CW: Teenage sexuality

Saturday night, after her parents had gone to bed, Hermione met Blaise behind her house in the waning moonlight. He fell to his knees upon arrival, visibly fighting his roiling stomach, but it took less time for him to get to his feet than Hermione expected – he must have been practicing ley line jumping in his spare time.

"Couldn't wait till the train to see me?" Blaise quipped, smiling, and Hermione managed a laugh, but it was a quiet, ironic thing.

"I couldn't, really," she told him.

Blaise sobered. "Alright."

They sat down on the grass together in the light of the waning moon. A cold night breeze blew by, making them both shiver.

"I had a feeling this was coming," Blaise said. He looked up at Hermione. "You wanted to do this before we got back to Hogwarts for a reason, didn't you?"

"I did," Hermione said quietly. "To do this, we need to center our magic first."

They both closed their eyes, centering themselves. Blaise immediately sank into the semi-meditative state, his breathing lengthening and evening out, while it took Hermione longer. Last minute doubts and worries were creeping in, demanding to know if she was sure about this, if she knew what she was doing.

She was sure, and she didn't, really. But that was kind of the point.

Once they'd both centered their magic, they opened their eyes. At Hermione's direction, they both took off their coven rings and set them on the grass nearby before joining hands. When they joined their hands, the incomplete bond between them thrummed, immediately apparent without the coven rings muting things.

"Is this about the silver bond?" Blaise asked.

Hermione nodded.

"I've looked into it," she said quietly. "There's no real way to know if a Memory Charm's been performed on someone. The only way is if it's done poorly and it breaks down, or if you find something that doesn't match up with your memories."

Blaise's eyes widened. "So you think…"

"I do." Hermione took a deep breath. "And… I think we should finish it."

"Hermione!"

"Blaise, listen," Hermione urged. "We might not know what it is, but we know that once we get to Hogwarts, we could be Memory-Charmed against even remembering it exists, and we'd never know it. We know the bond is a good thing, right?"

"Do we?" Blaise argued. "We don't even know what it is."

"Then let's examine it," Hermione said, squeezing his hands.

With a sigh, Blaise acquiesced.

Once again, the bond felt like a silver rope woven between them, with silver straw poking out from the braid. She gasped as Blaise's magic touched hers for a moment as his crossed the rope before flowing back to him, allowing him to feel the fraying. Hermione pushed her magic into the rope, and Blaise coughed, hastily disguising a groan when her magic touched his for a moment, and sure enough, the rope was smooth on the way back to her, tightly-woven and complete.

"It's like I said before," Hermione said. "At some point, something happened, and it created a bond between us. And whatever it was, you completed it, while I only started my part but never finished."

"It's still an unknown bond, Hermione," Blaise said sharply. "You shouldn't try to complete it until we know what it is—"

"Why not?" Hermione demanded. "It's nothing harmful, clearly. And it's incomplete from my side. That seems unfair to you."

"It doesn't matter," Blaise told her. "We can investigate in the library when we get back to school, and we can figure out what—"

"And what if we never get that chance, Blaise?" Hermione shot back. "What if we get to Hogwarts and retread our steps, only to have Dumbledore catch us in the middle and erase all of it from our minds? Or, with an incomplete bond, he could possibly undo that, too, leaving us knowing even less than we do now."

Blaise fell silent at that, grimly contemplating the possibility.

Hermione found it hard to find the words she needed, to express what would convince Blaise – how the knowledge of the incomplete bond lingered in her mind, how she worried it was some incomplete protection spell that wouldn't help him in his time of need, how she innately seemed to trust the bond itself…

"It's not fair," Hermione said again, her voice quieter. "The bond feels like a good thing, doesn't it? Why would someone stop us from finishing it?"

Blaise shrugged. "Maybe it makes us too powerful. Maybe it interferes with someone else's plans."

"But it's good, isn't it?" Hermione objected. "When I feel it, the bond feels…"

She trailed off, finding herself at a loss for how to express it.

"It feels like a flower," Blaise offered. "But… powerful?"

"Kind of?" Hermione hummed. "It's like…"

She trailed off, touching the bond with her magic again, and they both shivered.

"I imagine you're not feeling this because your side of the bond is complete," Hermione said slowly, carefully choosing her words. "But ever since we learned of this, ever since my magic consciously found it… it's like... it's like I can't forget about it. And leaving half-completed rituals or bonds is never a good idea." She bit her lip. "I want to complete it before we go back to Hogwarts."

"We can wait on this," Blaise coaxed her. "If we figured it out once, we can figure it out again."

"No," Hermione said sharply. "I can tell this bond was made willingly and with good intentions. If I didn't get to complete it then, I want to complete it now, before we go back to the place where someone might have messed it up for us."

Blaise balked. "Hermione, it's really not a good idea to just complete bonds where you don't know what they are. How would you even complete it without knowing the words we used?"

"I can feel the magic," Hermione said, determinedly. "I can match the magic from one side on my side to connect with the other."

"But you won't know what you're promising," Blaise protested.

"I know it's nothing bad," Hermione said firmly. She looked up at him. "And I know I'm promising it to you."

There was a tense silence.

"I'm coming to this with pure intentions, willingly," Hermione said quietly. "Do you not want me to reciprocate the bond?"

Blaise paused, his eyes shining in the moonlight.

"Hermione," he said finally. "I will always take whatever of yourself you give to me. I just don't want you to rush into something unknown because you're defensive or paranoid."

"Understood," Hermione told him. She tossed her head. "I'm not. Give me your hands."

Blaise obligingly took her hand, and she took his other one, linking them in a circle once more. They both centered themselves in their magic once more, examining the bond, this time scrutinizing it more closely.

"One last thing – you're sure magical marriages are gold?" Hermione asked. "I don't want to get married at 14."

Blaise tried to stifle a snicker. "I'm sure, Hermione. I've seen enough of them form with my mum."

"Excellent," Hermione said, her lips twitching. "There's nothing else I'm really scared of this bond being. And…"

It was hard to articulate. But ever since she'd found this incomplete bond between them, it had been bothering her, like a hangnail that refused to come loose. It was going to itch at her if she didn't complete it, and some part of her magic very much wanted to complete it, it seemed.

If nothing else, Hermione had to trust her magic.

Blaise exhaled roughly as Hermione's magic came across the bond, caressing his while she examined the bond from his side. His side had more than hers did – there was a sense of directness, connection specifically to her, while Hermione's side felt looser, like a rope dangling in the air. There was also a sense of strength there, of conviction and devotion, almost. His side seemed to almost be shining, with its purity of purpose, and whatever that purpose was, it emanated positive feelings that made Hermione feel warm inside.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione squeezed Blaise's hands, and she began to wind her magic along the rope towards Blaise.

It was a new feeling, copying over magic without fully knowing the words or intend behind it. But it was much easier than manipulating Thoros Nott's Dark magic had been, and it felt good. Some part of her practically hummed with the rightness of it, and as she worked at weaving her side of the silver rope to completeness, Blaise shivered slightly, undoubtedly able to feel the effects of her magic.

Each fiber of the magical rope she spun seemed to come with a different emotion. There was a deep sense of reverence with the first one, an acknowledgement of the pure potential of Magic. Another strand felt like laughter, like Blaise making jokes on the Hogwarts Express with his eyes sparkling, Hermione dissolving into giggles at his side. Another felt like righteous anger without the fury, and another felt sparkling and pure, calling to mind when she had emerged from the bath the night of the coven bond.

The silver bond between them grew slowly, strand by strand, the strands themselves becoming heavier, more laden with emotion. One was anguish, Blaise holding her as she wept over the muggle children; one was of strength, how it felt to throw Rowle into the Whomping Willow. Another felt like power, the sense of invulnerability Hermione had felt as she descended upon Azkaban from the skies with a dragon of fire; another felt like magic, like the sparks that danced in her hair when she was mad.

Blaise's eyes held hers as she wove her magic into the bond. Each time another strand connected, there was a pulse of magical feedback, one they could both feel. His eyes grew molten as she continued, and Hermione could feel her own body responding, shivering, her breaths coming shallower. It was just a part of sharing magic, Hermione knew, but as she wordlessly matched his magic and wove her silver rope without words, there was something irrevocably intimate about it, something that made her feel flayed open and vulnerable, like his eyes could see everything she was.

The next strand felt like trust; with how Blaise knew more of her secrets than anyone else did, but how she'd never worried for a moment that he might spill one to someone else. Another felt endless or like time, calling to mind the comfort and belonging she found whenever he held her in his arms, that feeling of never wanting to let go.

The last was the heaviest, and Hermione hesitated, her eyes tracing his face and his form, taking in his flushed cheeks and neck, her mind whispering to her of the memory of meeting him just before she'd faced down the basilisk. It felt like Valentine's Day, what she'd felt at the look in his eyes and the flutter in her heart when he'd kissed her hand, giving her the gift of nothing. It felt like a whisper of "I'm sorry" and a hand taking hers after calling her selfless. It was the feeling of throwing herself into the stream of magic without hesitation and coming to in Blaise's bed, the feeling of his eyes on hers while Snape was banging on the door, the feeling of his soft smile and hand toying with her hair as he lied to their Head of House. It was stark and poignant and longing and desperate, and Hermione looked away as she wove this strand to him, not able to yet give it a name.

With the rope now woven between them, she paused. Though the rope was solid, woven tightly, it yet felt incomplete. There was no sparkle, there was no shine, but somehow, she knew what to do.

Hermione closed her eyes, centering herself once more. She found her core, embraced it, and then pushed a part of her into the rope, magic weaving a wordless promise and purpose into the silver rope that her side had lacked before. She had no idea how she did it, no idea what she'd truly done, but suddenly the magical bond was complete, snapping into place with a sudden strength and resonance and gleaming a brilliant silver that made Hermione gasp, dazzled.

Blaise gasped as well across from her, before letting out a strangled moan, and Hermione's face flushed. She tried to pull her hands from Blaise's, but he held tight while the reverberation of the bond thrummed between them, magic dancing along the silver. As the magic settled, Hermione looked away while Blaise slowly calmed, settling his breathing down. Hermione's own breathing was rather fast, but she didn't really want to think about the implications of that.

"Are you… alright?" she ventured, after a moment.

"Am I alright?" Blaise said, giving her an incredulous look. A slow smile began to spread across his face. "Hermione, I feel like I could take on the world."

Her face was hot.

"Good! Good," she said brightly. "Then—we did it. And no one can stop us back at school. So ha."

Blaise rolled his eyes and smirked. "You're mad."

Hermione quirked a smile at his affection, taking comfort in it. The familiar teasing helped; she felt raw, exposed, like her magic and soul had been laid bare for all to see. She fell quiet as she looked at their hands, still joined, an odd feeling welling up in her throat. He gave her a quizzical look, and she bit her lip, looking down.

"I don't want to let go," she said quietly, an admission as much to herself as to him.

Blaise's response was immediate, reassuring; soft, warm. "Then don't."

He guided her to a softer area in the yard, and they both laid back on the grass next to each other, his hand in hers, looking up at the stars. They didn't say anything, but each of them touched the silver bond every so often with their magic, as if reassuring themselves it was still there.

It was reassuring to feel the bond there, but it was also made of their shared magic, and it now connected their cores. Each time Blaise reached his magic out to touch the silver bond, Hermione could feel it, and she fought to keep her breathing even as the reverberations shivered up her body, even as gasps escaped her lips. But Hermione could tell that Blaise was stifling his own sounds each time she touched the bond, and she gave as good as she got, reassuring herself and feeling some sort of dark, primal satisfaction at Blaise's strangled gasps and groans.

Their silent game seemed to escalate. They'd been gently twanging the bond, then touching it, and before Hermione knew it, they were sending their magic up and down the rope, chasing each other, and then their magic was cycling between them, flowing freely from one core to the next and back. Gasping and failing to stop a moan, Hermione made as if to shove Blaise away, but he caught her hand instead, turning his head to look at her.

Eye contact seemed to amplify everything, and Hermione felt her breath catch high in her chest. His dark eyes held hers, molten with promise, and he rolled so his body faced hers.

"Feel free to say no," Blaise murmured, reaching out and gently cupping her face. "But… we both know where this is going."

They did. Hermione couldn't delude herself any longer.

"And while we get there," he murmured, his eyes holding hers, "I'd really like to kiss you."

Hermione shivered.

"Okay," she whispered.

Blaise's lips were warm and soft on hers. To her surprise, it was nothing like the mad, drugged race to the end she'd had with Theo. Though her magic kept pushing her higher and higher, cycling with Blaise's, his kiss was slow and firm, grounding her in her body while their magic spiraled. Hermione kissed him back, a hand coming up to clutch his shoulder as she shuddered, their magic still playing a game of tag as the intensity continued to notch up.

It wasn't hard and fast, nor was it a crazed sprint to the top. With Blaise and her magic cycling, not pushing fully into each other's cores, it was a slower, more sensual climb, one they took hand in hand. Hermione's eyes had fluttered closed when Blaise had kissed her, and now she felt herself shivering under his lips, a moan escaping her, and Blaise shuddered against her, groaning into the kiss.

There was no heavy petting or physical stimulation; one moment, she was lost in his kiss - and the next they'd broken apart, Hermione gasping and arching her back into the grass, crying out as their magic danced inside of her, waves of sensation and magic crashing over her body and core. From Blaise's strangled moan next to her, she expected he was feeling the same thing, the thought of which made her shudder more.

As their magic settled and the two caught their breath, Hermione relaxed deeper into the grass. She felt clean, somehow, and there was a warm feeling curling in her chest. It was nothing like the immediate shame or embarrassment she'd had with Theo – this had been a purposeful choice she had made, not her just getting carried away – and that made a difference.

Blaise opened his eyes, dark and glittering as he gave her a small, secret smile, something that made her heart thump hard in her chest. He propped himself up on his side again, looking at her.

"That was different." His voice was low, molten, and Hermione's cheeks felt hot.

"Was it?"

"Mmhmm." Blaise tilted his head, considering. "Is it the same for you?"

Hermione looked at him quizzically. "The same?"

"Reaching your peak that way, through magic," he clarified. "As opposed to physically."

"Oh," Hermione said. She flushed. "Um. I don't know. It's a bit different maybe, but mostly the same? This was… more, though. Stronger, maybe?"

Blaise nodded, thoughtful. "It felt different for me. This was… more intense, with the sharing magic." He paused. "I wonder if it's that intense with a partner, doing things the normal way."

Hermione couldn't help herself. "You don't know?"

Blaise looked down at her, and Hermione felt like he could see right through her. "I don't."

"Right." Something inside of Hermione relaxed, unwinding. "Me neither. Know, I mean. About that."

"Right." Blaise seemed amused, and they both laid back, looking up at the stars in companionable silence.

"Just… does this change anything?"

Hermione could hear her own voice as if it were someone else's; quiet in the stillness of the night, an insecurity underneath her words. Blaise rolled over to look at her, curious.

"Should it?" he asked. "Do you want it to?"

His eyes held an intensity that Hermione couldn't interpret.

"I don't know," Hermione confessed. "I don't know what I want."

A small smile played around Blaise's lips.

"Then don't overthink it," he advised. "It's not like I'm going anywhere. We're still best friends, we're still close, we're still in the coven together. And wherever you go, whatever you do—"

He took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, his eyes holding hers.

"—I'll still be at your side."