Orbit

“Hermione? Are you alright?” Harry asked, concerned in between two bites of his breakfast.

“I didn’t sleep well, that’s all.” Hermione finally detached her eyes away from a way too happy Zabini spoon feeding Pansy her porridge. She stared down at her own food, disgusted. Pansy didn’t even like porridge. Especially not the kind Blaise was shoving down her throat, drenched with honey and apple slices. Berries. He should have added berries instead, she thought.

“Me too. I wonder what’s in the air.” Ginny shrugged, pensive.

“Yes I also didn’t sleep well, so something must definitely be in the air.” Harry added, searching for Ginny’s approval.

Hermione smiled at her friend’s awkward attempt at flirting. His feelings for Ginny had come up so close to the surface of his skin that it had become impossible to miss for anyone that looked. She had never seen him this flushed, waiting like a kid by the door for any signs that his feelings were returned. Hermione had even started bringing Ginny around to their hangouts, just to make sure he’d put his potion’s book away, even for a few instants.

“How’s Ron?” Hermione questioned.

“He’s getting better. I think they’ll give him the clearance to come back to the dorm pretty soon.”

“I should leave you two alone then.” Hermione smirked, before grabbing her things. Truly any excuse was good to get away from Pansy and Zabini’s presence, but teasing her friends in the process was the best one.

“No, stay with us!” Ginny pleaded, reaching out her hand.

“I’m very flattered. I also know that you’re not going to have moments like these the second your clueless brother comes back. With that, I shall go to the library. Unless you want to accompany me?”

“It’s 8 in the morning, you could not pay me enough to go to the library.” Harry grimaced.

“Precisely, Potter. Can’t you see I’m trying to get away from you?”

“Alright alright! I'll see you in class!”

Hermione made her way up the stairs to her room. Her calves burned with every step that she took, but the physical pain only served as an undeniable sign that she was getting further and further away from Pansy. She swallowed back her disgust as she passed by Jimmy Peaks making out with yet another innocent Hufflepuff fifth year.

She continued her ascent. She had been so out of tune with the world surrounding her that she didn't know how to exist anymore. Harry and Ginny, Ron and Lavender, Jimmy Peaks and whoever was in front of him, Blaise Zabini and Pansy.

It was never going to be her turn. She was never going to live out a teenage romance the way everyone around her did so effortlessly. Hermione sighed. No wizards liked her. No witches liked her either. And there she was, offering her heart to anyone that would look at her, to anyone that would truly see her, only to be met with utter disregard. She was never an option. She was never a possible choice, someone worth looking at in any type of romantic lens.

No. She was stronger than that. She didn’t need anyone to love her. She just didn’t. She had her friends, and she had her schoolwork, and that was more than enough to fill up the hole Pansy had left. But she missed her. She missed their conversations. How selfish she had been for desiring more. It was her fault. She had kissed her.

Hermione grabbed a piece of parchment and sat at her desk.

Dear Pansy,

I am sorry. Words will never be enough to describe how awful I feel for making you uncomfortable. I just wanted to tell you that I will never do anything like that again.

Would you like to meet me? We could just talk, like we used to in the detention classroom. I won’t do anything weird again, I promise. I just miss you, as a friend. Would it be crazy for me to think that perhaps you miss me too?

You don’t have to even answer this if it’s too much.

I hope you’re okay.

With Care, Hermione

____________________________________

Three minutes. Professor Slughorn had been gone for three minutes.

“Hermione, I'm so sorry I didn’t see them until it was too late.” Harry shielded her from their table as she came back. Their potion had been perfectly executed, and Slughorn had allowed them to leave early as long as she put the ingredients back into their shelves and Harry cleaned up their table.

Hermione’s shoulders dropped at the sight of her notes covered in spilled ink. All the work she had done in her potion’s hour had just been erased in an instant. She tried her best to push back the ink onto her homework and away from the wooden table with her hands, covering her fingers and sleeves with the wet liquid. Drops she couldn’t catch fell onto her shoes. Hermione closed her eyes. She needed to focus on the dripping sound instead of on the chuckles coming from the Slytherin tables.

“It’s good to have you back, Pansy.” Goyle snarled.

“Didn’t know you still had it in you, Parkinson,” Crabbe added.

“Don’t listen to them. We’ll clean this up in an instant and leave.” Harry pleaded, tugging at her sleeve.

Her hands had turned black, her soul had been bruised. She refused to look at Pansy. She wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. She wouldn’t retaliate. She was stronger than this childlike bullying.
Or perhaps that was exactly what the girl wanted? Was she turning the cheek by not responding to the attack? She had had enough. She had been humiliated one too many times.

Hermione walked over to Pansy, barely holding out a scream.

“What’s your problem Pansy?” She ignored the mocking whistles coming from the other Slytherins, who had backed away, excited to see how things would unfold.

“You may want to clean yourself up, Granger. I think you got a little something on your shirt.”

“Enough!” Hermione roared as she grabbed Pansy by the collar, the ink immediately dying her blouse and necktie. Her homework was ruined anyway. She had nothing to lose. She pulled on Pansy’s shirt as hard as she could and dragged her back to her own table as the girl screamed in surprise.

“You think you can bully me? You want your stupid little friends to like you that badly? You are pathetic Parkinson!” Hermione shoved her on her desk, making Pansy fall face first into the puddle of ink. “Pathetic! Pathetic! Pathetic!” She screamed as she pushed her further down onto the table, grabbing her hair and shoving her cheek flat onto the sullied parchment, making sure as many of her clothes as she could would get stained.

“Hermione stop!” Harry ripped her away from Pansy. Draco, who had seemingly teleported from across the room, helped Pansy get back up. Her entire torso, hair, and face had been drenched.

“What is wrong with her?”

“I told you she was crazy.”

“She’s bloody insane.”

Whispers spread amongst the other students. All Hermione could do was watch. Watch as Pansy didn’t say a word, and instead just looked at her, a pained expression painted across her face. Hermione remembered the letter she had buried in her pocket earlier that day. She had planned to send it right after that class.

Perhaps it had been a blessing that Pansy’s words and actions had come out first, and hers had never made it past her throat, or in this instance, her pocket.

“What happened here?” Professor Slughorn had just walked back through the door.

“I… We had an accident and slipped.” Pansy said, looking down at the floor, ashamed.

“Yes. An accident.” Hermione agreed, her cheeks turning red.

“Go clean yourselves up before you make an even bigger mess! Malfoy, Potter, since this potion was made as groups, I shall be giving your partners the same grade that you’ll receive on your report, unless you have any objections?”

“I don’t see a problem in that, Professor.” Malfoy’s words came out slowly, as he eyed Harry for a reaction.

“I agree with Mal-” Harry paused. “Yes, that’s fine by me.”

“Alright then. Off you go girls!” Slughorn pointed at the door.

“Go, I’ll grab your stuff. Don’t worry about it.” Harry whispered.

Hermione made her way to the bathroom first, making sure to use the sink furthest away from the door. She only had a few seconds to collect herself before Pansy would walk through that very same door. She started washing her hands, tainting the white marble of the sink as the ink washed away from her skin.

She bit her tongue, struggling to conceal any hint of emotion as Pansy arrived. She had been more violent than she had thought. Pansy’s clothes were absolutely ruined. Hermione glanced down at herself. Apart from her sleeves and a few drops on her boot, she remained relatively unscathed. Had she gone too far?

No words were exchanged, The echo of running water hitting the sinks was the only hint that anyone was there at all. Pansy took off her shirt before laying under the water. Hermione suppressed a gasp of surprise. Her hands, She needed to keep looking down at her hands. She hid behind her hair, afraid the flush of her cheeks would show as she continued to scrape off the ink from under her nails. She didn't need to see Pansy to be aware of her presence, a presence that happened to not be wearing any top but her bra. The sink. She needed to keep on looking at the sink.

“You got ink in my hair.” Pansy groaned as she brought water to her head.

“And you ruined my work to get a chuckle from Crabbe and Goyle, so really, who stopped lower?” Hermione snapped back, every muscle of her body stiff as a branch.

“Do you have a problem?” Pansy scoffed.

“Yes actually. Of course I have a problem. What is this Pansy? What happened?” Hermione turned around to face her. Pansy’s lack of shirt and slicked back wet hair was incredibly destabilising, but now was not the time to show weakness.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Granger.” Pansy looked away, frowning.

“Granger? That’s not what you had written on your fucking hand on your birthday. Your friends are not here. No one is watching us. So why don’t you drop this pathetic act?” Hermione took a deep breath. She needed to be brave. She couldn’t cry. Not now. “You know, there were about a million other ways to tell me you didn’t like me like that. But no. You had to humiliate me, time after time. I mean, Zabini? How could you?” she roared, stepping as close as she could to Pansy, who still fled her eyes. Droplets of water fell from her dark hair and onto Hermione’s white blouse.

Pansy covered her stomach with her arms and stepped back. But Hermione wasn’t going to let her go. She had had enough. Her feelings deserved to be heard. And she had been hurt. Badly. She stepped forwards, never letting the distance between them grow. Pansy gasped as her bare back hit the wall. She had nowhere to go.

“Do you even know how much you made me cry? Every night I go to bed humiliated, and in pain. I may be crazy, like everyone is saying, but I am not stupid. I am not fucking stupid Pansy! Am I that bad of a kisser? Was kissing me so horrible you literally went back to liking boys?”
“Of course not!” Pansy snapped back. “I just. I don’t see you like that and I’m sorry I gave you the wrong idea.”

Hermione swallowed down the knot in her throat. Pansy’s words were scarce, but they shot to kill every single time.

“Say it to my face. That’s the least I deserve. Look me in the fucking eyes and tell me that you never cared about me. That you never liked me.” Her voice broke, barely allowing her last words to escape her throat.

Their eyes finally met, but not before Pansy’s rested for a little too long onto her lips. Hermione struggled to chase away her racing thoughts as she anxiously awaited Pansy's reply. The idea that with a simple lean, their lips could touch again was too powerful to suppress. Their chests heaved in unison as the electricity travelled between them.

“I never loved you.”

Hermione searched desperately into Pansy’s eyes for an answer that would oppose the one her mouth had just spoken.

“You’re lying!” She laughed incredulously. “I can’t believe it! You’re lying! I can tell. I know you too well Pans-

“Yeah well what am I supposed to do huh?” Pansy screeched back, tears falling down her cheeks as she rushed past Hermione and kneeled in front of her bag. She dug for a few moments before pulling out an emerald coloured sweater and finally covered her ribs. Hermione hadn’t noticed just how much Pansy’s skin stuck onto her bones. She looked febrile. “What I want doesn’t matter. What you want doesn’t matter. Don't you get it? I told you that there’s no such thing as lone sheep. Can you not just take the hint and leave this alone?”

"You know what? I think you’re right!” Hermione screamed back. “It’s time I gather the last shred of dignity I have left and pick the pieces of my heart that you broke because of your pathetic cowardice. You are spineless, Pansy, spineless! I hate you!”

Hermione regretted the words as soon as they escaped her mouth. It was too late. Nothing could be unspoken, nothing could be unabsorbed.

“Is there anything you’d like to say before I leave this room and we go our separate ways?” She asked, her voice trembling. Why couldn’t she just be normal? Why did all of her feelings have to stand on such extremes?

Pansy stood silent for a minute, jaded. Her eyes stayed stern, empty.

“Alright then. This is it I guess.” Hermione turned around and opened the door.

“I’m sorry about Weasley.”

“What?”

“You asked me if there was anything I wanted to say. So I’m telling you. I am sorry about what happened to Weasley.”

Hermione frowned. Everything she thought she knew about Pansy was continuously challenged by every new thing she did. She slammed the door behind her, and walked away, aware that she had broken someone’s heart in a prideful attempt at salvaging hers. There was no turning back.

______________________

November 5th 1996

My dear Circe, I am sorry. I am addressing myself to you here. To talk about you is not enough, I need to write these words and delude myself into thinking they will somehow find their way to you. I could not face you today. Cho’s words have branded me. I couldn’t share with you the news that broke me. I am a coward. Please forgive me, Circe. Our mirrors, once the greatest blessings of my life, have, in a cruel twist of fate, become a curse from which we will never escape. But how am I supposed to tell you that? We will never stop loving each other, dear Circe. Because I love you. There is so much I want to say. There is so much of me that I want to give to you. You told me you were a Slytherin today. Is that why we are cursed?

November 18th 1996

“To unite future cursed lovers against all trials and tribulations, and so forever and ever.” How could Cho do this to us? I refused to tell you until all of the lies I had built my life upon fell into shambles. You said my name. “I love you, Hermione Granger.” I had never heard these words before. If only you could have seen me, hugging the mirror close to my heart, unable to let go of you as you said you wouldn’t be able to speak with me anymore. I want so much, Circe. I want to know your name, I want to kiss your lips, and to hold you close. I want to know what you look like when you smile, and when you cry. Do you have freckles? I’ve always imagined you with freckles. I will wait for your return, not with patience, and understanding, but instead hankering with despair. I don’t know how to be without you. I don’t want to exist in a world where you and I don’t speak. I love you. I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you.

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.

Hermione’s hand held her mouth tightly, forbidding any sound from escaping. She had felt so much. She knew so little. Her entries finished there. There was nothing more to learn about Circe. How could that be it? Had things truly ended that way?

She made sure her roommates were fast asleep before grabbing her mirror. Hermione stared at the ceiling as she held onto its handle tightly. The movement was automatic, as if she had done this hundreds of times before.

“Circe.” She whispered. “I don’t know if you’re there. I don’t know if you can hear me. I don’t know if you want to listen to me. I’ve had a rough day, and according to my memories, talking with you always made things better. I assume you don’t love me anymore, since you erased yourself from my mind, so I don’t feel too guilty telling you about my heart problems. You know, I have never felt so alone. My friends love me, but they don’t know me. And there is this girl who knows me, but she doesn’t love me. I mean, perhaps she does, but not enough to be with me. I’ve been pathetic, Circe. I don’t know why I can never get anything quite right. I always land slightly off. I know you’re not listening to this, but a part of me misses you, even though we never even met. Do you miss me sometimes? Tell me, Circe, do I ever cross your mind?”

She waited a few seconds for an answer, apprehensive. Who was she kidding? Circe and Pansy were gone. Hermione was simply not enough.
____________________________

“Hermione!” Parvati tapped her on the shoulder. Hermione detached her eyes from the Quidditch pitch. “You have to come! Something happened!”

“Can it wait until the end of the match?” She asked, already regretting having looked away from Harry. His movements were extremely unpredictable to anyone who couldn’t see the snitch.

“I really think you’re going to want to see this.”

Hermione nodded and followed her back to the castle. She’d explain everything to Harry and Ginny later.

“What happened?” She asked as they made their way up to the seventh floor.

“I don’t really know, actually. Everything is... Blurry.” Parvati frowned. “I arrived in our common room and I think someone casted a confundus spell at me. Someone went into our room. Passed right by me but I just. I don’t know Hermione. I can’t remember anything.”

Hermione gasped in horror at the sight that laid in front of her. While Lavender and Parvati’s beds remained intact, her side of the bedroom had been destroyed. Her pillows had been cut open, and her mattress laid on the floor. Every drawer of her desk had ransacked, and every book on her shelf had been left opened.

“I wish I could tell you more. I even asked the fat lady in the portrait, but she was just as lost as I was.”

“It’s okay, Parvati. Thank you for coming to get me. I’ll start cleaning up now.” Hermione kneeled on the ground, closing her suitcase before pushing it back under the bed.

“I’ll help you!”

“I think I’d rather do this alone. There’s a lot of private things in here. But thank you so much.”

“Alright then, I’ll leave you to it.” Parvati threw her an apologetic smile before leaving the room.

Hermione reached into her pocket, smiling as her fingers wrapped around the leather bound handle of her mirror. Parvati had told her everything she needed. The intruder wasn’t a Gryffindor, and she knew exactly who it was.

Circe had heard her, and she had come to steal her mirror.

Hermione thanked her intuition. She finally knew better than to leave the only object tying her back to the girl out of her sight. With Pansy out of the picture, she could finally give the thief the attention she deserved. She was going to find her. Her pain caused by constant rejection had turned into a driving force. She was going to find who was the person that had left her stranded in a mist so thick she had lost herself, no matter what it took.