Chrysopoeia
Hermione had always been proud that she knew where she wanted to be. But when the war ended and the ever-watchful public eyes had turned to her, she felt herself shrinking away from the expectations.
Opting to return to Hogwarts to complete her NEWTS felt in character for her, but inwardly she felt cowardly. Unable to grip the potential of the future that she never pictured being alive to witness.
Hermione wasn't surprised that she was here on her own. And yet the sharp bite of loneliness still crept in. Her seventh year at Hogwarts mirrored her first. But it was the only thing still left in her life that felt familiar.
And unsurprisingly, Hogwarts looked indistinguishable and different at the same time.
Very little in the world these days could surprise Hermione Granger. She had felt cold in the days since returning to Hogwarts after the war. A stark contrast to the usual warm and welcoming exterior she worked so hard to maintain. Instead, she had become hard and unmoving like a rock trapped by the cruel torture of time. Hard and indifferent like looming castle walls around her. After everything she had lived through in her eighteen years, she was quite confident that there would not be anything that could surprise her anymore.
She wasn't surprised when Harry told her he wouldn't return to Hogwarts. She had expected that one to be fair. Hogwarts held a great deal of pain for The Boy Who Lived.
She hadn't been surprised when Ron ended their relationship before it had barely begun. They were too different. They wanted very different things.
She wasn't surprised when Kingsley Shacklebolt offered the three of them positions as Aurors in the DMLE, despite never finishing their schooling. She even understood the logic of it. The Ministry needed every bit of positive press they could get.
She wasn't surprised when she found herself refusing the opportunity.
She wasn't surprised when Harry and Ron jumped at the chance to become Aurors instead of joining her back at Hogwarts. She had definitely expected that.
Harry would never return to Hogwarts. And Ron would never leave Harry.
She wasn't surprised when her parents refused to speak to her after they regained their memories. The betrayal of magic being used against them by their only daughter was too much to endure.
She wasn't surprised when they had asked to be obliviated again so that they could return to their lives in Australia, with no knowledge of the daughter that they left behind.
Hermione wondered if there would ever be another time when life presented her with something new that would catch her off guard. But therein was the problem. She always had her guard up.
Until Pansy Parkinson.
Firstly that Pansy Parkinson had even returned to Hogwarts after the battle.
Hermione had been mildly surprised by the presence of Pansy Parkinson at Hogwarts. Hermione could not remember Pansy being particularly studious during their time at Hogwarts before the war. She had always assumed that Pansy took her role as a socialite and future pureblood wife more seriously than her OWLS or her NEWTS. Perhaps it was because they had interacted so little during their former years. Or perhaps her own internal bias towards Purebloods had made her leap to the assumption.
Their year was small compared to what it was before the war. Of the few students who survived the battle, only a fraction had the desire to return to school for the final year.
Her alchemy class had shrunk significantly. Reducing from the once packed room so full of sixth and seventh years that there was barely room to sit during lessons.
Now, the number of desks and chairs far outnumbered the students.
So Hermione had been surprised by the witch sitting on the opposite end of the classroom, meticulously taking notes as Professor Rosequist lectured them.
Hermione observed the witch for what felt like the very first time with new eyes, uncovered by the grief and trauma of war.
The next surprise came when Professor Rosenquist called their names, one after the other, announcing that they would be working on their final year together.
They would be studying the transformation of common metals into gold together, a phenomenon called Chrysopoeia.
Each day they worked together, Hermione discovered new things that she had never paid attention to. Pansy would write down everything. Her note-taking rivalled Hermiones in the way that it was concise and neat, directly opposite of her excessive scrawl that would overtake the pages.
Pansy was clever. Witty and incredibly smart. She would absorb any new information as if it were her last breath. Her stoic and intimidating persona would fall away the minute they began to talk about seemingly inane things.
Pansy was not what she had expected.
Pansy was passionate about the same things Hermione was passionate about, they would endlessly get lost in analysing the latest texts on the alchemical process of Chrysopoeia. Occasionally debating over different points of view and ways of interpreting the smallest hints of text.
Pansy was outwardly an impassive and aloof person who maintained an air of grace and elegance that contrasted starkly with Hermione’s overly friendly attitude and eclectic style. Side by side, they could not have been more different. Hermione often felt intimidated at the prospect of working so closely with the girl who sat beside her each day.
Very quickly, the short, stilted conversations, peppered with unsure pauses of hesitancy, soon gave way to flowing conversations and companionable silences. Both Hermione and Pansy felt content simply sitting in each other's presence. A far cry from Ronald's incessant need to fill every fraction of silence with chatter and Harry's awkward fidgeting that preceded his inevitable escape.
Hermione was surprised by the way she was excited about getting to class each day. At first, she thought it was because of the way Pansy challenged her. The way she left each class excited and stimulated. It had been so long since she had felt alive.
Each day they would sit together in their Alchemy class and work together. Sometimes silent, both were comfortable sharing the space while they finished their reading or research. Some days were filled with excited chatter over their latest discovery.
Soon their discussions extended beyond the four walls of the classroom.
They would pass each other in the halls, and instead of simply passing by as strangers were oft to do, Pansy would dip her head in acknowledgement of Hermione. Gaining a small but hopeful smile in return.
Occasionally, when she was feeling brave, Hermione would raise her hand in a wave as they walked past each other in the corridors and Pansy would raise her chin and greet her with a small smile that exuded warmth Hermione hadn't previously thought she would ever be on the receiving end of.
Often times they would find themselves sitting in the library, books and research discarded as they sat together with a warm cup of tea, clutching at their ribs as they cried with laughter at something one or the other said.
Other times they would find themselves sitting at the far end of the Slytherin table during lunch, neither knowing how they had ended up there after the lunch bell ended their double alchemy lesson, but neither caring enough to grant the stares and whispers a moment's thought.
There were a few odd moments where some unexpected Slytherin would walk past them, uttering some sort of despicable comment under their breath when they saw her sitting with Pansy at their table, and yet all it took was a deathly glare from Pansy’s dark eyes and the occasional hex whispered under the table for them to realise that Hermione was an accepted and welcome part of Pansy’s life.
Christmas was another surprise for Hermione. Many students had left the castle to spend time with their families at home. That was the thing about war. It puts things into perspective and forces you to realise the value of your loved ones waiting at home.
With no one at home for her to return to and Harry and Ron no doubt too busy to owl her, she had come to accept that she would be spending Christmas alone.
That was until Pansy found her reading alone in her favourite armchair in the far corner of the library early on Christmas eve.
Pansy was spending Christmas at Hogwarts as well. Neither of them felt the need to question the other about their reasons for spending the holiday in a quiet and empty castle, and yet somehow, they both understood that this very castle was as close to home as they were going to get.
So instead of spending Christmas alone, Hermione Granger spent Christmas eve with Pansy Parkinson walking around Hogsmeade, drinking far too much Firewhiskey and falling asleep in front of the fire in the Slytherin common room as they watched the Giant Squid feast on the dead ferrets Hagrid had tossed into the Black Lake for it’s Christmas dinner.
The following day, they both awoke to neatly wrapped gifts at their feet. Only for the soft, gentle silence of unwrapping gifts to quickly turn into hysterics at the annotated copy of Domina Alchemista mirrored in each of their hands.
Friendship with Pansy came as effortlessly as breathing. Hermione never felt a need to prove herself or her loyalty. Something that Ron and Harry had always expected of her.
There was an unspoken feeling of acceptance and peace after years of childhood trauma, misunderstandings and mistakes. Pansy and Hermione felt a comfort in being in each other's presence that had no need or necessity to be verbalised.
Their shared project ended far sooner than Hermione had liked, and she found herself feeling anxious at the possibility that the daily rituals they had established would be over.
Hermione spent the next few days with an aching feeling of loneliness overwhelming her. The same loneliness she felt when she first arrived at Hogwarts in her first year and again early this year when she returned without Ron and Harry.
She berated herself for assuming that the friendship would amount to anything further than the requirements of the assignment. Her feelings of inferiority rising alongside her ever-heightening insecurities. She was frustrated with herself for being vulnerable. And for being too cowardly to go up and talk to the witch who had become her unexpected lifeline.
Instead, she felt the walls of ice around her heart that had slowly begun to thaw come crawling up again, and she resigned herself to spending the rest of her school year as lonely and isolated as it had begun.
But it was Pansy who surprised her again.
A few days after the completion of their assignment, while Hermione was sitting on her own reading at the Gryffindor table, her annotated copy of Domina Alchemista propped up against a jug of Pumpkin Juice. Pansy approached silently, effortlessly sliding into the seat opposite Hermione, placing her plate on the table and resting her book against the same jug.
Hermione's eyes came up to meet Pansy’s in surprise. Her mouth hung open in shock, with her spoon half raised to her mouth.
“What?” Pansy shrugged as she adjusted her book and aligned her plate and utensils, “I missed you, Granger.”
Hermione watched Pansy as she settled into the table and began reading, a small hint of a smile pulling at the corner of her lips.
“I missed you too, Parkinson.”