Orbit

Hermione frantically swiped the pages of the book as she walked down to the Great Hall, almost walking through ghosts more than once. She could not recall a single thing about this book. Nothing about it felt familiar, yet the hollow space that had inhabited inside of her for weeks now growled. Was she going crazy? How could it be? Were there other things she didn’t remember that she didn't know about? How would she ever know? Her hands started trembling as the content was less and less familiar as the chapters advanced.

“Ms Granger.” Snape’s slow voice pronounced in a manner that made her bones chill.

“Professor Snape.” She nodded towards him and lowered her eyes back at the book. Being interrupted by her least favourite professor was the last thing she needed. Thankfully, Snape only addressed himself to her in the most desperate circumstances.

“Not so fast, Granger. I have a message for you.”

“Yes?” She tried her best to not show her impatience.

“Professor McGonagall would like you to see her in her office. I was going to intercept you at breakfast but luckily for us both it seems I won’t be needing to approach the Gryffindor table.”

“Can I go after breakfast? Harry and Ron are waiting for me.”

“Ms Granger, as you may have noticed, we have been living under the same roof for 6 years. Do you seriously think I would believe Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley would ever wake up this early, if it wasn’t to go be fools on brooms on the Quidditch Pitch? I’ll pretend I didn’t hear your lie, and you’ll turn back around and go to Professor McGonagall’s office. Now.”

Hermione turned around, defeated. She didn’t have enough energy to question or confront anyone. She had stayed quiet and even taken the joke Ron had made at her expense the previous night concerning her attendance to the Slughorn Party with McLaggen. Unexplainable tears had come up, but she had wiped them away quickly. How could she have wasted such a beautiful dress on someone like McLaggen? Thinking of the party made her heart cry in a way that made her instantly bring her hand up to her chest, just to be sure it was still working. After that disaster and Ron’s relationship with Lavender, Hermione was starting to believe there would be no person willing to look at her and ever feel any sort of desire other than physical. It was in times like this one, when she had little to offer, that she selfishly desired more.

Hermione was snapped out of her thoughts by her arrival in front of the transfiguration classroom. She ripped her hand away from her chest and knocked on the door, hoping that her lungs would keep on inflating, and her hearts would keep on beating without the warmth and support.

“Ms. Granger, thank you for making it in such short notice” Professor McGonagall put down a pile of parchment before getting up to meet Hermione in the middle of the transfiguration classroom. Her expression was grave, and her arms were wrapped around her waist. Hermione stared at her, confused.

“Of course. Is there anything I can do for you Professor?”

“This is a delicate situation.”

“Did I fail last semester’s final exam?” Hermione’s heart started racing. The mere thought made her shiver.

“No dear you did not.” McGonagall reassured her. “You got a perfect score. That is why I need to ask you for a favour.”

“Anything, Professor.” Hermione tried to contain her smile. That exam had been particularly difficult, and she doubted that anyone else had matched her score.

“You see, another student only passed through the skin of her teeth. Her house teacher has expressed severe concern regarding her. I would usually never ask you to do this because of… well, because of the nature of your relationship. But according to the test results, no other student can afford to help her. This is confidential Hermione, but teachers are truly worried about her.”

“Who is it?”

“Pansy Parkinson.”

Hermione froze. She didn’t have the bravery to yell at Professor McGonagall to get lost, but she didn’t have the bravery to say yes either, a silence was all she could utter. Pansy Parkinson had been her first introduction to the discrimination she’d face due to her blood. They had sat together in the Hogwarts Express on their first ride to Hogwarts, and had even shared a chocolate frog. Hermione had never forgotten the way her heart swelled when Pansy looked at her in pure disgust when she had found out about her parents. She had never felt so small than that day, in a train bringing her hundreds of miles away from her parents, hated by her first friend for something she couldn’t control.

“I know this is a huge demand. Which is why you will not only receive house points for your show of altruism, but I will make sure this does not go by unwritten in your academic record. Truly Ms Granger, you are an angel. She’ll be waiting for you in the secondary detention room today after classes. Please understand that this is not a punishment, it is simply one of the only classrooms where I am notified which student enters the room and when.”

McGonagall shot her an embarrassed smile before walking slowly back to her desk.The conversation was over. Hermione knew there was no way of arguing out of this. It took a while before her feet allowed her to move.

She finally slumped onto the Great Hall’s bench she had been dreaming of after what felt like an eternity. Harry and Ron were already there, the latter one seemingly already having started on his second serving.

“‘Mione! How are you?” Harry, who was sitting across from her, smiled at her. She finally relaxed her shoulders. Oh how she loved the warm presence of her best friend.

“Not great, I just got the worst news. Seeing you both does make me feel better.”

Harry nodded enthusiastically. Hermione couldn’t imagine just how relieved he must have been ever since her and Ron had decided to bury the hatchet. Truthfully, Hermione had just stopped caring.

“What news?” Ron questioned her, his mouth still half full.

“I am to tutor Parkinson in Transfiguration.”

“Bollocks! They can’t force you to do that!” Ron spat, outraged.

“Apparently she’s doing really bad. Not just in Transfiguration but generally.”

“Did little daddy Parkinson not get enough presents as christmas?” Harry used a mocking voice that made Ron giggle.

Hermione’s smile faded instantly as her gaze drifted to the Slytherin table only to be met with Pansy’s. The girl was sitting right behind Harry, facing them directly. There was no way Pansy had not heard them. But she wasn’t shooting daggers at them with her eyes, the only eyes greener than Harry’s in her opinion. Hermione bit her tongue, embarrassed. She didn't look away, and instead shot her a disgusted look.

Pansy didn’t return it.

Classes of the day dragged on for what felt like an eternity to Hermione. She was both excited for them to be over in order to be able to properly read the book she had lent, and dreading the moment she would find herself with Parkinson in a room with no witnesses.

Hermione opened the door to the detention classroom, knowing that McGonagall would instantly be notified if she left earlier than the time they had agreed on. Pansy was already sitting at a desk, caressing a quill with her fingertips. She didn’t look up. Not even once Hermione closed the door behind them. Was this an intimidation tactic? Hermione fidgeted, she couldn’t help but believe that the girl had a few tricks up her sleeve to make this tutoring session. She couldn’t let herself be bullied. She wouldn’t.

“Have you already started?”

Pansy’s head darted up, she turned around in fear, her facial expression resembling one of a deer caught in the headlights.

“I didn’t know you’d be the one tutoring me.” Contrary to her appearance, her voice was cool, and composed.

“What do you mean? Then why were you staring at me during breakfast.”

“Don’t think you’re so special, Granger, you just happened to be sitting in front of me. Had I known I wouldn’t even have showed up.”

“Yeah well I’m not thrilled you made it.”

“I don’t want to be here. I think I should go.” Pansy started gathering her things.

“If you leave McGonagall will know and you’ll get detention.”

“But I can’t afford detention.”

“Do I look like I care? Let’s just get this over with. You don’t want me to help you and I don’t want to help you, yet here we are. This is already getting old honestly.” Hermione rolled her eyes. A rush of excitement travelled through her body as Pansy sat back down into her seat, defeated. Talking to a slytherin that way without being immediately called a Mudblood was euphoric. “Now if you don’t mind,” she continued, “I’m going to sit right over here, and if you need any help then you tell me. See? The best you do at this genuinely easy practice, the less you’ll have to talk to me!”

Hermione stomped all the way to the teacher’s desk and took her book out, determined to not even look at Pansy until the assignment was over.

“I’m not dumb, you know.” Pansy uttered. Her voice clawed her way out of her throat with difficulty

“Your words, not mine, Parkinson.” Hermione made sure to sound as disdainful as possible. Her days of being a pushover by the rich, entitled, selfish Pansy Parkinson were over. But the girl didn’t reply. Hermione had almost hoped that she would, in order to continue this argument. Pansy needed her. She didn’t need Pansy.

Over half an hour had passed, minutes during which Hermione pretended to be engrossed by her book, instead of painfully aware of Pansy’s eyes on her.
“Am I that interesting to look at? I mean you know that we have to be here until you’re done with your task. There is no time limit.” Hermione put her book down, exasperated.

Pansy didn't even blink. Hermione wavered. Pansy’s eyes reflected the lonely empty feeling she had been carrying with her. Is that what Hermione looked like? A ghost, sleepwalking through her life, too exhausted to even stand up for herself? Pansy’s hair was combed to perfection, her makeup carefully applied to highlight her delicate yet sharp features while still allowing for her freckles to shine through. Hermione recalled McGonagall’s worries regarding the girl. Nobody would’ve guessed Pansy was falling apart without looking into her eyes long enough.

“Sorry, I’ve had a long day, and I just haven’t been able to read this book because I’ve been interrupted every single time.'' Hermione couldn’t believe the words that came out of her own mouth. She was apologising? To Pansy?

“Which witch are you looking into?” Pansy asked, having noticed the title of the book.

“Circe”

“Why?” Pansy almost cut her off.

“What does it matter to you?”

“It doesn’t. I’m just curious.” Pansy shifted in her seat.

“She’s just brilliant, and I want to know more about her.” Hermione lied. Parkinson was the last person she’d ever open up to regarding her fear of early onset Alzheimer’s.

“She is. One of my favourite witches of all time, and even the first ever documented one! Some even say she was the daughter of the Sun itself.”

“You know about her?” Hermione couldn’t believe her ears. She had never thought about what Pansy did in her free time, but had assumed it would run more along the line of kicking puppies and shoving first years in closets rather than researching wizarding history.

“Of course I know about her. She’s one of my favourites. Having this many records on somebody having lived so long ago is simply mind blowing. She’s not my favourite though.”

“And who’s your favourite?” Hermione couldn’t help but ask, her curiosity had been picked.

“Hypatia.”

“That’s my favourite too!”

The beginning of a smile started forming on the corners of Pansy’s mouth. “I mean she’s just the most brilliant witch that ever lived. She practically established and perfected arithmancy all on her own. We owe so much to her. I’m pretty sure The castle itself was built using some of her own formulas regarding expansion and compression of raw materials.”
“I can’t believe you know that”

“I told you, I’m not dumb.”

“I never said that you were.”

“But you thought it.”

“Why don’t you give the assignment a try?” Cornered, Hermione had decided that changing the subject was the best option she had.

Pansy raised her wand. Her fingers were pale and delicate. Entranced, Hermione stared as Pansy whispered the charm and the soft velvet pillow laid in front of her turned into a red glass bottle.

“I guess you didn’t need my help for this one. Well done.” Hermione gulped. Ithad taken her several tries to master the spell and get a result similar to Pansy’s. “About Hypat-

“I did the assignment. That means we’re free to go, right?”

“Y-yes but-

“Alright then.” Pansy shut her up. She gathered her things in an instant, and opened the door with a swift wave of her wand. Hermione watched as the girl didn’t even bother looking into her direction before turning around, the hollow space inside of her growing just a little bigger.