Orbit

For the first time in weeks, Hermione dreamt. Silver gleams, and a voice she couldn’t recognize. Tears had rolled on both sides of her face and her jaw was hurting from having clenched it for hours. She gripped onto her bed sheets hard enough to hurt her knuckles and bring her back to reality. Was this an improvement? The sorrow she experienced due to a dream was an indication that at least she dreamt.

The sun darted through her window, indicating that she had also slept for longer than usual. She took out the journal she had stashed in between two arithmancy school books.

“Vulnera Revellium” She whispered. Inked letters started appearing on the blank pages. She smiled. The spell had been her own invention, during her fifth year at Hogwarts. Dumbledore’s army had needed a safe place to write the member’s names. With the marauder’s map in mind, she had crafted Dumbledore’s list, one of her greatest inventions. She had even spent a couple of days modifying the charm when it came to her journal so that only she would ever be able to read or to write in it. A stranger would never move past the blank page.

It had been a while since she had had anything worth journaling about, and her dream, no matter how small, was above all that.

January 16th 1997

A woman’s voice calls to me. I look for her, but I can never find her face. Flashes of silver rain around me, I can see my reflection in them. I don’t know where I am. I need to find her. I want to call her name the way she calls mine, but I don’t know who to call for.

Hermione couldn’t write anything more, the daylight gods dragging her further and further away from her dream begging her to look away and forget. She watched as the ink dried, making sure it wouldn’t smudge. She couldn’t afford to lose more than what she already had. Something caught her attention. On the previous page could be read:

December 20th 1996

Her voice is my constant obsession, echoing in my dreams and leaving me in mourning each morning until she breathes life into me again. The anticipation of walking the same halls as her is the only comfort I cling to.

She froze. 20th of December had to have been the day she had gone to the Slughorn party, yet all she could recall from that day was being in a doomsday mood, trapped with McLaggen and his sexist jokes. She flipped through some pages, but stopped, livid. On the pages that only she could see, on the pages that only she could write on, were entries she had no recollection of dating as far as early October.
She stumbled around the bedroom, struggled to stand up as she put on her uniform, her fingers trembling as she buttoned her shirt. Had she been cursed? How could it be that she remembered days vividly, yet she failed to recollect any journal entry she had written for the past three months? And the book? Could it be that the jinx only activated at certain times of the day?

Hermione was frantic, practically running down the steps of the seven never ending floors and into the great hall.

“Harry!” She exclaimed, finding him alone at the breakfast table, reading his potion book.

“Hermione” He smiled at her, closing his book and shoving it into his bag.

“I know this is going to sound crazy, but I need you to tell me everything you remember about us being at Slughorn’s party.”

“Why? Hermione, are you okay?”

“Please” She implored.

“You were with McLaggen and I was with Luna. I guess you left him hanging for a while and then he came to complain about it to me. Oh also Malfoy crashed the party but got ejected and left with Snape.”

“Anything else? What happened after Malfoy got kicked out? What did I do?” She begged, searching for new information.

“I don’t know…” Harry shifted in his seat, “I actually followed Malfoy and lost sight of you for the rest of the night.”

“Well did something happen earlier that day? How did I seem? Did I seem happy?”

“Well you were going with McLaggen so I doubt that you were, but I don’t really remember. But why are you asking me that?”

Hermione slouched onto the table, defeated. She grabbed her head with both hands, thinking that perhaps if she pulled hard enough on her hair, new memories would come to her.

“Hermione, what's going on? Please, you’re worrying me.” Harry pleaded, resting his hand on her shoulder.

“I don’t know anything. I don’t remember anything. Who is she? What was I doing? I don’t know what’s happening to me. Has it been happening for a while?” Her words came out even more disjointed than her thoughts already were.

“You don’t remember the party? Did that prick McLaggen spike your drink?” Harry’s tone had shifted.
“You don’t get it. No, I remember standing him up. Who was I talking about? What did she do? Why can’t I feel it anymore, when I felt it so strongly then? It feels like I’m standing at the edge of the abyss, and my heart has already fallen down. Harry, I don't understand what’s happened to me. I can’t do this anymore” Hermione started panting, incapable of regulating her breathing. She bit her tongue for as long as she could, until tears came out.

“Why don’t we go for a walk? Get some fresh air?” Harry suggested.

Hermione nodded. “What about classes?”

“I’ll send an owl to McGonagall, don’t worry about that right now.” He lifted her up shielding her from the sight of curious students.

The Sun having finally appeared didn’t take away from the fact that the snow coating the grounds of Hogwarts wasn’t melting anytime soon. The cold hair stung as it made its way through Hermione’s lungs, freezing her cries as it did so.

She let herself be guided by Harry, not once looking up from her feet that miraculously kept up with her friend’s pace. They made their way down towards Hagrid’s Cabin. Hermione smiled. There was nothing that made Harry feel better than a cup of Hagrid’s tea accompanied with the blueberry scones that never left his dining table. Harry wishing for her to experience the same comfort was incredibly soothing.

“I don't think I want to go see him now. Why don’t we make our way down to the lake instead? I wonder if the water’s frozen”

“Anything for you Hermione.”

“Thank you” She uttered in between thankful sobs.

They had almost arrived at their destination when Harry stopped in his tracks.

“Let’s go somewhere else.” he demanded

“What?” Hermione looked up, confused.

Under the old oak tree planted by the shore sat none other than Pansy Parkinson. Wrapped in her lavish coat, she certainly wasn’t as cold as Harry or her were. Knees curled up against her body, she rested her head in her hand as she made two perfectly spherical snow balls dance in front of her in a circle.

“She’s going to throw them at us. Let’s turn around before she sees us.”

Hermione nodded in agreement.

“Potter!”

“What do you want, Pansy?” Harry spat as soon as she got close to them.
“Woah, Potter, those are some nasty manners.” Pansy replied, amused

“Leave us alone, Parkinson. We’re already on our way to another spot. You’ve got the entire lake to yourself again, you can stop worrying now.”

“Anyway. You guys can go sit there. I’m done.”

“No thank you.”

“Oh don’t act even stupider than you already are, Potter.” Pansy rolled her eyes. “I already melted the snow, the ground is dry. The girl looks dishevelled and you’re gonna make her sit on wet snow? That’s grand of you.” Pansy nodded towards her. Hermione’s mouth moved but no words came out. Her lungs had inhaled too much cold air, and she hadn’t brought a coat.

Pansy rubbed her eyes, exasperated. She took off her cloak and shoved it in Hermione’s arms. Wearing nothing but her white button shirt and a loose tie underneath, only her dark hair made her stand out from the snow. Hermione gripped onto the cloak, the fur was soft as silk, undeniably of the most expensive kind.

“You” She pointed at Harry, “If you tell anyone about this I’ll knock you out and throw you in the lake just to make sure the giant squid survives through the winter.

“Screw you Parkinson!” Harry gritted in between his teeth.

“And you,” Pansy’s eyes met Hermione’s. “Bring this back to me at our meeting. And since you’re clearly incapable of taking care of yourself, I’ll put it this way just for you: You wreck it and he pays, with his money and with a little swim like I just said.”

Pansy didn’t wait for a reply, or even a reaction. She turned around and started climbing her way back to Hogwarts the second her last words escaped her mouth.

“Bloody hell she’s insufferable” Harry roared.

“I know.” Hermione replied, less convinced.

Hermione reluctantly put Pansy’s coat on after fighting the urge for several more minutes. She was engulfed by a wave of warmth and softness that words failed to describe.

“Why don’t you distract me? Tell me about anything.” Hermione asked as they both rested their backs against the thick trunk of the oak tree. She really tried to focus on Harry’s comments about their future match against the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, but the intoxicating smell of Cedarwood and Lavender made it hard to think about anything but the fact that she was wearing Pansy, her sworn enemy’s cloak. How had that even happened? Why hadn’t she just tossed it right back? She was too cold. That was why.

Despite being cold, Harry refused to make his way up to the castle until Hermione was sure she’d be alright.
“Why don't you take a break? Just until the end of the day?”

“I think it would just make me feel worse. Doing nothing all day hour after hour.”

“I never said to do nothing. How about you grab your favourite book and go take a bath in the prefect’s bathroom? It will be empty at this time of the day. Plus you have perfect attendance, Hermione. Teachers know you’d never miss class unless you have a really good reason too.”

Hermione made sure to take off Pansy’s cloak before entering the castle. Skipping classes was one thing, wearing a Slytherin’s cloak out in the open was another. Admittedly, there was no way for anyone to know that it was Pansy’s, but she’d know. She felt like a snake shedding her skin, making her way up to the seventh floor, bringing a Slytherin’s artefact into the Gryffindor’s common room as close as one could get to doing something illegal on Hogwarts grounds.

She brought the lended volume of witches throughout history into the prefect’s bathroom, not feeling brave enough yet to be faced again with her journal entries. Learning more about an ancient powerful witch while sitting in a bubble bath was as good as her day was going to get. Hours passed without her noticing.

Crap

She was already late for her assignment with Pansy. As much as she wished to skip that too, the cloak forced her to attend their meeting. Her hair was still wet when she entered the room. Pansy didn't turn around to look at her either. Without a word, Hermione laid the cloak on the bench beside Pansy before taking her seat back at the teacher’s desk and resuming her lecture. She had decided that one act of kindness from Pansy had not granted her a “Thank You”. Some things were better left unsaid.

It had been a while since Pansy's quill had stopped scratching against the parchment paper.

“Everything okay?” Hermione asked, but Pansy didn’t reply. Hermione lowered her eyes back towards her book when Pansy finally admitted

“I don’t know how to do this part.”

“That’s okay, it’s what I’m here for.” Hermione tried not to waver as she made her way to Pansy’s table. She didn’t know whether standing over the desk like a teacher was the preferred approach, or perhaps she needed to sit down next to Pansy? They were both students after all. She chose the second option as she silently begged for her hands to stop shaking.

There it was again. The perfume.

“So, where are you struggling?” She asked after taking a deep breath.

“I know that I am supposed to combine both spells in every way in order to create the mix of glass and mirror. I think I figured out how the wand works but I can’t come up with a spell. The prompt explicitly asks for a 70/30 ratio of mirror to glass, and I don’t understand how that translates into an incantation.”

“Well, you already seem to have most of it figured out. So that’s good already. Now since you are given a glass as starter object, you only need to transform 30 percent of the object.” Hermione paused. Pansy had looked up from her parchment to instead meet her eyes. Had she always had this many freckles? Now was not the moment to think about that. “Ehm, basically what works for me is to think of metamorphosing part of my initial object into something else, instead of trying to create a mix of both as a mindset. Same works with the Incantation. I recommend looking into latin names referring to these objects and try some combinations out until you get what you want. Does that make sense?”

Pansy’s eyes lit up, though the emotions didn’t translate to the rest of her face.

“It does. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Hermione replied despite how foreign those words were to her. Pansy had just thanked her? How could that be?

Hermione could not take that image out of her mind for the rest of the day. Not even when Pansy had succeeded a few minutes later in a surprisingly short amount of time, her wand movements not failing to impress Hermione once more, and not as she joined her friends back in the common room.

“'Mione! Harry was just telling me about Pansy’s psychotic episode this morning!” Ron exclaimed. “Tutoring must’ve been insane.”

“Actually, Ronald, if anyone had a psychotic episode today, it would be me.” She replied, pushing his legs off of the couch. Ron always shamelessly took at least three sitting spots, and that regardless of how packed the room was.

“What happened?” He sounded genuinely worried. Things had been much better between them since the tragic attack Ron’s family had suffered at the burrow over the break. It really had put things into perspective for everyone, and Hermione had decided to send him a somewhat apology with an owl in anticipation for the day they’d meet in person again. His life had fallen apart, and if Lavender was the person he wanted to have by his side during those times, then that was his choice.

“I’m okay now. I don’t really want to talk about it because it’s going to freak me out again.”

“Alright then! Topic change it is!” Ron exclaimed. “Oh by the way, Harry and I have been meaning to ask you something.”

“Yes?”

“How many times has Parkinson insulted you since you started teaching her? I was going to bet below 10 but after what happened today with you taking her coat and what not I raised it to 12!”

“Did you guys seriously bet on how many times I’d get insulted?” Hermione couldn’t believe her ears.

“No! It’s not like that! I mean, one galleon is on the table, but we didn't mean it like that.”

“I can’t believe the two of you!” Hermione saw red. Her head turned back and forth between her friends but neither would look her way, too embarrassed by their behaviour. “Well, Ronald, Harry, she actually has yet to insult me at all! So where are my Galleons? And by the way I did not take her coat, she gave it to me!”

“Alright alright Hermione, I know you’re upset but you gotta admit, it is weird that she has yet to throw an insult your way.” Ron dug the knife deeper without realising.

“It’s surprising that I’m not letting myself get bullied?”

“No-

“I can’t deal with this tonight. Don’t ever bet on me, and especially not at my expense or you’ll regret it.”

Hermione stomped up the stairs, knowing that neither of her friends would be able to follow her into the girl’s quarters. Had it been any other day, she would’ve taken the joke a bit better.

Hermione laid on her bed with her uniform still on, doing her best to ignore the fact that Ron was right. It was weird that Pansy hadn’t insulted her yet. Hermione hadn’t even managed to be hostile today.

Hermione's face rested against the spot on her mattress where the cloak had been all day while she was at the baths. The lingering scent of cedar wood filled her senses, and she decided it didn't bother her enough to turn away.