The End
Hermione kept her eyes closed for a long time after she snapped out of Pansy’s mind. She couldn’t move, or say anything. Too afraid to meet Pansy’s eyes once more, the darkness of her eyelids a thin barrier between the overflow of information and reality. Her fists tightened, somewhat hiding the shake of her hands. One thing at a time, she thought. She needed to focus on one thing at a time. She turned around before opening her eyes and walked away, doing her best to remember the path she had come from.
“Where are you going?” Pansy croaked, her voice already distant.
“I’m going to find that bloody cabinet and turn it into a pile of ash before you ruin your life and this castle for good.”
“It’s no use. You’ll never find your way back there.”
“Try me.” Hermione yelled back.
She wiped the sweat off her forehead, her legs moving mechanically down hallways made up of furniture and objects she didn’t recognise. She cursed. Any conception of time had been lost, and it seemed to have been months since she had first entered the room of requirements. She didn’t let that discourage her, taking left and right turns when her heart told her to, the rhythmic sound of Pansy’s footsteps behind her keeping her on the move.
It took Hermione at least a mile to admit the truth. The Cabinet should have appeared to her a long time ago now, and all she had done was let herself be swallowed deeper into a maze she didn’t know.
“Take me back to the Cabinet please.” Hermione implored, finally daring to look at Pansy. It had been much easier to focus on the dark revelations of the girl rather than on the reciprocal nature of their feelings when she hadn’t been confronted with a pair of teary eyes. Pansy’s black bangs had stuck onto her forehead, further contributing to her febrile appearance. She took a long time to answer, choosing to first loosen her tie and pull on the collar of her white shirt in an attempt to ventilate as she caught her breath.
“I wouldn’t know how to get back either at this point. I’ve never been to this part of the room.”
“How do we get out then?”
“If you walk in any direction in a straight line for about five minutes the room understands that you wish to leave and will conjure up a wall with a door to the hallway.”
“I’m going to Dumbledore’s office. Don’t come after me or you’ll regret it.” Hermione forced herself to turn around and start walking again.
“Don’t you have questions? Before you turn me in. I’m sure you must have some.”
“How? How could you?” Hermione screamed as she collapsed to the floor exhausted. The girl was right. Of course she had questions. Of course she couldn’t turn her in without first trying to make sense of the revelations that had been dropped on her. She had fallen for a death eater. Twice. She had loved and been loved, cared and been cared for in a way she never thought would be possible by someone who had erased her memories and plotted to destroy Hogwarts. “How can you let death eaters into the Castle? Time and time again in your memories you talk of the innocent, but you have no trouble being the match that will light an inextinguishable fire! Students will lose their lives if you succeed!”
“They won’t.”
“Don’t be a fool, Pansy. A liar like you should know by now when they’re spoonfed fallacious promises.”
“They are going after Dumbledore and Dumbledore only. They have strict orders to not engage with students or other staff unless personally attacked. I don’t mean to take away responsibility from my actions when I tell you this. I do know, however, that this break into the castle is nothing but a symbolic act meant to assert dominance and install fear among the population. They want to send a message. But I trust that Dumbledore will know how to defend himself. I have to. Perhaps that last part is to ease my conscience a bit.”
Pansy sat down next to her before resting her head back onto a nearby trunk. Letting someone into their mind the way she had took a lot of effort. Hermione still remembered how exhausted Harry was when he returned from his sessions with Snape, pale and sweaty. She couldn’t imagine how draining it must have been for Pansy to endure such an invasive experience at the depth they had just shared.
“It’s still a murder attempt.”
“It is. Though if Draco and I don’t succeed we will be killed by the end of the term. He told his father, you know? That I’ve been helping him.” Pansy frowned in frustration. “That bastard was more than happy to hear that his son had a shoulder to lean on, as long as I didn’t get any credit in the end. He’ll be the first to point his finger at me and my family if anything goes wrong of course.”
“He’s horrible for telling on you.” Hermione choked back tears as she hugged her knees
“He is. I have always pitied Draco for the summers he had to endure by his side. Even my father is better.”
“No, not him. Draco. He’s horrible.”
“He isn’t.”
“He dragged you into his hell and now you’re both drowning.”
Pansy sighed. “I can’t afford to think like that, Hermione. I can’t because then… then I’m alone. And it’s not like my fate would have differed greatly without him. I have been tasked to stay behind at Hogwarts for my last year, and find ‘weak minded students’ who could be convinced into joining the Dark Lord’s ranks. I’m still trying to figure my way out of that one. It’s not so easy when you’re under constant monitoring, and results are the only way of staying alive.”
Hermione’s eyes widened. How could it have taken her so long to put two and two together?
“Your bandages…”
“Yes. My father did end up following through with his plan.”
“But I didn’t see it when I went through your mind.”
“I thought that maybe some parts are meant to stay hidden. For you and for me. Relieving the worst day of my life is not exactly easy. You would’ve hated it anyways.”
“Of course.” Hermione lowered her eyes, ashamed as she remembered her futile rants to Pansy about Ron, McLaggen, or Lavender. How could she have been so blind to Pansy’s torments? Hermione struggled to believe that in the countless hours they had spent talking through their mirrors, she had never once noticed anything that could allude to the girl’s suffering. The sleepless nights,the dark mark, the nightmares, the hours spent fixing the cabinet. Nothing. She had noticed nothing.
“I can’t. I won’t. I’m sorry. I need time. So don’t follow me. Don’t come to me. If you do, I'll go to Dumbledore and tell him that it is you who has been behind the attempts on his life this whole year.”
“I won’t. I’ll let you be. I’m sorry Hermione, for how I’ve made you feel.”
Hermione turned around and walked, praying that the physical gap she was creating between her and Pansy would be enough to detach their hearts from each other. Pansy didn’t follow her. Of course she wouldn’t. She’d follow Hermione’s every wish even if it meant she’d have to put her hands in a fire.
She didn’t stop walking. Not when Anthony Goldstein asked her what she was doing at this time of the night in the castle, given that the Gryffindor prefects were off patrol duty, and not when Harry, who had been waiting for her in the common room to have a conversation, called out her name. She needed to go into her bed, close the curtains, and hope that the thought of Pansy probably still sitting in the room of requirements would leave her alone.
___________________
Harry and Ron bickered at the dinner table. Mere minutes had passed since the food had magically appeared on their plates, and comments regarding the non adjustable portion sizes and their impact on quidditch matches had already started.
“I just don’t know why there can’t be more meat options, I need protein to be good on the pitch!” Ron raised his shoulders in disbelief.
“There are infinite refills, Ron.” Harry rubbed his temples, annoyed.
“It’s not about that. What if we get ham on the night before a match? I hate ham! Then what? I’m going to look like a proper twat on the broom from lack of energy!”
The voices of her friends grew distant as Hermione’s insides became hollower, the familiar sting of emptiness creeping up on her the way it had during Christmas break. Pansy had kept her promise, and hadn’t acknowledged her since their last encounter. There were times at night, where she had thought about going up to her. She had written her name, on the margins of her parchment, the same way she had once written Circe. The quill had not resisted, tracing the letters in a practised way. Since then the Lake had melted, and students were sitting on the grass again, enjoying the warm rays of sun that had made their return. Only Hermione remained blue. Only Hermione remained frozen.
“Just erase my memory now, if that’s your plan!” She had once demanded to Pansy as the girl approached the dancing trolls tapestry. Every day, Pansy had skipped dinner to visit Draco during the quieter hours of the hospital wing, before taking a long trek up to the seventh floor and spending several hours mending the cabinet. A practised dance, a waltz Hermione knew how to intercept, though she had never dared up until now.
“No.”
“Why not? You’re going to do it eventually.”
“Because you don’t want to right now.”
“What if I never want it?” Hermione scoffed, frustrated at Pansy’s self assurance. Hands buried in her pockets, she towered over Hermione in a way that almost felt taunting.
“You will understand. It takes a while to get to that conclusion. To evaluate every option, and try to find other ways of making it out alive of this war. You get caught, I die, and so does my family. I get caught loving you, I die and they go after you even more than they already will.”
“You’re missing something. You are.” Hermione paced, refusing to acknowledge the warm feeling that had formed in her stomach as soon as the words had danced on Pansy’s lips. Loved. She was loved. She shook her head, chasing the impossible thoughts away. “Why are you even assuming that Voldemort’s side will win?”
“Not here!” Pansy whispered back, scanning their surroundings frantically. She dragged Hermione's arm to the end of the hallway, in an empty classroom far from nosey paintings and echoing stone walls. “Are you willing to assume the opposite? To be willfully unprepared for a horribly plausible case scenario?”
Hermione stood still, quiet. She hadn’t planned thoroughly enough when she approached Pansy; her legs had carried her forward, driven by something that pushed reason aside and demanded to leave all rationality behind. It wasn’t like her. None of this was. But the desire to be close to Pansy, to be in her presence, even for a mere instant, had been stronger.
“Hermione It’s happening again. He is back. I don’t know how to explain it to you in other terms. That said, I won’t force you to do anything.” Pansy repeated, her face closed.
“Why do you always have to be so sure of yourself? You follow fictitious rules, and abide by skewed morals without a care in the world for anyone around you. Here you are, acting like a saint for not erasing my memory against my will!”
“Well what do you want me to say?” Pansy’s voice cracked as she searched desperately for the answer in Hermione’s eyes. “ I’m not sure of anything! I’m just trying. I’m trying my best. For you. And I’m not following fictitious rules. I’m breaking myself up into pieces big enough to satisfy everyone around me. You don’t want me around you. I don’t come around you. My father wants me to quit muggle history, I quit muggle history. Draco wants my help, he gets my help. The only selfish thing I’ve ever done is putting you above everyone else, and I’m tired of you giving me crap for it! I know very well what you think of me. Believe me, I had been preparing myself for a long time for it when I let you into my mind!”
“Pansy,” Hermione began, taken aback by the sudden display of emotion. She had never been good at discerning boundaries, but she was certain she had just crossed one. Acceptance. Forgiveness. Patience. All things that she held, but that she had refused to give.
“No. Not today. Have a good day Hermione.” Pansy hadn’t even bothered to look back.
“So? Hermione? What do you think?” Ron inquired, snapping her out of her thoughts. She was met with two pairs of eyes, clearly expecting from her an answer she didn’t have to a question she didn’t know.
“I think that you guys can just have my portion. I’ll see you later in the common room.”
“Thanks Hermione! I’ll bring you some desert.” Ron smiled, not wasting a second to grab her plate and place it next to his. “See Harry, now this feels like a real meal!”
“Again, Ron, infinite refills!”
“But now that I know exactly how much I’ve already eaten, I can better prepare for dessert. Can’t keep track of those things with your infinite refills.”
Hermione forced a wave and a smile before exiting the hall. She checked the giant ticking clock that swung above the doors. Pansy had already gone into the hospital wing, but Hermione could still make it in time to watch her leave, and go up to the room of requirements. How she loved sitting on the marble bench, just out of sight and waiting until Pansy passed by, her hands habitually buried deep in her pockets, dragging her steps in a way that feigned both arrogance and carelessness. Catching a glimpse of Pansy sometimes felt like the only thing keeping Hermione bound to reality.
She had taken a habit of meticulously writing down in her journal everything she remembered from Pansy’s memories during the short while Pansy spent in the hospital wing. It was a quiet, private corner of the castle where she had yet to cross paths with anyone at that time of day, a perfect moment to scribble through the remaining white pages. Her eyes fell onto the list of things she had vowed to do before she allowed herself to speak to Pansy again. After the catastrophe that had been the last time they had met, Hermione knew she had to do better. Several weeks had passed since she had checked the last box. Now only one remained. One she hadn’t gathered the courage to complete until now.
Hermione stopped breathing when Pansy left the hospital wing. Afraid that her own heartbeat would betray her she took a step back, melting with the wall as she waited for the girl to walk past her and up the stairs. Her shoulders sank, she hadn’t managed to catch a glimpse of the Pansy’s face. She couldn't tear her gaze away from her, hypnotised by the way Pansy moved as she got smaller and smaller, and finally, turned around the corner, leaving Hermione behind.
Hermione sat back on the marble bench. A small part of her always hoped that Pansy would somehow feel her presence, and turn her head around towards her. But she wouldn’t even know how to react if she did. She wouldn't know what to say. Talking to her would mean accepting the one daunting truth.
Pansy was right.
There was no way out. The feeling had first appeared a couple of days ago. It had been subtle at first, though constant. Day after day, night after night, she felt it. The passing of time, slipping through her fingers. There was nothing else to write in her diary. No new memory shared with Pansy to engrave into her reality. She missed her. She loved her. The loneliness she experienced, the pain in her chest, ready to burst out into a sob at any time gnawed at her from the inside, leaving nothing but bones and flesh behind.
Acceptance. Resignation. They weren’t so different after all. Her heart was light as she closed her diary for the last time. She just had one more thing to do.
“Granger? What are you doing here? Are you crazy?”
“Shut up Malfoy. I don’t have much time.” Hermione whispered as she shut the white hospital curtains around them and casted a quick muffliato.
Hermione sat down next to him, ignoring all her instincts begging her to turn around and run away. She couldn't show him that the years of relentless bullying had left a mark on her after all. As his pale eyes questioned her, she knew, now more than ever, that she could show no weakness.
“Pomfrey thinks I’m here to bring you homework.”
“And what is it, exactly, that you’re really doing?”
“I know. I know everything.”
Draco lowered his back back onto the bed and closed his eyes, defeated.
“She’s not going to be ready. Please don’t try to convince her, or yourself otherwise.”
“I know.” Hermione stared at the ground as she tried to swallow away the knot that had already wrapped around her throat.
“She’ll die if she tries.”
“I know.”
“So what is it that you want from me?”
“Will you remember? When we both forget?”
“I’m pretty sure you being here means that you saw me make a promise to Pansy, doesn’t it?”
“But I’m the one asking you. I need you to promise me. I need to hear it for myself.”
“Of course I promise.” Draco replied without missing a beat. Hermione’s eyes widened. Pansy’s memories had felt more like a dream than reality.
A wave of relief washed over her. She would have never imagined finding comfort in Malfoy’s words, but there she was, not knowing how to show her gratefulness in a way that wouldn’t seem too desperate, or embarrassing. “Thank you for that.” She whispered.
Draco shrugged and turned his eyes towards the window, him too uncomfortable with the lack of apparent hostility that usually loomed over their interactions.
“I know you resent me. You think I am to blame for what is happening to her.”
“I don’t.” She forced out, gripping tighter onto her chair.
“I don’t care if you do. But I’m asking you now, how many times have you risked your life for Potter? How many did you willingly put yourself in dangerous situations you would’ve never been in had it not been for your best friend?”
“It was different.”
“You tell yourself that. I was in an impossible situation, and she helped me. I would already be dead without her. I know you may hate it, but I’ve seen Pansy’s memories, during our occlumency sessions. I get why you two found each other. You’re not so different after all. Potter is a bellend, and you’re the reason he’s still alive.”
“You saw them all?” Hermione painfully stirred the conversation away from a conflict waiting to happen.
“No. She managed to hide one from me.”
“Which one?”
“That time you went to the bathroom to wash off the ink.”
“Ah. I see” Hermione had hoped for Pansy’s birthday, or their dance lesson which had ended in a rather flustering way, but perhaps it was better he hadn’t seen the day she had spoken uglier words to his best friend. She appreciated how cautious he had been with his phrasing when describing the day most people in their class had decided she was positively crazy.
“You’re a muggle born, and Potter’s best friend. She worries about you. About what could happen to you once everything… gains momentum.”
“I’ll be fine. I know how to get by on my own.”
“I don’t doubt that. But they’ll come after you. Pansy and I don’t have much to give, but we give it to you and Potter. I know what you think of us. You think we are cowards. But it’s impossible to know if there are others like us. It’s impossible to organise a movement, or to defy any orders. The fear is engrained too deeply in every one of us to even try.”
“But Draco, that is what you’re doing. You’re trying. You’re doing more than what you give yourselves credit for.”
Draco shrugged, his eyes diverting away to the ceiling this time. It was impressive almost, just how similar his mannerisms were to Pansy’s. The uninterested, bored expression pasted on his face that hid any emotion until one managed to get under its surface and the dislike for eye contact were traits Hermione was all too familiar with.
“I think we were fools from the beginning, you know. To think that what you two have could be buried deep within to not be discovered. It’s too big. Too bright. Don’t blame yourself too much, and… I guess no need to blame Potter either. I still hate him for what he did to me, that day, in the bathroom. I haven’t been able to help with the cabinet since, or with occulmancy. But bonds like these are greater than any magic you and I could ever conjure. And,” Draco paused carefully weighing his next words, “That’s why I think you’ll find each other again. Honestly, I don’t think you’d even need my help.
“I better be going then.Thank you for everything. It means a lot even if i won’t remember any of it” Hermione stood up, suppressing the tears that were starting to pool in her eyes. The muffliato enchantment was starting to wear off and she didn’t want to overstay her welcome.
Draco shifted in his bed, wincing as he did so. “Don’t waste any more time and just go talk to her already.”
“I will.” Hermione nodded before closing the curtain behind her.
___________________
Hermione laid in her bed awake. She was ready. Waiting for Lavender and Parvati to fall asleep had taken longer than expected, but the light snores coming from two opposite ends of the room indicated that the time had finally come. She grabbed her wand from under her pillow and sat up in her bed, legs crossed.
Conjuring her patronus was a test she had always dreaded to fail. She closed her eyes, waiting for a perfect memory to come to her, a memory that would without a doubt fulfill its duty and deliver her message.To search into the depths of her heart, for the happiest memory she had created was an intrusive act she had never been fully comfortable with. There were too many people to choose from. The fear of her patronus not conjuring itself when thinking about Ron and Harry, or her parents was sometimes too great to even try. Her hand trembled as she lifted her wand in the air but paused for a second. Would she really dare?
A range of emotions flooded her mind. Pansy was all she could think of. She closed her eyes, hoping that it would help her look deeper. The dance lesson they had shared was an option, but it was clouded with everything that had followed. There also were the times Pansy had brought them dinner and they had sat together for hours on the classroom benches, getting to know each other. It was a foreign feeling, to look back on those moments and know that she had repeated countless times, unbeknownst to herself, things she had shared during their mirror conversations. Pansy had listened attentively every single time, asking insightful questions, and never letting on to her secret.
“Expecto Patronum” she whispered as another memory floated down to her mind. That one would work, she was sure of it. She smiled, recalling the sting of the pen while Pansy wrote her name on her palm. The scent of Pansy’s coat wrapped around her, a layer of protection. How the castle glimmered and glistened, and how their shoulders touched. The heat that burned from the depths of her stomach to the surface of her cheeks. She had been so… happy. Nothing, in that instant, had felt of consequence, all of her worries left below once they had landed on the hill.
A silver stream of magic flowed her wand and turned into an otter immediately. Her eyes widened. She had done it. “Tell her that I’ll meet her by the Old Oak Tree on Saturday, once everyone has departed for hogsmeade. Tell her to bring her mirror.”
______________________
Hermione clung tight onto her journal as she let her steps guide her to the shores of the Black Lake. She hadn’t talked to Pansy all week, but the small smile they hard shared in the back row of advanced history had been confirmation enough that her message had been received. She hadn’t been able to detach her eyes from the girl, who had recently started attending dinner again. Her breakup with Blaise had been the talk of the castle for a couple of days, days during which Hermione had struggled to suppress the smile that crept up to the corner of her lips every time the subject was brought up around her.
There was freedom in her resignation. Of course, there had been times when she had gotten overwhelmed with how little time the universe had granted them, but it was only through acceptance that she’d get to truly live in the moments she had left, instead of constantly chasing after more. She had let go, and stopped seeking unattainable control over the situation.
Pansy was already there, facing the melting waters while she rested her back against the bark of the ancient tree. A silver swan floated on the surface of the lake, swimming in light circles.
“You inspired me to give it a try. I had never casted one before.” Pansy announced, finally turning her head towards Hermione, her patronus fading away as she did so.
“I thought an owl wouldn’t be dramatic enough to deliver my message.”
“You thought right. Otters are very dramatic”
“They also don’t leave a paper trail.”
“It’s true that I’ve never met an otter that knew how to write.”
Hermione giggled. It had been long since they had joked together this way. Pansy stood up and walked towards her. It took Hermione a couple of seconds to regain control over her body. The thought of being able to lift her hand and touch her was both terrifying and enthralling.
“I’m scared.”
“Me too.” Pansy let out in a whisper.
“I need to say something before I forget it.”
“I’m always listening to you.”
“I fell in love with you when all I had was your thoughts and I didn't know who you were. I fell in love with you again when I knew who you were and you wouldn’t let me in. And in between… I spent everyday hollow. I am empty without you. They say hell is a burning endless cave, but I imagine it to be as abysmal and meaningless as the thought of never knowing you again is. If I let go of you, I am afraid I won’t find you again. Because I know I’ll never stop looking. I just won’t.”
Pansy reached out for her hand, wrapping it in between hers and squeezed. “Come here.” She pulled her into an embrace. It was only then, as her head rested against Pansy’s chest, and the girl had placed enough soft kisses on her head, that Hermione allowed her tears to fall. She had promised herself that she wouldn’t, that she would stay strong and not spoil what she had hoped to be a tender meeting, but there she was struggling to keep her body from shaking to the rhythm of her quiet sobs.
“I love you. I love you. I love you. It’s okay to cry. I’m crying too. I love you.” Pansy whispered in between kisses.
“We’ll never have a future.”
“Well, you know,” Pansy pulled away and held Hermione’s face between her hands, making sure their eyes would meet. “ When we meet again, it will be the present. Future isn’t really even a thing, by the time it arrives it becomes the present. We won’t know our past. We won’t know that we can’t have a future. But in that moment, in our present, we will love each other. I’ll find you again, some way or another, until, eventually, we can rest together, and observe, from the same boat, how time stretches and recoils, and the way leaves turn green and yellow and brown and green again. Before we know it, a million little presents will succeed themselves, one after the other, and we won’t be able to tell where one ends and the other begins.”
Hermione leaned forwards, placing a gentle kiss on Pansy’s lips before hugging her again. “I haven’t been there for you like I should have.”
“You were what made me keep going. I’m still here because of you.”
“Okay, I need to get a grip.” Hermione sniffled, breaking their embrace. “We need to break our mirrors now.”
Pansy laughed before wiping her tears away with her sleeve. “And then I’m the one uncomfortable with displays of emotion.”
“Mine has no spell inside of it. I’ll break it first. That way, when we take the spell out of yours, it will have no place to go.”
“Sounds good.”
Hermione laid her mirror in the grass. It had meant so much to her last semester. She had slept with it under her pillow, and brought it everywhere she went. It was incredible to think that it was that very mirror that had brought them together.
“Yours looks brand new. Look at mine.” Pansy grimaced as she pulled her copy out of her cloak. The leather which was a vibrant red on Hermione’s had browned, and peeled on the edges of the cracked glass of Pansy’s.
Hermione took a deep breath. She opened her mouth to cast the charm when Pansy stopped her.
“Wait!”
“Yes?”
“What if you don’t like me anymore after this?”
“Reducto!” Hermione said without skipping a beat. Her mirror made a cracking sound before shrivelling in on itself the way a tin can would. “We’re good. I still like you. What about you?”
“I still like you.” Pansy matched Hermione’s fake serious tone perfectly.
“Perfect. Now for your mirror things will be tricker. The charm is still in there. Luckily, there are two of us. I’ll pull the charm out, and you’ll destroy the mirror in the meantime. Does that work for you?”
“How did you pull the charm out of the mirror? I tried everything and couldn’t even get remotely close to breaking this thing.”
“Well, I experimented with spell crafting. To find you, I pulled the charm out and then I combined a disillusionment charm with a temporary concealment charm to make the spell forget about the mirror and instead search for its other half, which was inside of yours.”
“You’re a genius. I never get tired of that.”
“Thank you.” Hermione mumbled, her cheeks flushing both as a response to Pansy’s flirting and at the thought of the girl trying to untether them during the months she had forgotten about Circe and was falling in love with Pansy. “We won’t need the second part, I think. A simple reducto on your side will do.”
“Ready?”
“Ready.” Hermione nodded. She held up her wand with both hands in anticipation. The last time she’d tried to pull out even half of the charm, it had been nearly impossible to control.
“Encantatum Retractum!”
The fight the spell was putting up to not be displaced was enough to make Hermione’s wand snap in half if Pansy didn’t act fast enough. Her heels dug onto the floor as her spine arched in an obtuse manner. The ball of light Hermione had seen previously appeared again, only this time much brighter and larger.
“Reducto!” The pull disappeared immediately, making Hermione fall onto her back from the recoil. Pansy rushed to help her get back up.
“Look!” Hermione pointed behind the girl. The light had split into two spheres which orbited around each other. They spun slowly, a few meters above the ground. Hermione and Pansy stood below, entranced by the scene that had unfolded above them. “What now?” Hermione whispered.
“I don’t know, but for the record, I still like you.”
The orbs grew brighter, and started descending towards them, until eventually they reached their eye level. They exchanged looks before Pansy hesitantly reached up and placed a finger on it. And just as they had come, the charms disappeared.
“I thought it would float to my heart or something.” Pansy shrugged.
“Me too.” Hermione frowned. “Pansy. I think we did it.”
“We did.”
Hermione let out a deep breath. Cho’s curse was broken. And Pansy still looked just as beautiful as the day she had met her. Or perhaps the day she had met her for the second time? Or the third? Time was a difficult way of marking their relationship. Hermione grabbed Pansy’s hand and brought her to the edge of the water. They sat together, their shoulders pressed against each other, their fingers intertwined.
“Hermione-”
“I know. I brought it.”
Pansy nodded. “I don’t like asking you to do this, but since you already found me once that way, it only makes sense.”
“Did you bring your pen?”
“I bring it everywhere with me. It only leaves my pocket when I use it to write.”
Hermione placed the mechanical pen she had offered Pansy in between pages of her journal before levitating them together in front of her. She didn’t flinch when a small flame appeared out of Pansy’s wand. The journal continued floating until it stood above the lake, a few meters in front of them. They sat in silence as the pages ignited and the pencil cracked, ashes falling onto the cold water. It was only when her journal had completely self consumed that she allowed herself to look back at Pansy. All of her memories in the physical form were gone, erasing one more witness to their story.
Pansy was hugging her knees, her eyes red but not teary. The light breeze pulled apart her bangs to the sides of her face, and the last golden rays of sunlight illuminated her dancing freckles.
“I’m guessing you did it? You fixed it, didn't you?” It hadn’t taken Hermione long to put two and two together after Pansy had stopped skipping classes and started attending every meal. She had rarely been more conflicted. The relief she felt when she thought about Pansy finally being freed from her impossible duties, saving both her life and Draco’s in the process, was always tempered by a gnawing dread. The greatest trap Hogwarts had ever known had been set, and it was only a matter of days before life as she knew it would be altered forever. Pansy didn’t reply, and instead brought her knees closer to her chest.
“I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it. We have time right? It’s not tomorrow?” Hermione continued, trying to make up for her lack of tact surrounding the delicate subject.
“It’s not tomorrow. We have a little while.”
“I like a little while. Little whiles are my favourite.” Hermione smiled before she kissed Pansy’s cheek. Pansy turned to face her, and Hermione immediately brought their lips together. How sweet it was to kiss the one she loved. How sweet it was to be loved. Pansy was soft, and gentle, her fingers delicately placed around the back of her neck, bringing them closer together. Hermione could’ve gone on forever, allowing their bodies to meet for what felt, but wasn’t the first time, if it didn’t mean less conversation time with the brightest witch she had ever met.
“What now? The Hogsmeade trip is going to end soon.” Pansy whispered, millimetres away from her face, her thumb caressing her cheek.
“We could lay here and stare at the passing clouds while I tell you about the 12th century class separation between ghouls and vampires and how it indirectly led to North American homes preferring built with basements rather than attics like we have, here in Europe?
“I think I’d like that very much.”