Chapter 1
“No – you guys don’t understand, he was to dieeee for,” Lavender lamented as the circle teased her for her most recent hook up. “Sure, he could use a haircut and a shave and new clothes, but it was what was under his clothes that mattered.”
Three weeks into the semester, it seemed that all the eighth years had warmed up to each other. The war went largely undiscussed, which seemed to be for the best. Blow up fights had been avoided, and rivalries had dissolved. It seemed everyone was craving normalcy.
“Lavender, honey, look at him. There is just no way the dick was good enough to justify that.” Pansy had her eyebrows arched in exaggerated reproach and her drink held precariously between two fingers. “This is why you date women sweetie, they come pre-showered.” She leaned into Theo, who sat next to her on the sofa, giving him a friendly pat on the leg. “Right Theo?” Theo smiled and shook his head in response.
“Oh shut up, weren’t you fawning over Draco for, like, three years?” Lavender shot back. Pansy feigned offense, but laughed, bending over as she did.
“You’ve got me there doll, but I’m on to better things – greener pastures.” Her top was low cut, a Muggle style for sure. It was a deep gray against her pale skin, and her cleavage seemed to pour out the top. “My fling this summer was just delicious, soft in all the right places.” Her glass dangled between her pointer finger and thumb, but as Theo tried to take it from her, she pulled away and held it out of reach.
Theo looked incredulous. “Pans, this is not your usual audience; I’m not sure how much more you want to share. You’re going to scar some poor innocent Gryffindor ears.” Several in the group chuckled, and many of the Gryffindors scoffed good-naturedly.
“Look, just because our house isn’t known for outlandish orgies doesn’t mean we’re all virgins,” Dean remarked.
Hermione hid her shock with a cough. While she knew her peers generally had more experience than her, she didn’t understand how they talked so openly about sex. Not that she was ashamed of it, of course, but it just didn’t seem so casual to her.
Hermione watched as others shared their most recent experiences, all met with interest and friendly heckling. Though she wouldn’t have had the courage anyway, she didn’t dare share her experience when her “experience” was in the room. Ron sat on the opposite side of the circle. He had been trying to catch her eye all night, and she wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction. Instead she looked absentmindedly at Pansy, wondering what the summer fling she spoke of looked like. She took a sip of her drink; a fuzzy mind made these conversations a little more fun to listen in on. An airy voice reignited her interest in the conversation.
“I had a threesome this summer and found it quite enjoyable.” The circle gasped and collectively fell into giggles. Luna never failed to surprise.
-
Hermione sighed, retrieving her simple gold watch from her nightstand. It was nearly one o'clock, meaning she'd skipped two full classes already. It had hardly been a month, and she’d already begun falling behind. It was unlike her, and everyone knew it.
Her summer had been draining, to say the least. The war had ended, and Hermione had left Harry and Ron to search for her parents. Finding them was the easy part; despite months of research and countless efforts, her parents could recollect nothing about her. Despite the constant weight in her chest and lump in her throat, she insisted it was okay to anyone who asked. She had no family to go home to, especially after ignoring Ron’s owls all summer.
But it wasn’t okay. She spent her nights in tears and her days in bed. Nightmares plagued her, leaving deep violet circles under her eyes. She had put on weight since the war – a good thing, she knew, as she spent so long hungry while on the run – but more than she was used to. Her frame was no longer the girlish thing it had been, and, when she looked in the mirror for too long, she wished her clothes still fit the same.
There was a knock at her door.
“Mione?” a familiar voice called. Harry stood waiting when she opened it. “Ready for the quiz?” Hermione grimaced. She was not. A transfiguration practical this soon into the year was a crime, but she knew this year was supposed to be more challenging.
“I suppose,” Hermione replied, grabbing her school bag. She followed him out into the eighth year common room, and several other students joined them to walk over to their classroom.
McGonagall was there when they arrived. Though she was newly appointed as Headmaster, she had evidently decided that would not keep her from teaching, at least until she had found a suitable replacement. She had already begun writing instructions on the chalkboard as they found their seats, and Hermione’s heart sank as she read the instructions for their task. She knew her absences and lack of effort would catch up to her, she just figured it wouldn't be until much later.
As she followed the steps listed on the board, she felt a ball begin to claw its way up her throat. Her heart pounded, and her palms felt cold and clammy. She waved her wand and recited what she could remember of the incantations, but to no avail.
When she finished what she could, she packed up her things and left. Tears welled in her eyes, and she walked quickly, wringing her hands, biting her bottom lip with force. There was nothing she could do. Her robes suddenly felt heavy, and her uniform dress shirt stuck to her back from sweat. Her hand paused on the handle of the eighth year dormitory door; she knew her peers likely sat in the large leather chairs she would have to walk past. She took a deep breath, trying to regain composure. I'm okay I'm okay I'm okay. She opened the door, bowing her head in an attempt to hide her emotions. She was right. In her peripheral vision, she could see Pansy, Blaise, and Luna sitting by the fire. The girls looked up in greeting as Hermione rushed through to reach her room, but she didn’t return the gesture.
Closing her door behind her, she sat on the floor, her back to the wall, crying into her knees. Hermione Granger had never failed a test, and she never wanted to do it again. Her breaths were quick and shallow, her cheeks sticky with drying tears. She stayed nailed to the ground as her mind raced. I will never be as smart as I was. I’ve wasted everything. I’ve only been back a month, and I'm already failing. I will never amount to anything. I'll never live up to my own name. She stayed that way for a while, clutching herself and trying to even her breaths. These spirals had become more frequent after the war, it seemed the emotional toll she had avoided acknowledging for so long was catching up to her.
Hermione startled at a knock on the door. She assumed it was Harry; he had been the only one to visit thus far. “Yeah,” she said softly.
“Hey honey, are you feeling okay?" Pansy peaked into her room. Hermione looked up, startled. Pansy walked in and knelt on the floor a few feet away. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just thought you could use some company. I brought some tea. Do you take sugar?”
“Yeah, um, three spoons, please.” Hermione offered a small smile, still hugging her knees, but she couldn't help the suspicion that crept into her voice. They had been respectful since the start of the term, but at a distance, and definitely not friendly.
“Me too, Blaise always teases me for my sweet tooth.” Pansy stirred sugar in both and handed her a cup before sitting all the way down, legs crossed. “Mine is peppermint though, very refreshing. I heard you’re more of a chamomile girl yourself.”
Hermione looked up with interest, tears still staining her face, eyes puffy and red. “Yeah, who said?” she breathed.
“Luna; she seems to have a weird omniscience about everyone’s favorite. She brought a few of us tea the other day, and she knew exactly who liked what.”
“Mmmm,” Hermione sipped her tea. “She really caught everyone off guard with the threesome comment, huh?” Amusement played on her swollen lips.
Pansy giggled in agreement, “I don’t think anyone expected that. There are some people in the group that clearly have some experience, and others who clearly don’t, but she’s a little unpredictable.”
Hermione nodded, letting her legs fall and cross. “So who is in each of these groups then?” She tried to make the question seem offhanded, an unremarkable follow up to Pansy’s statement. She was not invested in how Pansy perceived her sexual experience. Pansy eyed her, clearly gauging what she should say next but, given Hermione’s fragile state, decided to indulge her.
“Oh, you know, I’d say me, Blaise, Theo, Lavender, and Dean fall into the experienced category. I guess Luna now too, and then you, Draco, Hannah, Neville, Padma and Parvati, and Harry and Ron fall into the less experienced group.”
Hermione let out a small laugh, “whoa, who are you calling inexperienced?” Pansy raised her eyebrows. “I’ve had sex before!”
“Honey, having sex one time with Ron does not equate to experience.”
Hermione sputtered indignantly. “And where did you get that information from?”
“Hon, you two were strictly friends before the war, forced into close proximity for over a year, bonded through unimaginable trauma, and now you can’t look him in the eye. It doesn’t take a Legilimins to put it together.”
“Okay, so maybe you’re right, but you don’t have to be smug about it,” Hermione admitted with a roll of her eyes. It was weirdly comforting to be sitting on the floor with Pansy, drinking overly sweet tea, chatting like they were lifelong friends.
“What can I say? I’m an empath,” Pansy said with faux sincerity. Neither girl could stifle their giggles, and Hermione leaned into Pansy’s shoulder, giving her a playful shove.
“You better watch it, hon, you’re gonna make me spill my tea.” Pansy attempted a frown, but her eyes gave away her amusement.
Hermione was a little bit sad to watch her leave when they had finished their drinks. She was once again alone with her thoughts, but things didn’t seem as bad as they had before Pansy’s impromptu visit.
-
When Hermione had confided in Harry her poor marks on her transfiguration practical, he had insisted she join him and a few other eighth years to study. It was what a good friend would do, and she knew she had forced him into studying more times than she could count. Now here she was, trudging up the stairs to the library. It was odd, this being her first time to go since the term began.
A familiar voice called out to her. “Mione! Wait up!” Ron jogged up to her, even though she had refused to turn around. “Hermione, wait. We should talk.” He grabbed her shoulder. Hermione stiffened, but kept walking.
“No, Ron. We’re not doing this right now.” She tried to be firm, decisive, but there was a quiver in her voice. She saw other students watching them as they walked by. Not everyone knew they were an item, but they all knew the pair were friends.
“You can’t just avoid me all term. We have to talk at some point.” He hadn’t let go of her shoulder.
“Okay, well, I have to study. Find me another time.” Hermione pulled herself out of his grasp, and walked away without looking back. She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. He was watching her walk away, she was sure of it. She clutched her books tighter. Her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest, and she could still feel Ron’s hand on her shoulder. She shivered.
When she arrived at the library, she was greeted by a chorus of hellos, Harry, Draco, Luna, Neville, and Pansy were already sitting down. Harry was already sat between Draco and Luna, so Hermione took a seat at the end of the table next to Pansy. She opened her book, staring intently downward, trying not to let her eyes well up with tears. It was not working. Pansy looked at her with concern, brushing her shoulder, the same one Ron had held just minutes ago.
“Are you okay, hon?” she asked softly.
Hermione swallowed. “I’m okay.” She paused. “I don’t want to make a scene,” she whispered. Pansy nodded in understanding.
“Okay, just let me know if you need anything.” She dropped her hand from her shoulder and rested on Hermione’s thigh, just barely above the knee. A friendly gesture, no doubt. Her hand was warm, even through Hermione's thick tights. Hermione nodded and took a deep breath. She was curiously aware of her friend’s hand placement. She was comforted, sure, but for some reason, it didn’t quite have the calming effect it was intended to.
She looked down at Pansy’s hand while pretending to read her book. It seemed starkly pale next to Hermione’s dark skirt and black tights, but it wasn’t sickly. Her fingers were thin and bony, and her nails were well manicured. They scratched soft circles into Hermione’s inner thigh as Pansy reviewed her notes. Hermione was sure Pansy had been reading the same page for a while now, but it wouldn’t do her any good to admit she was paying that much attention.
Pansy paused her circles to give Hermione a light squeeze. Hermione looked up at her, and Pansy gave a pointed glance to the opposite end of the table, where Harry and Draco sat just a little too close. Their shoulders brushed together, and Harry was leaning over to look at Draco’s work. Hermione and Pansy shared a knowing look.
“How long before they kiss?” Pansy whispered jokingly in Hermione’s ear. Her breath was warm on Hermione's neck, and she bit back a laugh. Pansy removed her hand to shuffle through her notes, and Hermione shivered, suddenly feeling cold.
"If I believed in gambling, I’d bet by the start of the spring term.”
“I'm giving it 'til the Yule Ball,” Pansy giggled and turned back to her work.
Hermione stole what she hoped were inconspicuous looks, watching the other girl’s brow furrow in concentration. Everyone knew Pansy was pretty, intimidatingly so, but Hermione had never thought about it too hard. As she watched her now, she realized how pretty the girl actually was. Striking almond eyes that pulled upward at the corners, long lashes. Her irises looked black from far away, to dark to distinguish, but up close, Hermione could see they were a deep chocolatey brown. Her cheekbones sat high and her jawline was sharp, accentuated by a small, angular nose. Her hair was a soft black, straight, and cut short to frame her face. She was gorgeous.
Pansy looked up, catching her staring. “You okay?” she mouthed. Hermione nodded and tried to focus on her work.