Hermione,
Thank you for your letter informing us of the developments in your life. Congratulations on your results and your position at Hogwarts.
We are selling our home here in Australia and moving to France. Trying to continue with our lives here now we know our true identities has proven impossible. Please could you send us the deeds to our house in London so we can sell it, and the details of the storage container you mentioned so we can arrange the shipping of our possessions to France.
Kind regards,
Mum and Dad
Hermione was sitting in a little booth at the back of the Three Broomsticks, tears falling silently from her eyes as she drank her fourth glass of wine. She had kept it together when the letter had come, when she had gone back to her old family home for the final time, and cleared it out completely. When she had gone to the storage unit and copied old photos and sentimental items, no longer confident that her parents would keep them and treasure them for her. But now... She put her head in her hands. She was devastated her parents weren't more impressed about her grades, devastated they couldn't be proud of her, devastated they didn't want to move home, and absolutely broken hearted they were having to leave their happy life in Australia, all because of her. All of it was her fault. She knew they had been happy in London, before she had inflicted her magic on them and changed them forever. She knew they had been happy as Monica and Wendell Wilkins, and had built a peaceful and fulfilling life for themselves in Australia. She had ruined that for them too. She had ruined everything.
Silent sobs wracked her body, she could barely breathe. And the worst bit was she absolutely deserved this pain.
Arms pulled her into a hug, and the familiar scent of flowers and broom polish surrounded her, and held her close. Eventually she calmed, and looked into the warm brown eyes of her favourite person.
"How ... how did you know?" She asked.
"Madam Rosmerata sent me a patronus." Ginny answered quietly. "You should have called, Hermione. What's happened?"
"I know you're busy with training!" Hermione said, trying not to start crying again.
"I'm never too busy for you. Especially in a crisis, come on Hermione!"
"I wasn't expecting to have a full blown crisis, in my defence." She smiled slightly.
"What's happened?" Ginny asked again.
Silently, Hermione handed her the letter that she had carried around with her since Friday morning, when it had arrived at breakfast.
"Oh." Ginny said softly, once she'd read it. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. That's ... it's awful."
"I've destroyed their lives." Hermione said, tears falling down her cheeks despite her best efforts. "First here, and now in Australia. Everything's ruined, because of what I did."
"You had to. You know you did."
"But what if there was another way?" Hermione whispered. "I ... I could have convinced them to go into hiding willingly. I could have at least tried."
"You know they would never have gone along with that." Ginny said firmly. "They never would have left you. And if they'd stayed in the open, they wouldn't have the opportunity to start over in France, would they? They'd be dead."
"Then maybe I should have gone with them." Hermione cried. "Anything would be better than this. They hate me! And they're right to!"
"Hermione." Ginny pulled her back into a hug and held her tightly as she cried. "You know that couldn't have worked. How could you have sat back and watched as people had died? And done nothing? And we both know Harry and Ron wouldn't have made it without you. Would a world without all your closest friends, consumed by darkness, run by Voldemort really be worth it? You're allowed to be sad, you're allowed to feel angry and guilty and helpless and anything else. But you did what was best. You acted with the best of intentions. You made an incredibly difficult choice, in incredibly difficult circumstances, and your parents survived the war because of it."
"We don't know that for sure." Hermione sniffed. "They might not even have been targets. They might have been absolutely fine if I hadn't done anything at all."
"Of course they were targets." Ginny said firmly. "They went after muggleborns and their families. And you were Undesirable Number 2. Of course they would have gone after your parents. And if you really want to know for sure, there's someone you can ask, isn't there? He would know."
"I suppose he would." Hermione blew her nose and tried to pull herself together.
"There was no 'right' thing to do, in this situation, Hermione." Ginny looked as serious as she'd ever been. "All you had were bad options with bad consequences. You did what you thought was best and that choice means that your parents are alive and well. They can rebuild. And one day, I really believe you will rebuild your relationship with them, as well."
"You think?" She whispered.
"I really do." Ginny smiled. "You Grangers love with your whole hearts and souls. That doesn't just go away."
"And you ... you really don't think what I did was awful? Unforgivable? It really was such a violation. Such a terrible, terrible thing to do to them."
"Hermione." Ginny's eyes filled with tears. "If I'd known what was going to happen to Fred, I would have done anything, anything to keep him away from that battle. I would have wiped his memories, chopped off his legs, tied, bound and gagged him and locked him up somewhere, anything to keep him alive. And if he'd hated me forever, I'd still just be happy he was alive to do so."
The two women hugged again, both struggling not to cry.
"Do you need any practical help?" Ginny asked eventually. "Moving stuff? Writing a reply?"
"No." Hermione smiled weakly. "I've already sorted everything and written back to them. I've kept it instructional, expressed my regret they're having to move, told them they can write to me anytime if they want to and wished them well. If they don't let me know their new address, then I'll have to find a way to accept that they don't want me in their lives anymore."
She wiped her eyes as yet more tears fell.
"Maybe for now." Ginny said softly. "They might need time to settle and process and heal. But you'll be able to find them again, and it might not even come to that. One thing at a time."
"You sound like Dr Prewett."
"Good." Ginny smiled. "I still see her weekly, on a Tuesday at lunch time."
"I did wonder what she did when she's not at Hogwarts." Hermione smiled too. "I still see her every Monday, after my last class of the day."
"She's a good woman."
"She certainly is." Hermione yawned, suddenly exhausted.
"Let's get you some water and something to eat." Ginny said gently. "Then straight back to Hogwarts to bed, okay?"
"Okay." She agreed gratefully.
Hermione walked slowly up the drive to the castle. Ginny had insisted on walking her this far, but she had wanted to walk the last bit on her own, and sent the redhead home with a promise to head straight to bed and be in touch soon. She inhaled deeply, already able to sense the beginning of Autumn in the air. She was glad today was almost over. She was glad her best friend had been there. She was glad she was alive, and her parents were too. At least she had that.
Opening the large front doors, Hermione started slightly at the tall, dark figure in her way.
"Where have you been?" He snarled. "What sort of time do you call this?!"
Hermione blinked several times, trying to understand what was happening. She half glanced around to see if Severus was talking to someone else, before realising that was ridiculous and she was probably still quite drunk.
"Pardon?" She asked.
"It is after midnight." Severus' face was twisted in anger. "Where ... have ... you ... been?"
"Severus, I work here." Hermione answered, confused. "I don't have a curfew."
"You are a Professor at this school and you have a duty to behave appropriately." He hissed.
"How exactly am I behaving inappropriately?" She asked.
"It is late!" Severus shouted. "You have been gone all day!"
"It's a Saturday." Hermione confirmed, dismissing the idea that she had accidentally gone AWOL and missed classes.
"Have you been drinking?" He demanded, dark eyes glinting dangerously.
"Yes." Hermione confirmed. "And I've had a really, really hard day. I've only just managed to stop crying. Please stop telling me off when I absolutely don't deserve it and just tell me what the bloody hell is going on."
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, looking troubled. Instinctively, she reached out and touched his raised arm. At the contact, he dropped his hand and looked deeply into her eyes.
"You received a letter at breakfast yesterday that caused you considerable distress. You have been absent from meals since. You left the castle early this morning and have only just returned." He said stiffly.
"You were worried?" Hermione asked, feeling her throat begin to burn.
"Is that really so hard to believe?" Severus snapped. "Aside from anything else there are two Death Eaters at large. And you said nothing to me."
"I'm sorry." She said softly. "I should have realised you would have noticed I was upset. I just thought I'd hidden it quite well and I ... I wasn't thinking clearly. I'm truly sorry, Severus."
He searched her face for several heartbeats more, before nodding and looking away.
"Are you alright?" He asked softly, clearly uncomfortable.
"No." Hermione smiled. "But I ... I will be. My parents wrote to me, telling me they're selling their homes in London and Australia and moving to France. By modifying their memories and sending them away, I destroyed their lives, twice over. As well as my relationship with them." She sighed, willing herself to keep it together. "I had some paperwork to sort out and some organising to do. And then I went to the pub and got quite drunk and very hysterical and then Ginny came."
"I am so sorry." Severus looked back at her, his eyes were dark and sincere, and Hermione knew, without knowing how, that he was apologising for throwing her disownment in her face, all those months ago, just as much as he was apologising for what had just happened.
"It's okay." She said softly. "I just have to find a way to ... to accept it. Maybe one day they'll be ready to forgive me, or at least to hear me out. Maybe they won't. But I have to find a way to be okay, whatever happens now."
"For what it's worth," Severus said softly, taking a step closer to her. "Without your intervention, their lives wouldn't be destroyed, they would be over. They would be dead if you hadn't acted as you did."
"They... they were targets, then?" She whispered, no longer trusting her voice.
"Yes." He confirmed, his eyes still burning into hers. "They were targets at the very top of the list. Anything to draw Harry Potter out. Anything to dampen his desire to succeed."
Hermione took a deep breath and closed her eyes tight. Against her will, hot, shameful tears spilled down her cheeks. She felt dizzy, untethered, and when she felt the firm touch of a hand against the small of her back, she leant back into it, grateful for something to ground her.
"Thank you." She murmured, several minutes later, once she'd begun to get a hold of herself once more, and wipe the tears away. "Thank you so much for telling me."
Severus said nothing, but his hand stayed on her back, and he stayed close, his presence comforting her just as much as any words could.
"Did Miss Weasley make you drink water before she sent you back here?" He asked eventually.
"Yes." She confirmed. "And made me eat and promise to go straight to bed and take a Hangover Relief in the morning."
"Sensible girl." Severus said softly. "I suggest we ensure you keep your promise. Come."
Keeping his hand on her back, he walked her slowly back to her rooms, only removing the contact when they got to her door, and he turned to face her.
"I will ask an elf to leave a vial of Hangover Relief in your rooms for you. And I would suggest you drink some more water before bed."
"Thank you." Hermione said softly, looking up into his face. He was stood much closer to her than usual, and he had been ... so kind. For perhaps the first time, the pain of her situation really hit her. It was lovely he had been worried, it was lovely he had tried to comfort her, it was lovely he had walked her here. It was also, nowhere near enough. She wanted to step closer to him, to push her face against his neck, to feel the wool of his robes under her hands and inhale his earthy scent. She wanted him to hold her, to put his hands in her hair, to pull her close to him.
Hermione opened her door and stepped inside, ignoring the pain twisting in her chest and the prickle in her eyes.
"Hermione." It was the first time he had used her given name, and something about it, murmured from his lips, felt decadent. "Your parents are alive because of the decision you made and the actions you took. That is a fact. Hold onto it."
"I will." She looked at his hunched shoulders, and the tension radiating off of him. He was trying so hard. And ... against all the odds, he had helped. This helped. Smiling slightly despite the tears threatening to spill over, she reached forward and squeezed his arm. "Thank you."
"Transfiguration is divided into four branches. Who can name any of them?"
Most of the first years looked at her blankly, before a few cautiously raised their hands.
"Miss Wingers?"
"Transformation?"
"Very good." Hermione smiled. "2 points to Slytherin. Transformation refers to any Transfiguration that deforms or alters the target in some way. This is what we'll be focused on this year. "
"Anyone else? There are 3 more to identify. Mr Green?"
"Conjuring?"
"2 points to Gryffindor. Well done. Conjuration is the art of bringing things into being. The more complex the thing being created, the harder the transfiguration. It is governed by Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration which we will come to in a few years. As it is creating something from nothing, it is therefore is the opposite of ... ?"
"Miss Clearwater?"
"Vanishment."
"Excellent. 2 more points to Slytherin. Vanishment is the art of causing things to disappear; to make things go into non-being. Like Conjuration, the difficulty depends on the complexity of what is being Vanished. Though it is considered easier than Conjuration in general."
"Can anyone name the last branch?" She looked out at the sea of blank looking faces. "Anyone want to take a guess? For 10 points?"
"Mr Greengrass?"
"I don't know what it's called." The blond haired boy said, sounding almost sullen. "But is it when you transfigure something back to what it was originally?"
"It is." Hermione smiled. "I'll give you the 10 points for that. Untransfiguration is the reversal of a transformation. So to recap: the branches are, in ascending order of difficulty: Transformation, Vanishment, Conjuration and Untransfiguration. I'm not saying that this will definitely be on the end of term examinations, but it might be a good idea to write that down and make sure you understand what each branch is."
Minerva winked at her as the sound of quills scratching on parchment filled the room, before she made her exit. It was only a few short weeks into term, and the Headmistress was already confident in her ability to teach the younger years unaided. She only made the odd appearance here and there.
"So, Transformation. You have all already managed to change a matchstick into a needle. Some were, admittedly, much more needle-like than others, but you have all completed this first step - changing the structure of an object with magic. For those of you interested in the science, this is achieved by the alteration of the object's molecular structure. We start off basic to give you a chance to get used to this process, as your magic and your abilities grow, so too will the transformations you are able to manage. For those of you who work hard and choose to continue the study of Transfiguration beyond your Ordinary Wizarding Levels, this goes all the way up to human transfiguration."
Hermione smiled at their stunned expressions. She really liked this class. She was really trying to foster interhouse relationships as well, and minimise competition and hostility.
"Right. Open your textbooks on page 48, we're going to go through the Transfiguration Formula. It's a little dry, but if you pay attention and behave yourselves I'll liven it up with some demonstrations."
"How's your best friend?"
There was a mischievous glint to Neville's kind eyes. They were in the greenhouses, digging out some new beds.
"Why do I feel like you're not asking me about Ginny or the boys?" Hermione asked, torn between humour and annoyance.
"Because you're the brightest witch of your age? Oi!"
Hermione had thrown a handful of dirt at him.
"He's fine. The same." She said dismissively, not willing to discuss Severus so casually. "How are things with Hannah? It must be hard not being able to see each other every day now?"
"Yeah it is hard." Neville replied, still looking cheerful. "But we're settling into it. We get a good chunk of time together at the weekends and we're trying to do a week day evening as well. With all her training I don't think we'd get much more time anyway."
"And she's still enjoying it? She seemed so enthusiastic last time I spoke to her."
"She loves it." Neville smiled. "Can't understand it myself. All that blood and gore." He picked up some dragon dung and patted it into the earth using his bare hands. "But it suits her. And who knows, in a few decades when Poppy retires, she might be ready for a slower pace and come and join me here."
"Does she know that's your long term plan?" Hermione asked, amused by her friends forward thinking.
"Not exactly." Neville blushed. "But she knows I'm really serious about her and I reckon she feels the same. She certainly says she does anyway."
"Do..." Hermione paused wondering how exactly to put this into words. "Do any of the other teachers have lives outside of Hogwarts?"
"What!?" Neville asked, half laughing.
"I know Minerva was married, but the staff all seem to just be here all the time. Seems hard to have much outside of Hogwarts, that's all."
"What are you, 12?"
"Neville!"
"Of course the teachers have lives outside of Hogwarts! It's only the Head, the Deputy and Heads of Houses that are actually required to live in Hogwarts during term time. End even then exceptions can be made. A lot of the staff only stay a night or two a week or just commute in the same as any other job."
"Really?" She asked, genuinely surprised. "I've always just assumed they all live here."
"Some do, some don't." Neville smiled. "Take Professor Sprout, she came to teach here when her kids started at the school and she just never left. She's seen all her grandchildren through as well. Her husband lived in Hogsmeade, but they've decided to move back towards London to be closer to their families now she's retired."
"I had no idea." Hermione said numbly.
"Aurora stays here during the week and goes home to her wife on a Friday night, comes back Monday morning. Bathsheda commutes in and out every day, same as Septima, they both have partners and Septima has older children. I don't think many of the elective teachers live here come to think about it. Most of the teachers have interesting, fulfilling lives outside of Hogwarts, Hermione, with the exceptions of Sybil, Cuthburt and probably your mate Snape."
"Well knock me down with a feather."
"What?!"
"Muggle thing, nevermind. I just had no idea."
"You really though all the teachers here were single, childless and spent all 24 hours of their days, 7 days a week here in the castle?"
"Ummm..." Hermione laughed. "I mean when you say it like that."
"Blimey." Neville laughed. "It's honestly so good to know even someone as clever as you can occasionally be so wrong."
Hermione was doing her marking propped up in her bed, Crookshanks snoozing at her feet. She had been holding herself together pretty well in the weeks since the letter from her parents had come. She still carried a huge amount of guilt and sadness and shame around with her, but talking to Ginny and Severus and later, Dr Prewett, had really helped. She was coping. The ball was very much in her parents' court, so to speak. They would move, and then they could choose to let her know their new address, or not. It was hard for her, not knowing what was going to happen, but it felt right that this should be entirely their choice, entirely in their control. She was also dealing with the pain of having unrequited feelings, having apparently supressed them incredibly effectively up until now. Again, she was coping, but the overwhelming desire she'd felt in that moment outside her rooms was staying with her, never far from her conscious mind. Meal times when they ended up sitting next to each other were fast becoming her favourite days, even if they only exchanged a few quiet words. And Sundays, as always, were a highlight.
Last Sunday, he had been unusually relaxed, his head tilted up as he took in the late September sun.
"My Slytherins like you." He'd said softly.
"Really?" She'd asked, genuinely surprised.
"Really." A slight smirk had lifted his face. "They've all been singing your praises."
"Really?!" Hermione had frowned. "I can't think why."
"Exactly."
"What?"
"You can't think of any reason why they should like or dislike you."
"Severus, do you enjoy being vague and unhelpful?"
"Sometimes." The smirk had lifted into a smile. "Particularly when it annoys you."
"I'm annoyed." Hermione had smiled back. "Happy? Now please explain what you're talking about."
"They're just students, to you."
"Severus?!" Hermione had growled, only growing less annoyed when he'd chuckled, the dark, rusty sound making the hairs at the back of her neck stand up.
"You don't treat them any differently." He'd said softly. "They're not the children of Death Eaters, they're not pureblood supremacists, they're not destined for evil. They're just students."
"But they are just students." Hermione had said indignantly.
"Exactly."
"Do other members of staff treat them badly then?!"
"Not exactly. Not overtly. But differently."
"That's awful!"
"And that's exactly why they like you."
"Miss!" A squeaky voice was shouting at her, but she was so warm and so comfortable. "Miss will wake up! Miss will come!"
"Maybe later." Hermione mumbled, trying to snuggle further down into the bed.
"Miss will come!" The voice shouted.
"Maybe tomorrow." She said sleepily.
"Miss will come!" The voice shouted even louder. "Miss will help the Master!"
"Oh shit." She tore herself back to wakefulness, rubbing her hands across her face. "I'm awake, what's happened? Where is he?"
"Kitchens, Miss." Alf informed her, his eyes bulging. "He is having a nightmare, Alf thinks."
"A nightmare?" She hesitated mid way through putting her slippers on. "Surely he gets nightmares all the time?"
"Yes, Miss." Alf nodded. "But not so bad he is coming to us. Miss must hurry!" And he popped out of existence.
Half worried, half annoyed, Hermione did as she was told and hurried to the kitchens. She, of course, wanted to be with him, but they all had nightmares, and occasionally, irrationally, she found herself annoyed with him for making her care about him so.
When she first opened the kitchen door it took her a moment to process what she was seeing. Severus was sitting on the chair by the fire, barefoot in a long grey nightshirt with fraying edges, a ratty old dressing gown thrown over the top.
"No one would ever believe this." She said, before she could stop herself.
Severus only scowled and pulled the dressing gown around himself defensively.
"Don't worry." She said tiredly, plopping herself gracelessly on the chair next to him. "I'm hardly looking my best either. What time even is it?"
"About 3:30, I think."
Hermione groaned as an elf placed a tea in front of her. Severus didn't seem unhinged and on edge like he had last time Alf had summoned her, she wondered if the elf had been a bit over keen. Still, she was here now. Sighing, she picked up her tea. Severus did the same. Only his hands shook so violently he spilled some on himself and nearly knocked the whole cup over as he tried to put it down. Suddenly deathly pale, he did his best to rub the spilled tea away, clearly not able to even attempt to use his wand.
Oh.
She shuffled her chair closer to him, ignored the pounding of her heart, and took hold of both of his shaking hands, leaning herself forwards so she was well within his personal space. She half thought he would pull away, but instead his hands closed tightly around hers, and his eyes squeezed shut. This close she could see the tension in his body holding him rigid, but even so, the occasional tremor was still running through him. He was spiralling, plain and simple. She recognised it only too well.
"Wiggle your toes." She said softly, squeezing his hands and then rubbing her thumbs across his fingers. "Listen to the elves working, smell the smoke of the fire."
She gave him a few minutes to process this, still rubbing her thumbs up and down his pale fingers. His eyes were still closed, his lashes dark against the white of his skin. He was leaning forwards slightly, and where the fabric of his nightshirt and dressing gown were loose, she could see a slither of his chest. Hermione closed her own eyes for a moment, stricken, then pushed her feelings away so she could focus on the troubled man before her.
"You're safe." Her voice was gentle even to her own ears. "It's over now. You're safe here."
She gave his hands another squeeze before resuming the gentle stroke of his fingers. Once again, longing struck her. She wanted to pull him into her arms, or to climb onto his lap and wrap her arms around his neck. She wanted to stroke her hands through his hair and kiss the furrow between his brows. She wanted...
"Wiggle your toes." She whispered, ignoring the tears that were threatening to spill down her cheeks. "Listen to the crackle of the fire. You're okay. You're safe now. It's over."
With a blow that hit her so hard it felt almost physical, she realised that she loved him. That she was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with him.
"You're safe." She whispered again. "And you're not alone. Not anymore."
His troubled eyes finally lifted to hers, black meeting amber, and the look on his face was so intense it made something inside of her tighten. Hermione tried for a reassuring smile, hoping this would help soften the intimacy of the situation, she knew only too well how difficult he found any sort of vulnerability. His face twisted into a sneer, and she looked away, unwilling to have to witness him withdraw from her.
"Don't." She whispered, tightening her grip on his fingers. "Please don't."
After several moments of silence, Hermione dared to look back at him, and was surprised to find him still looking at her. His posture seemed to relax slightly as he took in her face, and she still she held his hands, and still, he let her. This moment felt so intimate, so meaningful. Her chest ached and burned as she took in his face, his sunken cheeks and tired eyes and dark, high brows. How had this happened? How had respect and admiration and worry turned into this?
Eventually, he did pull away and leant back into his chair, though his withdrawal was softened by the gentle look on his harsh features. They drunk their tea in silence, and as the sky lightened, he only smirked slightly and raised an eyebrow when she made it clear she was walking him to his rooms this time. It was only right, after all.
Hermione and Ginny were sitting in the lounge at Grimmauld Place, each with a small wine. It was the first Friday of the month, and the rest of the strays were due in a couple of hours, but Harry had been sent to the Burrow early so the girls could have a proper catch up.
"You were right." Hermione told her best friend.
"Of course I was." Ginny said cheerily. "About what?"
"I'm in love with him."
"Oh Hermione." Ginny put down her drink and pulled her into a one-armed hug. "Are you okay?"
"Not really." She smiled sadly. "It hurts."
"Yes it really does, it's so painful." Ginny gave her a serious look. "What finally made you realise?"
"Well I think a bit after that day when you found me sobbing in the Three Broomsticks." She said slowly. "He was waiting for me in the entrance hall, all cross and prickly because he'd been worried about me. And I told him a bit about where I'd been and why, and he confirmed that my parents were targets, and he tried so hard to comfort me. Then he walked me back to my rooms and as we were standing outside, I just ... I just wanted. So hard, you know?"
The redhead nodded, looking sad.
"But what finally made me really truly realise..." Here she paused, unsure exactly how much she wanted to divulge. "We were both in the kitchens late Wednesday night, I think he'd had a nightmare. His hands were shaking, and I ... I reached over and took them. I think he was having a panic attack, or at least was on the edge of one, and he let me ... help him. And it just hit me."
"I really think there's a chance he feels the same, Hermione." Ginny said earnestly. "You're sitting there telling me Professor Snape tried to comfort you when you were upset, and not only let you see him vulnerable, he also actually let you comfort him. You can't seriously think that's nothing?"
"I think we're friends." Hermione said miserably. "I think even he thinks we're friends. But he's never given me any sort of indication he could ever feel anything close to romantic for me."
"Hermione! He got you-"
"I know he got me flowers!" She interrupted. "But I really don't think they meant anything romantic! It was like a thank you, I think, for spending time with him. And a congratulations. Nothing more."
"It just can't believe that." Ginny said gently. "He's hardly the sort to go around giving out bouquets to his friends is he?!"
"No." Hermione conceded. "But he doesn't really have any friends. And I was still a student last year, I don't think he would have looked at me like that. I still don't think he does and I really don't think he ever could. I don't want to give myself false hope."
"I get that." Ginny said. "But I also don't think you should just completely dismiss the idea without seriously considering it as a possibility and looking at things objectively. I'm sure he wouldn't have wanted to look at you like that when you were a student, but you were a good year older than the 7th years, and I mean, come on! You're a war veteran, you spent a year on the run, you're hardly a kid, you certainly don't look like one, and even Snape couldn't think that about you. And the way he's treated you so far this year, and for some of last year, he obviously sees you as an equal."
"Maybe." She said softly. "But he's loved Harry's Mum his whole life, he's hardly going to just forget that, is he?"
"No." Ginny agreed. "But why should he? He can still feel whatever it is he feels for Lily and look for something more in someone else. They were never even together. We have no reason to think Lily ever even liked him back. People remarry after the love of their life dies. There's no reason his love for Lily should mean he can't love someone else. In a much more normal, healthy, reciprocated way, you know?"
"I suppose." Hermione said cautiously.
"I think for at least the next couple of months you need to just try and be calm and look at your interactions with him objectively. Maybe try flirting with him a little, see how he reacts."
"Flirt with him?!"
"Yes flirt with him!" Ginny laughed. "You're the one who keeps telling me he's just a person. He's also just a man, Hermione."
"Merlin." Hermione put her head in her hands, she could feel how hot her cheeks were. "There's no way I could pull that off with any degree of subtlety."
"Then don't be subtle." She shrugged. "At least you'll know. You could just come out and say something."
"No." Hermione answered firmly. "I'll try and look at our interactions more objectively, but I'm not saying or doing anything that could make him uncomfortable. The most important thing is that he's okay. And he needs our friendship."
"That is so selfless and so kind. He will never be good enough for you, you know that right?"
"You're my best friend, Gin." Hermione smiled. "You're obligated to think that."
"Maybe." Ginny smiled. "But don't lose sight of how damaged he is. And you are an absolute catch, you know that? He'd be beyond lucky to have you."
"Thank you." Hermione smiled, feeling a little better already. "Okay, tell me about your life?"
"Not yet! I want to know about Muggle and Wizarding Studies! I keep meaning to ask you how they're going."
"They are SO GOOD! The students were talking about the movies they watched for WEEKS! Minerva and I kept grinning at each other like a pair of loons every time we overheard someone. The staff even want to watch some now, we're going to arrange a staff movie night at the end of term. Wilma is such a good teacher, she's really inspiring a whole new generation of Wizards. And I've sat in a couple of the Wizarding Studies classes, they're so informative. I really think it's going to make everything so much more accessible for Muggleborns. I've actually been thinking about offering evening classes for the families of Muggleborns as well, but they'll be loads of issues with the Statute of Secrecy, never mind how on earth we'd actually manage to get them all in the same place. It's one to look into once I'm a bit more settled though."
Ginny was leaning back against the sofa, smiling at her softly.
"What?"
"You're going to change the whole world, Mione. You really are."
"Don't be daft!" Hermione said, flushing.
"I'm not daft. My excellent NEWT scores show that." She smiled wider. "This is going to have such a lasting and far reaching impact. It will be bigger than either of us can fully understand yet, I can feel it."
"Maybe." Hermione smiled. "I hope so."