Chapter 11
Hermione stares up at the low wooden ceiling, silently urging her body to sleep as the subtle ocean waves rock the ship. She needs rest, yet slumber eludes her. The hours after the heist occurred were filled with anxiety from everyone on the ship, fearing they’d somehow be caught and the mission would fail after it’d barely begun. Pansy ordered everyone to head to their chambers and sleep at 8:00 pm, an early night after a long couple of days.
Groaning, Hermione’s fingers grope through the darkness and close around the clock on her bedside table. Squinting, she reads the time to be 10:27 pm.
She sighs. It’s not too late, but she knows her body desperately needs some relief. She tosses and turns for a few more minutes before giving up on falling asleep.
Screw it. She sits up and braces her bare feet on the wood, resolving to go to the kitchen and eat a late night snack.
True to her thieving nature, her journey is completely silent, even as she’s barefoot in her nightgown. She enters the kitchen, and the sight of Pansy sitting on the table with her hand in a jar of chocolate chips startles her, a gasp slipping out of her mouth. “God, you scared me.”
Pansy laughs, her teeth spotted with chocolate. “Hey, girl. Can’t sleep either?”
Hermione shakes her head, taking a seat on the table next to her captain, her friend. “Nope. But I am hungry. Give me some of those.”
Pansy hands Hermione the jar, sprinkling a few more of the sweets into her mouth. “Just don’t tell Theo.”
Hermione tastes the delicious chocolate as it melts across her tongue. “Why?”
Pansy gestures to the glass jar. Hermione examines it, reading the messy handwriting on the side: ‘Reserved for Theodore Sileo Nott’s Cookie Purposes (PANSY DO NOT EAT THESE).’
They laugh together so hard that Hermione’s chest hurts, kicking their feet in the air like little kids.
“He’s gonna kill you, Pans.”
“I’d like to see him try,” Pansy winks.
It has been such a short period of time, yet Hermione feels as if she’s known Pansy for years. Ages. Lifetimes.
“Plus, he could never prove it was me,” Pansy adds, popping some more between her lips.
Hermione can already see it in her mind, a furious Theo trying to incriminate Pansy as she bats her eyes with a show of innocence. “It’ll drive him mad, knowing it was you and being unable to prove it.”
“Just as well. Not a day goes by that I don’t drive that wanker out of his mind.”
“Well nevertheless, you two seem very close.”
Something glimmers in Pansy’s olive eyes, something Hermione cannot quite put her finger on. “You can’t imagine.”
Hermione shrugs, raising her brow. “Try me.”
Pansy blinks and shakes her head like she’s coming out of a trance. “Oh, nothing. I just meant we’re the best of friends, is all. That’s all I meant.”
Her tone was final, clearly indicating that she would no longer discuss this. Why her relationship with Theo was such a touchy subject, Hermione didn’t know, but she knew not to push it. “Are you just as close with Malfoy and Blaise?” She asks instead.
Pansy eyes her for a brief moment. “My relationship with those boys is… complicated. We’re all close, but I am fond of them in very different ways.” She leaves it at that.
Hermione can’t help but let herself wonder if there’s anything more than friendship between Pansy and one of the boys. Between Pansy and Draco.
“What about you, Granger? What do you think of us?”
The words spill out without a second thought. “I think you’re all simply incredible. Well, not simply. You guys are certainly not simple in any way.”
Pansy smiles, a little half curve. “You’re not so bad yourself. You’re even better than we imagined.”
We. Do they talk about her? What do they say about her?
What does Draco say about her?
The concern must have been clear on Hermione’s face, because Pansy quickly continues, “We’ve talked about you, of course, but all good things, I promise, Granger. You are wonderful.”
Hermione smiles in relief, relief that the people she admire reciprocate the feeling. The girls continue to talk for hours on end, though it feels like mere minutes. As great as it is, a minute fear lingers in the corners of Hermione’s mind: fear of getting close to Pansy, to these people. For the more people she loves, the more she has to lose. And she doesn’t know if she can take any more loss. It is as if her soul has been burdened with more than enough tragic pain across her lifetimes.
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When Hermione sits down at breakfast the next morning, she’s the last one in the dining room, and excited chatter from the crew bounces off the wooden planks. They saved a seat for her in between Pansy and Theo. Pansy smiles at her, a smile that holds the secret of their late night.
“Up and at ‘em, princess,” Theo greets her, taking a bite of the waffle in his hand.
“Morning, Theo.” Hermione reaches over and tears a piece of the waffle off, putting it in her mouth as Theo mutters something under his breath about stupid Gryffindors.
“What’s our approximate arrival time, Pam?” Draco asks across the table. He hasn’t made eye contact with Hermione. His plate is bare save for a stem full of large, plump green grapes. He slips one between his lips now, releasing a small popping noise. Her eyes trail the bulge as it moves down his throat. Did he even chew it?
“Approximately two weeks,” Pansy answers. “Then a day’s train ride inland.”
“Two bloody weeks,” Blaise grumbles, his face sour. “You’d think it would be shorter since Luna can quite literally bend the winds in our favor.”
“And what exactly are you doing to speed things up, Blake?” Luna asks him with a blank stare. “Or are you too accustomed to letting the women do all the work for you?”
Blaise chokes on his waffle.
Theo grins, raising his mug of coffee to Luna. “It’s about time someone shuts him up.”
“Someone should’ve shut you up a long time ago,” teases Pansy.
“Impossible, Captain.”
Pansy flings a blueberry at Theo’s face, who somehow opens his mouth and maneuvers to have the blueberry land in his mouth. He gleams triumphantly.
“What’s on the agenda today?” Hermione asks no one in particular.
“Make the game plan for Chichen Itza,” Draco responds. He’s finally looking at her now, expressionless.
“I’ll make some cookies for us to snack on while we plot,” Theo offers. Hermione bites her tongue to keep from laughing. She side-eyes Pansy, who’s suddenly quiet with a mouthful of food and avoiding looking at Theo.
They finish their breakfast and start heading towards Pansy’s office. Hermione starts walking, Draco falling into the same rhythm beside her, popping another grape into his mouth from the small collection in his palm. “Where were you last night?” he asks her quietly, not looking at her.
“Pardon?”
“I heard you leave your room late at night. You’re not as quiet as you think, you know.” Another grape.
“Or maybe you have supersonic hearing.”
He frowns. She smiles.
“And it’s none of your business, prick,” Hermione adds. Irking Draco will never cease to amuse her.
For a moment, it looks like he might smile. “Everything is my business.”
She begins to climb the narrow stairs ahead of him. “Be quiet. You are unbelievably pretentious.”
She looks back at him. His eyes flash as he takes a step up. Then another. Then another. Eyes glued to hers, and he tosses the grape in the air, up and down. Step. Toss. Repeat. He comes close, face to face.
They are the same height when he’s two steps below her. Eyes perfectly aligned. Silver meets gold. Draco speaks softly. "And what's it to you, Granger? I'm just a prick, after all."
Hermione lets herself smile softly at him, teasing him further. "Go to hell."
He smirks, tilting his head. "Gladly."
She feels her cheeks getting warm and spins on her heel, continuing up the stairs right away. Her chest rises and falls quickly. She doesn't look back, doesn't have to. She knows he's there, watching her go with those quicksilver eyes.
She shakes her head. Who the hell swallows their grapes whole?
A booming voice suddenly bursts through the halls, floating in through the kitchen. “PANSY GODDAMN PARKINSON, YOU ATE MY CHOCOLATE CHIPS, I SWEAR ON EVERYTHING I’LL KILL YOU.”
Pansy’s glowing laugh echoes in return.