Moonlight
Chapter 7
Weeks had passed since Professor McGonagall had deemed Pansy was no longer in need of tutoring. Weeks had passed since Hermione had failed to report that information to Harry and Ron. While more uncomfortable, her and Pansy had found another remote place where they could meet without being noticed. An unspoken truth that lingered between them. They enjoyed each other’s company more than anyone else's. They wanted their secret to remain just that, known only to them. The hidden nature of their friendship was something that both saddened and relieved Hermione. She disliked keeping things from her friends, but the fear that, if exposed, Pansy would retreat into the depths of the Slytherin dungeons and never be seen again, kept her silent.
Friendship. What an odd word to describe what they had. Hermione knew it wasn’t adequate, but no better options came to mind. So she contended herself with meeting Pansy on a windowsill behind a tapestry in the west wing of the castle, a spot where they could both watch the snow melt day after day as their conversations passed the test of time.
“Knock Knock!” Pansy said from behind the tapestry. Hermione smiled. There was nothing Pansy found more hilarious than that muggle expression.
“Come in!” Hermione chanted. Pansy sat across from her,back rested against the stone wall, hugging her knees. Their boots touched. Even though their close quarters on the windowsill made physical contact with Pansy both natural and necessary, Hermione could never quite get used to it.
“Today was crazy.”
“Really? Tell me why!”
“Well, I got an A in transfiguration, Daphne got asked out by two guys today. Can you believe it! Two! She rejected them both though. I found out about my surprise party so that’s kind of ironic. Also your friend Weasley threw me a dirty look and I almost returned it but I didn’t! Anyway, crazy stuff.”
“Your surprise party?”
“Yeah for tomorrow.”
“Why are you getting a surprise party?”
“Oh right. It’s my birthday tomorrow, I don’t think I told you.”
“Pansy! How could you not tell me?” Hermione asked in disbelief.
“I don’t know, I didn't think about it.”
“Are you kidding me? I don’t even have a present, a cake, anything!”
“It’s fine. This is more inconvenient than it is good anyway.”
“Why is that?” Hermione tried to calm down. She was going to figure out a present. She always did.
“Well for starters, Daphne and Blaise are organising it, just about every slytherin will be there. Second of all, it’s most definitely going to be after my class ends, and in the common room. That means not only are you not invited, or welcome, but I won’t even be able to attend this.” Pansy pointed back and forth between the two of them.
“Ah. Yes. I guess you aren’t one for big parties.” Hermione muttered, doing her best to not blush at the fact that Pansy had practically said she would have rather spent her birthday with her. At least that was how Hermione had chosen to interpret the conversation.
“Does that mean we won’t see each other tomorrow?” Hermione muttered, her voice clawing its way up her throat.
“No! No. I’ll find a way. I just have to sort things out in my mind first.”
“What do you usually do on your birthday?” Hermione changed the subject.
“Well, since I’ve been at Hogwarts, nothing much. I go to Hogsmeade with Draco. We go to honeydukes and he gets me a bag of candy that lasts me all the way until my next birthday.” Pansy laughed. It was strange for Hermione to Hear Malfoy’s name spoken with such tenderness. Pansy’s care for her friend reminded her of her and Harry. Pansy only ever complimented Draco when mentioning him, never leaving Hermione room to disagree.
“It’s a funny thought for me, Draco spoiling his friend with candy.”
“I know right! Slytherins have emotions!” Pansy laughed.
“I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just that Harry always speaks of him in particular in a way that makes this new perspective… new I guess.”
“I get it. But also, if you realised that I am not the way you thought I was, then why do you assume all my friends would be any different?”
“I guess you have a point.” Hermione conceded, puzzled. She had never believed in Harry’s conspiracy theories where being a death eater was practically an entry level requirement to be a Slytherin, but she only realised now that the depth of her prejudices had yet to be explored.
“What did you do before you came to Hogwarts? For your birthday, I mean.”
“My mother would charm a cauldron with a whistling spell and fill it with Galleons. The cauldron would jump from room to room, while I had to catch it. The earlier I catched it the more Galleons I’d get. The afternoon we’d go to Diagon Alley and I’d get anything I wanted with the money I had captured. It was really a great time.”
“What would you get with the money?”
“I’d get the most expensive quill I could. It drove my Mother crazy. I could buy tens of beautiful robes, yet never did. I liked dresses, don’t get me wrong, but nothing beat feeling fancy while punishing parchment with my chicken scratch handwriting. It got so bad I was forced to take calligraphy classes in order to minimise the mess I made.”
“That sounds like a beautiful memory. It’s just so… you.” Hermione giggled
“How exactly am I supposed to take that?”
“As a compliment!”
“I shall pretend you did not just make fun of me on the day before my birthday!” Pansy joked, earning a giggle from Hermione. “Anyway, how did you celebrate your birthday, Granger?”
“I’d go to Waterstones with my parents, and they’d buy me all the books I wanted.”
“Muggles fetch books in rivers?”
“No! Waterstones is just a bookstore” Hermione burst out laughing.
“You have to admit it was misleading!” Pansy joined her.
In that moment, Hermione realised that nothing was more beautiful than Pansy's smile, no melody sweeter than her laughter, and no feeling more enchanting than falling for a witch.
___________________________________
Hermione had retreated to her bedroom. It had been months since she hadn’t been in her bedroom at that time of the day. Her head heavy on her pillow, she fixated the ceiling. Pansy was celebrating her birthday with all of her friends while she laid there, uninvited. Tens of Slytherins got to spend time with Pansy, robbing her of a chance to meet her. The girl had not talked to Hermione all day. She had even missed advanced history and transfiguration, the two classes where Hermione had made the exhausting effort of sitting in a back row instead of her usual spot, by the chalkboard.
She grabbed her journal. With Harry, Ron, and Ginny at quidditch practice, she had hours to kill before anyone would be able to meet with her. Hermione had done her very best to socialise with her friends as much as she could. Being alone meant standing face to face with what had happened to her.
Someone had obliviated her.
It had taken Hermione a while to come to that conclusion, making sure to weigh out every possibility before accepting the truth. The mirror girl she had dedicated all of her journal entries to, had made sure to erase every bit of memory Hermione had about her, not caring to fill up the hole she had left behind. She did not want to be found. She did not want Hermione in her life. Accepting the rejection of a perfect stranger was harder than she had anticipated.
Perhaps she had obliviated herself?
But what could have led her to it? Every word she had decided was worthy of being transcribed into her journal highlighted just how much adoration she had for the girl. Only having the bravery to adventure herself towards unfamiliar pages would tell.
November 1st 1996
Today, she gave me a name. She decided she wanted more of me. Today, I became Hypatia, and she became my Circe. I yearn for her with an imagination that knows no bounds. While Ron's carelessness wounds me, her attention heals me. I hope the gods will forgive me, for I have sent them empty prayers, begging for her to meet me in my dreams.
Hermione looked away, ensuring the tears welling in her eyes didn't fall onto the paper. She had once been in love. She had once held someone so close to her heart nothing else felt real. The love she had for Circe had erupted from the depth of her soul, mending her heart on its way out.
November 4th 1996
I went back to Dervish and Banges today. I can’t believe my mirror used to belong to him. It’s hard for me to even write his name on this page. I can’t shake off the shivers as my fingers trace the red leather and cracked glass of my most treasured object. I wonder if Circe’s copy also belonged to him. She says she found hers on the floor of a corridor. It is a funny feeling, to know something that is now mine was once cherished by someone that is no more. I know what I need to do. I need to go to her, hoping that she’ll bless me with some answers. Hopefully what happened between us last year is water under the bridge.
Hermione gasped, practically jumping to her nightstand. Ripping the cabinet door open, she started taking her books out one by one. It had to be there, somewhere. How had she not thought of the broken mirror until now? Had Circe truly dug deep enough into her mind to even extract every memory she had with it? Hermione groaned. The tides of this blind battle had been set up to never sway her way.
There it was, hiding in plain sight. A flow of inexplicable emotions swallowed her whole as her hand touched the leatherbound handle. The cracked glass still showed nothing but a dark void, rendering the mirror useless, even for non magical purposes.
Hermione looked around. Despite being alone in her room, talking to a broken mirror while kneeling on the floor was embarrassing enough to make her double check no one was there to witness it. She brought the mirror closer to her face.
“Hello?”
No answer.
“Is anybody th-
An owl landed on her windowsill, tapping at the glass with its crooked beak, alerting her to its presence. Hermione hid the mirror under her covers, startled. Perhaps someone had been watching after all. A wave of cold air forced its way inside as she did her best to unleash the message attached to the bird’s talon.
Hermione Granger,
Would you do me the honour of making my birthday exponentially better by meeting me in front of the kitchens at curfew?
With Care, Pansy.
Hermione closed the window, ensuring she was truly alone before pressing the letter to her heart, a smile spreading across her face.
_____________________________
Hermione stopped herself from running down the stairs, doing her best to not attract any attention towards herself. Though subtle, the works of her curling charm made her hair bounce to the beat of her steps. She hadn’t dared to put on any makeup, but had decided that her nicest jumper did fit the occasion after all. She had made sure to pin her prefect badge, which had miraculously avoided any questions from the teachers she had crossed paths with.
There was Pansy, leaning against the enormous still life painting that dissimulated the passageway to the kitchens.
“So? How’s the birthday girl?” Hermione asked, excited
“Nice Hair. I am much better now that you’re here, thank you for asking!” Pansy replied, grinning. “We have to be quiet until we get outside so we don’t get caught.”
“Outside?” Hermione questioned, worried.
She noticed
Leaving the castle past curfew was strictly forbidden. Pansy nodded before turning around and resting her wand against the painting. Soon enough, a small wooden door formed itself, right in between the giant red apples and the water pitcher.
Hermione couldn’t do anything but follow the girl as they made their way into the kitchen. The elves had retired to their quarters for the night, leaving the kitchens emptier than Hermione had ever seen them. Pansy stopped before crouching in front of a wall, opening a door that couldn’t have been 4 feet tall.
“Fire escape” Pansy mouthed before exiting.
“Pansy? Why are we outside?” Hermione asked, her arms crossed against her chest
“For my birthday surprise.”
“I… I don’t really have one. Sorry. It was such short notice.”
“No, silly. My birthday surprise to you. I couldn’t meet you at our time and had to make it up somehow.”
“That wasn’t necessary.” Hermione muttered, her cheeks red.
“I know it wasn’t. I just wanted to. Lumos!” Without another word, Pansy made her way along the wall of the castle. A few yards away, resting against the cold stone was Pansy’s school bag. Pansy shoved her arm in it before pulling out two coats. “Take this one, it’s slightly warmer.” She said before resuming her search.
“A broom? Are you mad?” Hermione whisper-yelled.
“You told me how you don’t really enjoy flying them. I thought that meant you probably hadn’t seen the Castle in all its beauty, when there’s only the moonlight and a few lucky candles there to illuminate it. It’s majestic. If we fly far away enough, no one will see us. I’ll do all the manoeuvring, you just have to hold onto me. I even added extra padding for a second person this morning.”
Hermione was at a loss of words. Her fear of heights and reprimands tugging her away from the thrill of Pansy’s proposition.
“We really don’t have to. This was a bit silly of me. I’ve never done a surprise before so I didn’t know the logistics of how much I was supposed to run by you.” Pansy rubbed the back of her neck, looking down.
“Let’s do it.” Hermione blurted out. She was a Gryffindor after all, having some house integrity wouldn’t hurt.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! Let’s do this. But don’t make fun of me if I scream.”
“I wouldn’t dare. You might push me off the broom if I did.”
“Shut up!” Hermione jokingly shoved the Slytherin girl. She sat on the broom, unsure what to do with her hands.
“You have to hold on tight to me. I’ll keep my coat open so you can have a more secure grip.” Pansy reminded her.
“Right.” Hermione stuttered. Her arms embraced Pansy’s torso, her own chest pressed against the girl’s back. She shivered at the closeness of their bodies. She could feel Pansy’s ribs brushing against her fingertips, a thin layer of fabric the only barrier between their skins touching. Hermione closed her eyes, afraid to look down as the ground got farther and farther away from her by the second. Pansy’s regular breathing grounded her, until finally she dared to look up.
As promised, the Castle glimmered, showered in silver rays of moonlight. Hermione couldn’t believe her eyes. The Great Lake swallowed all the light reflected on it, a black void in the otherwise starlit landscape. Her grip tightened as she inched closer to Pansy.
“Thank you” She whispered in the crook of her neck. The smell of Cedarwood filled her senses, blinding her to anything that wasn’t Pansy Parkinson. She never wanted to let go of her. The closeness of their bodies was addictive, making Hermione wonder how she could’ve possibly spent so many years of her life breathing while being so far from her. The mountain of House rules and societal laws that separated them seemed so small as they rose above the tallest rooftop. While suspended in the air, none of it mattered. She was just a girl, resting her head against the shoulder of another girl, wondering if her feelings would ever be returned.
Pansy eventually led them north before landing on a hill at the edge of the Hogwarts grounds. The view was nothing short of the one from the broom. Hermione let out a small breath she didn’t know she had been holding once her feet finally touched the grass again.
“How was it?” pansy asked as they sat side by side, the Moon their only witness.
“You know my birthday isn’t until September, right?”
“You being here with me is all I wanted for my birthday. Thank you for making my wildest wishes come true.” Pansy smiled at her.
“If we get detention I’ll kill you.” Making another joke was simpler than grappling with the urge to find out whether or not Pansy would kiss her back if she dared to lean forward.
“If we get detention, then we’ll just have another excuse to hangout. I will admit that it will be a difficult situation to explain to our friends this time around.”
“By the way, I got you a little something.” Hermione changed the subject before looking into the pocket of her cloak, turning away from Pansy for long enough to gather her thoughts. “It’s not wrapped or anything, but I hope you still like it. Close your eyes and hold out your hand!”
“Don’t jinx me while my guard is down, Granger.” Pansy teased as she obliged to Hermione’s demands. “What is it?” She questioned, inspecting the small metallic tube laid on her palm.
“Press on the small button on the cylindrical end.”
“It has a retractable end! Wicked. I love that but I still don’t know what it is.”
“It’s a clicker pen. It’s what muggles used to write.”
“So it’s like a quill?”
“A muggle quill.” Hermione’s eyes met Pansy’s. She couldn’t help but be apprehensive. By giving Pansy her pen, she offered her the most vulnerable part of herself. What if Pansy found it stupid? What if she wanted nothing to do with muggle artefacts? What if the muggleness Hermione carried in her was nothing but an inconvenient, unfortunate, unfixable facet of her character which she needed to bury deeper inside of her in order to please her wizard counterparts?
“I love it.”
“You do?”
“I don’t feel worthy of your thoughtfulness.”
“That’s stupid. It's your Birthday.”
“I would’ve loved to try it right now, but I’m afraid I left my inkpot in my bag.”
“You don’t need an inkpot.”
“What do you mean? Every Quill needs ink.”
“This is a clicker pen. The ink is already inside.”
Pansy brought the pen closer to her face in disbelief, examining it from every angle.
“Here, let me show you!” Hermione gently grabbed Pansy’s hand in hers. It was just as delicate as her wand movements had indicated. Their fingers brushed. Hermione couldn’t breathe. She took the pen before opening the girl’s palm. Letter by letter, she wrote her name, before turning towards Pansy, searching for any hint of approval.
Pansy stared at her hand for a long time without uttering a word.
“Can I try?”
‘Y-yes.”
Pansy nodded, before joining their hands again. Hermione closed her eyes, the sharp tip of the pen digging in her palm. In a few days, she’d let Pansy know that one needed nowhere near that much force to make a pen work. For now, she’d welcome every sting she received with open arms.
The letters were crooked, the lines were uneven, their hands hadn’t let go of each other.
“I can’t believe we don't use those. The ink free mechanic is pure genius.”
“It was probably never adopted because a muggle invented it.”
“Touché.”