Once the flight had flown
With the wilt of the rose
It had been a while since the last time she was truly alone when sleeping.
When on the run, she was sandwiched in between Harry and Ron (and when Ron left, Harry’s back was a beacon of heat in the cold winter wind), and after the war, well, nightmares never let her sleep alone.
The first night after it was over, the Weasleys plus Luna slept in the Common Room, on the sofas and loveseats, and then when they retreated to the Burrow the twins’ room was arranged with mattresses on the floor so that no one was left alone; four Weasleys, one Granger, one Potter, one Lovegood.
And, well, if some nights her hand held another, and if some nights they stayed up in the living room whispering tales of the New World until the morning hours, and if time went on and they spent their nights elsewhere, well that was their business, wasn’t it?
Harry and Ginny were the first to leave the makeshift dormitory, a couple of weeks before Hogwarts was set to begin again.
Luna left too, climbing her hill up and disappearing into her father’s home a week later.
And Ron took his mattress back into his room.
That day, Hermione packed her things, bought a ticket to Australia, and booked a stay in a youth hostel. She spent a month there, making friends with a Scottish girl and searching for her parents. She flew home when Monica and Wendell Wilkins decided to keep their names and dentistry practice there.
Somehow, she moved in with the boy of flaming hair who had held her hand and whispered secrets, claiming an unused room as hers.
He was in better health than when she left.
“The healers say I’m all good now,” he had begun, “but I’m never better than when I’m with you.”
“And what of your brother ?” She had asked, not really knowing which one she was inquiring about.
“Never really there, these days. I think there’s a bird, and with the way it’s going she’ll join us at Christmas.”
The bird did not show at Christmas, but Ron did - with Luna on his arm, who had climbed her hill down and never went back up.
“Everyone’s shacking up, it seems,” he whispered in the night when everyone had gone to bed, whispering so no one would hear, so no one would discover them and their secrets.
He did not want to make it explicit, and yet, he still had doubts about his girl (his secret flame) and his brother (his secret competitor).
She grabbed his hand and squeezed it.
“They’re good together,” she said.
“You think ?”
“I know.”
And he squeezed her hand back.
Ginny went back to school, and Harry got himself a flat in muggle London, where he was not too far away from the Ministry to begin his Auror training, and with a second room for Teddy Lupin.
I slept all alone
You still wouldn't go
She began working at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes manning the till, Harry and Ron popping in at least once a week. They would eat lunch in the back room, or upstairs, and they’d ask her,
“Are you really sleeping in that tiny room ?”
“It used to be a bit of a mess, in here. The boys used it when there wasn’t any place in the stockroom downstairs.”
“That’s not what we meant,” they would reply,
And she would roll her eyes and say,
“Yes, I really am sleeping in here,” all alone, it implied.
Even though it was a lie.
She would sleep in another’s bed, where her nightmares were quieted by an arm around her waist and lips on her shoulder blade.
They celebrated the first anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts and she still could not sleep alone, lest she was woken by a shrill laugh and burning on her arm.
They celebrated the second anniversary, and then the third, and through each he was with her, a thumb gently pressing circles into the back of her hand, a joke at the ready so she would smile.
Through each she was with him, taking her hand off of his whenever someone looked at it a little too long, her smile secretive whenever he tried to make it appear.
Blue dress on a boat
Your new girl is my clone
Christmas came and went, with Molly Weasley asking her (teasing, loving) when she would finally, officially, join the family. Hermione laughed and escaped the question.
New Year’s came and went, with Ginny Weasley asking her (teasing, poking) when she would finally, officially, join the family. Hermione shook her head and pushed her to Harry.
Valentine’s Day came and went, her secret boy of flaming hair asking her (teasing, mischieving) when she would finally, officially, admit that her blue dress had been chosen for him. Hermione blushed and denied, and with it came a fight.
“Tell me you’re not still holding out hope for him,” he pleaded,
“I’m not,” she cried.
“Then why won’t you tell them about us?”
“It’s good, isn’t it? Us?”
“It’s not enough,” he said, and that was it.
And so she spent her first night alone.
She did not dream of Bellatrix, as she feared. Instead, she dreamt of his blue eyes and his arm around another waist, as he called out to her with harsh words, and she lost in the sea with her blue dress; and she woke with a sweat.
She quit her job at the shop, found a flat for herself, and wondered what she could do with her time now; how many career paths were there?
She began a course in Magical Law.
Let's fast forward to three hundred takeout coffees later
I see your profile and your smile on unsuspecting waiters
Just in front of her place was a muggle coffee shop; she took the habit of grabbing three takeout cups every day and dropping two of them at the Auror office in the mornings.
She smiled at the waiter there, and, well, if she went out with him one night and only got back to her place in the morning hours, and if time went on and she invited him in, well that was her business, wasn’t it?
The waiter had a smile which looked suspiciously like another’s, which Harry mentioned once.
“He seems nice,” Harry said. “Makes me think of -”
“Don’t,” she cut him.
He squeezed her hand, but it did not feel as good as it used to.
Christmas came, and she went to the Burrow as usual, kissed Ron on the cheek and then Harry, hugged Ginny and Molly, said bonjour to Fleur and Bill and little Victoire, and hello to Arthur and George.
He came in late and went home early, staying just long enough to satisfy his mother.
You dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor
You search in every maiden's bed for somethin' greater, baby
It was common knowledge now, or at least it was in Diagon Alley, that if a bird was to step into the joke shop and batted her eyes just a little, chances were that one of the owners, the ever-so-unattainable bachelor, would be willing to prove his reputation wrong.
He was not to be thought of as ‘unattainable’ ever again.
The love bite on his shoulder was proof of it, and so was the hickey on his neck.
And did you think I didn't see you?
There were flashin' lights
At least I had the decency
To keep my nights out of sight
Only rumors 'bout my hips and thighs
And my whispered sighs
That night, she found herself in a muggle club, hoping to erase the sight and numb her mind - but how could she, if she stumbled onto him?
How could she, if the moment she found a warm body and turned around, she was faced with the sight of him, a sea of bodies separating them?
He was mirroring her with another body, a faceless girl with wild brown hair and curls running down her back. He bent his head and whispered in the girl’s ear, and she angled her face towards him. She caught a glimpse of an impish smile, the one he’d have on his lips before tickling her, the one he’d wear when he had something devious in mind.
He caught her eye; even from afar she saw the surprise in his eyes, the droop of his smile; he went back to his faceless girl.
Hermione disappeared into the sea of bodies with barely an excuse for her faceless boy and left the flashing lights behind.
Let's fast forward to three hundred awkward blind dates later
A classmate from her Magical Law course said he had a friend, who was single and not too bad to look at, who was looking for a date.
“With me?” she said.
“Well, I didn’t say who you were. I said you were single and not too bad to look at, and insanely clever. Thought you could decide whether or not you wanted to tell war stories.”
She went on the date.
The same classmate said the flame was not there for his friend, and she had to agree, so he decided he would find her another match.
She went on another date.
Ginny (soon-to-be Potter, finally) talked about a teammate of hers, who was not too clingy and rather intelligent.
“Why must everyone send me on dates?”
“Well,” said the bride-to-be, “you need a date for my wedding. Or else everyone will be trying their luck with the hot bridesmaid, and I can’t vouch for every relative I have and the gaggle of civilisation which will try to invade Harry Potter’s wedding.”
Hermione said yes to being a bridesmaid, and yes to the date.
If she's got blue eyes, I will surmise that you'll probably date her
Although Ginny’s teammate was there at the wedding, he did not come as her date; she went stag, which was alright with her, except for the fact that she still had eyes on her boy with flaming hair -and he did come with a date, a girl with short unruly hair and brown eyes like Hermione’s, which Ron mentioned.
“She seems alright,” he said. “Makes me think of -”
“Don’t,” she cut him.
The girl introduced herself, at a time when Hermione was sharing a glass of champagne with the bride.
“You’re Hermione Granger, right? I’ve heard so much of you.”
“Wish we could say the same,” answered Ginny.
Which was harsh, but true. Hermione gathered that she would be the last to know if someone stable had entered his life, but Ginny would be the first.
"Come here," I whispered in your ear
In your dream as you passed out, baby
“I like your dress,” he said, and that was the first time he spoke to his not-so-secret, not-much-of-a-flame since that day.
“It’s blue,” she said, lost for words.
“It’s blue,” he said, an arm around the other girl’s waist.
Right after Harry and Ginny left for their new house, she came down to the garden and sat next to Arthur’s shed.
“I like your dress? Your sister has never heard of me, brings me down in front of her guests and all you can say is that you like Hermione Granger’s dress?”
She supposed that was the other girl.
Was she the ‘other’ girl? Or had Hermione become the other girl now?
“I’m leaving,” the girl said. “Get over her or get back with her, but don’t go to any girl that looks like her, that’s just mean.”
“I’m not,” he said. “Sure, there was something, but it’s over now.”
“Please,” she answered. “You’ve been going on dates with her clones. I am her clone.”
The girl left.
Oh, Lord, I think about jumpin'
Off of very tall somethings
Just to see you come runnin' (Runnin')
And say the one thing I've been wanting, but no
“Fred,” said Hermione.
Her boy with flaming hair turned, startled.
“Hermione,” said Fred.
“It was good, wasn’t it? Us?”
He kissed her like he did a thousand times before, like there was no time at all since he said it was not enough.
“Was it over then?” She asked.
“Is it over now?” He asked.
She had been wanting, at the beginning, and in the middle, and anytime she saw him, to jump from a hypogriff's back, or anything that was tall enough to hurt. To see if he would come back; she might have never had the nerve to go to him, she hoped, prayed, cried to a wishing star, that he would come to her and say the one thing she had been wanting. She hoped, prayed, cried to a wishing star, that he would say it was not over.
Was it?
Was it over then? And is it over now?
(Was it? Was it? Was it? Was it? Was it? Was it?)