Chapter 3
Hermione transfigures a chair from a pencil, placing it in front of her desk. Luna doesn't usually visit her at work, and especially not on this level, but with Luna Lovegood, nothing is shocking.
Hermione stands in front of her old classmate, who's grown into her weirdness. Pale blond hair thrown into a knotted top bun, little braids with a quartz frog clip holding it all in place. It amuses Hermione, looking down at Luna, who sits in her comfy desk chair, to notice that somehow Luna looks more comfortable there than Hermione herself does.
They do this for a minute or two, Luna unwavering with a little smile curling her lip, like this is all some big game. She only gets up when Hermione makes a show of looking at her watch and sighing through her nose.
8:03.
Luna comes around from the desk, smiling and with a little box in her hands. Hermione can't help but smile back, huffing a small laugh when she sees what Luna is wearing.
Little dainty slippers with a musical bell on the back, a flowing green skirt with a wood scene stitched into it with glittering silver thread, where a small fairy seems to wink up at Hermione with gem-stitched eyes. Luna's top is beautiful, a gift from Rolf. It's a tight black top, with stars and constellations with clouds moving over. The outfit has a bit too many moving pieces and could be considered messy or gimmicky, but Luna still manages to look comfortable in it.
Wearing an outfit you don't want to wear will always be noticeable, at least subconsciously. It can be seen in some of Hermione's work outfits, and even some of the girls on this floor. That is what makes an outfit messy, what makes it unappealing. Luna makes her outfit work, a different kind of beauty.
But that's not what makes Hermione want to laugh. Luna is wearing one of those horrid invisibility clock knockoffs that George sells in his joke shop. It's a poor imitation; you can somewhat see through the cloak and the person who wears it, but it is obvious to everyone who looks at it that it hides nothing. It would probably draw more attention than anything.
Luna hands the box to Hermione and grabs the edge of the cloak to drape around her small frame. They have all aged, and it is obvious in Luna's grey eyes. A family heirloom.
She still manages to have a carefree air about her though.
Hermione pulls around to her desk, placing her saddlebag to rest beside where her feet will rest. She places the box on top, next to her typewriter (which, thank God, the wizarding world had finally brought into use five years beforehand. Now they needed to figure out computers), her desk tidy except for a small mess to one side. If Hermione squints her eyes enough, she can make out a smiling dog. The ripped-up note from Hermione's notepad doesn't seem to hold enough life in it to be able to tell, though.
‘Well, have you spoken to him?’ Luna sits down in the transfigured pencil, her hands resting in her lap. She smiles up at Hermione, who takes her turn to sit. This smile is different, not cold but more purposeful. The girl on either side of her most likely listening; Luna Lovegood isn't exactly famous, but her name still holds some weight. Her blond hair and grey eyes look familiar, not regarded with warmth.
Hermione presses the small button on the underside of her desk, not the red one with the raised surface, but the green one that was smooth and had a dimple in the middle. A ward enveloped them, the only sign being the iridescent ripple in the air around them every now and then. Their magic tinged at the effect.
‘No, not yet. But I will.’ She regrets agreeing to Luna, but regrets even more that she hadn't knocked on Draco's door last night. The look that Luna gives her is disappointment, and she lets it hang there for a second before smoothing her face out. Hermione realizes then that Luna is good at it, playing the game that everyone around Hermione seems able to play. At controlling and hiding and showing your emotions. But Luna's good like that; she wants Hermione to know it's an act.
‘That's okay, but can you soon? I'd like to talk to my cousin again.’ There's a little pull at Hermione's stomach, and she has to look away from Luna for a moment. Draco hasn't been available for Luna to get in touch, or maybe doesn't want to. He doesn't leave his Ministry-appointed cottage and won't leave his floor. They have a Floo down there, so no one at all sees him unless they look for him.
Blue eyes in candlelight, a scar across a cheekbone-
‘I will, tonight before I leave work. I'll send you a letter when I can, okay?’ This seems to be the wrong thing to say, somehow, and Hermione can't figure out why. Luna smiles though, and bows her head, letting Hermione put this aside until tonight. Hermione doesn't have many friends, and she's not sure if she would consider Luna one either, but they can always come to an understanding. Luna never plays with her too harshly.
Hermione is thankful.
In the small box, Luna makes Hermione open it then and there, is a small cake in the shape of an Ouroboros, a snake eating its own tail. Luna smiles and takes her leave, shattering the small bubble of the ward, magic ripping and stretching before popping.
Hermione doesn't let herself take it as anything but a gift, eats it with a smile, and tastes the cherry in the middle. It reminds her of something from when she was a child. The juice of the fruit drips from her pursed lips and down her chin.
She swallows it in three bites, and each time she has to stop herself from gagging.