Chapter 1
Hermione found it rather odd, the things people would assume about her best friend. She understood it, fundamentally. He was, for all intents and purposes, a celebrity in the wizarding world, and people, magical or not, had a thing about celebrities. Hermione refused to grace it with a fancier word, except for maybe obsession , because she didn’t like to think about the fact that Harry had to grow up with the eyes of thousands of wizards and witches and creatures watching his every move with an unhealthy hunger .
In 4th year, Hermione hadn’t even been able to hug him without rumors of their ‘illicit affair’ being shoved into papers and mass printed for everyone to see. Nevermind the fact that they had been children at the time, everyone was quick to jump on Hermione herself for ‘snatching the golden boy’s heart out from under every other witch’s fingers’ as if he had been interested in anything more than not dying that year.
Harry was her best friend and her brother in every sense of the word except blood. Hermione still held no regrets for shoving Rita Skeeter into a jar after that particular incident and she’d do it again in a heartbeat, thank you very much.
But still, the things people speculated about would never fail to confound Hermione. She didn’t think she’d ever understand why it mattered to people what Harry’s favorite color was- not that the writers for the Prophet had ever gotten that one correct. Luna was the only one who got the full, uncensored scoop of Harry Potter’s decidedly un glamorous life when she published a new installment of the Quibbler. It helped that Luna was honest and straightforward, only asking about the parts of Harry’s life that actually seemed important to Harry himself. She asked the questions no one else would, the heavy hitting details everyone else would rather gloss over. Luna cared about the reasons why Harry was a celebrity where everyone else just cared that he was one. Sure, she tossed in the occasional trivial fact every now and then, but at least her trivial facts were correct .
Hermione tossed the latest issue of the Daily Prophet onto the worn wooden table in front of her and sighed. “Harry, would you pass me a roll, please? It’s too early to be dealing with the shit the Prophet puts out and I am desperately craving carbs.”
Harry grinned at her from beneath his wild mop of hair and he pushed his basket of freshly-baked rolls across the table to her. “What have they said about me this time?”
“Oh, mostly the usual. Today, however, they’ve added in speculation about what your soulmark is going to be. Which is understandable, I suppose, in some sense, considering your 18th birthday is coming up in a few weeks. Are you sure you still want to go back to Hogwarts for our 8th year? You might get mobbed by all of your ‘soulmates’. ” Hermione wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, batting her eyelashes, and Harry snorted, throwing a piece of his own half eaten roll at her face. She caught it in her mouth and threw her hands up in a silent victory.
“I don’t really care what the Prophet says," he responded after a beat, picking at the skin around his nail with feigned ease. "My soulmark is going to remain a private thing until my soulmate and I decide to go public with it. If we decide. If I even meet him. If he’s even a he .”
“Ah, yes, the heteronormativity of it all,” Hermione teased gently. “Harry, I don’t think your soulmate is going to be someone you aren’t even vaguely attracted to. Sure, platonic soulmates exist, but you’re you , I don’t think the universe is going to give The Harry Potter a platonic soulmate. You’ve got enough of those unofficially as is.” She bumped his foot with hers underneath the table. He gave her a weak smile and hooked their ankles together and Hermione knew he’d be alright, if not for any other reason than the reminder that he had a ridiculously large support group waiting to back him up. The tender moment was shattered as six pairs of thundering feet descended down the creaky stairs of the burrow.
“Something smells wonderful in here,” came a cheerful voice right behind Hermione’s left ear. She was proud of herself when she didn’t even startle, so attuned to that particular voice and presence to even blink.
“If you ask nicely, Frederick , maybe I’ll share my rolls with you.” Hermione could feel the answering grin behind her without even needing to turn around and see it.
“Hermione, my darling, wonderful, beautiful ‘Mione, would you be ever so kind as to share a roll with me?”
She felt her ears go red at the sweet, empty words and she threw a murderous look at the barely contained laughter on Harry’s face as she handed a roll behind her blindly. “Flattery won’t always get you what you want, you know,” she muttered, hoping her voice wouldn’t give too much away about how flustered she felt.
“Perhaps not, but who said anything about that being flattery?”
Hermione finally turned to look at the man next to her and she bit back a startled, broken sound at the sincerity in his eyes. The turn of his mouth screamed mischief and danger but his eyes told a whole different story. She swallowed harshly around the lump in her throat and gave him a small smile in response, shoving a roll into his open and waiting mouth.
Fred’s eyes flickered briefly to her lips before they returned to her eyes, smirk softening into something more around the mouthful, something neither of them had been brave enough to put a word to. And Hermione found herself still not quite brave enough as she quickly turned back to the food in front of her and joined the conversation that had started without them.
She resolutely ignored the knowing looks they got from Harry and George and chose, instead, to listen as Ginny and Ron argued about the past weekend’s Harpies match against the Falcons.
~~~
Soulmates were, luckily, not exclusive to the wizarding world. Hermione had grown up knowing that she’d get her mark someday after she turned 18 and that meant she might get to fall in love with someone who was supposed to be perfect for her. Her parents had never lied to her, though, about the very real, though extremely rare, existence of platonic soulmates and how it would be okay for her to fall in love with someone besides the person who would complete her mark. She’d known that soulmates weren’t always the be all end all and that love did exist outside of a soulmate situation.
That knowledge, of course, didn’t help her poor heart when she started to fall in love with a certain chaotic red haired twin who was a year and a half her senior, and only one year ahead of her in school. All he ever seemed to talk about when soulmates came up was how excited he was to get his soulmark and meet his one true love . To him, the idea of not marrying his soulmate was blasphemy, preposterous even, and Hermione knew he wouldn’t change his mind just for her. But the pain that knowledge brought her was not enough to quell her ever-growing feelings.
It hadn’t taken very long of knowing him for her to fall. Most people focused on the facade he wore like a suit of armor but Hermione had always looked past that. She’d always been allowed , for some strange reason, to see the real, unedited version of one Fredrick Gideon Weasley. He was kind, kinder than most people would ever get to experience, and he was bloody brilliant . He matched her toe to toe, brain to brain, heart to heart, no matter the conversation and she was beyond thrilled everytime they sat down and just talked . Fred had never found her too boring or difficult to understand, and often his enthusiasm on whatever subject they were stuck on that day could rival her own.
She had learned, after years of pining, how to be quietly content with just loving Fred Weasley from afar. She had felt so guilty at the feeling of relief she felt when Fred’s 18th birthday came and went while they were on the run.
Now, it wasn’t a guarantee that your soulmark would appear precisely on your 18th. Hermione knew it was even rare for a soulmark to appear on the first day like that, and she knew that it was even less common for someone to find their soulmate the same day they received their soulmark. But she had been so, so, so very afraid that what tiny bit of hope she had left would be crushed if she were to see Fred find his soulmate at last or even that his soulmark wouldn’t even vaguely be linked back to her.
They’d been dancing around each other for years, sometimes quite literally. They’d flirted lightly back and forth since Hermione hit 3rd year and had been allowed to join the 4th years in the occasional class, always dropping into the open seat that would be waiting for her next to Fred. She’d even gone as his date to the Yule Ball the following year, happily twirling around in his arms as he concocted the most ridiculous- yet somehow still graceful- dance moves possible. The year after that had seen them bickering over the ethics of testing out new jokes and pranks on the younger years, though the debating was mostly for show and for fun .
Hermione knew they tested everything on themselves first and they even had her double and triple check their formulas and ingredients on occasion to ensure that nothing could really go too terribly wrong. She’d been almost disappointed in herself at the sadness she felt when the twins made their grand exit but she had pushed that feeling back in favor of the pride and joy she felt for them that day. It didn’t hurt that Fred had intentionally sought her out in the crowd of students just to give her that special wink and smile she wouldn’t let herself believe he reserved just for her. And, of course, in the coming months after they had left to open their own shop, Fred, and occasionally even George himself, would send Hermione letters and updates and requests for her opinion.
Hermione wasn’t completely oblivious. She knew she hadn’t imagined the admiration on the twins’ faces when Hermione had stood toe to toe with a very indignant Molly Weasley to defend the boys’ decision to quit school. She hadn’t been able to help herself when Mrs. Weasley had refused to see all the good her boys brought to the world. She had gone off about how if the older woman would just pay attention , she’d see how intelligent and how absolutely incredible her twins were. She’d ranted for what felt like hours about all of the good and wonderful things Fred and George had done that nobody ever gave them credit for, about the kindness they bestowed to those who needed it most, the laughter they brought to the bleak halls that year, the warmth and light the emanated everywhere they went. She raved about how smart they were, how inventive and ridiculously brilliant and passionate they had always been.
“Prefect may be spelled with the same letters used to spell perfect,” she remembered saying, “but that does not mean someone’s worth needs to be based on what a flawed school system deems right and wrong.” That had been the last thing she said before she had stormed out of the room. It had taken Fred three hours to find her after that, though she suspected he could’ve found her much quicker and had known she needed the space to cool off. That was another thing she loved about him. Fred Weasley was good at people and he excelled at reading them, Hermione especially.
Hermione couldn’t help but think about the first time she actually got the chance to see the shop firsthand. Everything had felt so wonderful, so inherently magical in a world already full of magic, and then Fred had stepped over to their group dressed in clothes that fit him spectacularly well and a crooked smile that looked so carefree and so much lighter than it had been just months before. Hermione hadn’t even realized the telescope she’d picked up to nervously fiddle with was from the display advertising a prank that ‘packed a punch’ til it was too late and her eye had become its most recent victim.
She’d dropped the telescope with a loud clatter and had a hand pressed to her eye, flushing completely red in embarrassment when everyone had turned to look at her. Fred had been quick to place a gentle hand on Hermione’s elbow and guide her up the stairs to the office with a short explanation thrown over his shoulder at his twin. He’d been so gentle and so apologetic as he’d applied the bruise salve to her eye and every brush of his fingers had sent sparks flying down her spine. Hermione could have sworn that he’d been about to kiss her when George had come flying into the office rattling off something about Molly getting into an argument with Fleur Delacour.
And now, only seven weeks away from her 19th birthday, Hermione almost wished Fred’s soulmark had shown up already or that hers had shown up the year before. George’s had shown up exactly 2 days before Lee Jordan had stumbled through the door of the Burrow ranting and raving about how ‘George Weasley needed to get his bloody arse down the stairs so I can finally kiss him stupid’ and hadn’t that been a sight to wake up to from where she’d passed out on the couch just hours before.
She distinctly remembered hearing Fred mutter, “Fucking finally,” before collapsing on top of her and refusing to move despite Hermione’s numerous complaints and muttered hexes. It hadn’t been until Hermione had woken up a few hours later to Harry sitting on top of her and yelling for her to wake up that she realized she’d fallen asleep so quickly under the warmth and weight and campfire scent that came along with Fred Weasley.
It wasn't until Hermione was propped against Harry under the shade of a large oak tree after a celebratory lunch watching George and Lee remain glued to each other's sides as they flit between the different family members crowding the yard that Harry showed her the photograph he'd taken earlier. She hadn't known what to make of it but luckily, or unluckily depending on your point of view, Harry knew exactly what to think.
"'Mione,” he’d began, tone firm but voice soft, “Men don’t platonically hold their friends while they sleep like this.” He’d looked down at the photo with a soft smile before turning it back on her. “Especially not men like Fred Weasley who refuse to share beds with other people due to not enjoying cuddling and a tendency to kick in their sleep.”
Hermione had never gotten a chance to respond when the man himself had barreled over, tugging Hermione up into a wild dance around the yard as enchanted instruments played in the background, but later that night, she found the photo tucked snugly within her favorite novel with the date on the back.
So, no, Hermione wasn’t completely oblivious, but she was still experiencing a great deal of anxiety over her soulmark and Fred’s soulmark and of course Harry and Ron’s soulmarks as well. The only Weasley left she had to worry about was Ginny but if the way she and Luna gravitated towards each other these days said anything, Hermione wouldn’t have a thing to worry about there.
Ron’s mark had shown already but nobody seemed to be able to make heads from tails of it, Harry didn’t turn 18 for another few days, and Fred spoke less and less about his excitement for finding his soulmate. She figured after all she had been through, she was damn well allowed to stress about the trivial things in life. Especially ones that had a direct correlation with the amount of happiness she and her friends, her family , would be allowed after the goddamn depression they’d lived through.
~~~
Harry’s birthday approached faster than Hermione found herself prepared for. Of course, she was prepared in the physical sense, party planned weeks in advance, cake checked and double checked at the local bakery closest to the burrow, gifts bought 2 months in advance, and invitations discreetly sent out 3 months prior to the day. Mentally, emotionally even, Hermione had been caught entirely off guard.
She knew, mere minutes before midnight would announce Harry’s birthday, that he was stressed almost to the point of being sick on his own shoes, and it hit her how much she’d lived in her head lately. She’d barely remembered to check on Harry that night as was and immediately, she summoned her hidden bottle of firewhiskey from her beaded purse along with the two wine tumblers she kept just in case of emergencies. She filled them to the brim and didn’t bother to reconceal the bottle before pressing a tumbler into Harry’s hand.
“Cheers,” she muttered grimly, taking a large gulp of the searing alcohol and pressing into Harry’s side. Sometimes- and only sometimes, when things got terribly bad- Hermione allowed herself to imagine being Harry Potter’s actual destined soulmate. Not in a romantic way, of course, but platonically. She had always reasoned with herself that it would be ideal for both of them, leaving them free to worry about everything except heartbreak.
But Hermione knew they would never be destined for each other that way, she knew that she and Harry were inevitable without the universe ever getting involved. There was something so sure about their friendship, something that felt right about telling him anything and everything she’d never tell another soul. Perhaps they were soulmates of a sort, perhaps they could consider themselves twin flames.
“We should get matching tattoos,” she said suddenly, turning to look Harry straight in the eye with all the seriousness in the world.
“Okay,” he replied, and Hermione knew then that twin flames must be right, because Harry didn’t even blink at her outburst or her proximity. “When?”
Hermione pursed her lips and considered. Well. No time like the present, right? “Now?”
Harry grinned and she knew she’d made the right call. “Anything in particular you’re wanting us to get?”
“Definitely matching and definitely involving flames of some sort. Past that, I don’t really know.”
“Hermione Granger, not being fully prepared? Well, I’ll be.”
She dug her elbow into his ribs at the sarcasm and laughed. “Well, I only just came up with the idea two minutes ago so you’ll have to forgive me for not being perfectly prepared.”
“What exactly inspired the spontaneity, ‘Mione?”
Hermione met his bright, entirely-too-sober green eyes and shrugged. “I was thinking about how we may not be platonic soulmates the way we could’ve been if the universe wanted to take it easy on us but we most definitely fit the criteria to be twin flames. Every other pair of soulmates gets a magical mark to inform everyone of their importance to one another, and, well, I’ve always wanted to get a matching tattoo with a sibling.” Hermione could feel the firewhiskey burning through her veins and she shoved roughly to her feet, making grabby hands at Harry to beckon him upwards. “You’re going to have to apparate us to that tattoo parlor you prefer if you’re feeling particularly attached to those limbs of yours. I’m a little too buzzed for this.”
Harry took her hands and hauled himself upwards before tucking her arm into his and apparating them out with a pop.
~~~
She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting but sitting across from Marcus Flint as he showed her and Harry a rough sketch for their tattoos was not it. She also wasn’t sure what she was more surprised about, Oliver Wood tucked happily into Marcus’ side in every single framed photo of them on the wall or the familiarity Marcus and Harry had that spoke of an actual friendship.
Hermione hadn’t realized she’d been voicing her thoughts aloud until Marcus snorted and mentioned how he, Oliver, and Harry grabbed dinner every few weeks since the end of the war. He also held up his left hand and a simple band of silver grabbed her attention, glinting in the warm light of the parlor. “Oliver and I got engaged last month. Figured it was about time.” Hermione grinned at him and got a soft smile in return, and she gestured for him to return to the sketch.
“That looks amazing, by the way,” she said a few silent moments later.
“Thanks. I think it captures your friendship pretty well. Harry talks about you a lot when we hang out.”
Hermione grinned over at Harry and nudged him with her shoulder. She had to agree with Marcus about how well it reflected them. The tattoos were mostly the same, a simple abstract torch base with watercolor versions of their patronuses emerging from the flames. They’d decided on Harry getting the one with Hermione’s otter, and Hermione with Harry’s stag.
Hermione was eager, maybe too eager for the time of night and the amount of warm alcohol in her bloodstream, but this was important for her. For them both even. Once everything had been prepped, she pushed Harry firmly down into the tattoo chair and watched raptly as Marcus began the tattooing.
She’d read all about magical tattoos but had never seen them done in person. It was similar enough to the muggle tattoo process she supposed but instead of a needle with ink, Marcus pressed the tip of his wand firmly against the skin of Harry’s left forearm and began to draw the design into him with a soft spell muttered over and over again. After the initial process, he began on the second round, a different set of words spoken into the air and the design gained color. A third process had the tattoo shifting and writhing over blank flesh, Hermione’s otter swimming out of the flames and curling delicately around Harry’s wrist before splashing off to another spot.
Right as Marcus sat back and began giving Harry a repeat of the instructions on the charms he would need to use to seal in the tattoo, the floo flared to life on the opposite side of the room and a very disgruntled Oliver Wood stumbled through in quidditch-themed pajamas.
"Marcus, why the fuck are you still- oh, hi there, Harry!"
"Oliver, good to see you," Harry responded with barely contained laughter. "Sorry to have kept you waiting, but Hermione here found herself feeling extremely spontaneous in a fit of tipsy brilliance and she decided we just had to get matching tattoos at 10 o'clock at night."
Oliver's head whipped to Hermione and he lit up. "Hermione! Sorry, I didn't see you there. It's been a while, though Harry keeps us pretty up to date. Say, have you and Fred finally gotten together? Or are you both still stuck in an endless bloody cycle of mutual pining?"
"Oliver , sweetheart, are you drunk right now?" Marcus stood quickly and Hermione was glad for the interruption as she felt her cheeks flame up into the most unflattering shade of red possible. She fought the urge to smack the smug smirk off of Harry's face but reasoned that she'd get him back well enough in due time.
"I may be a tiny bit inebriated, if you must know," Oliver replied with a pout and Marcus steered him by the shoulders to the seat next to Hermione. Oliver looked over at her and startled as if he hadn't realized she was there. "Hermione! I didn't see you there, mpf-"
"Hush, Ollie, you're making more of a fool of yourself than usual." Despite the harsh words and the firm hand clamped over Oliver’s mouth, Marcus' eyes sparkled down at his fiance, his soulmate , Hermione assumed, and she could see poorly concealed baffled adoration in his eyes and she swallowed around the small lump in her throat. She wanted that, more than anything, and she suspected she had been on the receiving end of something similar before, maybe even frequently, from Fred, but she didn’t count that. Because soon enough, he’d receive his soulmark and he’d find his soulmate and with her rotten luck, it wouldn’t even be close to matching her.
Hermione violently shoved that train of thought from her mind and focused on Harry which had been the whole point of tonight. The smile he gave her told her more than enough about how he knew exactly what had just been running through her head.
“Hermione, are you ready?” She looked up at Marcus who had temporarily distracted Oliver with talks of quidditch teams and recent games that Harry took the hint and gladly stepped in for.
They traded places and Hermione closed her eyes as the magic began to wash over her. By the end of it, Hermione could almost feel the stag prance regally around her forearm, just under the topmost layers of skin and the magic of the tattoo blanketed her arm in a way she hadn’t been expecting. She grinned and listened happily as Marcus repeated the set of aftercare instructions he’d given Harry and surprised them all by throwing her arms around Marcus’ neck before they left.
They’d all parted with the promise of grabbing dinner with all four of them from now on and Hermione felt pleasantly warm and completely relaxed for the first time in weeks. She reached into her bag and pulled out the tumblers and gently clinked hers against Harry’s. “Happy birthday, Harry.”
~~~
Hermione cursed the lack of curtains on the windows of the Hogwarts express before she remembered she was a witch (and a damn smart one at that, pull it together , Granger ) and she conjured some up, sending their car into near darkness. Harry laughed at her softly and handed her another cup of tea and a potion to help with her hangover.
The back-to-Hogwarts-slash-Harry's-belated-birthday party she’d planned had gone off perfectly the day before, close friends littering the yard, food in abundance and firewhiskey even more so, the fireworks- courtesy of the twins- after dark had been specially made for the occasion. Hermione had let Fred talk her into letting go and having fun, seeing as she’d ‘done all the prep work’ and she could ‘let everyone else handle the clean up,’ he’d reasoned with her.
So she drank a little and laughed a lot and she danced with Harry and then with Fred and then maybe once with every other person in attendance before the night was over and she’d let herself fall comfortably asleep tucked against a warm side. And when she stirred briefly as she was laid down in a bed surrounded by the woodsy smell of smoke and the sweet afterthought of butter beer, she held no protests to the feel of the bed dipping down and a kiss pressed to her forehead and she drifted back off into a world of bliss.
Morning had come with a vengeance as she and several others from the party scrambled to sober up before apparating in pairs to King’s Cross. Hermione had been glad to mention in the invites that everyone returning to Hogwarts should come with their trunks already packed and in tow as the party would be the night right before the term started. It made getting to the station on time much easier and Hermione was happy to be rid of any unnecessary stress when possible. Before she could jump on the train after Harry, Fred had snagged her by the wrist and pulled her off to the side.
“What’s this?” He’d asked, rubbing a gentle thumb over the tattoo on her forearm. “I've seen it on and off the last few weeks but I never got the chance to ask.”
“Oh! Harry and I got matching tattoos the night before his birthday! Isn’t it cool?” Hermione had grinned up at him and was relieved to see the tension roll out of Fred’s shoulders.
“It’s great! I’m assuming Harry has a very cute otter on his arm then?”
“He does,” Hermione laughed. "We've been concealing them as much as possible so the reporters and rabid fangirls don't take it the wrong way." He shook his head and chuckled as Hermione rolled her eyes. Fred was quick to pull her into a tight hug as the warning whistle rang and she melted into him.
“Don’t be a stranger, Granger,” he whispered, tugging gently on her braid. “I expect letters at least twice a week.”
“Same to you, Weasley. I’ll see you soon.” She squeezed tighter for a moment before stepping back, shooting him a small grin as she turned to jump on the train. That brought her back to the present as the alcohol caught up to her and her best friend flirted with death once more as he laughed at her misery.
Hermione sent a wordless jinx at Harry and smirked in satisfaction when he yelped. She threw her legs into his lap and settled back against the seat, letting her eyes drift close as she sunk into unconsciousness.
~~~
The welcome back feast was a very subdued affair compared to the years prior. Hermione and the other “eighth” year students had been taken to a room off to the side of the Great Hall, separate from the rest, once all the first years had been sorted and the customary speech had been given. Inside the room was a single round table, large enough to fit them all around it, and Professor McGonagall gestured for them to have a seat.
“This will be where you take your meals for lunch and dinner, while breakfast may be taken in either the Great Hall or in here, whichever you please. After you eat tonight, you will be shown to your new rooms away from the other houses. I expect you all to try your best to get along. Merlin knows we’ve all had enough fighting to last us a few lifetimes,” the dark-haired witch said, fixing them each with a stern, but not unkind, look. Hermione thought she could see a few stray grey hairs winding through the professor’s hair as she clapped her hands and gestured around the room. “This is also a fully stocked kitchen. It will be open for you at all hours of the day and night so long as you clean up after yourselves. There’s a kettle and a large selection of teas as well as calming droughts and other potions to help you sleep. As you are all of legal age, I trust you can use proper judgment on the use of said potions. These same things are being offered to the rest of the students but they are being required to go to the infirmary for theirs. That being said, if you start to run low on anything, inform myself or one of the other professors. Use this room responsibly. I understand that you all can also legally drink but you would do well to remember that you are on school grounds. Am I understood?”
A chorus of, “yes professor,” sounded around the room and McGonagall nodded once, twice, stiffly to herself before she turned to leave.
“Professor Lupin, who has so generously agreed to come back and teach Defense Against The Dark Arts again, will be back once dinner is over to collect you and take you to your rooms. Enjoy the feast.” Hermione shared an excited look with Harry. Remus hadn’t told them he’d be coming back to teach. She laughed when Ron elbowed Harry in his own excited gesturing.
No sooner than the door had closed behind the professor, platters and dishes holding every kind of food appeared in the center of the table and the students grinned as the dishes all began to slowly rotate around the table in order for everyone to get what they wanted. Hermione looked around the table for the first time to really see all the students who had chosen to stay.
To her left were Harry and Ron, the former trying not to roll his eyes as the latter shoved bite after bite into his mouth without taking the time to breathe. Next to Ron sat Seamus and Dean, who were sitting as close as ever with something a bit different in the air of them, something more right . Hermione made a note to ask them about their no doubt matching soulmarks later on. Anthony Goldstein and Justin Finch-Fletchley looked like they were trying and failing to ignore the spectacle of Ernie Macmillan attempting to impress a very exasperated Padma with all the things he’d done over the summer.
To Hermione’s right sat Neville, Hannah Abbott, and Susan Bones, heads bent together discussing the types of plants they had grown and studied over the summer if the snippets of conversation she heard were anything to go by. She was sure the three of them were going to open their own magical florist shop one day while Neville got a masters- or the wizarding world equivalent of one- in herbology. Hermione thought he’d make a wonderful professor someday if Professor Sprout ever decided to step down. He was better with people than he gave himself credit for and he had a real passion and understanding of how to properly respect the world around them.
Hermione wasn’t sure what surprised her more; the fact that Lavender had returned to Hogwarts after a rocky summer of fighting for her life in the hospital or the fact that she was pressed into Parvati’s side like she belonged there or maybe even the fact that none of it really surprised her at all. Parvati was filling both of their plates with one hand as she held onto her soulmate with the other. Lavender caught Hermione’s eye and gave her a weak smile that Hermione returned.
They’d never been particularly close and had gotten into a fair number of petty arguments during their sixth year for reasons Hermione couldn’t even remember but Hermione had been the one to kill the werewolf that attacked, and subsequently turned, Lavender. She’d also been the one to throw Lavender over her shoulder while muttering wandless healing spell after wandless healing spell as she ran through the halls to get Lavender to a very frazzled Madam Pomfrey and Lavender had used the last bit of her strength to throw several curses at death eaters hiding in the shadows. They’d formed an almost unlikely friendship after that. Saving each other’s lives tended to do that to people.
Speaking of saving each other’s lives, Hermione looked to the last five occupants of the table, the only Slytherins who had dared to return. She knew that for each of them, it was, at bare minimum, a line on a contract they’d had no choice but to sign. The Wizengamot would give them each one year to finish school and then be reevaluated by not only their teachers, but also their peers. Harry had shown up to their trials to insist on it and Kingsley and the Wizengamot had found themselves incapable of telling him no.
Hermione could see that Goyle was the only one of the lot actually eating, with his plate full of food and a second plate with a dish she wasn’t sure she had seen go around. Theodore Nott sat on Goyle’s left, squished tightly against a very unusually somber Pansy Parkinson. Hermione was almost surprised she hadn’t been bonded to Malfoy but she’d always suspected their “relationship” was more for show than anything. They bickered like siblings more than like a proper couple.
And, speaking of Malfoy, he had barely touched what little he had on his plate and Hermione could feel the concern radiating off of Harry at the sight. She was glad he’d finally admitted to himself that his little (read: huge) obsession was actually a crush on the boy. If Hermione’s predictions were correct, Harry and Malfoy’s soulmarks, whenever they finally appeared, would be a wonderfully beautiful match.
The only person left was Blaise Zabini whose appetite seemed to be missing in favor of his very intense gazing. She followed his line of sight and grinned when she saw it was Neville he had been staring at. Hermione caught sight of a bit of the unmistakable soulmark peeking out of Zabini’s neckline and wasn’t surprised to see what looked to be leaves and vines. Neville would probably have his hands full with that one and vice versa.
It warmed Hermione all the way from the tips of her toes to see so many mated pairs in the room. It gave her hope that things might be alright for them all. Hermione had watched each of these classmates almost die just months prior and then had watched them help rebuild the school they’d called home for the better part of 6 years. They’d all been through hell and back, especially the Slytherins of the group who’d fought against their own parents in the Battle of Hogwarts and still had gone through the trials of being accused to be murderers and terrorists.
She knew, logically speaking, that soulmates were not a guarantee of happiness but Hermione was tired of logical. She’d seen too much to deal with the negativity that came with some of that logic. Hermione wondered if some of the soulmates who weren’t together had even realized who they matched with yet. Neville seemed a bit clueless and Padma seemed more annoyed than charmed at Ernie’s attempts to woo her. Anthony and Justin seemed well matched but she wasn’t sure either of them even had marks.
Playing matchmaker could be fun, Hermione supposed. It would certainly help her keep her mind off a certain redhead from back home. Which apparently wasn’t working too well just yet. Hermione cursed silently as her mind drifted off. She shook herself out of her daze and tuned back into the conversation, resolutely not thinking about Fred any more than she already had.
~~~
Seeing Remus back at school was a relief, Hermione had to admit. He felt like an anchor she didn’t know she needed. Somehow, out of everything, seeing Sirius take Professor Slughorn’s place at the teachers’ table, and in the potions classroom, had been the thing to shock her the most. It had been a welcome surprise, though, and one she was pleasantly relieved to find out hadn’t been followed by outrage and anger. Hermione was even more excited finding out that the two of them would be personally overseeing the eighth years.
Remus led them to the newly rebuilt 3rd floor and into a room behind a tapestry where Sirius was waiting with a handful of keys. Once everyone had filed in, Remus took his place next to his husband and grinned at them all.
“Welcome back to Hogwarts. Congrats, you’re all adults,” Remus joked, and gestured for Sirius to hand out the keys. “In addition to the other changes Professor McGonagall informed you of, there are a few more that are specific to the dorms. In the interest of giving you all leeway to not sneak around and also to give you the ability to find some happiness in these post-dark times, soulmates will be allowed to room together. Those without a mark or unmated or with a soulmate not currently attending Hogwarts may choose to room either alone or with someone else of a similar situation. There will be two to a room and, at most if you so choose, four. There will be enough beds for each person in each room.”
“If at any point, things change or you want to switch roommates, you’ll be more than welcome to,” Sirius cut in as he stopped in front of Harry with a wink and a subtle head tilt to the platinum blond in the corner. Harry turned red and snatched the key from Sirius’ hand, shoving him onward. “These keys are enchanted. They are specifically tuned to your magical signature and the rooms will only lock and unlock at yours and your roommates key unless there’s an emergency. In order to switch rooms, you only have to desire to change and the others must be in agreement. The rooms are enchanted with a similar magic to the Room of Requirement.”
“You can have co-ed rooms if you so wish, you can also choose to have a room all to yourself, do what you wish. Just be aware that your rooms will not permit anyone younger than eighth year inside just as none of you will be allowed inside the dorm rooms of anyone younger than you. Common rooms are neutral zones that you all are more than welcome to hang out in though your own common room is closed to all but yourselves. This is non-negotiable. This freedom you’re being given is conditional on you following those last few rules about keeping the younger years out of your rooms and common room.”
“Any questions?”
Hermione tentatively raised her hand. “What if there are mated pairs who don’t know that they’re mated? Do the keys and rooms recognize them as mated pairs and pull them together?”
Remus narrowed his eyes at her slightly while Sirius merely cocked an eyebrow. "The roommate situation has to be a conscious choice," Remus explains, "But yes, the rooms and keys are locked onto your magical signature and therefore could, in fact, identify your soulmate."
"So, the keys could even, hypothetically speaking, confirm your soulmate is actually your soulmate?"
"Yes, Hermione, they could."
"And how would one go about doing that sort of thing?"
Remus visibly bit back a short. "Why do you ask?"
Hermione shrugged but flicked a quick teasing glance at her best friend. "Just curious, is all. The rooms and keys are enchanted with some pretty complex magic. And, as everyone knows, I am the resident know-it-all. That means I like to, well, know it all. Naturally.”
She grinned at the poorly-concealed snickers behind her and gave Sirius a conspiratorial wink as they wordlessly left the room. She watched them walk out with amusement before she turned around and waved her key into the air. "Right then, no soulmark for me, ergo no soul mate, ergo who wants to be my roommate?" She surveyed the other students and found a very amused Pansy looking straight at her. Hermione smirked and said, "Wonderful, Pansy, thanks ever so much for volunteering! Do you have a preference on which bed you take?"
Pansy, surprisingly, laughed and walked forward, clinking her key against Hermione's as she drawled, " Darling , you can have whichever bed you'd like so long as you don't mind Theodore joining us."
Hermione simply grinned and held her key out towards Theo. "Well? How about it, Nott? Care to join us for a year of fun?"
Theo, for his part, looked every bit as shocked as everyone else in the room, barring Harry, and after a moment, he was quick to tap his key against hers and Pansy's, sealing the deal. "Hermione Granger, offering fun over studying? Who'd have ever thought."
Harry came up behind them, startling Nott with a light slap to the shoulder. "Oh, Theodore, you'd be surprised, the kinds of fun Hermione gets into. Who do you think convinced whom to get a spur-of-the-moment pseudo-sibling matching tattoo late at night?"
Hermione felt everyone's eyes drift back to the tattoos on hers and Harry's left forearms. She turned her arm outwards and rolled up her sleeves, showing off the sleeping stag on her skin.
"Apologies, pseudo brother-o'-mine, for trying to have a little pre-birthday fun," she teased with a roll of her eyes.
"So, it's not a soulmark," Neville asked.
"No, no, of course not. Neither of us have gotten ours yet, though I'd put good money on Harry's appearing soon."
"'Mione," Harry pouted with a little scrunch of his nose. Hermione, gleefully, noted when Draco's eyes lingered a half second longer than necessary on her best friend's lips and nose and she carefully cataloged the flush on the blond's neck and ears when he ripped his eyes away.
"Harry," she mocked, tapping him on the nose with a laugh. "Well, who else? Any other takers on our room or am I doomed to be a third wheel to these two for the rest of the year?" Blaise began to move towards them but Hermione fixed him with a glare and flicked her eyes briefly towards Neville with a slight raise of her eyebrow. Blaise halted with a blush and Hermione grinned. "No? Wonderful. Who's next?"
Lavender, Pavarti, and Padma had already tapped their keys together and were moving towards the door their names had appeared on as Anthony and Justin tugged a disappointed Ernie into the room next to them. Hermione watched in satisfaction as a flustered Neville followed Blaise into a room and was even more delighted to see Harry and Draco joining them. She almost laughed at the lost look on Ron's face until Hannah and Susan took pity on him and Goyle and invited them both to join their room. Hermione wasn't surprised that no one wanted to intrude on Seamus and Dean's room. She personally thought they'd earned themselves some privacy.
Hermione, satisfied that no one had been left out, picked up her bag and disappeared into the door with her name on it.
~~~
The first night had been an interesting adjustment as Hermione's mind seemed content to test out the strength of her silencing charms. The charms helped only so much. Pansy and Theo were already awake, cross legged against the headboard of their large bed and cradling steaming cups in shaking hands. Hermione waved the charms away with a simple spell and mirrored her roommates.
"Nightmares?" She asked, startling them both back to the present.
"Did we wake you?" Pansy countered softly, eyes red with exhaustion.
"No. Nightmares," she offered, a sardonic smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
Theo stood and busied himself at his desk before turning and revealing a new steaming mug. He handed it silently to Hermione before crawling back into bed and taking a long drink of his own mug.
"Hot cocoa," Pansy explained, sipping delicately on her own. "Good for nightmares. Theo perfected the spells he needed for it years ago."
Hermione reached down next to her bed and brought her beaded purse up. She shoved her arm in and silently conjured the snacks she'd dropped in there a few days prior.
"Licorice or chocolate frogs?"
"One of each, please."
Hermione didn't sleep again that night and neither did they.
~~~
The first day of classes passed in a blur and Hermione was left questioning everything. She'd thought for years that her future so clearly pointed towards working for the Ministry. Now, though, she wasn't so sure. The eighth years attended some classes collectively as a whole on their own and it was during one of those that the professors talked about the future.
For a while, the future wasn't something she was sure she'd get to see. Life on the run had often meant surviving one day at a time. Hermione was a different woman now than she had been before the war and the running. Sure, she still held tight to the activist in her, but she wasn't sure the Ministry would be the best place for her anymore.
Before, she’d been starry eyed and naive, dreaming of a world where she could fix all the injustices if only she read enough and worked hard enough in school. But Hermione found there was much left to be desired when it came to politics and that PTSD made her even less social than she had been before. All she knew was that she wanted to help. People, magical creatures, non-magical creatures, Hermione didn’t really care. She just wanted to make a difference and leave a positive impact.
“Why don’t you look into healer training?” Pansy watched her expectantly and Hermione could only blink in shock.
“That’s brilliant, Pansy, Hermione’s got great bedside manner,” Harry added without a hint of sarcasm, dropping into the seat beside her at their lunch table.
“A healer. Me?”
“Yeah, ‘Mione, you’d be fantastic at it. You know, Mal- Draco’s considering healer training too. You could try talking to him about it if you’re seriously considering something like that.”
She looked across the table and made eye contact with the man in question who had tuned into the conversation when he heard his name. She held the contact for a moment before turning back to Harry. “You aren’t surprised I want to do something other than ministry work?”
Harry shook his head and hooked their ankles together underneath the table. “You were always meant for greater things than politics, Hermione Granger.”
She nodded carefully, stewing in thought as she went through the motions of eating lunch. Towards the end, she looked up and caught the eye of Draco Malfoy once more. “So,” she began, the determined wrinkle between her brows making itself known, “Healer training. What do you know?”
She hadn’t been expecting the genuine smile she got in return.
The next few hours were spent talking in between classes and during breaks about everything Draco knew about the practice of healing. He’d read a lot about the subject over sixth year and had learned more about the actual schooling it would take when he realized a future with a career was actually possible after his post-Hogwarts trial. They’d spent the hour before dinner in the library finding the best basic and beginner books on healing for Hermione to look through and somewhere along the way, Hermione had been surprised by the apology she’d gotten.
“Hermione, I- well, I’m not very good at this, but I want you to know that I. I’m sorry, not only for the way I treated you, but also the way I treated your friends. I regret so much of the past eighteen years of my life but what I regret the most is all the pain I caused by trying to make my father proud. My grades say I’m a smart guy but my past actions make a very strong case against that. For all I thought I knew about the world, I actually used my brain to think very little. I know sorry doesn’t fix the shit I put you through but I will apologize as many times as you deem necessary. Merlin knows I’ve got a lot to apologize for.”
Draco had been pacing by the end of his rushed out apology and Hermione simply studied him for a moment before shrugging and going back to her book. “You’re forgiven,” she said, briefly looking up to make eye contact before retreating back into the words of a renowned French healer.
“As simple as that?” Draco sounded like he’d been slapped across the face.
“As simple as that,” she responded with a gentle grin.
At dinner, she’d dragged Draco into the seat between her and Harry with an impish grin and promptly turned to speak with Pansy on her other side with her back turned to the boys. She could hear soft words being exchanged in a tone she’d never expected either man to direct at the other but she ignored the words themselves and tuned back into Pansy giving Theo and Greg a hard time about some failed prank they’d played in the past. It brought a smile to her face and an ache to her heart she couldn’t quite ignore. Hermione could feel the smile slide off her face but she couldn’t bring herself to care, instead burying herself into her food with a vigor she didn’t quite feel.