Arms to carry
It should have been a relief, the eyes of the Hogwarts student body leaving her alone in favor of the much more interesting arrivals. And it would have been, truly, had it not been for the golden eyes that seemed to track her everywhere. It mattered not where she went to hide, they inevitably found her. She sensed them in the hallways between classes, around the corner as she walked across the grounds, even in the library, slowly stalking towards her hidden study section. It was as if they had a rope that was tethered to her, following her no matter how often she disappeared out of sight. Between the two golden eyed girls and their elegant group of friends, there was nowhere in Hogwarts that she could hide.
Hermione considered camping out in the Ravenclaw common room for the week, at least until the names were drawn from the Triwizard Cup, but, even there, she couldn’t fully escape them. The Ravenclaw students, whose discussion typically focused on spells or riddles, now centered their attention completely on the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students. Even in her bunk she couldn’t ignore them. Her bed, placed gently against the window, had a view of the lake and the grounds stretching out before it. She often found her gaze drawn to the lone, ornate carriage serving as the Beauxbatons dormitory. She could almost see the golden tendrils leaking from it at night, combing out across the land and up the walls of Hogwarts, searching until they reached her window and then gently prying it open to wrap themselves around her. The feelings that engulfed her anytime she was even close to the Beauxbatons delegation perplexed Hermione. They were never bad, per say, but they were so very strange.
But, for a girl whose life had never truly been touched by much love or happiness, such feelings would be strange.
Hermione was so caught up in it all, in this desperate game of cat and mouse that she never signed up to play, that even three days in her body was beginning to show signs of suffering. She had barely eaten a full meal, hiding out in the kitchens with the house elves rather than facing the Great Hall again. Her eyes were lined by deep, dark lines, markers highlighting the sleep that had evaded her in the face of a moonlit carriage. Her emotions were a mess and she could barely concentrate with the constant strange feeling pressed against her chest.
Eventually, as all things do, it reached its precipice.
Hermione was striding down the corridor towards her potions class when she sensed them coming, the feeling wrapped around her chest growing warmer. She turned on her heal to miss them but, in her haste and tired state, walked straight into a solid form. Warm arms reached out to steady her but it was already too late—too much time spent on her feet with not enough food or sleep. Hermione crumpled to the floor, exhaustion finally taking hold.
In her hazy sleep she could just make out the feeling of strong arms wrapping around her and pulling her into a steady chest. The person moved quickly and steadily down the hall. She heard a knock on the door and a pair of hushed voices before she was quickly ushered into a quiet, dark room. The conversation continued as she was gently placed upon what must have been a spelled couch—for it was far too soft to be a normal couch. As she drifted quickly towards sleep—absorbed into the pillow beneath her she could just make out a few words of their conversation.
“Did you know it was her?” A voice as smooth as honey and as melodic as bells harshly whispered.
“I had suspected but couldn’t know for sure.” A second, much more familiar voice replied.
“Why…how…how could you not say anything?” The first voice ground out, anger and deep sadness chiming throughout their words.
“How could I say anything without proof? I was not in a position to do anything. Why do you think I was so insistent that this tournament happen—that you all come to Hogwarts this year. Nothing makes sense but I also had a role to play, a cover to keep.”
A deep, guttural growl resonated in response, “But she’s my…”
A quick hiss interrupted the statement. “I know, but she’s sleeping now. As your grandmother says, all wrongs will be righted if only given enough time.”
They slowly quieted their conversations to murmurs and moved towards the couch. Hermione felt a chair move close to her side and felt the momentary weightlessness as a silent spell lifted her off the couch before gently settling her back down, her head now resting in someone’s lap.
As gentle fingers began to stroke through her hair and a tight warm embrace surrounded her, Hermione faded into a deep sleep.