Hermione drew open the front door and shut it closed behind her. She collapsed against it and sighed with relief. As she took her shoes off Maddy came to greet her in the hallway with The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One, in hand.
"Where've you been?" Maddy asked concerned. "I was starting to get worried—I'm on my sixth chapter now." She said raising the book in her hand and waving it around lightly.
"I got sidetracked—sorry—but excellent, I think it's time for some practice—no, wait—tea first—then practice." Hermione fussed effusively.
She then hurried into the kitchen to do just that. Maddy's eyes followed her suspiciously.
A quarter of an hour later and Hermione was sat beside Maddy at the dining table nursing her large mug of tea. Black. With a dash of cream. Maddy curiously peered over her book toward her sister.
"I thought you didn't like black tea?" She asked.
Hermione blinked back into her current reality, and looked around dazed, before turning to Maddy.
"What?" She asked.
Maddy pointed to the mug in Hermione's hands, and overly enunciated her words with a raised voice as she repeated, "I thought you didn't like black tea?"
Hermione's face fell, unimpressed. "I can hear perfectly well Madds—I was just not paying attention. And no, I do, but I typically only have it when the day calls for it."
Maddy frowned. "What news did today ring you up and call you with?" She asked.
Hermione side-eyed her sister. "Funny." She remarked.
When she said nothing further, Maddy sat up in her chair and said, "Well?"
Hermione let out a breath and said, "Fine. I went to Knockturn Alley and—"
"Where's that?" Maddy interrupted.
"It's off of Diagon Alley—shady, rotten—you don't want to go near the place." Hermione explained.
"Why did you?" Maddy asked.
"Because there's a shop there—Borgin and Burkes—that sells all sorts of stuff—mostly dark and ancient—but I was hoping they had a Pensieve." Hermione said.
"I take it they didn't?" Maddy asked.
Hermione shook her head and took a sip of her tea. Relishing the comforting taste and subtle kick of caffeine.
"Is that what spooked you? The shop?" Maddy asked still eyeing her sister intently.
"Spooked me?" Hermione asked frowning.
"Yes, you look like you've seen something you shouldn't have. You look…rattled." Maddy explained.
"I do?" Hermione asked surprised.
Maddy nodded. Hermione nodded her head slowly too in an I-see manner. Then she placed her mug on the table and proceeded to explain to her sister how her morning had gone. The glittersnorter—wizard version of a crackhead. Borgin and Burkes. Draco Malfoy. And Zabini and his two knuckle-headed good-for-guarding-no-bodies.
"Hm, that sounds like it calls for something a little stronger than leaf water." Maddy said.
"I agree," Hermione said. "It calls for firewhiskey, but mum and dad don't drink—stains the teeth."
"I meant coffee." Maddy said, as if it were obvious.
Hermione smiled. "Of course you did."
Maddy slowly mirrored her sister's smile, then her brows furrowed as she said, "Strange the way they'd both told you you weren't supposed to be there."
"I know—and return I shall not." Hermione said picking up her tea again. "Do you know that's where You-Know-Who used to work? In Borgin and Burkes."
"Hm, makes sense if the son of a Death Eater works there too." Maddy remarked. "But, if he doesn't go to Hogwarts what school does he attend?"
"If memory serves me right, Ron said he—"
Bang!
"Merlin!" Maddy cried. "For all the gold in Ireland what was that?"
They both looked to glass door to the garden. There was nothing at first, then something fluttered into view. Fluttered like an inebriated ball of feathers. Hermione's face cracked with a smile and she set her mug down and wiped at the spillage on her velvet, green top as she made her way to the door.
"Speaking of the devil." She said.
She slid the doors open, and stretched out an arm, so that the invisible stars dancing upon the owl's head could settle.
"Hello, Pig." She said brightly. "Dopey as ever I see."
"Pig?" Echoed Maddy questioningly, from behind her. "That looks nothing like a pig. It looks—it looks like a Bludger."
"Tell that to Ginerva—Ron's sister—she named him." Hermione explained. "Although, in fairness to her, Ron calls him Pig. His name's actually Pigwidgeon."
Maddy crinkled her nose at her sister. "That's worse."
Hermione laughed and then proceeded to attempt to untie the note attached to Pig's leg.
"Pig—hold still—no, I'm not trying to pet you—Pigwidgeon!"
The boisterous owl looked up to Hermione with its large, wide eyes. He looked like a children's stuffed toy. Hermione felt Maddy come up beside her.
"Aw, he's terribly cute though." She said as she reached out to stroke a finger across his head.
"Oh, good." Hermione said. "If you keep doing that he'll stay still."
As Maddy continued to pet Ron's owl Hermione managed to untie her best friends note so she could unfold it.
"Bloody hell Ron," Hermione murmured. "A troll has better handwriting—here, take Pig, I can't concentrate with him on my arm, and my brain's going to need all the help it can get."
Maddy took Pig in her hands and Hermione narrowed her eyes down at Ron's note—or letter rather. She had no idea how he had managed to cram so many words on one moderately, small piece of parchment—actually, the words rather looked as if they were attempting to escape from said piece of parchment.
Herpes!
Why haven't you written? Didn't you get the letter from Hogwarts? Fuck Merlin sideways! The Triwizard Tournament!
THERE HASN'T BEEN ONE OF THOSE SINCE MERLIN HIMSELF WAS BREATHING!
I'm definitely going for it! Pot too! Shame you'll probably enter the poison one—
"No that can't be right," Hermione said frowning at the word. "Oh, potion. Fuck me Ginger."
—it would've been nice to spend our final year together (with the Beauxbatons ladies ;).
Even if you love books more than me and Pot (and probably the Beauxbatons ladies).
PS - By the way mum wants you over for Harry's 17th and the rest of the summer.
Since it's our last one she thought it would be rice.
"Rice?" Hermione muttered to herself. "No—nice. Twat."
PSS Careful Pig might fly into your window. He's fallen in love with his reflection I think.
"What did he say? Your friend?" Maddy asked.
"Well," Hermione began with an exhale. Her head hurt. "If I understood correctly he says he's going to enter the Triwizard Tournament—Harry too. No surprise there. Also, they want us over for the holidays—well, me, they don't know you exist yet."
"You should go to the Triwizard Tournament." Maddy agreed.
"Noo," Hermione began. "We're not having this conversation again—and that's not the one I'd enter anyway."
Hermione then held open the palm of her hand and nonverbally and wandlessly summoned a piece of parchment. Maddy's mouth fell open.
"How in Merlin's lover did you do that?" She asked.
"Easy," Hermione said. "I just—"
She frowned and looked down to the piece of parchment in her hand. She blinked.
"I have no idea," she murmured.
"What?" Maddy asked.
Hermione softly shrugged. "I just—I just did it." She said.
"Well, you must of done it before? Leaping toadstools—that was impressive." Maddy marvelled.
"Thank you," Hermione said, before she stood up and reached over for a quill instead of magically summoning it.
She began to write—with legible penmanship—a response for Pig to fly back with.
My dearest Weasel,
I am writing this to you with my two surviving braincells (your writing is atrocious).
"Are you going to tell him about me?" Maddy asked still keeping Pig occupied.
Hermione nodded. "Indeed. We'll go for Harry's birthday—but we can't stay. We have too much to do."
I won't be competing in anything as I have a sister now.
She's a witch too. A cousin of mine lost her parents and so we've adopted her.
She's going to Hogwarts but she's a bit behind on her studies so I'm helping her catch up.
We can come over for Harry's birthday but we won't be able to stay.
Apologise to your mum for me (even though she hates me).
PS Forget the windows Pig's in love with Maddy now.
Hermione folded up the note and passed it to her sister.
"You do the honours, I don't have the patience—not with the morning I've had." She said.
Cooing at Pig, as if he were an adorable toddler, Maddy took the note from Hermione and rolled it up before tying it to his leg.
"Will you write to your other friend?" Maddy asked.
Hermione stilled. Momentarily. Then busied herself with the pile of books and parchment full of notes before her.
"Harry?" She asked casually. "Probably not."
"Why not?" Maddy asked, still distracted with a seemingly besotted Pig.
Hermione cleared her throat and said, "I will."
Her sister softly wrinkled her nose and turned away from Pig—though she continued to ruffle his baby feathers upon his head.
"You just said you won't?" Maddy asked confused.
"I won't," Hermione repeated. "But I will if he does."
Maddy dropped her hand away from Pig and moved toward Hermione. She went to stand opposite her. The dining table stood between them. Their reflections were faint upon the polished, dark wood. Pig made a noise and Maddy began petting him again. Hermione stopped her fussing when she realised her sister was staring at her.
"What?" She asked. With more bite than intended.
Maddy watched her intently as she next asked, "Did the two of you quarrel?"
Hermione turned away to take interest in the spell book sat at the very top of the tall stack of books. She paid extra attention to its bindings.
"No," was all she said.
Maddy leaned closer over the table. Hermione's lungs stopped working as she grew self-conscious under Maddy's scrutiny.
"You like him." She finally said. Softly.
Hermione abruptly cleared her throat again. "Of course I do," she said. "I'd be silly to be friends with someone I didn't like."
This made Maddy smile and Hermione instantly despised herself for having spoken.
"Oh no, Hermione," Maddy said, shaking her head gently. "You like-like him."
Hermione could not stop it. She had no way of controlling her blood flow. Or her mind. Harry's gorgeous, green eyes found her in her minds eye. As if he were standing there, in front of her, instead of Maddy. Watching her just as closely. So, her body only reacted accordingly.
Maddy gasped. "You're blushing like it's Valentines!" She exclaimed.
"No I'm not." Hermione snapped before grabbing her now lukewarm cup of tea and giving her sister the eye as she made her way into the kitchen.
"Yes you are!" Maddy insisted laughing. "Oh, I can't wait to meet him now. My sister's in love with the Chosen One!"
"Oh, for Christ's sake," Hermione muttered to herself as she put the kettle to boil again. "I am not in love!" She shouted back.
"Oh, please." Maddy said coming into the kitchen with Pig on her shoulder. "You've been best friends since you were kids—there's no possible way you don't love-love him if you've been close with him for that long!"
Hermione turned to glower at her sister. It did nothing to intimidate her. Then, after a quiet moment Hermione muttered unwillingly, "You're annoyingly perceptive, you know that?"
"So you don't deny it!" Maddy said smiling like a dork.
"Nor do I confirm it." Hermione rebutted.
"Let me guess," Maddy went on as if she had not heard her. "You guys haven't quarrelled—you've kissed!"
Hermione snapped up straight and blushed furiously. She turned from peach to red.
"How the fuck—"
"Oh, Merlin's sister! You have!" Maddy gasped and then clapped her hands together like she had just won fifty points for Slytherin. "Come on—now you have to tell me—how did it happen? When? Where? For how long?"
Hermione and Harry walked side by side. The cuff of their school jumpers gently brushed against one another as their arms subtly swayed. They made their way down the empty corridor. They did not speak. They did not look at each other. The sound of their leathers shoes against the stone floors, and the rustling of their garments, and their bated breaths, were the only things to accompany them as they made their way toward the Room of Requirement.
When they stopped before the tapestry of dancing trolls they finally looked to each other. From behind his glasses Harry's eyes, vibrant green, but conflicted, looked into Hermione's dark orbs, calm, yet anxious. A ghost of a smile kissed Hermione's lips and the corner of Harry's own twitched in response.
"You or me?" She murmured.
She watched him contemplate the question as their eyes never left one another.
"You," he replied quietly.
Hermione gave a minute nod, then took a step froward and Harry took a step back. She began walking up and down before the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and all the while she thought hard about the potions book. About Sectumsempra. About Zabini laying in a pool of his own blood. About the dire need to make the Half-Blood Prince's property disappear. On the third walk past the tapestry the entrance to the Room of Requirement finally marked its appearance with groans of stone against stone. Hermione went to draw back the tapestry, but when she turned around she found a Harry unwilling to move.
"Come on," she murmured.
Harry's eyes snapped from the tapestry to hers. She watched his breathing flutter in his neck. And his hand clench tighter on his tattered copy of Advanced Potion-Making. Without thinking about it, Hermione extended her arm toward him. Harry looked down. To her outstretched hand. Her open palm. Hermione waited. Harry swallowed. And then finally, stepped forward and took her hand. Hermione had to focus extra hard on the musty smell and the coarse weavings of the 19th century tapestry, as she drew it back, because she had been completely unprepared for the feel of Harry's warm hand in hers.
They made their way into the Room of Requirement and as expected they were met with the Room of Hidden Things. When Harry did not let go of her hand Hermione decided not to let go either. Instead, she gently pulled him further into the room of lost things, and they made their way past mountains of miscellaneous and magical objects abandoned by former owners. It smelled like an antique shop would, but with base notes of pungent, moist stone, like an ancient cellar, and papery heart notes of a retro bookstore. In the distance a few broken grandfather clocks chimed and wings of Cornish pixies fluttered. A music box, somewhere, forever played three notes it was stuck on.
Finally, Hermione came to a stop and she turned to face Harry. Still hand in hand. In the time it had taken them to walk from the entrance to the centre of the room anxiety seemed to have taken a stronger hold over him. It was clear in his eyes and the slight, tight pull upon his brows. Hermione smiled. Harry did not return it.
Again she asked, "You or me?"
In response Harry shook his head. With her other free hand Hermione slowly reached toward the book he was holding onto so dearly. Her fingers tried to gently tug it free from him, but with no success. Hermione paused, and Harry averted his gaze from her as he closed his eyes. She waited. Patiently.
Though Hermione had no plans to allow for Harry to keep the wretched potions book she was not about to forcefully prize it from his unrelenting fingers. She already had a back-up plan. If Harry was not to willingly abandon said book, here and now, then she would find a way to sneak into the boy's dormitory, whilst he slept, so she could burn it. She was good with flames. She would have burnt it the moment she had heard about what Harry had subjected Zabini too, but Harry seemed uncommonly and unnaturally attached to the book. Much like she had been with Tom Riddle's diary. So, this was plan A. Plan B would rightfully, and appropriately, be covert incineration.
She tugged at the book again, and this time Harry relented. Pulling the book free, she also let go of his other hand. He looked to her again as Hermione took a step back. And another. Another. They watched each other as Harry stood still and Hermione, with the book behind her back, retreated slowly as if not wanting to entice a predatory animal. All the way backwards she went until Harry lost sight of her amongst a tower of furniture.
When Harry could not see her anymore Hermione walked and weaved her way through cabinets, scrolls of maps, ancient weaponry, bookcases and stuffed magical beasts. Finally, she came to taxidermic Chimaera. Its scarred lion head was mid roar as its dragon tail hung above its mane threateningly.
"How appropriate," she said to herself. "And very inappropriate."
A Chimaera was such a bloodthirsty beast it was strange having one—albeit dead—in a school. For a moment Hermione wondered who had been the one to slay it—or collect its carcass. There had only ever been one known wizard who had been able to defeat a Chimaera. She had read about it during her studies of Care of Magical Creatures under their professor and friend Hagrid.
Hermione did not deign to give the potions book a second glance as she rose her hand and slipped it into the gaping mouth bordered by teeth that appeared to be all canines and nothing else. She went as far down its throat as she could before she hit what must have been stuffing. She removed her arm from the Chimaeras mouth.
"You don't mind do you?" She asked.
A clock—somewhere in the graveyard of things—gave a noteworthy chime.
"No," she said. "I didn't think you did."
With one last look at the ferocious beast, she gave her back to it and walked over to a black bound book with no title. She picked it up and threw it as hard as she could. It disappeared behind a mountain of things and made contact with a generous amount of other things. The sound of glass shattered the almost quiet of the Room of Hidden Things.
"Uff," she said on an exhale as Harry came back into view. "You should have seen it—I tell you what, maybe I should have tried out for the Quidditch team after all."
Hermione smirked and Harry's lips cracked with a small smile.
"What did you do?" He asked.
"Threw the blasted thing across the room like a winning Quaffle goal. I should have been a Chaser." Hermione said, finally coming to stand before Harry again. "Oh, well. Maybe in the next life."
"You hate flying," Harry said lowly. With a smile.
"Correction, I hate a permanent wedgie and passionately despise the phallic symbolism of the broomstick itself." She explained.
"That's a Muggle connotation." Harry said, still smiling.
"Still gives you the world's hardest wedgie," she argued. "You can't deny that."
Harry softly chuckled and said, "It doesn't give you a wedgie, I promise."
"Denial unaccepted." Hermione said.
When Harry's smile morphed into a grin, Hermione could not help but smile. It was hard not to. Then, it was hard not to be distracted by the green of his eyes. Especially as they glittered. She had never met anyone else—Muggle or wizard—with as vibrant eyes as his.
"Thank you," he said.
Hermione blinked back to reality.
"Of course," she said quickly.
"No," Harry insisted. His voice then dropped a few decibels as he repeated. "Thank you."
Caught by the sudden intimacy and touch of the moment Hermione averted her gaze and looked to an oddly mapped globe. Instead of countries, the globe seemed to be marked with stellar constellations. Hermione stared harder at a random cluster of stars as Harry took a step closer to her. Without thinking Hermione returned her gaze back to him. And was immediately lost in the verdant pools of his eyes again.
"Always." She whispered, after a moment of silence. "You know I'd do anything for you."
At such a close distance she could smell him. He smelled of—well, Harry. Every imperfection on his face was perfectly clear and—in Hermione's eyes—nothing less than perfect. His eyes were magnificent and remarkably intense. His dark lashes an invite into those emerald irises. A soft tan marked his cheeks, and the odd freckle or two, and his lips—
Hermione's eyes widened in shock when she suddenly found Harry closer to her then he had ever been before. She suddenly felt him on her. His skin. His warm, delicate skin. The skin of his lips were on hers. Then, the room around them disappeared as she too closed her eyes and kissed him back.
Hermione's heart clenched at the bittersweet memory. And Maddy stood beside her waiting in suspense to hear all about it. Pig gave a soft cry and Hermione averted her gaze from her sister.
"It doesn't matter," she said quietly as she made herself a fresh cup of tea, trying to fight off the sourness of the memory.
"Of course it does." Maddy softly protested.
Hermione shook her head.
"No," she said. "Not when he told me it'd been a mistake—a regrettable mistake—and had then afterwards pretended as if it had never happened."