A/N Wow these chapters keep getting longer... Whoops. This is not the chapter I was planning next, but I was feeling the fluff. So have some fluff... for now *attempted evil laugh*
Guest: Not just yet... *wink*
Hermione stepped out of the fireplace and brushed off the soot she had become accustomed to associating with floo travel. The house was pleasantly silent as she made her way across the living room and up the stairs covered in the same slightly worn blue carpet, just as she had done countless times before. This time however, she wanted to etch into her memory the details. She paused on the fourth stair and stepped slightly to the right. The step creaked as she knew it would, and she smiled remembering all the times she had carefully avoided that exact spot to sneak some ice cream from kitchen without alerting her parents.
It had taken a while for her to realise that her parents knew all along. Although she had made an effort to be silent on that particular step the rest of her journey made a fair bit of noise, as much as any other slightly clumsy eight year old trying to be quiet would inadvertently make. Still her parents had stayed quiet about it, with her mother's socked feet curled up on the sofa, leaning into her father's arm around her shoulder. Her parents had always merely smiled at each other and pretended not to notice the eleven o'clock raspberry ripple thief. If they had truly minded, they would have stopped buying her favourite ice cream, or perhaps mentioned the suspicious bowl and teaspoon that she brought down to the kitchen every morning.
Carrying on up the steps and turning into her room, she was hit with a sudden overwhelming sense of home. She had lived in Hogwarts for most of the year, true, but this was the room that had been her refuge. To avoid the world, to relax or to study, or just to hang out with her friends from before she knew she was a witch; this was her Elysium. She had decorated it herself, firstly with quotes carefully copied down from books she was inspired by, a few posters of bands and singers she liked, and one picture she had drawn in her final year at Meadow Hall primary school that she was, even now, still proud of. As she had grown older, she had added pictures of her friends, the alphabets of languages she had tried to learn at one point or another, and still more quotes until eventually she had a collage of the most important things to her completely covering one wall.
Kicking off her shoes she climbed onto her bed and had to stand on tip toes to reach the topmost corner. She started to take down the pieces of paper and scraps of treasure, reading through them all briefly before moving on to the next. She was tempted to keep these, to remind herself of who she was. The only problem was, she wasn't that person any more; these things that were once her roots, would now only keep her grounded so firmly that she could not move on. One picture of her with Harry and Ron in first year caught her eye. It was on their first visit to the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, and each of them had a frothy white butterbeer moustache coating their upper lip. Upon realising this, they had decided to strike their best mission impossible poses (Ron was unsure of the muggle reference, but he went along with it anyway) and snap a picture. They were all stood posing and grinning, with their foamy moustaches starting to drip they looked utterly mischievous. That had been a long time ago, too long Hermione thought wistfully, they would have to catch up at the not-so-famous Scottish pub sometime soon.
In no time at all, each and every piece of her childhood that had adorned the walls was collected up and set on her desk, apart from three pictures which she tucked into her pocket. She whispered a soft Incendio, and sent her childhood up in smoke. Hermione had chosen to go through with packing without her wand, to make it easier to sort what she needed to keep, as well as because she secretly loved discovering things she thought were lost, and the sense of nostalgia that these treasures created.
After over an hour of sorting through various bits and pieces, photo albums, and putting books in boxes - in which Crookshanks had very helpfully been attempting to take a nap in - she was hot and bothered and in need of a break. Sitting on her bed and taking the photo album from the nearest box, she flicked to the back. There was a black transcription in Bella's hand, the script she usually reserved for official things, or when she was too exasperated to translate her usual spidery scrawl to 'those bloody dimwits that can't read' as Bella had huffed last time, throwing her hands in the air dramatically. It was the first love note Bella had ever sent, a few simple words that had sparked… well it had sparked their whole relationship into being more than friends in the end, she mused. Hermione traced her fingers over the script, it was the little things Bellatrix did that made her feel entirely mushy. Pondering this she realised that she had never told her better half any of this. It seemed strange but she had never actually told Bella that, or any of the other things she loved about her; strange how two people could be so intimate without talking about the simplest of things.
Promising herself she would tell Bella, she turned to the front of the photo album and ran her forefinger along the smooth edge of the binding. Feeling the small nick, she tugged at it and opened the small pocket hidden in the binding itself. Inside was a tiny silver locket in the shape of a heart. Hermione had stumbled on the locket when she was headed for lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, a new store front in one of the roads just off Diagon Alley had caught her eye and upon investigating she found and fell in love, with this tiny bit of silver. It had been a plain little thing, but it was simple and elegant, the perfect gift for Bellatrix. Instead of keeping it plain, Hermione had taken the time to do some research into Celtic runes, and after much deliberation, had carved into the front the symbols of joy, love, and strength.
It was missing something, but then it would be the perfect gift for her lover's birthday in two weeks. It was a moment of utter inspiration when Crookshanks chose that moment to catch her eye by flicking his tail out from under her desk. Smiling wickedly she rifled through the box next to her, until she found the item she was looking for. Crookshanks nearly jumped out of his skin when there was a flash of lightening two feet away from him. Luckily for Hermione (not so much for Crookshanks) the camera caught his comically startled reaction, and preserved it forever in wizard photographic paper. Hermione took a moment while she was still kneeling to thank Crooks, and stroke him apologising for the torture he had been subjected to. The picture of Crooks would add just the right level of mischief, the dark haired witch and ginger tom had never quite seen eye to eye, so it made the gift perfect. Bella wouldn't know how to react to something too sweet. Hermione was so wrapped up in these thoughts, she didn't register Crookshanks hissing at the locket. Realising he was being ignored, the cat silently fled the room. Shrinking the picture down so it would fit into the locket, she crossed her legs as she sat on the floor and attempted to pry the locket open. It must have gotten stuck somehow, she reasoned, which was strange as it had opened smoothly it in the shop before she bought it.
Hermione thought she heard the sound of… something, downstairs. She glanced at her watch and her eyes widened when she saw she had been gone far longer than she had thought, maybe it was Bella coming to check on her? The thought made her panic, she couldn't let Bella see the locket! It all had to be a surprise... Stuffing it into her jeans pocket quickly she had just managed to fit it into her pocket when she heard the tell tale creak of the fourth stair.