Memories of You

Hermione had stopped hurting. Seeing Ron and Lavender together, being affectionate in a way that made her wonder if they knew they were in a public space had stopped making her suffer. He was allowed to go wherever he pleased, and kiss whoever he wanted. The loud pain had turned into a slight unease.

Hermione arrived early to her first class of the day once again. Eating without talking was much faster than with friends. Harry had found himself in “shared custody”, and had decided to have breakfasts with Ron and lunch with her. Her back resting against the wall, her eyes staring at her book, she hadn’t seen McLaggen arrive.

“Hey Hermione, early today as well I see”. She raised her head to look at him. Cormac never spoke to her usually. She knew that he had asked Ron to introduce them, but apparently preferred a complete lack of romanticism that would’ve come with a set up date to instead simply talk to her on a Tuesday morning. Perhaps had he realised no one would help him, and had decided to take matters into his own hands. He was leaning against the wall, resting his head on his palm, giving her the McLaggen smile she imagined girls all talked about. Hermione found him repulsive. She was about to nicely tell him to never talk to her again when Ron and Lavender appeared around the corner. She was over him, but she wasn’t over making sure he knew that.

“Cormac, it’s good to see you. I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while if you were already going with someone at the Slughorn Christmas Party.” Hermione said, making sure her voice was loud enough for everyone in the hallway to be able to hear her. McLaggen seemed surprised that things were working out so well for him.

“I haven’t thought about it yet. Do you have a cavalier?”

“Actually, I wanted to go with you.” Ron and Lavender were too busy snogging to hear the conversation.

“Sounds perfect to me, love!” He said, his crass smile making a comeback, this time accompanied with a wink.

What have I just done

Hermione thought, trying to keep a straight face after what had just happened. A wink? Love? She could’ve thrown up right there and then. Ron hadn’t even flinched. Had he even heard anything? This was the stupidest decision she had ever made in her Hogwarts career.

She had been hoping to gather up the courage to talk to Circe again, and invite her to the Slughorn ball. She would’ve hit two birds with one stone, a good time spent with the one that never left her thoughts anymore, as well as to be on a date with a Slytherin, a Slytherin Girl, which would’ve made Ron effectively lose his mind. But she had succumbed to the temptation of getting his attention away from Lavender, foolishly trading her long term happiness for a much smaller high which had never happened anyway.

She hadn’t talked to Circle in two weeks. Fear paralyzed her every time she grabbed the mirror to respond to one of the girl's long night rants. Everyday it became more difficult for her to come back with an excuse that would be good enough to justify her absence.

Circe had come to her every night. Sometimes she described her days, her fears of the mirror being broken, repeating how she was probably just talking to herself, how much she missed her.

One night, she had installed herself by a window in the staircase that led to the girl’s dormitories. It was late, but giggles and whispers indicated to her that not all were asleep yet. The cold stone was uncomfortable, but she settled anyway, waiting for Circe. She had ended up talking for almost an entire hour, alone. As she said goodbye, Hermione had had the urge to stop her. To talk to her. But she had been too scared. When the silence had come to greet her again, she had cried. She felt powerless, swearing that next time, she’d muster up the courage to speak up. The next day, as usual, she had failed.

Her little game had gone on for too long, and her mistake of that morning had finally forced her to combat her cowardice.

I am not a coward. I have seen and fought things I shouldn’t have at my age. I am strong.

Hermione had repeated these sentences to herself all day. Tonight, she’d talk to her.

_______________

Pansy laid in her bed, arms crossed behind her head. She couldn’t think about anything, or anyone else but her. Hypatia. She still couldn’t bring herself to call her Hermione yet. That evening she had witnessed McLaggen nudge his equally stupid friends while nodding towards Hermione. Not two seats away from her, Weasely and Brown were feeding each other cake with teaspoons. There was no more doubt. She hadn’t been able to finish her food and had left the room.

Hypatia, my dear Hypatia, why are you refusing to talk to me in a moment like this?

She had gone up to the room of requirements. Now that they knew how to fix it, her and Draco had a mountain of work ahead of them. It was long, minutious work. Sometimes, they’d make a mistake and have to start all over again. The Mille Feuille coating technique had instantly shattered any illusion she had gained when leaving Dervish and Banges. The name wasn’t an allegory. They had a thousand layers to work through, each taking hours or their day. Months of work if Draco had to do the work alone. He would die. The Dark Lord would kill him. Pansy had no choice. She had sworn to help her best friend months ago, she wouldn’t back down now, regardless of her mental state. Her grades were at an all time low, she barely talked to any of her friends, or the girls in her dorm anymore. The only thing that had made sure her entire life wasn’t swallowed away by the cabinet was the curfew. Detention was a luxury she couldn’t afford anymore, so she clocked out from her death eater work at 10pm every night.

Pansy knew that starting her homework would’ve been the wise thing to do, but she just couldn’t bring herself to open them. Hypatia in her mind all day, the vanishing cabinet during her free time, and homework after curfew? One had to go. She would’ve loved to not have the inconvenience of being in love with a girl she would never get the chance to touch, but unfortunately, Hypatia’s face followed her everywhere she went. Homework, on the other hand, had the great advantage of becoming invisible if she never opened her school bag.

She wanted to do nothing. She wanted to slip under the covers and go into a year long hibernation. Instead, Pansy planned out her possibilities:

She helped Draco fix the cabinet, he successfully killed Dumbledore, and the Dark Lord would win the war. Hermione dies. On the other hand, they failed to fix the closet. The Dark Lord would immediately kill Draco, and his task would be delegated onto her. She would fail to come up with a better alternative, and he’d kill her as well. Hermione would die.

Staying alive was the only way she’d keep the possibility of one day saving her. Pansy had no other choice. She would be of use dead, or on Hermione's side of the war.

A voice came from the mirror.

“Circe, I need to talk to you.”

Pansy sat straight up, whiplashed. Hypatia had finally decided to talk to her again. She could still see her, looking down onto her plate, eating quietly, an expression of sadness painted across her face.

“Hey. Sorry I am so surprised. I didn’t think the mirror still worked.”

“I am sorry. Truly. I had something important to tell you and I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was too scared.” Hermione said, tremulous. Pansy closed her eyes and smiled, savouring the sound of her voice. Two weeks was an eternity if one counted every second.

“I am listening.”

“I haven’t told you what Cho wished for because it changes a lot of things. You see, when I found out, it brought up a lot of my feelings to light, and I didn’t know how to deal with them.” Hermione paused, hesitating. She knew there would soon be no going back. “Well, I guess I’ll just tell you what she wished for. You’ll be able to draw out your own conclusions pretty easily. She wished for the mirror to stay hidden until it was able to fulfil its purpose again, to unite future cursed lovers against all trials and tribulations, and so forever and ever.”

Hermione had stopped talking. Pansy knew all too well what this meant for them. She didn’t need Hypatia to tell her for her to know that they were cursed.

“What do you think about that?” Pansy tried to keep her tone detached.

“Well. I think that it’s become impossible for me to ignore something I think I’ve known for a while now. The mirror, it brought us together. I was so willfully blind, blind to the fact that I had fallen for a witch. Circe, take this as you wish, but I love you. I do.”

Tears fell quietly down Pansy’s cold, pale face.

“And you tell me that now? Now that we are so far apart, and I can’t even hold you in my arms?” The pain became intolerable, clawing through her chest and grappling her throat. Hypatia had no idea, but they were worlds apart. It wasn’t simply a few hundred metres that separated them, it was fate, duty, and despair. Pansy wanted to crash their lips together, to smell her hair, and stare into her eyes. Instead, all she had was her voice. Her melodious, innocent voice that had only acknowledged the word Lovers in the expression Cursed Lovers.

“I’m sorry, Circe. I just couldn’t keep this to myself anymore. The lie I had worked so hard to build up has fallen into shambles, and all that is left are my feelings for you. I wanted to tell you everything and invite you to that stupid Christmas Ball, but this morning, McLaggen walked up to me, and the heartless rude one was around…”

“Please, stop talking to me about Weasley, I can’t do this anymore.”

Hermione stopped right in her tracks, livid. “H-How do you know?”

“It’s been exactly two weeks and three days that I’ve been talking alone to a mirror like a lunatic. Believe me, I’ve had more than enough time to evaluate all my possibilities. I know you. I love you, Hermione Granger.”

“I want to see you. I want to see you so desperately. I don’t even know who you are!” Hermione begged. She had started crying too.

“I can’t. I have something important that I need to finish first. But believe me, I also am dying to see you. I also… I won’t be able to talk to you at night anymore.” Pansy said. She hadn’t realised just how hard this would be. But failing out of Hogwarts wouldn’t help anything. For once, her homework and her secret task had to be a priority over her heart. “Live your life. Live your life, and when I’ll finally be done, I’ll find you. I promise.”

“You can't do that to me!” Hermione sobbed. “I torture myself for weeks, and when I finally open my heart up to you, you leave me? You tell me you can’t meet me, and we can’t even talk anymore? These weeks have been the worst of my life. I’ve listened to you every night, cursing myself for not being brave enough to respond to you and tell you that I love you!”

I don’t have a choice.” Pansy cut her. Her voice was hoarse, words were fighting to stay deep inside her chest. “If only you knew how much I love you. How much I have loved you from the moment we started talking. But please, Hypatia, Hermione, do not try to find me.”

“How long will that thing take?” Hermione asked, trying to gain some composure.”

“I don’t know. Weeks, perhaps months. Hypatia my thoughts will all belong to you. I will dedicate all of my energy into finishing this so that I can get back to you sooner. I love you, Hypatia. Do not wait for me. Tell yourself that everyday, we will walk the same grounds, that my steps will accompany yours, that my heart belongs to you.”