Ariana's words, so calm, so logical, so utterly revolutionary, hung in the quiet air by the lake. She was not just accepting Daphne's confession; she was rewriting the very definition of their relationship, proposing a future that was not a choice, but an expansion. A synthesis.
Daphne stared at her, her tear-filled blue eyes widening in disbelief, then in a dawning, radiant hope. The crushing weight of her impossible love, a secret she thought she would have to carry forever, was suddenly lifted. She wasn't being rejected or pitied. She was being… included. Logically.
A slow, brilliant smile, brighter than any Ariana had ever seen on her face, broke through her tears. It was a smile of pure, unadulterated joy and relief. Without a word, driven by the pure, emotional impulse she had suppressed for so long, she leaned forward and kissed Ariana.
It was a different kiss from Hermione's. It was less a confession and more a declaration—of gratitude, of loyalty, of a deep and abiding love that had finally been given a name. It was fierce and soft all at once.
When she pulled back, she didn't let go. She wrapped her arms around Ariana, hugging her with a desperate, happy strength, burying her face in her friend's shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered, the words muffled but full of a profound sincerity.
Ariana, holding the weeping, laughing Slytherin in her arms, looked over at Hermione. She saw no jealousy in her friend's eyes, only a deep, compassionate understanding and a warm, loving smile. With her free arm, Ariana reached out and pulled Hermione in, drawing her into the embrace.
And so they stood, a tangle of arms and hearts by the shores of the Great Lake—the three most powerful witches of their generation, a Gryffindor, a Slytherin, and the quiet, brilliant girl who was the center of their universe, held together in a hug that was both a conclusion and a new beginning. The atmosphere was not just happy; it was thick with a soft, glowing, romantic energy, a perfect, stable, three-point constellation of love and logic.
After a long, perfect moment, it was Hermione who pulled back first, a playful, mischievous glint in her intelligent brown eyes. The deep emotional catharsis was over, and her natural, competitive spirit was already reasserting itself.
She looked at a still-beaming Daphne, a smirk playing on her lips.
"Alright, Greengrass," she said, her tone light but with a familiar, competitive edge. "I will consent to this… polysyllabic, emotionally logical arrangement." She crossed her arms. "But let's be perfectly clear on the terms and conditions."
Daphne raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, her own composure returning, a playful challenge in her eyes. "Oh? There are terms?"
"There is one," Hermione declared, her smirk widening. "And it is non-negotiable." She pointed a finger at Daphne. "The position of 'Ariana's Favorite Girl' is, and will always be, a fiercely contested title. And I have absolutely no intention of fighting fair for it."
Her expression turned mock-serious. "I will not be healthy about this. I will not be mature. I will use my superior knowledge of her favorite books and my long-standing intensive-discussion oriented skills to my full advantage. Expect roughness. Expect petty competition. Expect me to win."
And with that, to demonstrate her point, she playfully shoved Daphne's shoulder, making her stumble back a step. Then, with a triumphant "Ha!", she threw her own arms around Ariana, hugging her tightly and resting her head possessively on her shoulder, shooting a smug, victorious look back at a laughing Daphne.
Daphne, recovering her balance, just shook her head, a look of pure, delighted amusement on her face. "You're on, Granger," she said, her voice full of a happy, newfound confidence. "You have no idea what you've just started."
Ariana stood in the middle of their embrace, her two best friends already engaged in a loving, ridiculous, and utterly perfect rivalry for her affection. She looked out at the calm, shimmering surface of the lake, at the familiar, magnificent silhouette of Hogwarts castle against the sky.
The world was safe. The war was won. The future was an open, uncharted territory. And she was facing it with a brilliant, loving heart on one side and a fierce, loyal will on the other.
A soft, genuine laugh escaped her lips—a sound of pure, simple, and utterly logical happiness. Her life was a complex, beautiful, and perfectly balanced equation. And she wouldn't have it any other way.