Chapter 4
When she was younger Halloween had been an excellent day, the best of the year. All the candies, the lights and decorations. The Great Hall had been her safe place for so many years on that day. There would be a week, she remembered, in which Prefects and Head Girls and Boys would gather the first and second years in their respective common rooms and tell horror stories in the glooming dark. It was magical, actually, how evert single child gathered there was bonding in a family of their choosing.
But now…
Now she was nineteen.
And she didn’t remember turning said age.
Yes, she’d actually forgotten her birthday, which was one month and a half ago. Not that she had been the only one. Almost everyone hadn’t remembered.
That day, the 19th of September she’d a panic attack, she had hid herself in the Restricted Section of the library and stayed there until it was dinner time. It hadn’t crossed her mind it was her birthday, so she skipped dinner and went directly to start her patrolling, burying herself in foreign corners of the castle, still shaking and with tears burning her eyes. Now that her parents didn’t know who she was, there had been no reminder for her, not a single congratulations card or something, so she just… forgot.
The next day, when she woke up, she was greeted by Ginny, who had a remorseful face and a small gift between her hands. ‘I couldn’t find you yesterday, but this is for you. Happy birthday.’
It had been a beautiful gold-made bracelet with small hearts as charms. It didn’t seem pompous, even less something it had costed a lot of money, perhaps a few galleons — no more than ten —, but it was still a gift, and one from Ginny, so it was a valuable as if it had costed the whole world with lifetime interests and all. ‘Oh? Birthday? Oh… Thank you Ginny is beautiful. I — I forgot too; you shouldn’t have.’
Then when she arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast, Luna gave her a tight hug, saying it was better for her to do so if Hermione remembered, and that there was a gift for her that had arrived before she did. Nor Ginny or Luna knew who had sent it. ‘Probably McGonagall, she asked for you yesterday.’
But McGonagall didn’t wrap things in black gift-paper, though it was beautiful. The paper, soft as silk had a fading marble design, appliqués of dark emerald. No ribbon or card. ‘Yes, surely her.’
And after she went back to being invisible, she placed the gift on her lap. It wasn’t big, it fitted her hand perfectly and had a musky essence of mint and roses aromatised candles. Her hands spasmed at the touch of the paper, so she breathed in and unwrapped the gift with delicacy of not ruining the paper. A gasp chocked inside her. Covering it with a clear of throat, she took a sip of her orange juice.
It was a small locket, concealing its existence as a delicate charm. The centre piece was a rounded litmus diamond, gold-made lines and spirals surrounding it. Tiny drops made spheres around the spirals, a line of them disguised as the hinge holding the round piece opposite to the diamond. Hermione opened the locket; it was flat and honestly it didn’t look like one, surely it must an original hand-made piece. It couldn’t have been Minerva for sure, that was just out of the question. It was nuts to just think it was her. Yes, Professor Minerva McGonagall had the money and was a very influential and powerful woman in wizarding society, but there was no way she could’ve asked someone to made this, especially with the kind of diamond it had been used. The litmus diamond were only found in Antipodean Opaleye dragon caves, they formed part of the nests the creatures made to protect their eggs, just like other treasures. They were almost impossible to retrieve before the eggs hatched and the dragons left their caves to fetch for their new-borns. Still, the hunter had limited time to retrieve the diamond.
Dragon caves were majorly knowledgeable for their half-moon, half-sun spot. The nests were usually in the middle of both. Enough sun to keep them warm, enough moon to help their development.
It couldn’t be until the seventh week of the forming dragon that the hunter had three days before the sunset was able to reach the diamonds and stain them forever, making them less valuable and not affordable for jewellers and bazaar owners, at least it was used in apothecaries as crushed pieces to prepare different kind of potions.
Inside the locket, carved in the golden circle covering the back part of the diamond, were the words ‘Mihi dimidium ad te.’
Hermione recognised Latin, yes, but her translation for it was a bit rusty and surely wasn’t the correct one.
Tangled between fine chain of the locket, was a piece of parchment.
‘Half-moon, half-sun. Golden girl, could it be you accept the silver in me? Happy birthday, forgetful witch.’
Silver in them?
Accept it?
Hermione frowned.
Looking around and throughout the Great Hall, she couldn’t quite catch who would be the responsible for her curious and extravagant gift.
‘All right, Mione?’ the tender voice of Nevile getting her out of her thinking.
She had smiled. ‘Yes, all is good.’
Now, by the end of October, she was seated on her bed, a towel wrapped around her body. She had been in the Prefects bathroom a few hours ago to take a bath, but the solitude around her had just been overwhelming to her. She know understood why Minerva had made them all, Prefects and Head Boys or Girls, to share rooms with their housemates. It wasn’t due to lack of space — the castle was enormous — or reconstruction measures, it was because the new Headmistress didn’t want her students to feel utterly alone in a room. When quieter the place, louder the memories of the war were, at least for Hermione. She had to keep her mind busy or else she would go crazy.
Hermione sighed.
She was supposed to be getting ready for the Halloween part that would be held in the Room of Requirement. Luna had told her that the Headmistress had given seven- and eight-years permission to make a celebration to keep them busy with something. She and Neville had almost begged her to go, and when Ginny had appeared saying Hermione should definitely go, it was finally the time when she had said yes.
Her head turned to the side.
Her costume laying by her side.
She was supposed to be a witch.
Pretty obvious it was, but Ginny had thought it was hilarious, so there she was.
Padma and Ginny had already left the room almost an hour ago, the same time Hermione arrived from the Prefects bathroom. It was already eleven o’clock. The party had already started.
She huffed, resigned to put on the costume she had found in a store in Hogsmeade.
The black dress hugged her body comfortably, she had made sure it was a bigger size than hers so it wouldn’t be so short on her, and that was the precise effect it had on her. The length of it reached her mid-thigh, perhaps a bit more. It was an off-shoulder halter-neck dress, the sleeves went down her arms until the middle of her hand, ending with a little flare. There were two straps over her shoulders.
She studied her chest.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like her breasts, they were big enough and all, they were fine. This dress just made them… highlight more — perhaps a bit more than more.
Her hands smothered the fabric one more time before going to the bathroom.
Grabbing the small vanity bag she carried everywhere, she took out the back eye pencil and applied it on her waterline, just like over her eyelid before smudging it with a small makeup brush. She applied gloss over her lips and that was it. The only jewellery on her was the locket she had received anonymously.
Sitting on the bed she put on the large boots Ginny had borrowed her and that was it.
Before leaving the room she seized the witchy pointy hat and left the room.
Her wand on her nightstand.
The Requirement Room was packed with people, still, there was room for her to move freely.
She had been there for already forty minutes, a bottle of wine on hand.
She had been hiding in a corner after greeting a few people. Luna was dancing with Neville, who had a smile on his face as he watched his girlfriend sway her arms over her head. Her eyes went to the rest of the room. A girl she recognised from Hufflepuff was chatting with Millicent Bulstrode. Seamus was looking at them with narrowed eyes while Dean tried to get him to chat. Hermione rolled her eyes. It was always the same.
And then she saw him.
His unmistakable platinum hair dim-gleaming with the strobe lights of the room. Blaise, holding a goblet, speaking next to his side.
She saw Daphne laughing with Theodore Nott while they danced together a few feet away.
Pansy was still nowhere to be seen, just like Ginny.
The group of snakes were in a corner of the room, far enough from everyone else. And she swore Malfoy was doing something with his eyes, because instead of being fixed on the person next to him, he was staring at the couple a few feet away from him.
Hermione narrowed her eyes a bit.
Then she saw it.
Oh.
A shield.
It was a faint aura around the group, protective.
He was… He was keeping them in.
Protecting them.
She had hear that a few days ago a girl from Gryffindor had pushed Daphne in the hallway and called her a slut. The Slytherin girl hadn’t said anything, but Blaise, who had been with her, had confronted the Gryffindor, who just spit to his feet. Hermione was sure it hadn’t been just because Daphne was in Slytherin.
The relationship between Daphne, Blaise and Theodore wasn’t a secret to anyone, at least for a couple of years it hadn’t been.
Hermione had never commented on the subject, she had even thought it was normal. That until Lavender, years ago, had told her it wasn’t.
Witches, from what she had been told, were just to marry one wizard, arranged or not, just one. If a woman was seen with two in solitude, she was a scarlet woman.
She had heard those words before from the mouth of Molly Weasley, who once had been informed of it, had started rambling about how it was a disgrace for a young woman to be seen giving those affectionate demonstrations in public, worse if before wed lock. She had said it was as bad as seeing a couple of the same sex.
Hermione had just kept it quiet, watching Ginny tense. She hadn’t understand why she had tensed then, but now she did.
The relationship with Pansy had been going since sixth year.
Hermione wondered if Molly Weasley would be able to call her own, and only, daughter a scarlet woman.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a presence by her side.
“Hermione,” called Cormac McLaggen, “you are as beautiful as ever.”
She looked up. Silent.
“Thank you.”
“What are you possibly doing with a bottle in hand?” he asked, hand trying to reach hers.
She pulled away, hiding the bottle behind her, “Nothing.”
Cormac stared at her. A second, then two. “Heard you’ve been receiving howlers.”
Her eyes remained on his.
“You know,” he continued. She noticed his breath smelled like alcohol, “it is a pity so many families are out of the reconstruction program, but it’s not right you’re being blamed for it,” she frowned at this. “I mean, you are already here,” he chuckled, “what more could you do.”
Hermione was not following, “I’m sorry?”
“I’m just saying,” he tried to explain, “that you should… I don’t know, give comments or something,” he shrugged. “Perhaps if you want to do something with the money, I can help you—”
Hermione raised her eyebrows before laughing.
“Goodbye.”
And with that, and her bottle, she walked to Luna and Neville.
She was tipsy, yes, but sober or not, she would never give the money she was receiving to McLaggen. It was just ludicrous.
She knew the McLaggens had been struggling financially since the war, many families were, but if he was trying to be a carrow watching over her, he could get in fucking line.
“Hello, Hermione,” said Luna dreamily, grabbing Hermione’s hand to get her in front of her. “Dance with us.”
Then Luna started doing her thing, swaying and all.
Hermione followed as best as she could, still holding the bottle of wine she drank from time to time. Neville had gone with Seamus and Dean.
Minutes later Luna, taking the bottle with her, had met with a girl from her house, leaving Hermione alone on the dance floor, but she was already too drunk to notice. She was alone, feeling the beat of the music. She swayed and circled her waist, hands over her hips, caressing her waist.
The alcohol doing its thing, numbing her brain.
She doesn’t care if anyone is looking at her, she just dances and dances, smiles even.
When her eyes finally flutter open, there is a pair of eyes staring at her.
Grey mist.
Cold into feeling.
And she feels lights above her, so she continues.
Hands going up from her hips, almost reaching the sides of her breasts. She spins, circling her waist again.
But before she could continue staring into the mist before her, everyone just starts jumping and jumping. Dragging her into the tumult of people. She lets herself get lose. Everyone is cheering, laughing and singing. There is light flashing everywhere, making it impossible to see clearly.
By the centre of all the people dancing, there is a couple.
Hermione can tell one of them has ginger hair.
And when the chorus of the song goes again, everyone starts jumping.
The couple is kissing.
Hermione can’t see from the strobe lights. Everything goes too fast.
She stumbles outside the tumult of people, trying to catch her breath.
A hand over her moth prevents her from it.
Just like that she is dragged into a hallway outside the party.
Before she can see however it is, she is spun around and lips crash over hers.
Hand fisting the back of her hair, the other along her jaw and cheek.
Hermione tries to push back, and then.
“Sh, it’s me,” against her mouth.
And she relaxes into him. Trapped into the mist of him. His teeth bit down hers, she catches his, doing the same before his tongue slithers into her mouth. Her hands go to his hair. Oh she has missed him. Yes.
Her lips move and dance along side his, fighting for the breaths of the other, encapsulating them inside their mouths. He tastes sweet, warm. She is sure it comes from the wine he had been drinking a while ago.
When he pulls back, she is panting.
Her eyes open and find him smirking down at her.
“Gosh,” she breathes. And then pushes him with her hand. “Don’t do that.”
But he doesn’t even move and now is pressing both of his arms by the sides of her head.
He shrugs, doesn’t say anything. Just stares into her. His eyes then travel down her necklace, something flickers inside him, she can see, but she is to numb with alcohol to really comprehend.
“Where were you?” It blurts out of her without even thinking of it.
His eyes go back to hers in a second and raises an eyebrow, “Missed me?”
She scoffs.
Yes.
But she doesn’t say it. Shouldn’t. And won’t.
“There was a trial for some documents my father had, and I had to be there,” she stares into him, his eyes look away and then back at her. “Heard you were all busy with howlers.”
A huff leaves her mouth, she shakes her head. “I don’t want the money.”
Malfoy stares, brows slightly furrowed.
“I tried to refuse it, but Kingsley said it was mine by right,” she bit her inner cheek.”
“If you refuse it, it’s not going back to me anyways,” he says, uninterested.
Go back to him.
Go back.
“What?”
She is perplexed.
“The money is from you?!”
He shrugged. Arms folding over his chest. “Not from me,” he says, “it’s from the taxes my family has to pay. I think it is the… Hm… Twenty-five percent of all? Perhaps?”
“What?!”
Her eyes wide. Shocked.
“I’m still filthy rich any—”
“You are paying how much?!” she can’t even start to process it. Her head throbbing.
“Granger you should clean your ears, I said—“
“That’s outrageous!” she is practically screaming right now. “That’s not fair! Twenty-five percent of all? That’s a fortune!”
He shrugs. Again.
“Doesn’t really matter—”
“It does matter!”
He raises an eyebrow.
“No, it doesn’t,” he says firm. “I prefer to pay even more than that than to be in Azkaban, Granger.”
Her mouth opens and then closes. Like a fish.
The alcohol inside of her disappearing.
She frowns and shakes her head. Knows that what he and all the others are paying to the Ministry is too much.
But she also knows that fighting with him is impossible. He is like a fucking wall.
So she has another question.
“Ginny and Pansy have been together since sixth year, haven’t they?”
This does hit him.
But he just stares.
“That isn’t my tale to tell,” he says, simple.
She looks at him poorly.
Getting information out of him was impossible too.
Great.
But this confirms something to her.
Before she can say anything else, he starts to walk away from her.
“Glad you liked the necklace.”
And with that, leaving her with more questions, he disappears into the darkness of the hallway.
It turns out she wasn’t the only one who saw a ginger head kissing a raven-haired witch in the Halloween party.
There were rumours the following Monday.
Was it Ginny or someone else?
Ginny Weasley couldn’t possibly kiss another woman.
Weren’t she and Harry together?
Pansy was the other girl?!
She had been hearing all of it.
There were eyes on her too, she knew that they wanted to know if she would say something. Clearly they didn’t know a thing.
Nobody from Slytherin seemed to care about the matter, at least not from what Hermione had heard. Pansy hadn’t said anything either. Hermione hadn’t seen her at all on Monday. She wasn’t in her usual spot between Daphne and Malfoy at breakfast nor at lunch or dinner.
Ginny had been quiet all day, Hermione noticed. Disappearing from time to time between classes. That led to even more rumours.
So it’s true then?
She’s with Pansy Parkinson?
Can’t possibly be.
Pansy hasn’t said anything, and you know how she is.
When she arrived at her dormitory that Monday, Ginny wasn’t there, but Padma was, and oh she had questions. Hermione had said nothing.
The next day, at breakfast, Hermione sat with a few feet away from Ginny, who was staring into her bowl of cereal not saying a word. Everyone at the table was whispering.
Hermione’s eyes went to the Slytherin table, who was just minding its business. Pansy seemed tiny and terrified between Daphne and Malfoy, who caught her eye.
“For fuck’s sake!”
Ginny.
Hermione looked instantly at her.
The table went silent.
“Yes, I was kissing another girl,” she stated, standing from her seat. Her cheeks rosy. “Yes, it was Pansy, and why the fuck do you care?!”
The whole Great Hall went silent.
Ginny’s eyes two hot flames.
“It’s my life and nobody else’s!” her voice cracked at the end, but she breathed. “You want to have something to gossip about? Fine.”
With that, she stormed to the Slytherin table and grabbed Pansy’s hand to yank her from the table before kissing her.
Various people clapped, the majority from Slytherin, who seemed unsurprised, and Hermione swore she heard a finally, others from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Gryffindor was silent as ever, all faces disgusted as much, shocked of the display.
Pansy was hugging Ginny, they were saying things to one another, Hermione could tell.
And she envied Ginny.
So much in that instant.
Her eyes went landed on Malfoy’s, who was already looking.
Could it be you accept the silver in me?
The question floating in her mind, repeating itself again and again. Hermione was about to cry. She felt his grey mist surround her for a moment. And all she wanted was to run. Away or to him she didn’t exactly know. The necklace around her felt heavy, tight against her skin.
Half-sun.
Half-moon.
Golden Girl.
Silver Prince.
“I can’t believe it,” said Seamus. “It is disgusting.”
“We have to change the password now,” said another voice.
“It is an abomination, it cannot be.”
Hermione couldn’t breathe.
Could it be you accept the silver in me?
Could she?
Later that day, she found herself going to the dungeons.
She wasn’t sure she would find Ginny, but she could try.
Her head was spinning.
At the entrance of the Slytherin dungeon there was a group of people, she recognised them all, mainly because of the platinum hair and the ginger one.
Hermione almost tripped over.
“Ginny,” she called.
The group of six turned their heads.
“Hermione,” she said, surprise in her voice. “What are you doing here?”
“Can I — Can I talk to you?” she saw how Pansy tensed and narrowed her eyes. “Please.”
“Now you want to say something,” spit out Pansy.
“Pans,” Malfoy reprimanded.
“Yes, yes, we can talk,” Ginny replied before anyone could say something else. “I’ll be back later,” she said as goodbye to them, then left a chaste kiss on Pansy’s lips.
Ginny started walking towards Hermione as the group of snakes entered the dungeon. Hermione could hear Pansy hissing something and Theodore saying something back, but she didn’t mind much, because when Ginny was in front of her, the only thing she could do was throw herself at her and hug her tightly.
Ginny stilled and then hugged her back.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything,” Hermione sniffed. “I’m sorry you couldn’t tell me.”
“Oh, Mione,” Ginny chuckled into her hair.
“I know you thought I wouldn’t understand,” Hermione continued. “And I’m sorry for that. I really am. You have my full support. I’m sorry you don’t trust me.”
“Mione it’s okay,” Ginny said before pulling back.
Hermione swept away tears.
“I didn’t say anything because I was afraid,” Ginny continued, “not because I didn’t trust you,” she sighed. “I was terrified for me and Pans, for what the rest would say.”
And she understood. She really did.
“I’m sorry,” Hermione apologised again.
Ginny shrugged it off. “Be happy not sorry.”
Hermione smiled before she hugged her again.
“I have something to tell you too.”
Could it be you accept the silver in me?
She could try.