Chapter 20 - ch 9 part 2

"There you are. Did you get lost?"

Hermione slides into her seat beside Ron in the Great Hall for dinner and reaches for a plate. "Sorry," she says, purposefully avoiding Ron's gaze. "I lost track of time. I was finishing an Arithmancy essay."

Hermione feels Ron shrug beside her, easily accepting her explanation, and she exhales slowly when he immediately turns back to Harry and Ginny to finish whatever story he was in the middle of telling when she arrived. She keeps her eyes down as she loads her plate with vegetable curry and smiles to herself, pleased that no one had noticed the slight flush on her cheeks and her decidedly swollen lips.

She had lost track of time.

She had just lost track of it while thoroughly enjoying Pansy's company.

She glances toward the Slytherin table to see Pansy's eyes, already trained on her. She's seated beside Daphne, but she's clearly not paying any attention at all to whatever story Daphne is regaling Theo and Millicent with, because the moment she notices Hermione's looking at her, her eyes grow warm and she gives her a tiny, secretive smile. Hermione's own lips tick up as they hold each other's gaze, but after a moment, Daphne directs a question to Pansy, and she's forced to tear her eyes away and give her full attention to her Slytherin housemates.

Hermione watches her for a moment longer as she lets herself think back on what had just transpired between them.

They had decided to talk through their plan for keeping their relationship secret before dinner, but to do that, they needed to find a private room.

It had been easy enough to walk through the halls, side by side, discussing an imaginary change in schedule for patrols. None of the students they had passed had given them a second glance, simply taking their businesslike tones and clipped words at face value. For all anyone knew, Pansy and Hermione still barely tolerated each other. And if the loudly delivered excuse Pansy had provided for their interaction was any indication, no one would be thinking anything else for quite some time.

"Well, if you're going to be out on Tuesday, then you'll have to be the one to tell McGonagall. I'm not going to suffer through a chat with your head of house just because your anal warts aren't clearing up, Granger."

Hermione had stopped short and glared at her for coming up with such an unpleasant reason, while at the same time trying to ignore the flicker of heat that rose in her stomach at hearing Pansy call her Granger again.

"I know you're still sore at me for complaining to Snape about your excessive flatulence, Parkinson , but there's no need to make up stories."

Pansy's eyes had flashed with amusement and something else, something that had made Hermione's heart beat a bit faster. They had held each other's gaze for just a moment before almost immediately increasing their walking pace in their attempt to find an empty classroom.

When they had eventually found themselves alone in an unused, dusty room, Pansy had wasted no time in closing the door and locking it behind her. Hermione had raised an amused eyebrow at the action and when Pansy had turned around and noticed, she had flushed and said, "to keep our conversation private. Merlin, such impure thoughts."

Of course, it hadn't taken long before those impure thoughts had become a delicious reality.

And now, Hermione is seated beside Ron, replaying their precious, stolen moments with a secret smile. Subtly, she brushes her fingertips against her still-tingling lips, remembering both the taste of Pansy and the way she had immediately deepened their kiss, much to Hermione's immense delight. She remembers how Pansy had gripped at her hips and impatiently pulled Hermione flush up against her, intent on connecting their bodies at every conceivable point. She remembers the way her own hands had eventually pushed up the fabric of Pansy's jumper to press against the soft, warm skin of her waist, and she remembers the low whimper the simple action had pulled from Pansy's throat.

Hermione shifts on the bench a bit as she remembers how she had felt in that moment, like her entire body was on fire and the only thing that could possibly control the flames was Pansy. Pansy and her lips and her touch and her gasps and her groans. But of course, pressing desperately closer to Pansy hadn't quenched the fire at all; it had only made it burn brighter, blazing across her skin and scorching whatever rational thoughts had been left in her mind until the only thing she could think was Pansy, Pansy, Pansy. 

When she had eventually moved her hands to the small of Pansy's back and scraped her nails against the skin there, Pansy had gasped against her lips and arched against her, and Hermione had felt the inferno rage deep within her, threatening to incinerate her from within. A kind of wild desperation had crawled into her body, pushing her to explore more of Pansy's skin until she had learned the other girl by heart. And she would have given into that single-minded pursuit had it not been for Pansy's stomach, rumbling between them, low and ridiculous sounding. The noise had cut through the lust in Hermione's mind like a knife and reminded her that stopping was probably for the best.

And it was. Because even though it wasn't entirely apparent to her at that moment, she really does want to take the physical side of their relationship slow. She doesn't want to lose control of herself in a dusty classroom, like some ridiculous teenage boy with no control over his libido.

But in her defense, she had never really understood the appeal of kissing. And now that she finally sees what all the fuss is about, she has to make up for lost time.

And really, when Pansy looks at her the way she does—when Pansy kisses her the way she does—how can Hermione not lose control of herself?

"Hello? Earth to Hermione?"

Hermione jumps a bit and looks up from her plate to find her friends watching her with concerned amusement.

"Sorry…what did you say?" Hermione asks, her voice coming out a bit breathless.

"Twenty minutes late for dinner, not listening to a word we're saying, and wrecked a potion for the first time in months," Ron says, raising an eyebrow. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I—"

"Wrecked a potion?" Ginny asks with interest as she picks up her goblet. "That doesn't sound like you."

"Not just any potion," Ron adds. "A revision on Everlasting Elixirs. A fifth year potion."

Hermione quickly lifts her own goblet for a sip of water, hoping the motion covers up her burning face.

"Everyone else in the class managed it, but Hermione's…" Ron trails off and grins. "Hermione's exploded."

"It hardly exploded," Hermione says, a cross little frown settling on her face as she adds a side of rice to her untouched curry.

"Harry, how would you describe what her potion did?" Ron asks, turning to Harry with shining eyes and ignoring Hermione's quiet tsk of irritation beside him.

Harry shifts uncomfortably beside Ginny. "It…discharged rather alarmingly?" he says awkwardly, wincing when he hears how ridiculous he sounds.

"Exactly. It exploded," Ron says.

Harry ignores Ron and catches Hermione's eye from across the table. "It happens to the best of us," he says with an apologetic shrug.

Hermione manages a tight smile as she finally takes her first bite of curry.

It's not that she disagrees…potions mishaps do happen to everyone. They've even happened to Hermione from time to time.

Though this is the first time a mishap has happened because she's been so thoroughly distracted by her infuriatingly beautiful potions partner.

And not even in the way anyone would necessarily expect.

Because yes, Pansy had decided to whisper things to Hermione, things that had made her normally steady hand shake and her usually cool, collected head fill with irritatingly vivid images.

And obviously, those things were distracting.

Do you know how many times I've thought about kissing you, right here in the middle of class, with everyone watching? 

I almost pushed you against the table that day we brewed Amortentia. But it wasn't because of the smell—I just wanted to know how you'd taste. 

Merlin, Hermione. You're so beautiful. 

I really, really want to kiss you right now. 

But even though the words were distracting in the best way, and even though there was a large part of her that wanted to toss her book aside, pull Pansy in by her tie, and kiss her absolutely senseless in front of the entire class, Hermione could deal with it.

And even when Hermione had felt a warm hand settle on her knee, making her heart skip a beat and something pleasantly warm pool in her lower stomach, she knew she could deal with that, too. She had simply clenched her teeth together tightly in an attempt to stay focused on the potion at hand. The contact had once again been distracting, but altogether manageable.

But everything had changed when fingertips had gently started to trace patterns against her skin. Her control had slipped a bit and she had found herself tuning into the lazy patterns Pansy was drawing under the cover of their table.

And even now, Hermione's fairly certain she would have managed to brew the Everlasting Elixir successfully, had it not been for the pattern Pansy decided to trace on her knee.

She had recognized it almost immediately as an ancient rune, but it had taken a moment to click in her head. Hermione had found herself cataloguing through all the runes she knew that Pansy might choose to trace in that moment—love, desire, need, want, partnership—but none of them had been right. And Hermione, ever the academic, had wanted answers. She had quietly instructed Pansy to trace the rune again (in a voice that came out a bit too low and throaty to be construed as casual), and Pansy's eyes had darkened, clearly thinking that Hermione was enjoying the teasing sensation.

Which…of course she was, but that wasn't the point.

The point was she wanted answers.

It took three more tracings and quite a lot of careful concentration for Hermione to finally realize what it was.

"Acromantula?" Hermione had said, turning to Pansy with wide, surprised eyes.

Pansy's hand had hesitated and she blinked at Hermione, some of the desire dissipating from her gaze. "I…yes?" She shook her head and said, "you could decipher that on your leg ?"

Hermione put down the stirring spoon. "Not at first. That's why I asked you to repeat it."

" That's why you asked me to repeat it?" Pansy echoed in disbelief.

"I wanted to know what you were tracing, but I…Acromantula ?" Hermione repeated again, staring at Pansy with amazement. 

'"I—"

"Is this some sort of kink I should be aware of?" 

Pansy flushed darkly at the amusement in Hermione's voice. "No, I…I didn't think you'd be able to tell what I was tracing. I forgot that I'm dating the brightest witch in the bloody universe," she added.

Hermione felt a delightful, warm pressure settle in her chest at Pansy's words, at the fact they were dating , but she still wasn't done quizzing the other witch. "Even so, why on earth—"

"It's the only rune I remember," Pansy muttered. "I only took the intro class but it was all so bloody boring. I don't know why, but Acromantula was the only thing that stuck," she added with a small shrug.

Hermione snorted as she surveyed Pansy with fond eyes. "Very romantic," she said. "Really, top marks." 

"Oh, piss off."

"No, honestly! Now if we ever want matching tattoos, at least we'll know what to get."

Pansy's lips twitched. "This is the last time I try to be romantic."

"Oh, don't say that. What's more romantic than a species that eats the corpses of their dead?" 

Pansy's nose wrinkled in distaste. "You're enjoying this far too much."

And Hermione had been—so much so, that she hadn't noticed the way their potion was starting to boil over.

"You know, if you really want to spice things up, there are other runes you could learn…"

"Is it too soon to split up after a day?"

"Ooh, what about the rune for fire-breathing chicken? That's quite suggestive."

"That's not a rune," Pansy said, but with a small furrow to her brow, as if she wasn't quite sure. 

"How would you know? You only took the intro class. Fire-breathing chickens are all over the advanced levels."

Pansy scoffed. "Merlin…"

"Though come to think of it—"

But whatever Hermione was about to say would be lost forever. Because in that moment, their long-ignored Everlasting Elixir had splashed up wildly, bubbling up and over the edge of the cauldron. Both girls had turned to it with panicked eyes, completely unaware of how to act in such a situation. They hadn't botched a potion in ages, and even then, their Draught of the Living Death hadn't looked quite so angry.

Hermione's mind had flown through possibilities, and eventually, she had reasoned that an extra dash of morning dew might help to subdue the quickly increasing bubbles. She had reached for it quickly, but the moment she tilted the bottle, Pansy extinguished the flame.

The combination of the immediate lack of heat and the new ingredient caused their Everlasting Elixir to immediately explode and managed to draw the surprised eyes of every single person in the room. Harry and Ron had looked dumbfounded, Snape had looked incredibly annoyed, and Neville had looked concerned.

Only Greengrass had looked deeply, deeply amused.

Once everything was over and they were leaving the dungeons together after cleaning up, Hermione had set a third ground rule for their relationship—no more distractions in Potions.

Hermione's pulled from her thoughts by Ron, mimicking the way the potion had exploded with delight shining on his face, and she rolls her eyes as she takes another bite of curry.

"Merlin," Ginny says, looking toward Hermione with surprise. "I mean, wrecking a potion makes sense for these two," she says, nodding toward Harry and Ron, who both shrug in agreement, "but that's just…are you feeling alright?" she asks, peering at Hermione with interest.

"I'm fine," Hermione grumbles. "And everything was going well for most of the brewing, but I just…I got a bit distracted near the end."

"Oh? By what? Your new best friend?" Ron asks, raising an eyebrow. Some of the happiness has left his face as he regards her, and Hermione feels her hackles immediately rise as she prepares herself for yet another go-around of the conversation they had already had three times since Sunday afternoon. Because suffice it to say, neither Harry nor Ron could understand why Hermione was suddenly acting friendly toward someone who had up until a few months ago, been her sworn nemesis.

Which…all things considered was actually quite fair. After all, she'd have a hard time if Harry suddenly decided that Malfoy was his best mate.

But at least Harry had tentatively tried to understand her very abridged explanation.

Ron, unsurprisingly, has refused to accept it.

"New best friend?" Ginny asks with interest at the same time Harry grimaces.

"Ron…" he mutters with a small shake of his head.

"She hasn't told you?" Ron asks, ignoring the warning in Harry's voice.

"Honestly," Hermione mutters tersely. "Do we really have to do this again?"

Ginny glances back and forth between the three of them. "Okay…what am I missing?"

"Nothing," Hermione says, pushing her curry around. "Ron's just being ridiculous."

"I'm being ridiculous?" Ron asks, his voice higher than normal. "You don't think you're being ridiculous?"

"No," Hermione says stiffly. "Not at all, actually."

"You know that the fact you don't think you're being ridiculous is ridiculous in itself, right?"

"Ron, we've gone over this," Harry murmurs, clearly trying to diffuse the situation before it can blow up in his face.

"Yes, but—"

Ginny puts her utensils down and glares around the table. "Right. Would someone please tell me what the bloody hell is going on?"

Ron looks at Hermione for a moment, then turns his gaze to Ginny. "Hermione's lost her mind and befriended Parkinson," he says, his lip immediately curling up in a disgusted grimace.

Hermione doesn't bother to look at Ginny for her reaction. She's too busy glaring at Ron, thoroughly annoyed at him for blurting out the news like he's some sort of second-rate Rita Skeeter. "Lost my mind?" she echoes, irritation simmering in her voice. "Oh, that's nice, Ron. That's so nice."

"Well, what am I supposed to think?" Ron retorts hotly.

"I don't know! Maybe you could think for once that I know what I'm doing? God, it's like you haven't listened to a word I've said," Hermione says, running a frustrated hand through her hair. "But you never do, do you? You just steamroll ahead with your opinions and your advice and your input."

"I—"

"I haven't lost my mind and I've already told you, she's not the same person she used to be."

"Great, so she's not a completely evil, vindictive bitch anymore?" Ron mutters darkly.

"You don't know the first thing about her," Hermione says quietly, her fist tightening around her fork as anger bubbles in her stomach. "Which maybe you would, if you'd have taken the time to listen to any of my explanations."

"I—"

"And honestly, how many times do I have to tell you that I'm sick of this? I'm so sick of you acting like you know better than I do and second guessing all of my decisions."

"Yeah, because your decisions are mental! Someone has to second guess them!"

"No," Hermione says, her voice raising a bit in frustration. "No one needs to second guess them, and especially not someone claiming to be my best friend! If anything, you should be the person supporting me! You should listen to me and realize that I'm more than capable of taking care of myself!"

"Claiming to be?" Ron splutters, looking deeply offended. "I'm not claiming to be anything, I am your best friend. And I want to support you, but how can I when you're making decisions that don't make sense?" he asks, leaning forward with desperate eyes. "Hermione, this is Parkinson we're talking about! The same girl who put you through hell for seven bloody years!"

"I'm not having this conversation with you again."

"Of course not. Because you can't justify any of—"

"Three times!" Hermione says, slamming her fork down as she cuts Ron off swiftly. "I've told you three times now that Pansy's changed and that I've forgiven her! Three times that she's given me all the explanations and apologies that I need. Three times that she's taking the steps to be a better person."

"And what, that makes up for the past seven years? I mean, bloody hell, Hermione! Do you want me to throw her some kind of parade for doing the bare minimum? So she apologized! That's not something to be impressed by! If anything, it's fucking pathetic it took her this long!"

"You don't know anything about her," Hermione seethes again, her tone low and dangerous.

"What, and you do?"

"Guys…" Harry says, his voice nervous and strained.

"And even if you do, who's to say that any of it is true?" Ron asks, ignoring Harry. "She's spent seven years being vile to you," he adds, his voice filled with righteous fury. "Stands to reason she might be lying to you now, doesn't it? Who knows what her end game is?"

"She's not—"

"She's evil," Ron says. "She's been evil and cruel and she's berated you at every opportunity, so yeah. Yeah, you'll have to forgive me for having the nerve to be worried about you and to think that you might be making a mistake!"

Hermione's fists clench as she glares at Ron. "I won't sit here and make excuses for who she used to be—"

"Really? Because that's exactly what you're doing—"

"But I will not let you slander the person she is now," Hermione says, raising her voice just enough to speak over Ron's protestations. "She's not evil and I won't listen to you talk about her like she's…like she's a Death Eater."

Ron's face darkens. "Give it time," he mutters, his gaze dropping to his plate.

Hermione grows deathly still. Her breath comes out in sharp, angry puffs as Ron's bitter words sink into her skin, and she slowly shakes her head in infuriated disbelief. "What did you just say?" she whispers.

"I said give it time," Ron repeats, raising his voice and swinging his incensed gaze up to meet hers. "You think for a second she's not going to follow in her family's footsteps? She wants You-Know-Who to come back like the rest of them and she'd take the Dark Mark in a heartbeat. She'll stab you in the back the moment it's convenient because that's what Parkinsons do. They're all evil cowards."

All of Ron's words make Hermione see red, but the implication that Pansy is cowardly thoroughly enrages her. Her blood rushes through her ears and when she speaks again, her voice is trembling with rage. "How dare you—"

But before Hermione can reply, Neville suddenly falls into place next to her. He's red in the face and his eyes are shining with pure joy, and somehow, he seems completely and blissfully unaware of the decidedly furious atmosphere at the table.

"She said yes," Neville says with a massive grin.

At the interruption, Ron drops his seething gaze to scowl at his plate, but Hermione lets her eyes burn on the side of his face for a moment longer as his insult against Pansy continues to ring in her head.

She's fucking furious.

How dare he assume anything about Pansy. How dare he sling such horrible accusations without knowing any of the hell she's been through.

She clenches her jaw as rage boils in her blood, so all-consuming, she feels as if her veins are pulsating, and Neville's presence is quite literally the only thing that's keeping her from unleashing an unholy tirade right now. She's never been so upset at Ron in her life, perhaps never been more upset, full stop, and more than anything, she wants to stand up for Pansy's honor. To stand up for the person she knows Pansy to be.

"Sorry, who…who said yes?" Harry says nervously, dutifully answering when it becomes clear Ron and Hermione aren't going to say anything.

"Hannah! I finally did it! I finally asked her out and she said yes!" Neville's grin somehow grows even broader and he claps his hands down on the table with delight. "Can you believe it?" he asks, turning to Hermione with exuberance.

Hermione lets out a very slow, measured breath in an attempt to cool off her scorching temper. Because even though she's still incensed over what Ron had said, she can temporarily put that aside to support her friend.

Because that's what friends do after all, she thinks furiously.

She turns to Neville with something she hopes resembles a smile. "That's wonderful, Neville," she says, her voice tight and her words clipped. "I'm delighted for you. For both of you," she amends.

"Thanks, Hermione," Neville says with warm eyes. He's clearly over the moon with joy, because he doesn't seem to notice the odd tone to her voice, nor the angry flush staining her cheeks.

"Well done," Harry says from across the table with a decidedly strained smile as his anxious gaze flicks between Hermione and Ron. It's clear that seeing his two best friends more furious with each other than they've ever been before is making him incredibly uncomfortable, and it's obvious that he wants to fix it, but with Neville at the table, there's not much he can do about it. So instead, he has to pretend nothing is wrong at all. He turns his eyes to Neville and says, "I suppose that means we'll have to make space here every once in a while?"

"I…blimey, do you think she'd want to eat here?" Neville asks, his voice soaked in awe. "I mean…here? With me?"

Ron clears his throat from beside Hermione and gruffly mutters, "I mean, yeah. That's genuinely what people in relationships do, mate."

"I suppose it is," Neville says. He rubs his neck and grins broadly up at the enchanted ceiling. "I can't believe she said yes."

"Oh, Neville. How could she not?" Hermione says, ignoring the potent anger that had licked at her skin once more at the mere sound of Ron's voice and instead, laying a gentle hand on Neville's arm. "You're wonderful," she says, squeezing his forearm lightly.

"Yeah, but she's…I mean…she's…blimey," he murmurs with dazzled eyes.

The joy shining on his face is such a ludicrous juxtaposition to the angry tension still crackling around the table, and if Hermione wasn't so mad, it might make her laugh. But at the very least, some of the most potent, white-hot bits of fury fade as Hermione takes in the absolute look of wonder in Neville's soft brown eyes.

She wonders if her own eyes look similarly whenever she thinks about Pansy.

She has a feeling they do.

"Oh. I should have asked," Neville says, his eyes clearing as he looks back toward Harry. "Would it be okay if she sits here? I mean, I don't want to presume or anything, but I—"

Harry manages a scoff. "Obviously."

"Right. Why not? Seems like we're fine with anyone nowadays," Ron adds tersely.

Hermione stiffens at the unsubtle dig against Pansy, but she refuses to turn her head to meet Ron's eyes. Instead, she clenches her jaw once more and grips her thighs to the point of pain to keep herself from reacting.

"Good," Neville says with relief, apparently not picking up Ron's tone, nor the tension in Hermione's body. "Good. I just…I'd like you to get to know her better," he says a bit sheepishly. "I mean…you're all important to me. You're my best mates, and she's…well…y'know…" He shrugs, then repeats, "it'd just be nice if you all got to know each other."

Harry nods and leans forward to say something, but Hermione doesn't hear whatever it is. Instead, she's more tuned into the way her gut had painfully twisted at Neville's words. A strange sense of despair immediately mixes with the anger still boiling in her body, and it leaves her feeling too many bewilderingly strong emotions, all at once.

I'd like you to get to know her better.

They're words that Hermione can never say, even if she wants to. She wants to sit down at the table breathlessly and announce that she's found the girl of her dreams. She wants Harry and Ron to grin at her with excitement and immediately invite Pansy to eat with them. She wants to be open about her feelings. She wants to share all the excitement and tender, delicate feelings of new love with her best friends.

But she can't.

It's not that she's never going to tell them. She is. But she knows that even when it's all out in the open, they're never going to want to get to know Pansy. And if there was any hope in her heart, if there was even the smallest part of her that thought she might be mistaken, Ron's reaction had certainly extinguished it.

Her best friends are never going to accept any of this. And even if by some miracle, they decide to accept the fact that she likes women, they'll never accept that the woman she's chosen to love is Pansy. They're never going to ask teasing questions about her relationship, they're never going to ask Hermione to bring Pansy along to events or parties or holidays, and they're never going to even want her to sit at their table. And what's more, Pansy can't sit at their table. Not when they've decided to keep their entire relationship more or less secret, and certainly not when it could jeopardize Pansy's safety in her own house.

A strange sense of loss sweeps over Hermione, and though she's dimly aware that Neville is still talking, she tunes him out and lets her gaze fall on the Slytherin table once more.

Pansy is rolling her eyes at a smirking Daphne. She shakes her head briefly, then glances toward the Gryffindor table again, as if by habit. When Pansy sees Hermione watching her once again, she starts to smile, but when she notices the look that must be painfully evident on Hermione's face, her brow furrows in immediate concern and the smile quickly turns to a questioning frown. She ever so slightly tilts her head to the side and raises an eyebrow, silently asking if everything is alright. Hermione manages to shakily exhale as she shakes her head just a bit.

Everything isn't alright, but it's the way it has to be.

She gives a small sigh and prepares herself to tune back into the conversation at hand, and to do her best to ignore the mingling feelings of anger and grief in some mad attempt to share in Neville's exuberance, but just before she can twist toward him again, her eyes fall on Ginny.

Ginny, who's been curiously silent for the past few minutes.

Ginny, who is looking at Hermione from across the table with serious, guarded eyes.

Ginny, who knows more about Hermione's recent revelations than anyone. Ginny, who had made it her mission to find out which thoroughly unexpected girl had caught Hermione's eye. Ginny, who had undoubtedly heard the unmistakeable fire in her voice when she had defended Pansy.

Ginny, who isn't stupid.

Not by a long shot.

Before Hermione can say anything, Ginny swiftly glances over her shoulder, back toward the Slytherin table.

The Slytherin table where Pansy is still watching her.

The moment Pansy notices Ginny's eyes, though, she flushes and immediately looks away, turning her full attention back toward Theo and Millicent. But there's no mistaking the tension in Pansy's body, nor the way her her face has turned red.

There's no mistaking that Pansy is hiding something.

And there's also no doubt in Hermione's mind that Ginny has easily sleuthed it out.

Hermione watches as Ginny's shoulders set and she counts the seconds it takes for Ginny to slowly exhale, before she finally turns back to Hermione. Her gaze is still serious, but there's a new, grim set to her mouth that wasn't there before, and it makes Hermione's stomach drop.

After a moment, Ginny lowers her gaze to study her mostly-full plate. Her eyes stay downcast for a few, unbearably long seconds, and Hermione waits with bated breath for her to look up once more. When she finally does, there's a frown on her face and a muscle jumping in her jaw, and before Hermione can fully comprehend what's happening, Ginny is standing up.

"Can I speak to you outside?" Ginny asks quietly, her gaze trained on Hermione's face.

Harry and Neville, who have up until now been talking, fall silent and look at Ginny.

"Everything alright?" Harry asks, a concerned frown settling on his face as he glances between Ginny and Hermione, clearly worried that even more people he loves are suddenly on the outs.

Ginny nods. "Yes. Yes, and sorry, Neville," she says, tearing her eyes away from Hermione to look apologetically at Neville. "I was a bit lost in my own head, but I'm…I'm dead chuffed for you. Really, that's great news. We'll have to go on a double date soon," she adds with a forced smile.

Neville grins brightly. "That'd be brilliant. I know Hannah loves Madam Puddifoot's."

In any other situation, Hermione would be stifling a laugh at the way Harry's eye immediately twitches at the mention of the tea shop.

But this isn't any other situation.

Her heart is pounding in her throat and even though Ginny's managed another smile for Neville, it's still far too somber for the situation at hand. "Well, then, we'll have to plan something soon. But right now, I'm afraid I really do have to borrow Hermione."

Hermione glances down at her plate, as if she'll find an excuse there. "I've…I've barely eaten," she says, her voice quiet and a bit shaky.

"I know. But it won't take long," Ginny says.

Harry grazes his knuckles against Ginny's thigh. "You know, you don't have to trek outside," he says, his eyes quickly flicking between Hermione and Ginny. "You can say whatever it is you need to say in front of us. No secrets here."

Hermione involuntarily winces, but Ginny spares Harry a small, genuine smile. "I know. But this is…it's a bit delicate," she says, choosing her words carefully. "Best discussed with another women. The sort of thing that's not appropriate to talk about around men, if you catch my drift?"

"Oh," Harry says. He reaches up to fiddle with his glasses and nods. "Right, then, that's…you should probably…"

"Go outside, yeah," Neville puts in without missing a beat. "That'd be for the best."

And even though Hermione is a ball of nerves, she still has to fight the urge to roll her eyes at their ridiculous reaction to whatever this delicate topic is that they've managed to come up with in their heads.

Honestly. Men.

"Hermione?" Ginny asks, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione swallows. "Right. Right, I'll just…" She stands up and spares a smile for Neville and Harry, all while carefully and purposefully avoiding Ron's downcast eyes.

As she follows Ginny out of the Great Hall, she catches Pansy's wide, nervous gaze. And even though she feels like she might be sick over whatever is about to happen, she still manages to give Pansy a tiny, hopefully reassuring smile.

Pansy's brow furrows, but Hermione can't linger to see anything else. She's following too closely on Ginny's heels, and the redhead is practically speed walking toward the doors. She leads them out of the Great Hall, then out of the castle, and when they're finally far enough away to ensure no one will hear a thing, she turns around to face Hermione.

Hermione shrinks back a bit at the thunderstruck look on Ginny's face and the confusion burning in her eyes.

"Tell me I'm wrong," Ginny whispers, her voice low and fierce.

"What?"

"Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me that I didn't see any of what just happened back there," Ginny says, jerking her head toward the castle.

"I…I don't know what—"

"Don't lie to me, just…" Ginny thrusts a hand through her hair and stares at the sky for a long moment. Finally, she drops her head back down and stares at Hermione incredulously. "What the fuck, Hermione?"

Hermione shivers a bit, whether from the chill in the air or nerves, she can't tell. "I don't—"

"I saw how you just looked at her! And I heard the way you defended her, and apparently you're friends now? And I just…Pansy Parkinson? Of all the girls at this school, Pansy Parkinson is the one you decide to have a crush on? She's…she's…" Ginny trails off and after a moment, she exhales sharply through her nose. "I don't want to sound like Ron, but Merlin, Hermione! She's not a good person."

"I—"

"And specifically to you! The things she's said to you over the years! The things she's called you! I mean, the last time we talked about her, you were telling me how close you were to casting an Unforgivable Curse on her! You fucking hated her!"

Hermione winces at the memory. "I…that was a long time ago," she murmurs.

"Clearly," Ginny says, the word coming out biting and harsh. She turns her head away and stares back at the flickering, yellow torchlight emanating from the castle, and Hermione watches as a muscle in her jaw works furiously. After a moment, she turns back to Hermione. "So does that mean I'm right, then? You have a thing for Parkinson?"

Hermione hesitates. There's a part of her that considers lying, just to make that awful look in Ginny's blazing eyes disappear. But then, she thinks about Pansy and her soft gaze and her gentle touches and her slow smile, and she realizes that the last thing she wants to do is hide her away. She wants to tell everyone how she feels about Pansy, how in love she is with her, and if she can't manage to be brave and tell Ginny of all people, then there's honestly no hope for her.

And if Ginny decides never to speak to her again, then…

…Well. She'll cross that bridge when she comes to it. But for now, she knows she needs to take the chance. She needs to follow her heart, and she needs to give Pansy the respect of actually treating her like a partner, rather than a dirty secret.

She needs to be brave. Even if she's terrified, she needs to be brave.

God, she hopes Ginny understands.

She takes a deep breath, slowly exhales, and takes the leap.

"Yes," Hermione murmurs, flinching a bit when Ginny quite visibly reels at her quiet admission. "You're right. Pansy and I…we're…we're…" she breaks off, takes a beat to compose herself, then pushes past the nerves. "It's not just a crush. Pansy and I are together."

Ginny's face pales in the hazy glow of the moonlight and her eyes grow wide. She clearly thought Hermione was harboring one-sided feelings for Pansy, and the knowledge that it's something decidedly more than that strikes her dumb for a few long moments. After a long while, she shakes her head. "You're…you're…"

"We're dating. It's a recent development," Hermione adds quickly when she sees Ginny sway on the spot. "Only as of yesterday, actually," she adds, marveling a bit at just how much has happened in the space of a few days. "But it's real, and I'm…I'm happy. I'm so, so happy," she admits, her voice cracking as she finally gets to express the smallest fraction of the emotion she's been feeling for the past twenty-four hours.

Ginny's mouth opens and closes a few times without sound and Hermione crosses her arms tightly over her chest as she waits for Ginny to emerge from whatever stupor she's entered into. Though to be fair, she's glad Ginny seems to be completely stunned; it's a far easier reaction to deal with than blistering anger.

After a moment, Ginny slowly sinks down to her knees and kneels in the grass, and Hermione, realizing this is going to be a long conversation, follows her down.

They sit there in silence for a while, Ginny, wide-eyed and processing, and Hermione, nervously biting on her lower lip, waiting for her friend to finally regain her senses. And when she finally does, it's only to say one word.

"How?" 

Hermione manages a small laugh. "That…is a long story."

"I have time."

So Hermione tells her.

She sticks to the Pansy-centric part of the story first, deciding to clue Ginny in on the parchment pal angle after the fact, just to keep things as straightforward as possible.

And she tells Ginny just about everything. She had already asked Pansy what she could and couldn't let her friends in on, and minus a few very specific details about her aunt, Pansy had given her free rein to use whatever she needed. She told Hermione that she trusted her to only use her sordid past (Pansy's words, not Hermione's) in a way that would be helpful to them in the long run.

It takes a long while to get through the whole story, but eventually, Hermione tells Ginny everything that's happened over the past few months—every interaction, every change of heart, every conversation, every secret, every apology, every moment. And when Hermione finally stops speaking, she sits back in the grass and waits, watching as Ginny absorbs every last detail Hermione had dropped on her.

It takes a long time for Ginny to even blink, but Hermione doesn't push her into speaking. She's willing to wait. Though now that the adrenaline has worn off, the chill from the night air is seeping into Hermione's bones and making her shiver. She surreptitiously reaches for her wand and casts a quick warming charm and immediately, the air around them becomes pleasant. The change in temperature seems to somehow shake Ginny from her thoughts, and she finally turns her struck gaze back to Hermione.

"That's…Merlin. I…I don't know what to say."

Hermione nods. "Neither did I."

"So this whole time you've been "studying" in the library, you've actually been…"

"Helping her take down her father. Helping her avenge her aunt."

"That's…I just…that's…" Ginny shivers a bit. "I can't believe he tried to kill her. I mean…her own father?"

Hermione nods, but before she can reply, Ginny says, "and I can't believe my dad helped her and didn't say anything! I mean, your life was in danger! The least he could have done is send a bloody owl!"

"He was sworn to secrecy," Hermione says with a small smile. "They all were. It's in Pansy's best interest that as few people as possible know what happened."

"Right. Right," Ginny murmurs, lost in thought. But once Hermione's words register, she looks up quickly and says, "I won't tell anyone, mind you. I promise, I just…Merlin. Her own father. That's…that's…" She stares down at the grass for a few seconds, then looks back to Hermione. "I'm not sure I've ever heard of someone so evil. I never would have guessed she was dealing with…with…"

Hermione nods. "No, nor would I. But she fought back," she says with a proud smile. "She fought back against all of it."

"She did," Ginny agrees. "Is it awful to say that I'm not sure I would have done the same in her situation? I mean…the things she saw. How do you get over that?"

"I'm not sure you do get over that," Hermione says, remembering Pansy's stories of long nights and the ever-present nightmare that often kept her from rest.

"Right. No, I suppose you wouldn't." Ginny bites her lip, then says, "and is she…is she okay? I mean…as okay as one can be in that situation, I guess?"

Hermione nods. "She's getting there. And I think she will be. She's strong," she adds, her voice turning soft and fond. "She's so much stronger than she knows. I honestly think the Sorting Hat should retire, because there's a very big part of me that thinks Pansy should've been in Gryffindor."

"What, so you can snog her whenever you want?" Ginny asks, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione's mouth falls open and she feels her cheeks heat up. She's so embarrassed by Ginny's unexpected question that she doesn't even really realize that the other girl no longer looks upset by the whole situation. Instead, she looks stunned.

"Hermione Granger!" Ginny exclaims. "Have you snogged her already?"

"I…I…"

Ginny's eyebrows fly up at Hermione's stuttering. "Well! You've always been efficient, so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

"I—"

"I never thought I'd be asking this about Parkinson, but…how was it? Was it good?"

Hermione lifts a hand and rubs her hot face as she thinks about just how good it had been. "I liked it better when you were furious about all of this. Can we go back to that?"

Ginny rolls her eyes. "Please. I'm not Ron. I'm willing to listen to facts. And if everything you just told me is true, then…I believe you. I might not understand any of this, and I might not like her, but I believe that she's trying to be a different person. A better person."

"You do?" Hermione asks quietly, hope in her voice.

"I do. And I trust your judgment. I mean, I'd be mental not to, you're the smartest person I know. And anyway, there's no way you'd be giving Parkinson the time of day if she hadn't actually changed. You'd see right through her."

Hermione smiles, but before she can reply, Ginny worries her lip, and says, "though, actually…about Ron…"

Hermione shakes her head. "I don't want to talk about Ron right now," she says stiffly as the words Death Eater echo in her mind.

"No, and we don't have to, but I just…" Ginny gives a gusty exhale. "He's an arse and he's so bloody stupid, but…he means well. And he's worried about you. He might show it in an awful way, but he really is. Because he loves you," she adds quietly. "More than just about anyone."

"Ginny…"

"And that's all I'll say on the matter," Ginny says quickly. "Mostly because there are bigger questions at hand. Like how was the kiss?"

Hermione's grateful for the change in topic, mostly because she's still angry at Ron and she really doesn't want to discuss any of that right now. So she shelves Ginny's comments, manages a sly look, and says, "which one?"

Ginny's eyes immediately widen with surprise. "There's been more than one?"

"Well, we've had to make up for lost time," Hermione says with a carefully casual shrug.

"Hang on a minute," Ginny says. "Was that why you were late to dinner? Were you having a sneaky snog?"

"I'll neither confirm nor deny that. But I will say that I finished my Arithmancy essay three nights ago," Hermione adds with a sheepish smile as she negates the excuse she had provided earlier in the night.

Ginny shakes her head in amazement. "I can't believe you've already kissed her! That's…that's…" She trails of as something occurs to her, and she frowns just a bit. "Hang on…what about your parchment pal?" she asks. "I thought you were dead set on her?"

Hermione shifts a bit on the grass. "I am dead set on her," she murmurs. "That hasn't changed. I still want to be with her more than anything in the world."

The furrow on Ginny's brow deepens a bit as she considers Hermione's words. "Right…I'm no expert, but something tells me Parkinson might not be too keen on being the other woman?"

"It's a good thing she won't be, then, isn't it?" Hermione asks with a chuckle. "After all, I'd imagine it'd be quite tricky to be the other woman with yourself."

Ginny's gaze narrows. "What does that…" She breaks off abruptly as realization dawns in her eyes, and her mouth drops open. Hermione can't contain her laugh at the pure shock radiating on Ginny's face. "I…I don't…I mean…Parkinson?" 

Hermione nods.

"All along?" Ginny asks, her voice saturated with wonder.

"All along," Hermione confirms. "I've been talking to Pansy for months without knowing it."

"Bloody hell," Ginny murmurs. "That's…I mean, that's…Parkinson! All along, it's been Parkinson! I just…I mean…did she know?"

"Not immediately. She found out about a month ago."

"Why didn't she tell you?"

Hermione snorts. "Because as you said, the last time we discussed her, I was threatening to curse her. She figured I wouldn't take it well, and honestly, she was right. I probably would have burned my parchment on the spot. She had to wait until I didn't despise her."

"So when did she tell you?"

"Yesterday."

"Yesterday?"

"She had asked if I wanted to meet via parchment last Saturday and I did."

"And you didn't tell us?"

"No, I…I wanted to, but I was so nervous that something would go wrong. And then when it was finally time, I felt so guilty," Hermione admits.

"Why? Because you broke one of McGonagall's mad parchment rules?" Ginny asks with a sly smile.

Hermione scoffs. "No. Well…maybe a little," she amends with a smile of her own. "But no. I felt guilty because the entire time I was waiting for my parchment pal to show up, I couldn't stop thinking about Pansy."

"Oh," Ginny murmurs.

"I had imagined that moment so many times, and it was always so perfect. But then, Pansy snuck in and…I don't know how it happened. I still don't, actually. But all I knew was that somehow, she had managed to make her way into my heart. She meant so much to me. I thought about her constantly and I…I knew that I had feelings for her. But when I thought something had happened to her, when I thought her father had hurt her, I couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe or think or do anything until I knew she was okay. And when I finally saw her again…when I finally had her in my arms, and I knew she was safe, I think…I think that's when it really hit me," she murmurs. "That's when I knew I was in love with her."

"Merlin…" Ginny says quietly.

"So when I was waiting for my parchment pal to show up, I felt awful. I didn't know how I was going to pick between them. But then…I didn't have to," Hermione says simply. "Because it was Pansy. It was Pansy all along."

Ginny's quiet beside her as she stares into the distance, contemplating everything Hermione's just said. After a long moment, she turns back to Hermione and says, "I would have been furious."

"Why?"

"Oh, I dunno…for not telling me that she was my parchment pal sooner? For making me feel confused and miserable?"

Hermione shrugs. "I suppose I was a bit annoyed at how long it took her, but…I understood why she made the choices she did. And in her defense, she did try to tell me. Twice, actually."

"Oh? What happened?"

"I wouldn't stop talking," Hermione says with a smile as she puts air quotes around Pansy's words. "And she's right—I didn't really give her a chance."

"You?" Ginny asks with overly-wide eyes. "Talk too much? No, that doesn't sound a thing like you."

Hermione rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "Oh, piss off."

Ginny laughs in genuine surprise at Hermione's unexpected phrasing. "Piss off? Sounds like Parkinson's already rubbing off on you." She tilts her head back and studies the stars for a moment, before eventually glancing back at Hermione. "And you're sure this is happening? Because it sounds an awful lot like the plot of one of those awful romance novels my mum likes."

Hermione laughs. "It does, doesn't it? But no. No, it's really happening. And…and it's good, Ginny. It's so, so good. She makes me so happy."

Ginny exhales slowly and after a moment, she says, "well, then. If that's true, I suppose she can't be all bad." Then, she frowns and says, "this might be a silly question considering…y'know, all of this, but is she in love with you, too?"

Hermione nods and feels her smile soften. "She is."

At the confirmation, Ginny shakes her head in wonder. "Merlin…I spent years pining after Harry. Years! And then you two come along and fall in love in two minutes flat. I mean, who does that? People don't just decide to date on a Sunday afternoon and profess their love by Sunday evening! That's mental. I just…" she breaks off and tilts her head thoughtfully. "Maybe there's something to be said for dating women. Less mucking about and waiting for the other person to get on the same page."

Hermione snorts. "I definitely wouldn't say there was less mucking about. But it did help that I already know everything about her."

Ginny nods, then she gives Hermione a small smile. "I am happy for you. Even if this is quite possibly the most shocking thing I've ever heard, which…y'know, considering where we go to school, that's saying something. But if I'm being honest," she says, sweeping a hand over the grass nervously, "I…I can't say I exactly understand what you see in her. I do trust you, but I guess I still have my reservations. But for your sake? I'm willing to try. If you want her to meet your friends, I mean."

"I do," Hermione says softly. "I…I'd really like that. Actually…" she trails off and tilts her head, her brow furrowing just a bit as she studies the grass below her.

Ginny groans. "Oh no."

Hermione looks up. "What?"

"You've got that look on your face."

"What look?"

"That look that means I'm about to say something that I think is a good idea, but no one else will agree with."

Hermione's frown deepens. "That's a look I get?"

"Mm. We have a free hour—let's spend it in the library!" Ginny says, putting on a chipper voice that Hermione assumes is supposed to sound like her.

(And honestly, it does, but she'll never admit to it.)

"I'm putting together a Charms study group, will you be my first recruits? Why not skip Quidditch practice and get a head start on our Potions essays? If you lot wear the Spew pins, everyone will wear the Spew pins!" 

"Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare," Hermione corrects immediately. "But I think I get the picture."

"So? What is it this time?"

"It's…" Hermione bites her lip and says, "Pansy asked if I'd be willing to meet Greengrass, and I said yes, but I'm a bit nervous about it. But if you're willing to meet Pansy, then…"

"Hermione," Ginny says, looking pained. "Please, pleasetell me you don't want to have a double date with Parkinson and Greengrass."

"Absolutely not," Hermione says. "I want to have a double date with you and Greengrass. Pansy and I would be seated together," she adds with a grin.

"Merlin…"

"Obviously, you don't have to, but it'd be a good way for you to get to know Pansy and for Pansy and I to get to know each other's friends," Hermione says practically.

"Or it'd be a very quick way to ensure the end of your relationship," Ginny grumbles.

"Or that," Hermione concedes. "But I have the utmost faith in you."

"Don't." Ginny sighs and runs a hand through her hair as she ponders Hermione's request. Finally, she says, "I guess if it'll make you happy…"

"And it will…"

"Then…I'll go on a double date with you and…and…" Ginny breaks off and grimaces. "Why is this so hard to say?"

"It won't be that bad," Hermione says encouragingly, even though she's already hypocritically made a mental list of every awful outcome that could arise from spending time with Daphne. But at least she'll feel a bit braver having Ginny by her side.

"No," Ginny says. "A double date with Neville and Hannah won't be that bad. But this? Let's just say I don't make a habit of spending time with people who owe me a fair amount of apologies. I mean, Greengrass once implied that my entire wardrobe consists of hand-me-downs from the house elves, and that's the least offensive thing she's said to me. And Parkinson…"

A dark shadow passes over Ginny's face and Hermione feels her stomach drop as she imagines all the things that are probably running through the other girl's mind right now. All the insults and whispers of blood-traitor that have followed Ginny through the halls for years, the cruel remarks about Tom Riddle's diary, the disparaging comments about her family.

Hermione's heart constricts and she feels shame flood her body. Because even though she's happy, and even though she's managed to forgive Pansy, she's somehow managed to forget that she's not the only person Pansy's wronged over the years.

She has a sneaking suspicion it's actually quite a long list, and filled with the names of a lot of people she loves.

"I know," Hermione finally murmurs. "Trust me, I know. And I really won't force you to go. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have even asked you in the first place. That wasn't fair of me. Just because I've changed my mind, doesn't mean you have."

Ginny shrugs. "It's just a lot to wrap my head around."

Hermione nods. "And I don't expect you to, honestly. But…if nothing else, I think Pansy might eventually appreciate the chance to apologize. And whether you accept it or not is completely up to you," she adds quickly. "I won't be upset if you don't. Not at all. I'd understand. And if you don't never want to hear her apology, I'll understand that, too. I…I know it's a lot to ask, and believe me, I never would have imagined that I'd be the one vouching for her, but…"

"Love is stupid," Ginny says flatly, and Hermione laughs in complete surprise.

"Love is stupid."

Ginny sighs. "For your sake, I'll do it. And I'll hear her apology. I mean, Merlin knows, she was ten thousand times worse to you than she ever was to me, so if you can forgive her, then I suppose I can try. But…I can't promise anything. I mean, if you're hoping for us to all become best mates, then…" she winces. "You might want to adjust your expectations."

"I—"

"I meant what I said—I am happy for you, and I'm glad you've managed to forgive her. You deserve to be happy, even if it's with the last person I ever would have imagined. And knowing the full story, it…it helps," Ginny says carefully. "It does, but it's just…you've had more time to change your view of her, and to me, she's still just…"

"An awful cow?"

"That's putting it very mildly, but yeah."

"I know."

Ginny shifts a bit on the grass, then says, "can I ask you something?"

Hermione nods.

"I obviously won't tell Harry any of this and I know you're sore at Ron, but…" Ginny bites her lip nervously. "Are you planning on telling them?"

Hermione nods once more. "I am. And hopefully soon. I don't have much hope for Ron," she says, her voice turning brittle, "but…I think Harry will understand. Or at least, he'll feel the same way as you. Ron will probably try to send me to St. Mungo's," she mutters.

"If he finds out I'm voluntarily having dinner with Parkinson and Greengrass, he'll send me there, too. We can share a room. Just do me a favor? Promise me you won't snog Parkinson in our shared room?" Ginny asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Promise me you won't snog Harry," Hermione counters easily.

Ginny frowns as she considers the request, then she huffs. "Fine, you can snog her. If I'm already at St. Mungo's, I'll just ask them to Obliviate it from my memory."

"That's fair," Hermione says. Then, she twists her hands nervously in her lap and says, "Ginny?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you. For…for trying to understand all of this. I know it's not easy and I know it's…unexpected."

"Again, putting it very mildly."

"I know. But I just…I appreciate that you're willing to try."

"Of course. But that said, you know that if she hurts you in any way, then I get to destroy her, right?"

"Right."

"No, I mean it. If she so much as looks at you the wrong way…"

"You have my full permission to destroy her," Hermione says gently, mostly because she can no longer envision a world in which Pansy would do anything to hurt her.

"Good. I'm holding you to that."

Before Hermione can reply, her stomach rumbles loudly, and Ginny immediately looks down apologetically. "I guess that would be my fault, yeah?" she asks, nodding toward Hermione.

"My stomach?" Hermione asks confused.

"I mean, I did sort of forcibly drag you away from your dinner."

"Oh. You did, but it's fine. I wanted to tell you. Now was as good a time as any. And honestly, you were a good warm-up for whenever I tell the boys. Something tells me they won't take it anywhere near as well as you did."

Ginny shrugs as she stands up and brushes grass from her robes. "Who knows? They might surprise you. I mean…Ron never has before, but there's a first time for everything, right?"

She reaches out a hand and pulls Hermione up. "I suppose so," Hermione says, picking grass off of her own robes.

They start their walk back to the castle together, and even though they're making conversation, part of Hermione's mind is still on the task to come. Because it's true—Ginny had taken it fairly well. And if she knows Ron and Harry as well as she thinks she does, she knows that it's going to be a struggle.

But she has time. And as of right now, she has someone tentatively on her side. It's more than she could have asked for, and even though she's still nervous over everything her future holds, there's a part of her that's growing cautiously optimistic.

As long as she and Pansy can keep this under wraps until the end of the year, things might actually work out okay.

***

Hermione Granger is good at a great many things, but keeping a relationship secret is proving to be a challenge.

But in her defense, it's surprisingly hard to date someone in secret at a magical boarding school where everyone shares a room. Which is why most of the time, Hermione and Pansy find themselves carving out alone time in various unused classrooms.

And it's exactly where they find themselves Friday night after dinner.

They're in what Hermione thinks is an unused Muggle studies classroom. At the very least, it would explain all the strange items strewn about. There's a large basket of stress balls on what used to be a teacher's table, an unplugged and dusty lava lamp sitting in the corner, a strange assortment of what appear to be Muggle carnival games, six bicycles, all in various states of disrepair, and a massive wardrobe in the corner, which seems to be filled with Muggle clothing throughout the eras.

They had ducked in here to discuss who should know about their relationship, but the room had immediately distracted Hermione. She had walked around, peering at various items and making idle observations about everything she saw.

"Why on earth do they have six bicycles? Wouldn't one be good enough?" Hermione had run a finger over the seat of a rusted red bike and her nose wrinkled at the amount of dust covering it. "God, it's all filthy." 

"What's this?" 

Hermione had twisted around to see Pansy poking at an old rotary telephone. "That's a telephone," she said with a smile.

Pansy's eyes lit up in recognition. "The Muggle owl thing?" she asked, bending to examine it a bit closer.

Hermione nodded. "But it won't work here, of course. And that's actually quite an old model," she added, wondering how on earth Hogwarts couldn't manage to get their hands on a current telephone.

"How's it work?"

"The short version?" Hermione asked, crossing to Pansy. "All Muggle households have an assigned number—a phone number—and once you poke in the number of the person you want to talk to, you'll instantly be connected to them and you can talk to them in real time. You lift this bit to your ear," she said, tapping the receiver, "and their voice comes out. It's like they're right there beside you."

"Huh. That…that's actually quite impressive." Pansy said as she lifted the receiver, gently shaking it to see if anything would happen. 

Hermione smiled fondly at the action, then said,"It is. Most Muggle inventions are, really. Which is why I honestly don't understand the Wizarding world's aversion to doing things the Muggle way."

"No arguments here," Pansy said, putting the receiver down to absently spin the phone's dial. After a moment, she looked up and around at all the various items with interest. "You know, I was thinking I'd like to learn more about Muggle Studies."

The offhand remark took Hermione by complete surprise. "You would? Why?" She was relatively sure a Slytherin had never shown any interest in Muggle Studies before. She didn't think a Slytherin had even been near the door of the classroom.

Pansy shrugged as she continued to gaze around the room. "I don't know. I suppose…I suppose I'd like to know more about this world. Your world," she added with an endearing half-smile.

Hermione felt her heart swell as she regarded Pansy with soft eyes, completely overwhelmed by the admission. "You would?" she asked, aware of the slightly emotional quiver to her voice.

"I would," Pansy murmured. Then she schooled her expression into something casually cool. "And anyway, it'd be an easy pass. I've already got two legs up, after all."

"Oh?"

"Mm. I happen to be very familiar with the Muggle concept of wires, and it just so happens that I'm dating a Muggleborn," Pansy said, adding the last part nonchalantly. 

"Are you now?" Hermione asked with a grin. 

"I am. I think you'd like her, actually. Though she's a bit stubborn at times. And sometimes hot headed…and occasionally too smart for her own good…" 

"Don't oversell her," Hermione said, amused by the list.

"Oh, she's other things, too. She's empathetic. She's loyal. She uses her intelligence to help people, but even though she has this…this boundless love for learning, her love for her friends is somehow even greater. She'd do anything for the people she loves, no matter how mad or foolhardy it may be. Because she's brave and willing to fight for what's right…often to my chagrin," Pansy added with a smile. "She's passionate and she's driven, and she's ambitious. I mean, she wants to change the world and make it a better place, and honestly? If anyone could, I think it'd be her. Which is actually quite Slytherin of her, come to think of it…"

Hermione, who had been listening to Pansy up until then with suspiciously damp eyes, gave a small, surprised laugh. "Pansy…"

"But even though the shoe fits, she'd probably get upset with me for calling her a Slytherin, so…keep that between us," Pansy said with a sly grin. But as she took in Hermione, her grin slipped just a bit, replaced by something earnest and passionate. "And she's just…she's so, so beautiful. In every way. She's the most wonderful person I've ever met and sometimes, I can't believe that she wants to be with me." 

Hermione managed to shake her head a bit. "The way you talk about her?" she murmured. "She'd be a fool not to want you." 

Pansy smiled, holding Hermione's gaze for a long while. Then, she looked back down at the telephone and said, "either way, I think she could clue me in on all this Muggle stuff."

"I think she could," Hermione said. "After all, I have it on good authority that she took Muggle studies her third year."

Pansy lifted surprised eyes to Hermione. "What?"

"What?"

" You took Muggle Studies?"

"Yes?"

"But…you're a Muggleborn."

"Well spotted, Miss Parkinson," Hermione teased. "Ten points to Slytherin."

Pansy rolled her eyes with exasperation."No, I just…why would you take a class if you know all about it? I mean, that doesn't…" Before Hermione could reply, though, Pansy gasped. "Why, Hermione Granger! Were you fishing for an easy 'O' on your O.W.L.s?" 

Hermione tsked. "Absolutely not. I was just interested in hearing about Muggle culture from a Wizarding perspective."

"Mm…spoken like someone who's used to defending her decision to take the easy way out," Pansy said, grinning when Hermione glowered at her. "And was it? Interesting, I mean?"

"No, not really," Hermione said. "Professor Burbage was wonderful and supportive and knew so much about Muggle life. But at the end of the day, I didn't learn anything new. The brunt of the class was about learning Muggle technologies and less about how wizards perceive Muggles. That said," she added, tilting her head thoughtfully, "I think the non-Muggleborns in the class learned quite a bit." 

Pansy hummed. She opened her mouth to ask something else, but then, something across the classroom caught her eye. "Merlin…what is that ?"

Hermione huffed out a laugh. "Pansy, we're not in here to actually learn about Muggle technology! We're here to discuss something important." 

And they had been. They had wanted to have a conversation about whether or not Pansy should tell Draco about their relationship.

But like so many of their conversations, they had somehow become terribly sidetracked by each other's lips halfway through.

It would almost be irritating to Hermione that they haven't managed to finish a conversation in over a week, had she not been so wonderfully okay with the distractions.

Which is how Hermione now finds herself seated on a table, her thoughts slow and heavy with desire as she kisses Pansy thoroughly. She doesn't even remember how she wound up on the table, nor how her legs had somehow managed to wrap themselves around Pansy's back. All she knows is one second, they were in the middle of a discussion and the next, she was on the table with Pansy standing between her legs.

And it's easy at first. They've kissed so many times in the past few days that some of the desperation has faded, allowing Hermione to simply enjoy the way their lips press and part almost languidly.

It isn't until Hermione feels one of Pansy's hands slowly start wandering up her thigh that things start to change. Almost immediately, Hermione can feel a familiar need start to coil in the pit of her stomach, and she uses her legs to pull Pansy in closer, her thighs tightening imperceptibly against her sides.

Pansy of course feels the movement and starts to kiss with more purpose, and Hermione has no complaints about that—she lets Pansy take control, all while the need coils impossibly tighter in her stomach. Her skin burns as the hand on her leg starts to migrate higher with a slow and steady purpose, and Hermione can't help the low noise that escapes her when Pansy's fingers eventually brush against her inner thigh. Pansy grins at the sound, but when Hermione nips down on Pansy's lower lip, only to suck it into her mouth a moment later, the smile immediately fades, replaced by a needy whimper.

And Hermione loves that. She loves the noises Pansy makes when they kiss. The soft gasps and the murmurs of pleasure, the desperate groans that seems to come from somewhere deep down inside of her, the noisy exhalations that happen anytime Hermione takes control of the kiss, and obviously, the desperately whispered curses.

Which is exactly what she's treated to now.

Pansy pulls back and tilts her forehead against Hermione's, leaving just a sliver of space between their lips. "Fuck, Hermione," she murmurs, her voice low and reverent. She speaks the words like they're a prayer—like Hermione is the only thing she'll ever worship—and god, if that doesn't do something to her. It makes her feel wanted. It makes her feel desired. It imbues her with a heady power that threatens to take over her entire being, and it makes her feel confident in her own body in a way she's never felt before.

So much so that she wants to use her body in any way she can to draw out all those noises she loves from Pansy's lips.

So she does.

She roughly pulls Pansy back and catches her in an urgent, searing kiss. Her lips twitch upwards ever so slightly when she hears the noisy, surprised way Pansy exhales through her nose at the wild need behind Hermione's actions.

Mission accomplished, Hermione thinks as she savors the feeling of control running through her body. She catches Pansy's lips with her teeth once more and lifts her hands to sweep the pads of her thumbs over the other girl's face. It's the same perfect, beautiful face she's seen behind closed lids anytime she's imagined this very thing happening between them over the past few weeks. But now, Pansy's hands are actually on her, and she doesn't have to imagine.

Before she can let her tongue swipe against Pansy's again, the other witch smoothly pulls away and kisses from Hermione's jaw to her neck, stopping just shy of her ear. She takes her time there, leaving open-mouthed kisses to a sensitive spot just below her earlobe, and Hermione angles her head in anticipation, waiting for Pansy to continue trailing back down her neck. And for a moment, it seems like she's going to. But when Pansy hears Hermione's low hum of approval, she changes course and swiftly lifts her mouth to suck Hermione's earlobe between her teeth.

"God," Hermione groans, her hips canting forward involuntarily when Pansy swirls her tongue across her ear.

"Good?" Pansy murmurs, her breath trailing over Hermione's ear and pulling a desperate shiver from her.

Pansy had recently found out that Hermione's ears were surprisingly sensitive, and she had been using that information to great success ever since.

Hermione's hands grasp tightly at Pansy's hair as the other witch slowly licks along the shell of her ear. "Pansy, that's…" she shakes her head a bit when she feels teeth graze along her earlobe, completely unable to come up with any coherent words. "Fuck," she eventually breathes, her voice coming out low and unsteady.

Pansy's lips release her earlobe, but there's no time for Hermione to regain her bearings. Not when teeth are immediately scraping with a new and hungry purpose down her neck, all while a hand grips hard at her thigh. And even though Hermione's quickly losing control of her mental faculties, she still manages a small smile. Because that's something she's learned rather quickly—Pansy really, really likes it when she swears.

And her curse had once again done its job—Pansy's lips move with a fervid hunger across Hermione's skin, leaving trails of wildfire blazing in her wake. And when Pansy finally stops to suck against Hermione's rapidly thrumming pulse point, all she can do is close her eyes while her head falls back and a throaty moan slips past her parted lips.

Pansy's not sucking hard enough to leave a mark, which would normally be a good thing, as Hermione doesn't like to bother with glamours or makeup. But as her legs tighten like a vice around Pansy, she finds herself strangely frustrated. She's more turned on than she's ever been in her life, yet somehow, she wants more. She wants Pansy to leave a mark. She wants to see it in the morning and remember exactly what had led to it. She wants to run her fingers along it and remember the way her body had felt, like her blood had turned to fire and was burning her from the inside out.

"Fuck, Pansy," she breathes again. "I…I…" She whimpers as her fingers tighten in Pansy's hair, and before she knows what she's saying, she manages to groan out, "harder."

She hears Pansy's sharp inhalation against her neck at the command, but to her credit, she takes the direction without any hesitation. Her hand moves quickly to Hermione's hip and the moment she finds purchase there, she grips her tightly, holding her in place. Then, she draws the flesh beneath her lips in harder, so much so that Hermione can't control the ragged groan that explodes from her. Her hips involuntarily buck up off the table and god, it's everything she wanted. She knows without a doubt that Pansy's leaving a mark, and it makes something deep within Hermione roar with approval. Pansy works the spot over and just when Hermione feels like she might break apart, she feels a tongue press firmly against her skin, temporarily soothing the fire. But before she can regain any semblance of control over herself, before she can even take a full breath, Pansy's sucking at her neck again, going over the same spot and making stars explode behind Hermione's closed eyes.

"Pansy," Hermione breathes, her back arching forward. She's desperate to feel Pansy's hands. She wants to feel Pansy everywhere, needs to feel Pansy everywhere, but instead, the other girl remains in place, simply tightening her grip on Hermione's hip at the sound of her name and remaining completely focused on the task at hand.

Hermione tugs sharply on Pansy's hair, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation, and once Pansy seems satisfied by what she's done, she gently nips at Hermione's skin one more time before soothing the spot once again with her tongue. Then, she kisses her way back up Hermione's jawline until she meets eager lips. Hermione's completely intoxicated by the way Pansy's lips move against hers and desperation claws underneath her skin, making her feel feverish with need. She's keenly aware of a steady pressure that seems to be building toward something, and she rocks her hips up unthinkingly, searching for some sort of release, some sort of friction that might help take care of the deep, persistent ache.

She needs to find a way to get Pansy closer.

One of Hermione's hands falls uselessly to her side to grip at the edge of the table as Pansy's tongue starts to move in even, firm, maddening strokes against hers, and as her fingers flex helplessly against the wood, her mind puts together a foggy plan.

She's on the table. If she can get Pansy on the table, she could get her closer. And if she could get her closer, she could take care of the mounting, desperate need overwhelming her body. But how? How?

And somehow, through all the potent desire clouding her thoughts, she comes up with a solution.

The next time Pansy's lips leave hers, Hermione pulls back, far enough that Pansy can't reach out and capture her again.

At the loss of Hermione's lips, Pansy slowly blinks open dark eyes. She's panting, her hair is beautifully disheveled, and she's looking at Hermione with just the slightest hint of concern dancing in her hungry gaze. "Hermione…I—"

But whatever she's about to say dies on her lips. Instead, her eyes flash with interest as Hermione slowly moves backward across the wide table. When she's sure she has enough room, she leans forward and deliberately winds her hand around Pansy's tie. Then, without ever dropping Pansy's gaze, she gently tugs on the tie and quirks up an eyebrow, silently challenging Pansy to meet her.

Pansy's mouth falls open just a bit at the invitation, but it doesn't take long for her body to start moving. Slowly, Hermione starts to lie back, but at the last minute she props herself up on her elbows, intent on watching Pansy's face as she climbs onto the table and settles over her. And she's glad she does, because Pansy takes her time, letting her smoldering gaze rake over Hermione's body, taking in every part of her in a way that feels almost visceral.

Something molten rushes through Hermione's body at the look, scorching through her veins, and as she watches Pansy settle her hands on either side of her, she lifts a finger to gently trace the other girl's swollen lower lip, allowing herself just a moment away from the potent desire to fully appreciate how absurdly beautiful the girl above her is. Green eyes grow impossibly darker at the simple touch, but Pansy doesn't lean down to capture Hermione's lips. Instead, she waits as Hermione continues to trace a lazy finger over her lip, her chest heaving and her breath coming in sharp, erratic puffs.

Hermione shouldn't feel this way. She shouldn't feel absolutely beside herself with want and so desperate to explore every part of Pansy's body, because that's just not who she is. She's logical and practical Hermione Jean Granger. She's the person who had always looked down her nose at the couples she'd find on patrols, desperately wrapped up in each other, hands sometimes hidden indecently in places she couldn't see. She's the person who had always rolled her eyes and wondered why it seemed to be so hard for them to keep their urges under control. She had always assumed that if she was ever lucky enough to find someone, she'd be smart enough to make good decisions and show restraint.

Because that's the kind of person Hermione is. Which is why right now, she should be thinking about how this can't happen, not here in an unused classroom. She should sensibly say, "maybe it's time to stop." She should be thinking about how they should absolutely be putting space between their bodies.

But right now, Hermione doesn't feel like being sensible. And she certainly doesn't want to practice restraint.

All she wants is Pansy.

As Hermione continues to lightly trace Pansy's lip, she lets her heavy-lidded, entranced gaze settle on the other girl's mouth.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" Hermione asks in a rough voice that's so low, it's almost unrecognizable to her own ears. She lets her hand trail lower, fingers gently sweeping against the sensitive skin of Pansy's neck. "How you make me feel?" She swipes a finger along Pansy's collarbone before letting it trail up and down between Pansy's breasts. She watches as the other girl shivers in anticipation, then raises her gaze to lock eyes with Pansy. "Do you know how many times I've thought about you when I'm alone at night?" she murmurs. She sees Pansy's breath catch at the words, at the sheer implication behind her statement, and somehow, Hermione finds the nerve to whisper the final part of her confession. "I want you, Pansy" she breathes, never taking her heavy gaze off of Pansy's equally lust glazed eyes. "I want you so fucking badly, I—"

And once again, the simple curse works its magic, because Pansy's immediately surging forward to steal the words from Hermione's lips in a rough, almost lewd kiss that Hermione can feel all over her body.

There's a small part of her that wonders what her friends would say if they could see her right now, absolutely beside herself with need. She wonders if they'd be surprised by her blown pupils and her reddened lips. She wonders if their eyes would grow wide with shock at the way she desperately groans, or the way she wastes no time in pushing Pansy's robes off her body, only to toss them onto the floor a moment later. She wonders if they'd even recognize her when she immediately wraps her arms around the other girl and pulls her flush against her, at the way something in her brain seems to short circuit at the feeling of Pansy's chest against hers, or at the way her hands slide underneath Pansy's jumper to slowly scrape fingernails down Pansy's back while she bites at a soft lip.

But when Pansy releases a ragged moan and her hips jerk down sharply against Hermione's, she forgets to think.

All she wants to do is figure out a way to get Pansy's jumper off.

All she wants to feel is skin on skin.

She lets her hands start pushing up the fabric of Pansy's jumper as a bolt of anticipation streaks through her body.

They haven't gone this far yet. Normally, one of them would remember themselves and pull back, insisting that they at least try to take things slow. But right now, neither Hermione nor Pansy seem to be at all interested in slowing down. All either girl is interested in is how many groans of pleasure they can draw out of each other in this quiet, unused classroom.

But quiet, unused classrooms are something of a rarity at Hogwarts, and there's almost always someone looking for one.

And even though Pansy had locked the door, some people refuse to take no for an answer.

The quiet in the room is shattered by a loud, splintering crack as the door is roughly shoved open, and immediately, Pansy and Hermione break apart to look toward the source of the sound with wild-eyed panic.

When Pansy's able to make out who's standing there, she whispers, "oh, fuck." Her voice is still ragged and low, but Hermione can hear the fear in her tone.

And the fear is warranted, because standing in the doorway, watching them with impossible to read eyes, is Millicent Bulstrode.

There's a moment where everything grinds to a halt, as if the entire world has frozen and time has ceased to exist. Whatever blinding lust had been ravaging through Hermione's body dissipates in an instant, and in that strange, frozen moment, she finds herself wildly thinking of all the things Millicent could do to them right now. Each scenario is more awful than the last, and they all leave her body tight with fear. Yet somehow, it's not the imagining that's the worst part.

It's the waiting.

Because Millicent is just standing there, staring at the two of them, her face completely devoid of emotions, and Hermione feels like she's going to be sick. Her heart is hammering in her chest, her breath is coming out in spurts, and if she has to lie on the table for even a moment longer, waiting for whatever awful torture Millicent is coming up with, she just might die.

And then, just when she thinks she won't be able to take anymore, Millicent finally speaks.

"Will you be much longer?"

It takes a moment for the flatly delivered words to register, but once they do, Hermione's mouth drops open. The words are so wildly unexpected that she has absolutely no idea what to make of them. Somehow, she manages to pull her gaze off of the tall Slytherin to look up at Pansy, who's still hovering above her. She's hoping that Pansy might be able to shed some light on the situation, but she's staring at Millicent with a pale face and complete bewilderment in her eyes.

"Will we…I mean…what?" Pansy finally manages to ask, her voice high and strangled.

"Will you be much longer? I need to practice," Millicent adds, nodding toward something in the corner of the room.

Somehow, Hermione manages to shake herself free of shock, long enough to crane her neck toward the thing Millicent is looking at. And there, tucked away with all the other ridiculous Muggle carnival games, is an arm wrestling machine. There's a human-like arm sticking out of the front of it, its hand open and waiting for a challenger, and after a few moments of stupidly blinking at it, Hermione turns her gaze back to Millicent.

"You need to…to…what?" Pansy asks once more.

"Practice. Arm wrestling," Millicent adds, her tone still flat and bored.

Pansy glances down, her lips parted and her cheeks burning, and it's only in that moment that she seems to realize that she's still basically lying horizontally across Hermione. She fumbles her way off of her and sits down on the corner of the table, her hands gripping desperately at the edge, like she's trying to anchor herself. Hermione follows suit, sitting up and tightly crossing her arms across her chest, all the while purposefully avoiding Millicent's gaze. She glances toward Pansy, but the other girl is simply staring at Millicent, completely mystified. A few silent seconds tick by as Hermione waits for Pansy to take the lead, but when it becomes abundantly clear that Pansy's lost the ability to speak, Hermione grits her teeth and pushes past her discomfort in an effort to find out just how fucked they are.

"Sorry," Hermione says, her voice low. "You…I mean…aren't you…upset?"

Millicent's dark gaze ticks over to Hermione and as she looks at her, an emotion finally flickers into her dark brown eyes. But it's not the usual revulsion and hatred Hermione's used to seeing from certain members of the Slytherin house. It's something more muted, like simple dislike and annoyance, and Hermione feels bizarrely comforted by the sight. Because at the very least, it seems like Millicent isn't going to curse them.

At the very least, they might get out of this room in one piece.

After a moment, Millicent says, "upset about what?"

Pansy seems to come back to life at the remark, laughing almost wildly beside Hermione. "Upset about what?" she asks, thrusting a hand through her hair. "Upset about what!" she repeats, her voice still coming out far too high.

Hermione lays a hand on Pansy's thigh, but when she remembers who's watching them, she thinks better of it and quickly removes it. "Upset about…about what you just saw?" she somehow manages to ask, her cheeks burning as she thinks about how much Millicent had just seen. "I mean, I'd imagine it's a shock," she finally manages, dropping her gaze with embarrassment, "but I just—"

"It's not."

Whatever Hermione's about to say dies on her lips. Instead, she raises confused eyes to Millicent. "It's…it's not?" she hazards.

"No."

"But I…I don't…" Hermione trails off as she ponders the strange reply, and after a moment, something occurs to her. "Wait," she says, raising cautious eyes to Millicent. "Did you already know?"

She feels the way Pansy's body tenses beside her, but before she can even turn to glance at her, Millicent shrugs. "Yeah. Doesn't everybody?"