Orbit

The voice that so clearly called her name on nights where the gods graced Hermione with dreams was crying. Hermione ran frantically in the dark, searching the sky for answers. Where was she? “Please, let me find you” she begged, but to no avail.

She opened her eyes. Tears pearled down both her cheeks. There she was, back in her bed, alone, with no sight of the mirror girl at all. How ironic it was, that she tried to put a face on the voice, when she didn’t even have a voice to begin with. It was too distant, too buried. She could barely tell it was a woman.

All she had was a name.

Circe

Circe, that called her name.

Circe that had abandoned her.

Circe that she had loved.

Circe that she hated.

How could she ever forgive her? She was pretty sure that, had she not written her diary entries, she would’ve spent the rest of her life sleepwalking. A ghost without a heart. A heart without a memory. What could she have possibly done that had made somebody want nothing to do with her so badly that they had jinxed her into never remembering? What could she have done that was so unforgivable she deserved to be left on the side of the road, like a dog whose owners had gotten a child?

Hermione clutched her heart. She hurt for the Hermione that she had been. For the Hermione that had allowed herself to trust, and to love. The Hermione that had fallen for a witch, and was so excited to tell someone that she had filled page after page of her journal, unable to keep all those feelings to herself without the fear of imploding.

She was determined to find Circe, no matter the cost. She needed to confront the girl who despised her and hid like a coward. No longer driven by love, her anger became a far stronger motivator for what would become the greatest manhunt Hogwarts had ever seen. Hermione would never forgive her. She would make her pay.

___________________________

“You’ve never been to a wizard wedding?” Pansy’s jaw dropped. “But they’re the best!”

“You’re so dramatic.” Hermione giggled. “No, I’ve only been to muggle weddings. Though I don’t know how different it could be, it’s just two people getting married, right? Plus it’s just Ron’s older brother and Fleur, so I doubt it will be a huge thing.”

Pansy choked. “Hermione, you’re joking right? The Weasleys are one of the most ancient wizarding families. Their connections run deep, and far. I’m also going to seriously hope you didn’t mean Fleur Delacour. Merlin, that girl was beautiful. But she’s quite literally part Veela! I wouldn’t even be surprised if her family invented the french foxtrot.”

“The french foxtrot?”

“You know, the ballroom dance?”

“Never heard of it.” Hermione frowned.

“What about the Glasgow Waltz? The Berlinese Quickstep? Any magical ballroom dance at all?”

“I’ve heard of the Viennese Waltz!” Hermione replied, offended. Pansy brought her hand to her face, exasperated.

“What even is the Viennese Waltz? I doubt any wizard knows it all.”

‘It’s one of the most famous dances in the world!”

“Not the magical world! And you’re going to a magical wedding. Hermione, we need to do something as soon as possible, or you’re going to look like a Cornish Pixie whose wings have been cut off on the dance floor!”

“It's this summer, I have months to learn.” Hermione shrugged, while internally making note to run to the library as soon as their conversation was over and learn as much as she could on ballroom dancing techniques.

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“I know you. Don’t you dare reduce dancing to a step by step recipe you can learn in a book! Dancing is something you have to feel. Something you can only learn by practising over and over until it becomes second nature.”

“I was never going to do that,” Hermione groaned.

“Yeah, and I always have secretly been Weasley’s number one fan.”

“About that. Why do you hate him so much? Malfoy and Harry hate each other, but I don’t understand what Ron has ever done to you.”

“I can have my own personal Vendettas.” Pansy lurked.

“He’s the kindest person I know.”

“He’s a dumb, oblivious stupid, imbecile teenage boy!”

“If that’s his crime, then I think you’re going to have to send just about every Hogwarts boy to Azkaban.”

“Precisely.”

“He really matters to me, you know. If we’re going to be… friends” Hermione gulped at her choice of words, “Then maybe not hating all my other friends would be a good start.”

“I shall do that when you’ll want to befriend Zabini, Greengrass and Malfoy.”

“How am I supposed to learn the dances again?”

“I could teach you.”

“You would?”

“Of course. My mother hired a dance teacher for me when I was 8. With every wrong step I made, she’d flick her wand and throw me a sting charm. I doubt anyone here is more qualified than I am.”
“You and your ego. Are you sure you aren’t a Gryffindor?”

“I withdraw my offer.”

____________________________

Hermione made sure every button of her robe was properly closed. Her heels had taken the appearance of boots, but the charm she had used did not extend to the comfort aspect of the shoes. “Wear what you’d wear at the wedding. That way you won’t have to learn twice.” had said Pansy when she had told Hermione to meet her at the astronomy tower after dinner.

They hadn’t brought up the events of Pansy’s birthday. Weeks had passed, yet remembering it never failed to bring a flush to her face. The electricity that had run through her when they had held hands. How her heart had sank the day after, when the ink on her palm had washed away, and how she had caught herself staring at Pansy in class more than once.

The implications of her feelings had become all too real once she had found her dorm again to change into her dress. Pansy was a girl. A Slytherin girl. Best friend to her best friend’s enemy.

Her friends would never accept Pansy.

Pansy’s friends would never accept her.

The uneasy realisation that perhaps the ocean that separated them was too deep to dare to cross was terrifying for Hermione. She wanted Pansy. She wanted her in ways that she had never wanted anyone before. The magnetic pull was impossible to ignore, burning her when she spent too long without seeing the girl. Her chest rose rapidly as she climbed the last steps to the tower. No students in their right mind made the trek to the tallest point of Hogwarts unless forced by the classes of Professor Sinistra. They’d be alone.

Pansy was already there, leaning over the balcony railing, looking down into the abyss. Hermione cleared her throat, not knowing what else to do.

“There she is! Are you ready?” Pansy turned around, a grin painted across her face.

“Yes. Me and my two left feet are most definitely ready.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Alright then.” Pansy took out her wand. Four little birds appeared with a whisper and a simple flick of her wrist. They started chanting together to a dynamic cadence, alerting Hermione that the pace of their dance was going to be much faster than she had anticipated. She froze. Pansy had taken off her robe to reveal the most breathtakingly beautiful dress Hermione had ever seen. A meteor shower of silver gleams rained along her body, illuminating her face. She had also decided to wear heels, and now towered over Hermione. The dress braced her curves with divine elegance, accentuating every graceful line and making her look like a goddess descended from the stars.

“You look beautiful.” The words ghosted out of her lips as Pansy stood in front of her, inches away.

“My ancestors would kill me if I danced with casual wear on.”

“Did you wear this dress at the Yule Ball?” Hermione frowned.

“No, why?”

“It just looks… familiar.”

“Daphne wore a similar one, it must be that.” Pansy shrugged, blushing.

“Mine is nowhere near as fancy. And to tell you the truth, I’ve already worn it at a party. Do you think it would be too much to also use it again for the wedding?” She said, changing the subject. Hermione tossed her robe over the railing, revealing the dress she had worn at the Slughorn Party. Truthfully, it was the only half decent dress she owned.

Pansy stiffened, her eyes glued to her.

“Everything alright Pansy?”

Pansy finally looked up at her, heaving.

How could she look so beautiful?

“You look well.” She gulped. “Sorry. I guess we should get started before my birds run out of breath.”

“Right. What should I do first?”

“We’re going to start with the Glasgow Waltz. The foxtrot is a bit too complex at the moment. I’ll lead, you’ll just have to follow my steps. Though Perhaps I should start with pretending to be you, and dancing on my own? Just so you see the rhythm? Yes I’ll start with that. Are you ready? Pay attention to my steps”

Hermione nodded. Without a word, Pansy raised her arms and started swaying. Hermione’s eyes widened. Pansy’s presence was so intense she doubted anyone dancing with her would ever get noticed. Her steps were firm, calculated, yet coated with a delicateness that knew no equal.

Pansy danced the same way she casted charms, with grace, precision, and confidence.

Enough to make Hermione’s knees weak.

“Did you get a good look?”

“Yes.” Hermione lied. Pansy walked back to her, her heels clicking against the floor as she got closer.

“May I?” Pansy nodded towards her waist.

“Of course.”

“Alright, I’ll just. Yeah” Pansy cleared her throat in embarrassment. Goosebumps travelled along Hermione’s spine the moment Pansy’s hand rested on her. Her chest roared with approval as she closed her eyes, afraid they’d betray her in a crucial moment like that one. She needed to gather her thoughts. She needed to gather them fast. Hermione rested a hand on Pansy’s exposed shoulder before meeting Pansy’s palm with hers.

They danced. It took Hermione a while before she figured out a way to not step on Pansy’s feet. They paused numerous times, and Pansy cracked jokes in order to relieve the stress that overwhelmed the both of them. Hermione stared at her dance partner in marvel as they swayed across the balcony, the stars the only witnesses to their ghostly Waltz. Their bodies were so close, yet Hermione struggled to fight the urge to bring them even closer, to seal any gap that would separate her from Pansy.

“Let’s take a second.” Pansy whispered in her ear.

Hermione’s dizziness caught up to her the second they stopped spinning. She rested her head against Pansy’s shoulder, hoping that it would somehow contain the antidote to her drowsiness. They stayed like that for a while, hugging as Hermione’s desires coiled tighter inside of her stomach. Unable to resist, she placed a nervous kiss on Pansy’s warm skin before looking up at her, searching desperately for any hint of approval.

Pansy closed her eyes, breathing heavily as she leaned forward, her shoulder silently begging for Hermione's lips once more. Hermione obliged, this time moving slightly higher, to the end of Pansy's collarbone. How soft it was to taste her skin. How delicious it felt to be permitted.

Hermione suppressed a sight of despair. She needed Pansy’s lips. She needed them more than she had ever needed anything else. Pansy’s arms tightened around her waist as she started to sway once more. They weren’t Waltzing, or dancing. They were simply floating in each other’s orbit while the rest of the world remained lightyears away.

“Pansy?” Hermione pleaded. Pansy’s green eyes finally met hers, tainted with a veil of melancholy.

“Please don’t kiss me.” She whispered.

“Why?”

“Because I’ll kiss you back.”

“How terrible could that possibly be?” Hermione leaned forward, closed enough to feel the ghost of Pansy’s breath.

“Worse than you could ever imagine.”

Pansy cupped her cheek, tracing her bottom lip with her thumb. Hermione’s lips parted open without her consent. She was drunk, completely at the mercy of Pansy’s every movement, begging shamelessly for more.

Pansy closed the gap between them, knocking the wind out of Hermione, Viktor’s rough stubble a distant memory as she kissed the softest lips that existed. Pansy held her gently, meeting her with equal eagerness. Hermione brought her hands up to the back of her neck, ruffling up her perfectly combed dark hair. Their lips danced together, unwilling to part away from each other. The world around them faded away, leaving only the sensation of their shared embrace, and in that moment, nothing else mattered to Hermione but the fact that Pansy wanted her.

Pansy wanted her.

_______________________

The butterflies in Hermione’s stomach had refused to leave her, even as she skipped down the hall the next morning. She had skipped breakfast hour, too giddy to get out of her bed without a foolish smile on her face. Harry and Ron would ask too many questions. No, really, going two hours later, praying that there was some food left, to the risk of going hungry was the best alternative she had.

“Miss Granger! Finally you’re here! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Professor McGonagall stopped her as she was about to enter the Great Hall.

“Everything alright, Professor?”

“No. Everything is not alright. You were nowhere to be found in the Gryffindor common room last night. You also weren’t present for breakfast and there’s three professors looking for you as we speak.”

Hermione looked down, embarrassed. Someone had told on her and Pansy. Someone had seen her. There was no other explanation.

“I’m sorry professor. If you’d just let me explain I-

“I’m afraid we have more pressing matters, Miss Granger. Now if you’ll follow me.”

Hermione obliged, walking with her head down, doing her best to avoid any students looking at her. She was going to be punished.
“Is she alright?” Hermione asked, alarmed, freezing in place. They had arrived at Madam Pomfrey’s hospital wing. What had happened to Pansy? Had a Slytherin jinxed her after finding out she was with her?

“She? We are here for Mister Weasley. Mister Potter’s been here all night.”

“What happened to him?” Hermione ran to Ron’s bedside. He was paler than she had ever seen him, his lips a blueish tint. He looked dead. She grabbed his cold hand, begging the room for answers.

“He got poisoned in Slughorn’s office. Apparently he’ll be alright, but it was a close one.” Harry said, gritting his teeth from across the bed. Ginny’s eyes were puffy. She sniffled as she gently stroked her brother’s hair.

“Yes. Mister Weasley will be alright. Though I must admit it was a close one. Had you decided to bring him here instead of taking action in Professor Slughorn’s office, I doubt Mister Weasley would still be among us.”
“What happened to him?” Hermione rushed to Ron’s bedside. He was paler than she had ever seen, his lips tinged blue. He looked lifeless. She grabbed his cold hand, pleading for answers.
“He was poisoned in Slughorn’s office. Apparently, he’ll be alright, but it was a close call,” Harry said, gritting his teeth from across the bed. Ginny’s eyes were puffy as she sniffled, gently stroking her brother’s hair.
“Yes, Mr. Weasley will be alright,” Madam Pomfrey interjected. “Though I must admit, it was a near thing. Had you not taken action in Professor Slughorn’s office, I doubt Mr. Weasley would still be with us.”
“Come on Poppy, let’s give them some privacy. I’ll alert Professor Snape and Professor Slughorn that we have finally located Miss Granger.” Professor McGonagall said before leaving them.

“Where the hell were you Hermione?” Harry roared.

“I was at the library.” She lied, tears swelling up to her eyes.

“Bollocks! We went there and you were nowhere to be seen! In fact, Miss Pince said it had been weeks since she had last seen you! So where were you?”

“I’m here! I’m here now. I’m here and I’m not leaving,” Hermione cried, clutching Ron's hand tighter.
“He almost died and you weren’t here!” Harry insisted, his voice trembling with fear and frustration. Hermione knew he was just scared—they all were. But the thought that Ron may have slipped away without her by his side was unbearable.
“I’m sorry. I should have been here,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.” Regret and shame coated over her like sticky tree sap. Ron needed her, and she had been with Pansy. Nobody would ever forgive her if they found out.
Nobody.
________________________

Pansy didn’t come to their meeting that day. Or the day after. She didn’t look at her in class, or at dinner. Hermione laughed to herself as she left once more their window behind the tapestry alone. How humiliating it was, for her to wait every day, and for Pansy to never show up. They hadn’t talked since their kiss. The news of what had happened to Ron had spread all over the castle like wildfire, yet Pansy was nowhere to be seen.

Hermione had sent her an owl, desperate begging for some sort of communication only to be met with silence. Her soul had been worn down. How foolish she had been to think they had shared something. How stupid she had been to believe that someone would ever want her.

Why did she have to kiss her?

Why did she have to ruin everything?

She dragged herself down the hallway. Soon it would be her turn to stay by Ron’s bedside. She could no longer wait for someone that didn't want to see her when she needed her most.

She no longer had tears to shed as she thought back on their kiss. She had crossed a line. She had embarrassed Pansy. She had scared away the only person that saw something in her, and now she was alone again. Perhaps Pansy had never seen something in her at all. It wouldn't be surprising.

Her school bag dragged behind her as she walked down the stairs that led to Madam Pomfrey’s headquarters. Would Ron show her mercy when he’d find out she hadn’t been there for him enough? She didn’t have it in her to get rejected once more.

She stopped.

Pansy was there, sitting on a bench, giggling.

All Hermione could do was stare.

Stare at the way Zabini had warped his arm around her shoulders.

Stare as Pansy’s eyes met hers, only for a brief instant before looking back at Blaise.

An instant. That is all she was worth. That is all she deserved from Pansy.

Her heart sank. Hermione swallowed back the knot in her throat. She wasn’t going to let someone make her feel so small. She refused. She continued walking, no matter how difficult it was. The smell of Pansy’s perfume reached her, making her slow down. No. She had to be strong. She had to keep on walking.

“Hey Granger! How about you move along? Can’t you see we’re busy?” Blaise laughed at her.

Hermione stopped and turned towards them. It would be so easy for her to knock the teeth out of his stupid grin with a simple charm. Or a punch.

Pansy shifted in her seat, her eyes directed towards the ground.

“Leave her alone Blaise. Focus on me!” She clung onto his shoulder, a new smile plastered on her face. Hermione could have bet several galleons it wasn’t a genuine one. Then again, she could’ve bet several galleons that her and Pansy had shared something.

How stupid she looked. How embarrassing she was. Perhaps offering her heart to any witch that paid attention to her was too much. She was too much.

Pansy's eyes flickered up to meet Hermione's for the briefest moment, a flash of something unspoken passing between them. Hermione's resolve wavered, but she squared her shoulders and turned away. She wouldn't let them see her crumble. Not here, not now.

As she turned away, tears blurred her vision. Every step felt heavier, dragging her deeper into a pit of despair. She reached an empty corridor and leaned against the cold stone wall, her body shaking with silent sobs.

Her heart had been trampled. Her heart, that she had so embarrassingly offered, had been tossed away with no care. Hermione finally understood. That was all her love was worth, a tender gift crushed under the weight of indifference.