Chapter 1
Hermione was fairly certain she would, every morning for as long as she worked at the ministry, seethe at having to start her day by flushing herself down a toilet — but then, it had only been a few weeks. The twisting spun her bag around, bunching up the shoulder of her jacket. She sighed and switched her coffee to the other hand as she walked through the atrium to the lift, trying to right the strap of her bag and straighten her clothes out at the same time. Her boss repeatedly reminded her that she didn’t need to wear a jacket to work because she was a woman, but the men were expected to wear jackets, and what an absurd thought that there would be different standards for men and women in this day and age.
“Good morning, Miss Granger.”
Hermione startled out of her thoughts, spilling her coffee slightly. “Oh! Uh, hello,” was all she managed to say. She watched as Daphne Greengrass wandlessly cleared the drips of coffee from the tile floor. Presumably this was done out of courtesy, but Hermione still found it a bit condescending. She could have done it herself.
“You’re working in the Magical Creatures Department now, are you not?” Daphne asked conversationally as she stepped into the lift. Hermione followed closely behind and was swallowed in the wake of Daphne’s positively delightful (and, no doubt, grotesquely expensive) perfume.
To Hermione’s complete bewilderment, Daphne was acting as though they spoke regularly, and not just that one time in astronomy class 10 years ago. She had seen Daphne around the ministry a few times since she’d started, but they’d never had cause to interact.
“I am,” she choked out. She felt like her vocal cords had tangled up into a ball, and she was unable to say anything else.
“Are you enjoying it?” Daphne continued her inquiry, apparently undeterred by Hermione’s lack of engagement.
“Yes,” she breathed, finally meeting the woman’s eyes — sharp, green eyes that she remembered well from school. She felt like a timid first year chatting with the pretty, popular girl. Get it together, Granger.
Daphne nodded. “I’m glad to hear it. They’ve needed someone to bring them into the new millennium. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for you and the department. I expect you’ll be running it shortly.”
Hermione stared, perplexed, at the seemingly genuine expression Daphne gave her. She gave a weak smile in return — which probably came across as more of a grimace — and focused her attention on grasping the handle above her head as they came careening to a stop, lest she topple over and completely humiliate herself.
“This is me,” Daphne said as she stepped off. Hermione had nearly forgotten how tall Daphne was, especially in heels, until she stepped by her. “I suppose I’ll see you around, Miss Granger.”
The doors closed before Hermione’s brain caught up to the interaction.
“I suppose you will,” she said to the empty lift.
Hermione took her time walking to the lifts in the mornings from then on. It’s not that she was hoping to bump into a certain blonde ex-classmate again, but if she did, perhaps she could correct the impression she must have left the last time they spoke. She supposed she might have come off slightly rude, and while that didn’t bother her too much, she also worried she came across a bit mousy, or worse yet, simple. Daphne probably knew her well enough (if by reputation only) to not think that, and frankly Daphne probably hadn’t given it any further thought. But still, best to be sure, and only if she ran into her. Which would probably only happen in the morning, Hermione figured. Daphne being on the Wizengamot, they didn’t even work on the same floor. And Hermione had no justifiable reason to wander down there, try as she might to think of one.
Daphne had irritated her at school — not because of anything she did, but just by her existence. She wasn’t like the other Slytherins. She didn’t taunt her like Pansy or bully her like Millicent. In fact, Daphne never spared a glance in her direction, and this annoyed her more than if she had been mean. It was like she couldn’t be bothered to care. And the fact that she was constantly nipping at Hermione’s heels with school marks was endlessly irritating. Hermione was in a silent battle with her for six years and she was pretty sure Daphne didn’t even know about it. She had no right to be that smart and well-liked and so fucking attractive.
And really, that was the most infuriating — that no matter how ambivalent she was to Hermione’s mere existence, Hermione couldn’t help her attraction to the girl. She desperately wanted Daphne to care, to fight her over grades, to give her dirty looks, anything, but she never did. In hindsight Hermione recognised this as a simple unrequited crush, and held no lingering ill feelings toward Daphne for, well, not requiting. She held ill feelings because Daphne was a blood purist.
The Greengrasses were not Death Eaters, but they ran in the same circles. And they owned the Daily Prophet, which was full of anti-muggle rhetoric and propaganda throughout the entirety of the war. Hermione had always considered it possible that Daphne’s views didn’t fall in line with her family’s, but was sorely disappointed when she overheard her ranting about the inferiority of muggles to Pansy one afternoon in the library.
She hadn’t thought about Daphne in years, not until she started seeing her around the ministry. But she did see her now, and she was thinking about her again, and she had politely engaged Hermione in conversation, and she was still the most beautiful woman Hermione had ever seen.
Damn her.
“But don’t you see? This will be the perfect opportunity for you to reconnect with everyone!” Ginny set aside the broomstick she’d been polishing and turned her full attention to Hermione.
“What on earth makes you think I want to reconnect with everyone? Or anyone, for that matter.” Hermione laughed. She hadn’t attended any large social gatherings since her return from apprenticing abroad. “I probably won’t even know anyone there.”
“I’ve introduced you to most of the Harpies. And this party isn’t just for the team, but for our friends and families as well. You’ll know plenty of people!” Ginny’s face changed suspiciously before she added, “And you like most of them.”
“Most of them?”
Ginny sighed. “Astoria Greengrass is hosting the party, and she certainly won’t be unaccompanied.”
Hermione frowned, sitting up a little straighter. “Why should I care if Daphne’s there?”
“What?” Ginny frowned in confusion. “No. Don’t they have papers in Romania? Surely you’re aware that Astoria is engaged to-“
“Malfoy,” Hermione interrupted. “Yes, I had forgotten.”
“Do you have a problem with Daphne Greengrass?” Ginny asked curiously.
“What? No, of course not. I barely know her.”
“Alright.” Ginny laughed, giving Hermione a perplexed look.
“Alright.” Hermione stood, clearing her throat, and walked to the kitchen for something to do.
“To be clear, you are coming,” Ginny called after her.
“I’ll go,” Hermione said.
“Take that off,” Ginny ordered. “It’s impolite to wear a watch to a social function.”
Hermione glanced down at her large, digital watch. “It’s practical.”
“Yes, but tonight isn’t about practicality,” Harry chimed in with a smirk. “It’s about frivolity.”
“Frivolity,” Hermione repeated, unfastening her watch reluctantly.
“Yes, and you want to look nice. You know, set a good impression,” Ginny said, pulling out a lipstick and applying it to Hermione without asking. “I do love this red dress on you. You never know who you might meet, after all.”
“Ginevra Molly Weasley-Potter,” she bit, grabbing Ginny’s wrist. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing!”
“Harry?” Hermione turned on him, and he winced.
“Theodore Nott,” he admitted.
“Oh, you’re such a baby,” Ginny chastised Harry. “Listen, ‘Mione. Theo’s nice.”
“Ginny, I’m no-“
“I know he was a Slytherin, but it’s been years, and I’ve been working with him for months now and he’s lovely. Funny, too. And smart! I really think you’ll like him.”
“I’m not prejudiced against anyone who was in Slytherin,” Hermione defended. “I’m not Ron. I just have no interest in Theodore Nott.”
“But you don’t know that you wouldn’t, if you gave him a chance. You haven’t dated anyone since that ridiculous Romanian girl that lasted, what, a week?”
“Two weeks,” Harry reminded. “She was pretty, but daft.”
“I can find my own dates, thank you very much.” Hermione pulled the lipstick out of Ginny’s hand and began applying it herself. A loud CRACK forced her to smear it slightly, and she groaned.
“Ron!” Ginny shouted. “For the last time, do not apparate directly into my living room! Especially if you insist on being so loud about it!”
“That’s a nice look, ‘Mione.” Ron chuckled at her lipstick mistake, and she scowled, removing herself to the bathroom to fix it.
She heard the rumbles of their chatting and laughing while she put on the lipstick. She never wore much makeup, so she felt a bit absurd, but what could it hurt? She shook her hands out in an attempt to brush off some of the nerves. She didn’t typically put too much effort into social events like these, on the rare occasion she could be bothered to attend, but tonight felt different. Maybe she would meet someone, or run into someone. Ginny was right — not that she’d ever admit it. She stowed the lipstick in her handbag and futzed with her hair a bit before returning to the others.
“Ginny says I’m your wingman tonight,” Ron smirked, “Which is fine by me, but I’ll have to bow out if I meet a nice lady. I’m sure you understand.”
“Unless I meet her first,” Hermione quirked a brow before returning his wide grin.
“Alright, we’re flooing to Scotney Castle reception,” Ginny said, passing around a pot of floo powder.
“Sorry?” Hermione startled.
“Scotney,” Ginny repeated.
“Castle?” Hermione clarified.
“It’s just the name of the estate,” Ginny shrugged. “It’s a country house.”
Hermione looked at Harry for confirmation, but he didn’t meet her eye.
“Scotney Castle reception,” they each shouted in turn.
They emerged into a small stone building in front of a large gate, which stood open.
The three of them followed as Ginny stalked confidently through the gate until a large manor came into view.
“Bloody-fucking-hell,” she heard Ron mutter behind her.
“Mhm,” she agreed weakly, rubbing at the front of her neck.
She knew the Greengrasses were wealthy, but she never really thought about what that kind of wealth would translate to. This made Malfoy Manor look like Hagrid’s Hut.
Ron spun around, taking in the vast gallery they were walking down, after a man in a suit had collected their coats.
“Don’t gawk,” Ginny whispered. “It’s not like you’ve never seen a castle before. You spent half your life in one.”
“Yeah but that’s Hogwarts innit? This is someone’s house.”
Hermione wasn’t about to make a spectacle, but she silently agreed with Ron. She was wondering what sort of grand ballroom this party would be held in when Ginny made her way familiarly into what was actually a humbly sized drawing room. There was a woman playing soft piano in one corner and two sets of French doors were open, leading to a large balcony.
“Ginny!” a voice called, and a woman Hermione recognised as Astoria Greengrass hurried over to them sporting a large grin. She gave Ginny a hug, then Harry and Ron with kisses to their cheeks, before turning to Hermione and grasping her hand fondly. “Hermione, I’m so pleased you came! It’s so lovely to see you.”
“You as well,” she smiled. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“You’re always welcome!” She gestured to a waiter who approached them with a tray of champagne. “Please help yourselves to anything you’d like. We have some hors d'oeuvres going around, and there’s a full open bar over there,” she pointed to the far side of the room.
“Is Theo here yet?” Ginny asked casually.
“Not yet. Mostly just players here so far.” Astoria stole a quick glance at Hermione, and she sighed. Had Ginny told everyone of this set up? “I better make the rounds, but I’ll be back!”
“This cheerful woman is the person to whom Draco Malfoy is engaged?” Hermione asked after Astoria had wandered off. “Preposterous.”
“Oh, trust me,” Ginny groaned. “I agree with you. I try my best not to interact with him, so I’m not really sure how all that works out. He still seems a cunt to me.”
Hermione barely registered this. She was scanning the room when she spotted Daphne over by piano. Her stomach flipped upside down. Daphne was chatting with a man Hermione didn’t recognise. Was she with him? Hermione didn’t really know anything about Daphne’s personal life; the Greengrasses were notoriously private. Daphne wore a simple but elegant dark green dress, and Hermione thought it probably made her eyes even more striking. As though she knew she was being watched, Daphne turned and caught her staring. Hermione looked away, but she knew she hadn’t been quick enough.
“Theo!” Ginny shouted. She grabbed Hermione’s elbow excitedly, fingers digging painfully into her arm.
They had been taking in the view from the balcony – it looked out over a large, snow-covered garden, lit for the holiday – before making their way to the bar to get some Christmas punch. Theodore Nott had apparently arrived and beat them there. He was chatting with Daphne, Hermione noticed with a sigh. This should be fun.
At Ginny’s call, both of them turned and watched as Ginny dragged her over to the bar by the elbow — a dignified display, surely.
“Hey, Gin,” Theo smiled, embracing her warmly. “Hermione, it’s such a pleasure to see you. I’m glad you could make it.”
“Thank you. It’s nice to see you as well,” she said with a genuine smile. It wasn’t Theo’s fault Ginny was being a bully. “Hello,” Hermione said simply as she turned to Daphne. She wasn’t equipped with a plan.
“Miss Granger,” Daphne greeted. “I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.”
Hermione wasn’t sure how to respond to that non-question, so she gave a tight-lipped smile instead.
“Theo, tell Hermione about your job with the Harpies,” Ginny instructed.
“I’m sure Hermione isn’t interested in hearing me blather on about quidditch marketing,” he chuckled, shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other.
“Neither am I, but that never stops you,” Daphne said sharply. Her face didn’t betray whether this was an actual insult or in jest, but Theo laughed.
“I’d love to hear about it,” Hermione said politely. Ginny beamed, and Daphne glanced at her appraisingly.
“Perhaps later tonight,” he smiled. “I’ll let you have a drink first. Daphne can attest that makes me easier to bear.”
“Brilliant idea, Theo. Fetch drinks with me,” Ginny instructed, and pulled him the rest of the way to the bar.
Hermione cleared her throat and turned to face Daphne fully, silently cursing Ginny for leaving her. “Your home is lovely,” she finally decided to say.
“Oh, I don’t live here,” Daphne said quickly.
“No?” Hermione faltered.
“No,” she breathed. “I mean, I grew up here. It’s my parents’, but I don’t live here now. It seems a bit excessive, don’t you think?”
Daphne looked at her as though she actually expected an answer, so Hermione decided to be honest. “Well, yes. I do,” she said, and Daphne smirked. She wondered fleetingly if she’d ever seen Daphne smile, before continuing. “Where do you live now, then?”
“I have a flat in London. And you?”
“Yes, I do as well. Closer to work.” Hermione sighed in relief as Ginny and Theo returned.
“This punch is great, Daphne,” Ginny said after a large sip.
“It’s wassail, actually,” Theo said pretentiously. Daphne shoved him, and he laughed.
“Thank you for saying, but I can’t imagine it’s strong enough for your liking,” Daphne winked at Ginny — honest-to-god winked.
Hermione looked at Ginny in question, but Ginny was already reaching for Daphne. “Right you are. How ‘bout I give you some tips for next year?” She pulled the much taller blonde woman away by the arm. Apparently no one was safe from Ginny’s totalitarian rule.
She was trying to come with a topic of conversation, but Theo beat her to it.
“Listen, Hermione,” he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m really sorry about- I mean, I know Ginny has been- or least, to me she’s been-”
“It’s okay,” Hermione interrupted, putting him out of his misery. “Once Ginny sets her mind to something…” she trailed off with a smile and shrug.
He laughed, looking relieved. “I just wanted to clear the air, you know, cause I would definitely like to be friends. It’s been great getting to know Ginny and Harry and Ron after all this time. It’s just there is someone else I’m currently, sort of… someone I’m interested in.”
Hermione contained her glee at this, but allowed relief to wash over her. “Really, Theo, you don’t need to explain anything. I’m not really looking for anyone right now.”
“Okay, great,” he smiled. “And, could you please not tell Ginny? It’s just early yet, and I don’t want her to get too excited.”
“Mum’s the word. It isn’t Daphne, is it?” Hermione asked impertinently, gesturing vaguely in the direction in which Ginny had dragged Daphne off.
“Oh, absolutely not, no,” Theo laughed. “Don’t get me wrong. I adore Daphne; she’s a gem, but she’s like a sister. Plus I’m not really her type.” He gave her a crooked smile, and Hermione was starting to understand why Ginny found him so charming.
Hermione was sipping on her punch and watching the pianist when an irritatingly familiar voice met her ears. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
She winced before turning to face “Justin Finch-Fletchly! My god, how long has it been?”
“Oh, years, ‘Mione, it must be years,” he shook her hand enthusiastically. (She didn’t like when her friends called her that, let alone this guy.) He looked up over her head and she followed his gaze, realizing in horror that she was standing directly under a sprig of mistletoe. Mistletoe?
He smiled shyly, shrugged, and opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off.
“I’m terribly sorry about that,” Daphne said, waving her hand through the air and vanishing the offending plant. “I would never intentionally decorate a Christmas party with mistletoe – I’m not twelve, or tacky – but it would seem that someone keeps placing sprigs around the room. I’ve just vanished some over Theodore’s clueless head as well. I can’t imagine who the culprit might be.” Her expression told Hermione they both knew it was Ginny.
Justin looked slightly put out for a moment, then smiled loftily. “No problem. I was just coming over to warn Hermione myself.”
“Indeed,” Daphne said simply, crossing her arms. Justin squirmed under Daphne’s gaze, then excused himself to get another drink.
Relieved as Hermione felt, she wasn’t about to thank Daphne. I could have handled it myself, she wanted to say, but resisted that too. Instead, she gave Daphne a tight smile and turned back to the piano wordlessly.
“You don’t like me, do you?” Daphne asked bluntly.
Hermione looked at her in surprise, but Daphne didn’t appear mad. She looked curious, and perhaps amused. Hermione found this annoying.
“I don’t know you.” Hermione sipped her drink, attempting to appear nonchalant.
“You don’t know me, but you don’t like me,” Daphne observed.
“Why shouldn’t I like you?”
Daphne shrugged. “You tell me. We haven’t talked since school.”
“We didn’t talk in school,” Hermione corrected.
“Is that the problem?” Daphne pushed.
“The problem is that we have very different fundamental beliefs and values,” Hermione said quickly.
Daphne’s expression turned to one of confusion. She openly searched Hermione’s eyes, apparently trying to work out what Hermione was talking about. “I was under the impression that I made my loyalties clear many years ago,” she finally said.
“I know that you were – at least emblematically – on our side, but-”
“Emblematically,” Daphne cut her off sharply. She glanced around quickly, clearly not wanting to make a scene, but no one was listening to them. Her nostrils flared slightly before she continued. “The blood, sweat, and tears I lost those years were not emblematic. You think if you didn’t see it, it didn’t happen? I knew Hermione Granger was brilliant, but I didn’t realize she was omniscient.”
“I overheard you once,” Hermione argued. “I heard you expressing how you really feel about muggles.”
“What?” Daphne looked genuinely confused at this. “When?”
“Sixth year, in the library. You were talking to Pansy.” She didn’t expect Daphne to remember, but she reminded her anyway.
“Oh,” Daphne breathed. Her expression was one Hermione couldn’t read. “I didn’t know anyone heard me.”
Hermione laughed in disbelief. “And that makes it okay?”
“No, of course not,” Daphne said emphatically. “I didn’t- I mean, I wasn’t…. I should have never said those things. I didn’t really think they were true.”
“Why would you say something if you didn’t think it was true?” Hermione asked incredulously.
Daphne sighed. She touched Hermione’s elbow with one hand and gestured to the side of the room with the other. Hermione pulled her arm away, but followed the direction curiously.
“I do realize this is a terrible reason to denigrate all muggles…” Daphne began. She opened and closed her mouth a few times before she finally finished her thought. “I’d just been dumped.”
Whatever Hermione had been expecting Daphne to say, it wasn’t that. “Dumped?”
“Dumped.” Daphne’s pale cheeks were tinged slightly pink now. “By a muggle. And I was hurt, and angry, and stupid, and the person I happened to rant to was a blood purist. The conversation spiraled. I’m so sorry, Hermione. If I’d know you’d heard me, I would have apologized back then. I never meant any of it. I was such a prat.”
Daphne was watching Hermione with thinly veiled nervousness while she processed this information, but Hermione couldn’t decide what to think. On the one hand, Daphne had said awful, inexcusable things that day. On the other hand, she was a hormone-fueled teenager with a broken heart. Hermione had nearly decided to stay mad, but then a memory of a flock of birds attacking Ron that very same year flitted through her head, and she decided to give Daphne a little mercy.
“I can understand that,” Hermione finally said with an exhale.
“To be completely honest with you, I’m horrified that for all these years, you’ve thought…” she trailed off and then turned to Hermione with a look of determination. She extended her hand and said, “I’m Daphne. I don’t believe we know each other.”
Hermione felt her lips twitch with a threatening smile, but returned Daphne’s earnest expression instead. She shook her hand; it was cold and soft. “Hermione. It’s lovely to finally meet you, Daphne.”
Hermione still wasn’t sure if she trusted Daphne, but it wouldn’t hurt to give the woman a chance, would it?
“You’ve been abroad,” was all Daphne needed to say to launch Hermione into tales of her time in Romania studying vampires. Daphne listened with what appeared to be rapt attention for at least half an hour, much to Hermione’s delight, until a house-elf in a bowtie walked up to them and tugged on Daphne’s dress.
“Miss Daphne, there’s a small problem, if I can trouble you?” a voice squeaked. Hermione was unsurprised to see a house-elf in this estate, but she was pleased to see it wore clothes.
“Yes, of course,” Daphne answered with a smile before turning to address Hermione. “I’m sorry, but if you’ll excuse me?”
“No problem,” Hermione smiled. She was a bit disappointed. Daphne was actually quite nice to talk to.
Daphne hesitated for a moment, then placed a hand tenderly on her arm. “Find me again later, Hermione, if you’d like.” Daphne searched her eyes in a charged way; it made Hermione swallow hard around a lump in her throat.
“I would. I mean, I will,” Hermione said a bit awkwardly to Daphne’s retreating form.
Hermione made her way back to her friends on the balcony in a bit of a daze. That was a (relatively) normal human interaction that Hermione just had, but with Daphne Greengrass of all people. Was this another planet? Another reality? Hermione touched her arm where Daphne had. That had been loaded, right? Find me again later . An implication of… or maybe not. Hermione’s schoolgirl crush was probably just rearing its head again. Well, not crush; not anymore. Adults didn’t have crushes .
“Are you going to spend all night wagging your chin at Daphne Greengrass?” Ginny asked with exasperation. “Theo is ripe for the picking! Didn’t you chat with him? Isn’t he lovely?”
“He’s very charming,” Hermione sighed. “But Ginny, listen. It’s not going to happen with Theo. It’s sweet what you’re doing, but it needs to be done now, alright? Theo doesn’t like it either.”
“You discussed it?” Ginny asked with visible disappointment.
“Yes.” Hermione smirked.
“Alright, fine.” Ginny swallowed the rest of her drink. “What do you think are the chances I could talk Ron into trying men?”
Harry guffawed, and Hermione choked on her punch.
“Do you know Daphne very well?” Hermione asked Harry. They shared a loveseat and watched Ginny dance with a giggling Luna, but Hermione’s roaming gaze had settled once again upon another woman.
“A bit,” he shrugged. “She comes to Harpies events a lot.”
“Is she… affectionate?” Hermione asked reluctantly.
“Affectionate?” Harry frowned.
“You know, like, physically.” Hermione placed a hand on Harry to demonstrate, then sighed. She was probably reading too much into that, but she had come this far. “Do you think she has a bit of a naturally flirtatious air about her?”
“Not that I’ve noticed. Why on earth would you ask something like that?” Harry grinned at her knowingly, and she rolled her eyes.
“And does she seem, like, good?”
“Good?” Harry chuckled.
“A good person. Nice. I heard her say some awful things about muggles once, and she’s apologised and explained, but I’ve just never thought of her as someone we’d associate with,” Hermione explained.
“Didn’t you go to her muggle soup kitchen not three days ago?” Harry asked in confusion.
“I volunteered at the soup kitchen, yes. It was a lovely display, wizards serving muggles in need. What do you mean by her soup kitchen?”
“Daphne started it like five Christmases ago. She organizes it every year. Her family funds it, ostensibly, but everyone knows it’s all Daphne. You didn’t know that?”
Hermione felt her cheeks flush. She didn’t like not knowing things. “I knew it was a Daily Prophet sponsored event, but I just assumed they put their name on it as some sort of PR move. How would I have made that connection? Daphne wasn’t even there!”
Harry smiled more widely. “That’s ‘cause she was in Ireland. She’s opened a second one.”
Why was Hermione just learning about this? She frowned deeply, and Harry laughed.
“Stop it, Harry!” she laughed with him despite herself. “Does she like women or not?”
“Yeah, she does,” he beamed.
Hermione was washing her hands in a marble-walled loo when something caught her eye in the mirror. A sprig of mistletoe, for the third time tonight, had appeared over her head. She made a mental note to ask Ginny what the hell kind of charm this was, then raised her hand to vanish it away – but before she could, an idea struck her.
Hermione wasn’t bashful. She wasn’t a shrinking violet. She was placed in Gryffindor for a reason. If she wanted something, she went for it.
And she determined that tonight, she wanted something – or rather, someone.
Deciding to feel confident, Hermione made her way back to the drawing room with eyes searching for – and ultimately spotting – Daphne. She impulsively grabbed two glasses of champagne from a nearby waiter and walked up behind Daphne before she could lose her nerve.
“I don’t think I told you before,” she began, waiting to finish until Daphne turned to face her. “You look beautiful tonight.” There, like ripping off a plaster. She extended a glass for Daphne to take.
Long fingers accepted the glass, and green eyes looked at Hermione curiously. “That’s a routine compliment, but I’ll accept it.” She smiled in an infectiously teasing way, and Hermione’s stomach flipped around. “You look very lovely as well.”
“I appreciate you saying that,” Hermione smiled self-consciously, her confidence waning slightly. “To be honest with you, I wear dresses so infrequently anymore, I feel I must look a bit silly. Like a rooster wearing socks.”
“You look far from silly, Hermione. You look striking in a dress. You certainly have the legs for it,” Hermione flushed slightly as Daphne openly took in her appearance. “Though, I do love those suit jackets you wear as well.”
“Do you?” Hermione’s cheeks grew warm. It was promising that Daphne noticed what she wore to work.
“Yes, you look quite handsome in them. And I can’t say I’m not jealous, having to wear the Wizengamot robes every day.”
“Oh it doesn’t matter what you wear; you’ve always been the best looking person in any room. You even make those robes look good.” Hermione set her drink down on the nearest surface, clearing her throat. Maybe she’d had enough of that.
“You’ve got another…” Daphne began, pointing at the mistletoe over Hermione’s head.
“Yes, I know,” Hermione said, willing her voice to convey added meaning. “You haven’t mentioned a partner.”
Sharp green eyes met Hermione’s fixedly. “No, I haven’t.”
“Another success!” a woman Hermione recognized as Gwenog Jones interrupted. Jones had been captain of the Harpies until two years ago, and was now acting as assistant coach – and, apparently, head cockblocker. “Don’t tell her, but we only keep Astoria around for you, Daphne. No one throws a party that can hold a candle to yours!”
Hermione sucked on her teeth while Daphne responded politely to Gwenog. Apparently seeing this exchange, Hermione’s friends made their way over as well.
“Blimey, Hermione, I’m sorry!” Ginny said when she reached her, vanishing the mistletoe and apparently reversing whatever charm she’d cast previously. “I completely forgot about that.”
“It’s alright,” Hermione sighed. So much for her brilliant plan.
The party was dwindling, and Hermione’s group grew tired. They were making the rounds and bidding farewell to the few who remained.
“May I borrow you for a moment, Hermione?” Daphne’s increasingly familiar voice asked.
“Yes,” Hermione answered with a shaky breath. Borrow me. Keep me. Have you seen a mirror?
Daphne touched Hermione’s lower back with the tips of her fingers and gestured to the balcony with the other. This time, Hermione didn’t pull away when she followed Daphne’s direction. A shiver ran up her spine when she felt Daphne’s hand settle more confidently against her back.
When they were outside and out of view, Hermione turned to face her.
“You were interrupted before,” Daphne said softly. She pointed a finger upwards, and Hermione’s eyes followed. A sprig of mistletoe blossomed above them. “I’d very much like for you to finish.”
Hermione couldn’t think of anything clever to say when Daphne Greengrass was looking at her that way, so instead she took a step forward. Tentatively, she brushed a strand of soft blonde hair over Daphne’s shoulder, then placed her hand on the side of Daphne’s face. She rubbed her thumb along Daphne’s cheek as she leaned forward on her toes, and watched in fascination as Daphne’s eyes fluttered shut.
Her lips were warmer than Hermione’d expected, despite the snow-covered countryside that surrounded them. She felt a pair of hands settle at her waist, and she leaned in more eagerly.
“Hermione?” Daphne spoke, pulling away slightly.
“Yes?” Hermione asked dizzily.
“What are you doing New Year’s Eve?”