'll understand when you take them. Narcissa is now in fourth year."
Hermione moved closer to the sisters.
"Bella?" Narcissa said softly. "I know you and Andie don't really like him but…"
"He's a ponce, Narcissa," she breathed, eyes not leaving the pages.
"Bella!" the blonde said, aghast. "Don't say that! Lucius is perfectly respectable."
"Maybe his father is, but the boy's an arrogant prick."
"You're just saying that because he doesn't worship the ground you walk on," Narcissa chided her.
"That is a problem."
"Once you get to know him, I'm sure you'll love him as much as I do."
Bellatrix glanced up from her book. "You can wait, Cissy. You don't have to choose him now. You've still got three years left at Hogwarts. And more after that."
"I know," said Narcissa.
"Why do you want to do this so early?"
"It's just my birthday party…"
"You're telling father you want him."
"I'm telling father I like him."
"And father will take it as you wanting him."
Narcissa shrugged. "He might."
"And you know what he'll do then."
"I know."
Bellatrix grumbled and shut her book, placing it on the table and giving Narcissa her whole attention. "Talk to me."
Narcissa looked down. "About what? I already said what I wanted to say."
"Tell me why now and why not when you graduate?"
"Because I like him now."
"And in three years?"
"I'll still like him."
"Okay, will he still like you?"
"Yes," she said confidently.
"Then it can still wait until then. Why the rush? If you don't think he will change his mind in three years, you don't have to lock him down."
"Because I want to do it this summer."
"Why?"
Narcissa shifted in her seat. "You and Andie are getting married soon…"
Bellatrix reached out and seized her hand, frowning. "You don't have to. Don't think you have to."
"I want to," said Narcissa. "I do."
"Andie and I are obligated to when our parents say so. You can wait. Don't rush into marriage because you want to be like us."
"Lucius is a good person. He loves me. I love him."
Hermione watched Bellatrix's face soften as she sighed. "Cissy, Andie and I just want you to be happy. We're doing this so you can be happy. I want you to be absolutely sure you want this."
Narcissa squeezed her sister's hand. "I know I want him, Bella."
"If he makes you happy, I'm happy for you."
"You're not going to tell dad that he's an arrogant prick and a ponce?" Narcissa giggled.
Bellatrix shook her head. "He's already won over the only person who matters. Even if you elope with him, Uncle Arcturus would never disown you for marrying a pureblood, even without Father's consent. He might even give you all of Father's inheritance."
Narcissa leaned in and hugged her sister. "Don't say that. Uncle Arcturus likes all of us."
"Some more than others." Bellatrix said, wrapping her arms around her. As the embrace continued, Bellatrix began rubbing Narcissa's back. "You're sure he's for real? I don't want him using you –"
"I'm sure. I'm the youngest daughter of a second grandson of a third son. I'm not a piggybank for him – and he has his own fortune."
"You're a Black," Bellatrix said flatly. "You're worth more than his entire family tree."
"Only if Uncle Acrturus, Uncle Orion and Aunt Walburga, Aunt Cassie, Grandfather, Father, Sirius, Reggie, Andie and you all decide to forgo your inheritance and give it to me."
"He might just try to make that happen," murmured Bellatrix. "And I wasn't talking about money."
"He only wants me for me."
"He doesn't only want something. He wants everything."
"Maybe that's why I like him."
"If he hurts you –"
"Bella, he won't."
"It's just that I once told Andie that I would kill someone – anyone – who hurt you. And I meant it."
Narcissa hummed into her sister's neck. "I love you, too, Bella."
I-I. ⌡. Γ┐
Hermione had left a lamp on over her desk. Its warm light cast long shadows across the room. Three beds were empty. Hermione had seen Tracey and Millicent out in the common room, and Pansy was probably in some dark corner being fondled by Nott. Daphne's bed had the curtains pulled close but Hermione knew Daphne was there because her shoes were aligned perfectly at the foot of the bed.
Hermione sat on the edge of her bed, slipping her robes and shoes off. She was tired. The Pensieve seemed to sap her energy. It hadn't felt that long in the memories, but Hermione was tired. She sighed and laid back on her bed.
She wondered if any of the Black sisters had lived in this room. Had Bellatrix hid here from Rodolphus? Had Narcissa dreamed of Lucius on this bed? What would Andromeda have thought of Hermione if they had been roommates? Would she care if Hermione was Muggle-born?
What would Hermione think of them? Privileged, rich pureblood girls who felt entitled to the best of the best? Hermione lived with some of those. But they had to worry about their family – their future family. Hermione and Tracey weren't being set up with their classmates. They weren't being pressured into marriage at age eleven. Hermione didn't have a seventh year boy hanging over her shoulder acting like she was his little puppy to play with at any time. Her parents encouraged her to get top marks, not a top husband.
Hermione looked over at Daphne's bed. What was she doing in there? Was she thinking about these things? How unfair it was that she was being forced into marriage while Hermione was free to do as she pleased? And how she feels that Hermione had made everything out to be Daphne's fault? It was Daphne's life that was being cut up and sold off.
Hermione sat up tentatively, then slid off her bed and crossed over to Daphne's bed. She knocked lightly on the post. "Daphne?" she said. "I wanted to talk…" Hermione lifted back the curtain. The lamp light revealed the shape of Daphne's turned back. She was wearing a sleeveless shirt that exposed her narrow shoulders and her thin black hair was splayed out on her pillow. She didn't turn towards Hermione. She was asleep. "Right…" sighed Hermione. Daphne held to a conservative sleep schedule. She wasn't up till dawn like Tracey, or restless like Millicent.
Hermione returned to her bed and considered taking a shower or going right to bed, too. A shower sounded nice, but that would delay sleep for half an hour at least.
"Hermione?" Daphne called softly, peeking out around her curtain. "Did you say something?"
"Oh, no, I - " Hermione stood quickly for some reason. Startled, maybe, that Daphne had woken. Not exactly ready - not really knowing what to say now. "I should have realized you were asleep. I didn't mean to wake you."
"That's okay," she rubbed her eyes. "I'm up now."
"Yeah, sorry…"
Daphne sat up and pulled her curtain back more. "What is it?"
"I just…" Hermione focused on watching her finger run over the grain of the wood desktop, not looking up. "I wanted to say something…"
"You can sit, if you want," said Daphne, patting the side of her bed and moving to make room.
"Oh, thanks," Hermione mumbled, reluctantly perching half on the bed. She noticed that Daphne was clutching her sheets to her chest, as if hiding herself from Hermione. Hermione had already seen what there was to hide, though, and she hated herself for thinking of that. "I wanted to tell you… I'm sorry I was so mean. I don't know why… I shouldn't have blamed you. You're being screwed over just as much as I am. Even more."
"You weren't that bad," she said, looking down at her lap. "I understand why you were angry. And if you are still angry."
"I'm not," Hermione said quickly. "It just took me a bit to comprehend. Things aren't going so well and… I don't know. I just get angry sometimes and I know I should control myself but I just… slip."
"That's okay."
"It's not, really. I – I shouldn't act like a child. I keep telling myself that, but I keep doing it anyway."
Daphne nodded. "You've been through a lot, Hermione. I don't know if I could stay as sane as you have."
"You're going through your own thing – and I can't really understand what that is like," Hermione pulled her feet up to rest on the wooden bed frame. "I mean… I'm trying to… it's just so… I don't have a sister. I don't even know what that's like – and that's the smallest thing. It's always been just myself and my dad and my mother, but mostly just myself."
"You're lucky," Daphne smiled. "Astoria is nothing but trouble."
"But… you're still…" It really didn't make sense to her. If she really didn't want Draco - and Hermione had trouble with that part because, well, he was Draco - why was she doing it? Compassion wasn't exactly Hermione's best quality. She decided to ask the question that had been sitting at the back of her mind. "So – you don't like boys?"
Daphne glanced up. "They can be quite good at Quidditch."
"No, I mean –"
"No," she said, shaking her head. "I don't like boys."
Hermione took a deep breath. "Since when?"
She shrugged. "I've never liked boys. I don't understand what there is to like."
"I... but then why are you fine with the whole… Draco thing?"
"I'm not. I told you, it's for Astoria."
"Astoria annoys you to no end."
Daphne yawned and slowly fell into a reclining positing. "Yes, she's my sister."
"So why are you willing to live a life you don't want to, just for her?"
"Yes, she's my sister," she said simply.
"What if you were afraid of Draco?" asked Hermione, stretching her legs out on the bed and leaning against the bedpost. "What if... what if you thought he could hurt you?"
"Draco won't hurt me. You know he couldn't do that to me. He's petty and jealous, but he can't actually hurt someone. Not really. Not intentionally."
"But if he could? You'd still be willing to go through with it?"
"She's my sister, Hermione. I have a duty to her and to my family. I'd do anything for Astoria. If you had a little sister, you'd understand."
Hermione rested her head against the post and closed her eyes. "I don't know that I would."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean… I don't know if I'd care for a sister," Hermione sighed. "It would add… too many complications."
Daphne paused for a moment. "Even with everything that's been going on, I think you're happier than you were two years ago." Hermione looked down at her. She was clutching her pillow under her head and watching Hermione.
"What makes you say that?"
"I don't think we'd be having this conversation two years ago."
"No, I don't think we would."
"Do you want a pillow?" Daphne asked, reaching for an extra nestled against the headboard, and handing it to her.
"Thanks…" Hermione said. She laid down, at first afraid of the awkwardness, and then relieved at the comfort of not sitting up.
"I think you would care for a sister."
"Why?"
"Because some complications turn out to be good. Because no matter what happens, no matter how annoying she would be, you'd always have someone you could trust. Someone who would never let you down or turn on you. Someone you could talk to and know they wouldn't betray you."
"That's Astoria?"
"No, that's me," Daphne laughed softly. "I'm the good sister."
Hermione shook her head slowly. She didn't know if Daphne was joking or not. Was it a one way relationship? Hermione liked Astoria fine. She was a nice girl. But she got... a bit much. Having to deal with her constantly... well, it didn't seem like what Daphne was describing.
"I know that when it comes down to it, Astoria trusts me completely and I trust her completely. There aren't many people like that out there."
"Does Astoria know you don't like boys?"
"She might suspect," Daphne murmured. "She's a bright girl, when she wants to be."
"You haven't told her."
"No, I've never told anyone. Except you."
"You said you trusted her."
"It's not about trust."
"Would she have your back, too?" said Hermione. "Would she consider Nott if you told her?"
Daphne gave her a glum look. "She would insist."
"Are you sure?"
"I am."
"And you would never consider letting her?"
"Never," Daphne shook her head.
"You're a Slytherin. You're telling me that you have zero reservations about sacrificing yourself for her?"
"I'm a Greengrass before I'm a Slytherin – I'm a sister before I'm a Greengrass. There are greater things in life than marrying who you dream about as a kid. There are greater things in life than living up to an impossible image of what house you're sorted into. I'd rather be a Muggle than let my family down. I'd rather be dead than let Astoria get hurt."
That was the last thing she expected out of Daphne's mouth. She was sure that Draco would never get caught considering the possibility of being a Muggle. Hermione herself... well, once she discovered magic, there was no way back. She didn't know what would be more important that being a witch.
But the rest... Hermione could respect that. Being labeled Slytherin hadn't worked out too well for her. If, for a day, she could live without that tag, Hermione might not say no. And marrying - Hermione had never dreamed about that. Her dreams were about herself when she did dream. Not in a narcissistic way, just... weird dreams of herself in weird situations. She never pined for any celebrity, any footballer. It never crossed her mind. Even when she was with Draco - she was much too young to think realistically about that. And Hermione didn't know much about thinking unrealistically. Hermione hummed. "Who did you dream about as a kid?"
"Awfully personal tonight, Hermione," Daphne said, hugging her pillow closer.
"I was just thinking – if you don't want to –" Hermione fumbled with her words.
"I always thought Morgan Le Fey would have been an excellent wife," said Daphne, a wistful smile on her face. "She was brilliant and beautiful and I'm not entirely sure she didn't kill Merlin."
"Morgan Le Fey?"
She nodded. "But I quickly refocused my dreams once I got to Hogwarts. No more realistic, but still…"
"Who?"
Daphne's cheeks were tinged pink, half her face hidden behind her pillow now. "That's obvious, isn't it? Why do you think Astoria already knew everything about you last year?"
"Second year?" asked Hermione, shocked. "We never even talked until third year…"
"First."
Hermione gaped. "First year?"
"Astonishing, isn't it?" A shy smile peeked out from behind the pillow. "I was really impressed how you showed Pansy up in front of the entire house."
"I don't remember the entire house being there…" Hermione trailed off. It had been so long ago. Before everything. Hermuddy. It was so insignificant now. So... immature. On both their parts.
Daphne was still smiling at her, and staring with her bright green eyes. "You've only got more impressive."
Hermione fidgeted, not knowing how to respond. She'd been able to successfully ignore the elephant in the room so far – somehow blowing over all the references, implications and outright statements – but now… "What do you want me to say?"
"You don't have to say anything, if you don't want."
"Then I won't."
"Okay."
"I'm sorry I woke you for this," said Hermione, grasping for an exit strategy. How to extricate herself promptly but still retain the... not intimacy, never that, but the... respect? Rapport? The good faith. To retain the good faith achieved during the conversation. She didn't want to lose that.
"I don't mind."
Hermione stared at the ceiling of the bed. It was exactly like her own. The patterns on the wood even looked the same. Were all the beds the same? Perhaps they were mass produced by magic. Did all the houses have the same type of beds? She remembered a similar style in Gryffindor that one minute she spend impersonating Patil in her room. Lavender Brown had been there. She knew Parvati's schedule - she knew her crush, even. What would it have been like if Hermione had been that close with someone in her dorm room?
"Daphne?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you and Tracey talk like this?"
"Yeah."
"I mean… like this?'
Daphne paused. "I don't like Tracey the same way, if that's what you mean."
Hermione nodded, closing her eyes. That wasn't exactly her meaning. But was it wrong for her to enjoy it? Daphne preferred Hermione to her best friend. Even though Hermione was a Muggle-born, a pureblood Daphne wanted her. Hermione was doing something right, at least. Then again, Daphne was a girl. It wasn't exactly natural, in the strictest sense of the word. Maybe she was doing something wrong. But there was very little Hermione could say was wrong with Daphne, other than... and that hadn't felt wrong, really. Odd, for sure... not wrong, really.
Hermione shook her head. She was getting caught up on the little things.
She glanced over and caught Daphne staring at her. "Sorry," Daphne laughed nervously, rolling her eyes. "I've just never been this close to you sober. I know it's silly, but..."
"Do you watch me sleep?" Hermione asked hesitantly.
"No!" gasped Daphne. "No, I wouldn't do that. That's weird."
"And when I get dressed… when I'm in the shower…"
"I'm not a peeper, Hermione," Daphne said, looking hurt. "I'd never trespass on your privacy on purpose. Not even… I'm not that infatuated with you…" Her cheeks were burning and she looked away.
"I'd understand if you… I mean – it would be natural, but I'd… rather you didn't."
"I don't," Daphne said. "I don't. We're roommates, so of course I see… I don't do it on purpose because…" Daphne let out a little whimper. "Please don't think I'm a creep."
"I don't. I just wanted to make sure."
"Good. Because I don't want you to think that."
"I'm glad we could talk like this. Clear things up."
"Me too."
"Good." Hermione nodded and returned to staring at the ceiling. Things weren't cleared up. Not really. Hermione still didn't know what was going on or what she should do. But it was nice to pretend.
They lay in silence for several minutes. It was peaceful until Hermione remembered what had happened the last time she had been on this bed with this girl and she started wondering why she was there and why she hadn't returned to her own bed yet. Hermione glanced over at Daphne, checking if she had fallen back asleep yet. No. Her green eyes flashed open at Hermione, then closed. Hermione couldn't tell if they were done talking.
"It's getting late," Hermione tried to say casually.
"Yeah…." Daphne nodded, eyes suddenly wide and attentive again, and she slowly propped herself up on her elbow.
"So…" Hermione tapped her fingers together, thinking of what words to use.
Daphne quickly leaned across the gap between them and pressed her lips around Hermione's.
Hermione pushed away immediately with a gasp of shock.
"I'm sorry," Daphne jumped back. "I'm sorry - I got that wrong." Daphne blushed a bright red and clutched her sheet with white knuckles. "I got that so wrong, didn't I?"
Hermione nodded without saying a word.
"I'm so sorry…" Daphne pushed her face into her hands. "I won't… I won't try anything else. I thought you – we were talking and… everything was out in the open and… I thought, maybe… You can stay – I won't try anything else, I promise."
Daphne laid back down, scooting to the other side of the bed and pulling her sheet up to her chin. She looked so embarrassed. Like she wanted to die.
Hermione let her legs trail off the bed, slowly slipping onto her feet.
She switched the lamp off and plunged the room into darkness. Hermione could barely make out outline of her bed. She grabbed for her bed curtain but didn't climb in. Hermione looked back at Daphne's bed. What was so objectionable about her? She was intelligent, pretty, she liked Hermione and liked kissing Hermione and was considerate of Hermione's feelings. Was the only stumbling block that she was a girl? Hermione had never thought of girls like that.
But she hadn't thought of boys like that until Draco, either. Hermione just didn't usually think like that. Hadn't Hermione had reservations about Draco, in the beginning? It was a new experience and she wasn't exactly sure what to make of it, only allowing things to progress because she trusted Draco wouldn't hurt her.
Daphne wouldn't hurt her. Hermione didn't believe Daphne could hurt her, especially in any physical or magical way. She had never shown that she would want to hurt Hermione anyway. She trusted Daphne, probably, now more than before. And they had already... And there wasn't anything so objectionable about her, other than that it was a her and not a him and even then Hermione wasn't exactly certain what was so fine with hims that wasn't fine with hers and...
So what did it all mean? Hermione didn't have the time or energy to sift through everything to find the right answer. She was tired and wanted to go to bed. Did it really matter which bed she slept in? Wasn't it just easier to ignore her doubts and just… go? Just once, just to test it out?
Hermione let a long breath out, then closed her curtains. She walked back over to Daphne's bed and climbed in.
"Hermione?" Daphne asked, surprised.
"I want to sleep, okay?" Hermione said.
"Okay."
"I don't want to… you know," Hermione lifted up the sheets and slid in, pulling a pillow under her head.
"Okay," said Daphne, her voice betraying giddiness through the dark.
They laid there for several tense moments. Hermione couldn't tell how close they were. Any movement could have unfortunate consequences. What if -
"Hermione?" Daphne whispered.
"What?"
"I liked it last time – when we fell asleep… that is, if you're okay with it…"
Hermione reached out into the darkness. She felt for Daphne's hip, and then moved her hand around Daphne's back and pulled her closer. Daphne hummed and wrapped her arms around Hermione, pushing her head into Hermione's neck and shoulder.
Hermione wasn't going to tell her, but she was glad Daphne said something. She enjoyed the warmth and touch of someone else, and now she wouldn't have to spend the night worrying about keeping to her half of the bed. She felt Daphne slip her smooth, bare leg between Hermione's, first her ankle, then calf and knee, until Daphne pressed her thigh between Hermione's. "I just want to sleep," Hermione warned.
"Okay," Daphne murmured, her leg rubbing in rhythm until it found a place to stop. Her hair smelled of lavender shampoo. "I like sleeping."
