"Right. That. So it's something I need to change the way I think about. And I will," Ron says, his tone so earnest that Hermione can't find it within herself to doubt him. "I will, I promise. But I just need you to know that I don't think there's something wrong with you. Though mind you, I am a little suspicious of your taste in women…"
Hermione immediately scoffs. "This coming from someone who dated Lavender?" she asks, arching an eyebrow.
Ron flashes her a crooked half-grin. "Suppose that's fair." His grin fades and he sighs. "But anyway, I just wanted you to know that I…I still love you. No matter what." But before Hermione can react to the simple declaration, Ron adds, "and I mean, it's not like I disagree with you. I wouldn't fancy blokes, either. Which I guess is why I reacted the way I did to the whole idea of it. But I mean, who would fancy a bloke, given the alternative? Blokes are disgusting, and I should know—I've lived with four of them for seven years now. Honestly, the smells in that room alone…"
That draws a real smile to Hermione's face for the first time, and Ron must notice, because his lips turn up tentatively .
Hermione's slowly let some of the ice around her heart thaw, and even though she's still a bit sore at him, she decides to accept the olive branch he's extending. "Thank you for saying you'll try. I know that this isn't what you were expecting, so I appreciate the effort."
Ron snorts. "Considering I was kind of expecting the two of us to end up together and instead, you've ended up with Parkinson? No. It's definitely not what I was expecting."
"Trust me, no one is more surprised than I am," Hermione says. She frowns a bit, then tentatively says, "and as far as the second-guessing goes…"
"I'll stop. Or at least, I'll do my best to stop. I'm not always good at catching myself," Ron admits, "but I'll try. And you can call me out anytime I mess up and…and…I dunno, shove a Filibuster's up my arse."
Hermione laughs, taken aback by the remark. "I don't know if I'd go to such drastic measures."
"You could," Ron says. "I'd honestly deserve it, after all the shit I've put you through." He nervously clasps his hands together, then leans forward and says, "do you remember what I told you? After you said you didn't want to go out with me? Which, mind you, I feel loads better about now, knowing what I do," he adds with a wry smile.
Hermione rolls her eyes, then shakes her head. "Not off the top of my head, no."
"I told you that I didn't ever want to hate you," he says, his voice quiet and his eyes serious. "And I don't want you to ever hate me. And I don't know about you, but I've kind of hated the way things have felt between us lately. I hated being mad at you and I hated that you were mad at me. Which is all my fault," he adds quickly. "I know I've been a massive prat, and you were right to be mad, and I'm sorry. But I just…do you think you could maybe forgive me?"
Ron's tone is hopeful, but his face is creased in concern, and Hermione feels the last of the ice melt from her heart as she looks at him. Because he might be a prat, and he might put his foot in his mouth, and he might even continue to second-guess her a time or two in the future. But even though he might be all of those things, she still loves him. She loves his fierce loyalty and his determination to protect his loved ones. She loves that he's not completely stuck in his ways and he's willing to change his mind. She loves that even if he went about it wrong, his heart was in the right place, and everything he did was out of love and concern for her.
She loves him.
"I can forgive you," she says. "So long as you promise to make the effort, I can forgive you. I know you were only worried about me, and I appreciate that. And I…I know I said some things I shouldn't have—"
"It was all deserved."
"I'm not sure about that," Hermione says with a small wince. "But even when I was cross with you, I still loved you. And I've missed you," she adds, her voice breaking just a touch. "You and Harry mean everything to me. I hope you know that."
Ron's eyes soften. "I do. Same goes for you, obviously. You and Harry."
Hermione nods, then worries her lower lip. "And as for Pansy…I know it'll take a while to adjust to. And that's fine. You can take all the time you need, and I promise, I won't force you to spend any time with her until you're ready. And actually, for what it's worth, you don't everhave to get along with her. I mean, I'd love it if you would both try, but…" she sighs and shakes her head. "Let's just say I'm not sure which of you would have the harder time playing nice. You're both surprisingly stubborn."
"Well, there's one thing we have in common. And it seems like we both care about you, so…" Ron shrugs. "Two things isn't a bad start. Mind you, you're right—we'll never be mates, but…if she's willing to try, I guess I am, too."
Hermione laughs. "That probably makes you the bigger person, because I honestly don't know if she would be willing to try. But I'll talk to her." She tilts her head thoughtfully, then says, "you know, something tells me the fact you're willing to try will spur her to one-up you. You might become friends out of pure, competitive spite alone," she says, a fond smile flickering to her face as she thinks about her completely ridiculous witch.
Ron surveys her quietly for a moment, then says, "you actually love her." There's no judgment, spite, or surprise in his tone. He just says it as if it's a statement of fact, and Hermione smiles at him and shrugs.
"I actually do."
"Blimey. That's…I mean, You-Know-Who was literally sharing a head with Quirrell for all of first year, and somehow, this is still stranger."
"It's certainly up there," Hermione says, privately thinking that Quirrell and Voldemort sharing a head was just a tad stranger than her and Pansy dating. "But even though it's strange, I just…thank you for apologizing. And thank you for trying to understand. And for not second-guessing me anymore."
"Sorry it took so long," Ron says with an apologetic grimace. "Though to be honest? I don't think there's anything you can ever do that'll ever top this. You could probably make any other mental decision in the world and I wouldn't second-guess it. I think I'm beyond being surprised by you at this point."
Hermione chuckles and leans back in her chair. "So if I told you I was dropping out of school to trek after yetis with Gilderoy Lockhart…?"
"I'd buy you snowshoes," Ron says without missing a beat.
"And if I told you I've secretly fancied Rita Skeeter for years, you'd…?"
"Support you all the way, no questions asked."
"And if I said I thought the library was overrated and I'd decided not to study for my exams?"
Ron's gaze turns serious. "I'd figure out who the ruddy hell was impersonating you and get the real you back."
Hermione laughs. "Good. I'd expect nothing less."
Ron smiles at her, but then falters for just a moment. "Hang on…you don't…you don't actually fancy Rita Skeeter, do you?" he asks nervously.
Hermione stares at him for a moment, completely taken aback by how absolutely absurd and quite frankly, offensive the question is.
Does she fancy Rita Skeeter.
Honestly.
But then, in the space of a few seconds, she makes up her mind to have some fun.
Because after all she's been through, surely she deserves it.
"Would it be a problem if I did?" she asks nervously, taking care to school her face into something suitably anxious.
Ron gapes at her for just a moment before quickly managing to splutter, "no!" His face is bright red and Hermione grips her thigh tightly to keep her smile in check. "I mean, no, not at all," he says. "You can…you can absolutely fancy her. That's…I mean, she's…she's…."
Hermione raises an eyebrow, interested to hear how Ron is going to complete this particular sentence. "She's…?"
"Well, you know! She's…I mean, she…she's got a nice…jaw?"
Hermione somehow stifles her urge to laugh at the ridiculous remark and instead, nods. "She does. And actually, it's funny you should say that, because that's what attracted me to her in the first place," she says, making her voice sound vaguely dreamy, as if she's lost in fond memories of Rita Skeeter's jaw.
"Is it?" Ron says weakly, looking as if he might be ill. "I mean, I can see why. It's…it's…commanding," he manages to add, his face practically puce and his mouth twisted into something that resembles half a smile, half a grimace.
"Mm. And that's what really does it for me," Hermione says, her voice trembling with barely concealed laughter as she cocks a suggestive brow. "A commanding jaw."
Ron's lips part in shock, but somehow, he manages a jerky nod. "Right," he says miserably as he pushes a hand through his hair. "Right, well…that's…I mean, that's…"
As Ron continues to stutter around something that sounds vaguely like support, Hermione finally loses her battle and an inelegant snort escapes her lips. And when Ron swings his gaze up to stare at her with wide eyes, she can't keep up the facade. Immediately, she dissolves into helpless laughter.
"Hermione…why are you…"
She manages to lift her gaze to find Ron watching her with narrowed, suspicious eyes. She laughs even harder as he folds his arms across his chest, and after a moment, she waves a weak hand as she tries to get herself under control. "Sorry. Sorry, I just…a commanding jaw," she manages to wheeze, before dissolving into laughter all over again.
"Well, how should I know?" Ron mutters darkly. "I mean, after Parkinson, all bets are off."
When she finally gets herself under control, she wipes at her watering eyes and says, "oh, please, Pansy's gorgeous. Rita Skeeter looks like a constipated bulldog and has the personality of a cruel, vile mosquito. If I ever decide to fancy her, you can second-guess me as much as you like because I'll have officially lost my mind."
"Good to know there's a line," Ron says with an amused look.
"There is, and it will always be Rita Skeeter."
"I'll keep that in mind. But as for Parkinson…" Ron says, once again running a hand through his hair as he circles back to the main subject at hand. "I can't say that I'm ready to spend time with her just yet. Maybe one day, but…something tells me if we tried now, we'd just end up in a massive fight and we'd inadvertently force you to pick sides and that wouldn't be fair to you, would it?"
It's a surprisingly fair appraisal of the situation at hand. "You're probably right," Hermione says. "I suppose I'll have to introduce you two to each other like cats."
"How do you introduce cats to each other?" Ron asks with interest.
"Very, very cautiously," Hermione says with a smile. "And actually, I think you're supposed to set up meals with a closed door between them. So maybe one day if you're up to it, you and Pansy could eat dinner with a door between you."
"I'm not sure a door will stop her from insulting me, but I guess we could try."
Hermione winces a bit at Ron's flatly delivered words. Because now that the ice in her heart has melted and she's thinking more levelly about things, she realizes that the same situation that was true for Ginny is true for Ron—Pansy hadn't exactly ever been kind to him.
She'd actually been fairly awful over the years.
"I'm sorry," she murmurs, thinking for the first time about how this impacts Ron. "I got so caught up in my own feelings that I didn't stop to think about your relationship with Pansy."
Ron grimaces. "Maybe don't refer to it as a relationship…"
"You know what I mean," Hermione says, rolling her eyes. "But I just…I know things between you two have never been good. And I know she's done things to you and called you names and—"
"I'm not sure she actually knows my first name," Ron puts in dryly. "I think it's always either been Weasley, Weasel, or blood traitor." He cocks his head and says, "suppose she's in the same boat now, though. Could have Mum knit matching jumpers for the two of us."
Hermione has a sudden, vivid image of Pansy and Ron in matching jumpers, and the furiously grumpy expression on Pansy's face makes her smile despite herself. "I'll be sure to broach the idea," she says. "But like I said, I won't take offense if you never want to know her. Though I think she'd probably be willing to apologize," she adds, less sure about that statement than she had been when she made a similar promise to Ginny.
Pansy really, really dislikes Ron.
Ron shrugs. "We'll figure something out. I mean, Icertainly don't plan on going anywhere," he adds, his eyes bright and a small, almost smile lurking on his face. "I'll always be around, so long as you want me."
"And I do," Hermione says quickly.
"Then I guess I'll just have to figure out a way to coexist with…with Pansy Parkinson. Of all people, Pansy Parkinson," Ron says, amazement coloring his tone. "I mean, Merlin's pants, Hermione…you really are the most surprising person I've ever met."
Hermione smiles and leans back in her chair. And as Ron continues to ask her questions about her relationship with Pansy, somehow, she finally feels at peace.
Harry knows. Ginny knows. Ron knows. And they've all managed to reach a place of understanding. Of acceptance.
They all still love her.
There are still worries, of course. One day, she'll have to tell her parents, and of course, there's still the thought of how the world in general will react. But in this moment, neither of those things really matter. All that matters is that her friends still care about her, and they've all decided to tentatively accept the fact she's chosen Pansy to love. It's more than she could have ever hoped for, more than she would have ever dreamt of, and even though the path ahead is still largely unknown, it's a path she can't wait to embark upon.
Because she and Pansy are together.
She still has all of her friends.
And somehow, at long last, she's at peace.
***
Hermione checks her outfit for the fifteenth time in the mirror, biting her lip nervously as she runs her hands down her sides.
"You're sure this dress isn't too much?" she asks, glancing toward Ginny who's seated on her bed, idly flipping through the Daily Prophet that Hermione had left there earlier in the day.
Ginny glances up and quirks an eyebrow. "I mean, considering how fast it's going to be on the ground? Maybe. But other than that, no. It's perfect and you look gorgeous. Parkinson won't know what hit her." She tosses the Prophet to the side and says, "And to be honest, I don't even know why you're worried. You could show up in a potato sack and she'd still want to snog you."
Hermione's brow furrows as she takes in her appearance once more. She's wearing an elegant and shimmering silver evening gown with a slit up the right leg, and she's paired the dress with low, strappy heels and a pair of diamond drop earrings her mum gifted her for her last birthday. Her hair is pulled back in a simple, stylish chignon, she's wearing makeup, and to be quite honest, even though she looks good, she feels ridiculous. Because really, who wears an evening gown for a date?
"I just think this is overkill. I mean, it's a date, not a royal wedding."
Ginny scoots forward to the edge of Hermione's bed and crosses her legs. "You're sure she said to dress this formal?"
Hermione shrugs helplessly. "I think so? I don't know. Yesterday was mad."
And it was. Because yesterday was the day parchment pals had finally been revealed.
"I didn't think I'd be so nervous," Ron had said, bouncing his leg beside Hermione. "I mean, I haven't even really talked to mine. All we've done is play chess."
Harry had shrugged and through a mouthful of food said, "'s normal. Three months of waiting builds anticipation."
"Suppose so. I mean, for those of us who managed to wait three months," Ron added, sparing an amused glance toward Hermione.
She flushed and took another bite of her poached eggs. "I was only two weeks short," she said with as much dignity as she could manage. "In the grand scheme of things, that's hardly anything."
"Two weeks, a day…all I'm hearing is Hermione Granger didn't do an assignment properly," Ron said with a grin.
Hermione picked up her mug and rolled her eyes, but still managed to return his smile. Over the past week, things had gone back to normal between the two of them, and frankly, Hermione was thrilled.
She really had missed him.
Harry, Ron, and Ginny kept up a steady stream of conversation as they hypothesized about who their parchment pals could be, and after a few minutes, the moment in question finally arrived.
"If I may have your attention?"
Hermione looked up toward the lectern to find McGonagall, patiently staring down at the assembly of students. She had amplified her voice to be heard across the Great Hall, and it didn't take long for every eye to turn toward her. Once the chatter died down, McGonagall nodded and clasped her hands together. "Today marks the conclusion of the…the parchment pal experiment," she said, still sounding less than enthused about the name, even three months later. "I'd like to thank all students who participated, and I'd like to especially thank those who adhered to the rules."
"Reckon that leaves you out," Ron muttered under his breath to Hermione.
"I sincerely hope this was an enjoyable experience—"
" Too enjoyable for some of us," Ginny said with a grin toward Hermione, who huffed in frustration at the apparent brother-sister tag-team mocking.
"—and that you've come to the realization that no matter what colors you wear, in the end, you are all Hogwarts students," McGonagall said, gazing around the Great Hall. "Now, one more note before names are revealed—in order to be eligible for your house total, you'll need to submit your essay before the last day of finals. Failure to submit your findings will disqualify you, even if you participated in the experiment."
"Oh, Merlin's balls…I forgot about the bloody essay," Ron grumbled.
McGonagall picked up her wand and gave it a quick flick. "You'll find the name of your pal written on your parchment, as well as pertinent information to help you identify them, should you choose to meet. All parchments will be collected at the end of breakfast, so be sure to look now, if you want to know," McGonagall said. "When you leave the Great Hall, please leave your parchment on the table."
As the words sank in, Hermione's brow furrowed in confusion.
She hadn't realized she'd have to give back her parchment.
Her eyes flickered to the Slytherin table to find Pansy looking just as disappointed. She noticed Hermione watching her and gave a small, resigned shrug. There wasn't much either of them could do, and a magical object imbued with so many powerful charms quite frankly shouldn't be left in the hands of students. But even though she understood why she'd have to part with her parchment, it didn't stop her from feeling depressed over it.
Though of course, it didn't really matter. All that really mattered was she had Pansy.
Hermione turned her gaze back to McGonagall to listen to the rest of her speech. "While I understand that this is a highly anticipated day, please do try to keep your excitement to a reasonable degree. That said, I sincerely hope you've all learned and grown from this experiment, and I hope to see a greater camaraderie between houses in the future. If you have any questions, do see me, but other than that…please enjoy the rest of your breakfast."
An immediate buzz of excitement erupted over the Great Hall as McGonagall sat down, and even though Hermione already knew what her parchment would say, she still found herself reaching into her bag to pull out the familiar sheet.
Her eyes were immediately drawn to glistening, green ink, just below the last message Pansy had sent her this morning.
Pansy Parkinson
Slytherin
Year seven
Hermione smiled and lightly traced a finger over the name, studying the parchment with a soft, fond smile.
"I knew I had a Slytherin," Ginny said, pulling Hermione's focus away from the dark, green words that had made her heart skip a beat. "Aidan Williams, Slytherin, year two." She frowned and said, "I'm a bit offended a second year didn't want to talk to me." She glanced to Harry. "Who's yours?"
"Claire Darrington. Hufflepuff fifth year."
"Do you know her?" Ginny asked.
"Name sounds familiar, but no, not really," Harry said with a shrug. "And she barely talked to me, either, so I guess we both made shit first impressions over parchment."
"Well, we can't all be Hermione," Ginny said. "Though selfishly, I'm glad you're a piss-poor writer and didn't make this Claire fall in love with you," she added, smirking at Harry.
Harry chuckled. "Guess the two piss-poor writers are stuck with each other."
"Guess so," Ginny agreed, leaning forward to drop a quick kiss on Harry's cheek.
Harry grinned as he soaked up a bit of egg yolk with a small piece of toast, then he turned to Ron. "Who'd you get?" he asked, popping the toast in his mouth.
"Judy Quinn, Ravenclaw fourth year. Suppose that explains why she was so good at chess. Though I was only a few moves away from beating her last game."
"Easy to say that when she's not here to defend herself," Ginny said.
"No, really! I was! Two more moves and I would've had her."
"Sure, Ron. You definitely would have had her," Ginny said, exaggeratedly rolling her eyes for Hermione and Harry's sake.
"No, I—" Ron's eyes lit up and he pushed his plate away. "Here, I'll show you…"
Ron bent down to grab his travel chess set out of his bag, and Ginny immediately groaned. "I take it back. You would've beaten her. Just please don't set up that stupid chess set."
"It's not stupid," Ron muttered, placing the board on the table and tossing his bag back to the floor. "It's handy. And it'll prove my point."
"Maybe, but what you've failed to consider is no one here cares ," Ginny said. "Can't you go find Julie Quinn—"
"Judy Quinn," Hermione automatically corrected.
"Whatever," Ginny said, waving a hand. "Can't you go find her and bore her to tears?"
Ron started moving pieces around quickly. "What? No, don't be mad." He frowned, consulted his parchment, then swapped two pieces and nodded with satisfaction. "I can't find her before I've set the board."
Ginny blinked at him a few times. "You're actually going to find her?"
"Well, yeah. Wasn't that the whole point of this parchment pal thing, anyway? Making new connections outside of our house? And besides, she was beating me by two games. I need this game to close the gap," Ron said, sounding surprisingly eager. "Now! This is the board right now. And this is what my next move is going to be…"
Ginny groaned and buried her head in her hands with a muttered remark that sounded a bit like "fuck me," but Hermione did Ron the favor of watching for a few moves and even pretended to be interested in his strategy.
But then, something familiar caught her eye.
Silver lines of writing on her parchment.
She swiftly looked toward Pansy to find the other girl already watching her with a smile. The rest of her table was still thoroughly entranced in conversation, but Pansy was twirling her quill, completely ignoring everything around her. When she noticed the wondering look on Hermione's face, she shrugged. Clearly, she hadn't been expecting the message to go through either, but she seemed pleased that it had.
Hermione tuned Ron out and pulled her parchment toward her to read whatever Pansy had sent.
Dear Robin,
Now that everything is out in the open, and now that this might be the last message I ever get to send to you, I'd like to ask you something that I've been wanting to ask since day one…
Will you go on a date with me?
I know it's a long shot—someone like you must have countless suitors, ready and waiting to sweep you off your feet. And to be honest, I don't have much to offer you. But there is one thing I could give to you that none of those other suitors could…
I have a dragon.
(Also, I'm desperately, madly, deeply, incredibly, wildly, head-over-heels in love with you.)
I hope one of those two things will be enough to sway you.
I eagerly await your reply, but until then, I remain yours, always and forever,
Bard ♥
Hermione couldn't fight off the smile on her face as she read, and old habits had her immediately reaching for her quill. Before she could start writing, she glanced toward Ron to make sure he was still preoccupied with his chess game (he was), and Ginny and Harry, to make sure they were every bit as tuned out as she was (they were).
Satisfied that Ron would be able to entertain himself for a little while longer, she picked up her quill to send a long, equally lovely reply, but at the very last minute, she hesitated. She tapped the feather against her lips a few times, then with a smirk, she scribbled out one single sentence and tapped it with her wand.
What kind of dragon are we talking about?
She watched as Pansy looked down at her parchment, and the moment Pansy rolled her eyes, Hermione grinned.
Pansy spared one quick glance for her, shook her head in amused disbelief, then started writing. It didn't take long for her message to come through.
I see how it is…the dragon supersedes love?
Hermione wrote back just as quickly.
I mean…I've heard a rumor you have a somewhat strange fascination with Acromantulas. Just need to be sure there's at least one worthwhile reason for me to go on this date.
Hermione glanced up once more and when she saw Pansy give an incredulous huff at her message, she couldn't help but emit a small snuffle of laughter. She didn't take her eyes off of Pansy, watching with amusement as the other girl's hand flew across the page. The moment she touched her wand to the paper, Hermione looked down.
It would seem you're talking to an unreliable source. I'd imagine it was a Gryffindor seventh-year? Swotty but absolutely gorgeous Head Girl? Goes by the name of Hermione Granger? I wouldn't listen to a word she says—she's desperately in love with me and just jealous I'm asking you on a date. A date which I still don't know if you've accepted, mind you.
Hermione smirked as she replied, once again, completely lost in the world she and Pansy had created together.
A swotty Head Girl, hm? I'd watch out for that type—they're usually surprisingly incapable of keeping their hands to themselves…especially around pretty girls. But as for your question, yes. I'd love to go on a date with you. Anytime. Anywhere. ♥
Pansy finally seemed pleased by Hermione's answer. She smiled at the page, then quickly scratched out a few more lines.
Meet me outside of the Great Hall tomorrow. 10PM.
Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise at the location choice. Obviously, the Great Hall would be locked at 10PM on a Saturday. So where was Pansy actually planning on taking her?
She pondered the delightful mystery but before she could reply, another message showed up on her parchment.
Oh, and wear something nice.
The directive was surprising, and Hermione quickly replied.
How nice?
The reply was swift.
The fancier, the better.
Hermione's brow furrowed as she tried to figure out what on earth Pansy had in mind, but before she could ask anymore questions, she was distracted by a roar of anguish from Ron.
Startled, she looked up to find him staring at the chess board with wide, stunned eyes and a red face, and a complete stranger sitting opposite him, an eyebrow arched and a smug smile on her face.
"What was that about "almost having her beat?"' Ginny asked gleefully. She clapped the strange girl on the back (who Hermione reasoned must be Judy Quinn, Ravenclaw fourth year), and said, "that was brilliant. You're brilliant. And you're welcome here anytime, so long as you keep handing Ron his arse on a regular basis."
Judy gave Ginny a small smile, then primly stuck out her hand to Ron. "Good game."
Ron stared at the hand for a long moment, so long that Hermione had to elbow him to get him to take it. "Good game," he grumbled, shaking her hand begrudgingly. As soon as he dropped it, he quickly said, "rematch?"
Judy's dark eyes sparkled just a bit and she tucked her hair behind her ears. "Sure. I'm always happy to help beginners improve," she said. The corners of her mouth twitched up just a bit as she reset her side of the board.
Hermione laughed, Harry practically guffawed, and Ginny's mouth dropped open in complete delight. "Okay, where have you been all my life?" she asked.
"Piss off," Ron grumbled at Ginny as he reset his side of the board.
"No, really. She's brilliant," Ginny said. "Honestly, I take it all back—you can bring your little chessboard out anytime at all, so long as Judy's here."
The rest of breakfast had been spent watching Judy and Ron play speed chess (she won four games to his one, much to Ginny's absolute delight), and as they were about to start a sixth game, Hermione had to gently remind them that they had Potions in a few minutes. While Ron packed up his chess things, she reached for her parchment to tuck it back into her bag, only to be interrupted by Harry, clearing his throat.
"We're supposed to leave those on the table, aren't we?" he asked, nodding at her parchment.
"Oh," Hermione murmured, looking down at the paper. "You're right."
Slowly, she placed the parchment down on the table and let her fingers sweep over the surface one last time. After a long moment, she cleared the words with a tap of her wand, and as they faded away, she couldn't help but feel like she was losing something important. Hermione was quite sentimental, and leaving behind the scrap of paper that had changed her entire life was breaking her heart. After all, she and Pansy had managed an entire courtship on that simple sheet of paper. They had laid their souls bare, offered their hearts to each other, confided in each other, laughed with each other, and had somehow, managed to fall in love without even knowing the other's names. It seemed wrong to leave the parchment behind when it had played such a vital role in their relationship.
But then, she glanced up at Pansy, who was laughing at something Daphne had said, and as she watched, she realized that as much as it hurt her to leave it behind, she really didn't need it anymore. After all, the parchment had done its job. It had stripped them bare of their preconceived notions and forced them to talk to each other. It had made them realize how much they had in common and opened their eyes to how much they could love each other. It had done precisely what it set out to do, and now that Hermione has the real thing, she doesn't need Pansy's voice on a scrap of parchment. Not when she has Pansy.
With one last gentle sweep of her fingers, she said her goodbyes and murmured, "thank you," to the parchment, ignoring the curious looks from Harry and Ron. Then, she turned her back to it and started toward Potions.
"Hermione?"
Hermione looks up from her memories and turns to find Ginny, peering at her with interest.
"Sorry," Hermione says. "Sorry, I just…" she smooths down the fabric of her dress and says, "I think I'm just a bit nervous."
"About the dress?"
"About all of it," Hermione admits. "I mean, we've never gone on a date before, and even though logically, I know it's no different than anything else we've done, it just…it feels different. More real, I suppose. And I don't want to immediately ruin it by showing up and looking ridiculous," she adds, turning to scrutinize herself once more.
"You don't look ridiculous at all," Ginny says, catching Hermione's eye in the mirror's reflection. "You're stunning. I told you, Parkinson's not going to know what hit her."
"Thank you," Hermione says, lifting a hand to fuss with her hair. "I hope you're right."
"I am. Though actually…how are you planning on getting past everyone in the common room? You're going to get some questions, looking like that."
Hermione chuckles. "Honestly, thank god Lavender and Parvati are out. They'd have so many questions, I'd never make it past the door." She fidgets with the slit at her leg and says, "I'll transfigure everything before I leave. It'll hold until I get to the Great Hall." She turns around and looks nervously at Ginny. "You really think I look okay?"
"Hermione. You're absolutely gorgeous. Honestly? I think you're going to do the impossible."
"The impossible?" Hermione echoes, tilting her head in confusion.
"Mm. You're finally, finally going to render Parkinson speechless."
Hermione laughs in surprise. "Thank you," she says, sparing a quick, grateful smile for Ginny and her words of reassurance. Then, she frowns and asks, "actually, what time is it?"
Ginny checks her watch. "Quarter til ten. If you're going to transfigure your clothes, you'd better do it now."
"Right. You're right," Hermione says. She checks herself carefully one last time in the mirror, gives a satisfied nod, then reaches for her wand and gives it a quick flick. Immediately, the dress transforms into a standard robe and the heels morph into a pair of sensible trainers. She reaches up, takes off her earrings, and tucks them into her pocket for safekeeping. There's not much she can do about the hair and makeup, so she'll just have to hope the common room is mostly empty. Once she's satisfied she looks like she would any other night of the week, she turns back to Ginny.
"Good?" she asks, spreading her arms and letting Ginny inspect her handiwork.
"McGonagall couldn't have done any better."
"I sincerely doubt that, but thank you." Hermione takes a deep breath and says, "right. I should go."
Ginny stands from her bed and stretches her arms over her head. "You should. But I want to hear all about it tomorrow."
Hermione blinks at her a few times in surprise. "You do?"
"Yeah. I mean, I'm honestly dying to know what she's got planned. Harry and I never know where to go on dates. We usually just end up walking around the Quidditch pitch and snogging under the stands, then going to the Great Hall for dinner," she says. "Doesn't exactly scream romance, does it?"
"No, not really, but I'll be sure to pitch it as an alternative if Pansy's idea doesn't work out," Hermione says as she tucks her wand into her pocket.
"Well, whatever she has planned, I hope it's worth all the effort you just went through," Ginny says, heading to the door.
"I hope so, too. And…thank you," Hermione murmurs, following Ginny through the door. "Really, it…it means a lot to me that you're taking an interest."
Ginny nods and steps into the common room, which is thankfully, mostly empty. As they walk toward the portrait, she says, "I'll always take an interest. Especially when I can see how happy it's making you." She stops in front of the portrait and before Hermione can let herself get emotional over Ginny's simply delivered words, Ginny says, "right, then! Go on. And don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"Is there anything you wouldn't do?" Hermione asks curiously.
"Absolutely not," Ginny says, giving her a devilish smirk.
Hermione laughs as she opens the portrait, then says, "I'll keep that in mind. And I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks again for helping me get ready. And for…for everything," she adds quietly.
Ginny smiles. "Anytime. Now go and woo the pants off Parkinson," she says, her eyes twinkling.
Hermione's mouth falls open in surprise, and Ginny laughs. After a moment, Hermione collects herself and says, "god…Daphne rubbed off on you."
"I wouldn't go that far, but she did have one or two good ideas," Ginny says. Before Hermione can reply, though, she adds, "anyway, those pants aren't going to woo themselves off, so go. And have fun tonight."
"Thank you," Hermione says as she exits the doorway, deciding not to comment any more on the state of Pansy's pants. She gives Ginny a little wave, then sets off toward the Great Hall. As she walks, she takes her earrings out of her pocket and puts them back on, all the while trying to think of what Pansy might have planned for the night. Her best guess as of right now is some kind of outdoor picnic, perhaps under the beech tree where they had first kissed. She's also entertained the thought that Pansy might want to utilize one of the secret passageways and sneak into Hogsmeade—she had seemed quite taken by that idea when Hermione had told her about the passage that led directly to Honeyduke's, and Hermione has a feeling she wants to test it out and replenish her stash of pear drops. But even though Hermione's not above breaking a rule or two, she's not sure if she'd allow Pansy's love affair with pear drops to sway her into sneaking off school grounds at ten o'clock at night.
By the time she finally arrives at the Great Hall, she's practically vibrating with anticipation. She's invented all sorts of scenarios in her mind, and she can barely wait to find out what Pansy has planned. And as luck would have it, she won't have to wait long—Pansy's already there, waiting for her arrival.
The other girl hasn't heard her yet, so Hermione stops just short of where she'd be visible to almost hungrily admire the way Pansy looks from afar.
Because god, does she look good.
She's wearing a dark green, velvet suit with jet black lapels. She's buttoned the suit coat at the very bottom, but the top features a plunging neckline, and in a very welcome turn of events, Pansy's elected to not wear anything underneath. Hermione swallows hard as she takes in Pansy's exposed skin and the tempting curves of her breasts, finding herself already eager to explore everything before her with her lips. Slowly, her eyes track the rest of Pansy's body, from the sky-high, emerald green heels, all the way up to her dramatic makeup. She's sporting a smokey eye and a dark red lip, and even though she's cutting quite a figure, Hermione can still see the spark of anxiety in her eyes as they sweep the room. And even though Hermione would be more than happy to simply drink in the way Pansy looks all night, she decides to put her at ease and make her presence known.
She takes a quick moment while she's still in the shadows to transfigure her clothing back to its previous splendor and lifts a hand nervously to her hair, then with a deep breath, she steps into the light and walks toward Pansy.
Pansy immediately hears Hermione's heels and as she turns to watch her approach, her mouth falls open. Green eyes are wide with wonder, a pink flush immediately rises to pale cheeks, and somehow, just as Ginny predicted, Hermione has rendered Pansy absolutely speechless.
Hermione comes to a stop before her and gives her a soft smile as she takes in the awe-struck look in Pansy's gaze. "Hi," she says quietly.
Pansy's eyes sweep over Hermione as her mouth opens and closes wordlessly. After a moment, Hermione laughs. "I hope this is a good speechless?"
"It's…it's…Merlin," Pansy breathes. "You look…I mean, I can't…I've never…" Pansy shakes her head in wonder, and after a moment, she seems to come back to her senses. "You are so beautiful," she whispers, her voice low with emotion.
Hermione's heart jumps at both the declaration, and at just how beautiful Pansy's gaze makes her feel. She murmurs back, "you're one to talk" and takes Pansy's hand, grazing her thumb over soft skin. "You're stunning."
Pansy flushes with pleasure at the compliment and glances down at her own outfit. "You like it? I wasn't sure, but I thought…"
She trails off a bit sheepishly and Hermione releases her hand to gently tug at the lapels of the suit coat. "I love it," she says, letting a finger gently trail over the bare skin of Pansy's chest for just a moment. Pansy quietly inhales at the sensation, and without taking her eyes off of the skin in front of her, Hermione murmurs, "is there anything under this?"
Pansy exhales shakily. "If this date goes well, maybe you'll find out."
Hermione lifts her gaze. "I've always responded well to incentive," she says, arching a suggestive eyebrow. Pansy's eyes flash, but before she can say anything, Hermione takes a small step back and says, "and speaking of this date…where are we going?"
A secretive smile slides onto Pansy's face. "Not far. Actually, just through those doors," she adds, nodding to the Great Hall behind them.
"The Great Hall?" Hermione asks, confusion flickering to her face as she surveys the very heavy and presumably, very locked doors. "How? It's locked."
"Yes, but—"
"And I'm sure there are all sorts of security charms on the room itself. We wouldn't make it past the entrance."
"Probably not, but—"
"And even if by some miracle, we're able to bypass the charms, how on earth will we—"
"Hermione. Do you trust me?" Pansy asks, cutting off Hermione's questions.
"I…of course I do, but I don't—"
"Then just close your eyes."
Hermione's gaze narrows as she eyes Pansy suspiciously, and Pansy huffs out a laugh. "I'm not sure that's the face of someone who trusts me."
"I do trust you," Hermione says emphatically, "but breaking into the Great Hall—"
"We're not breaking in. And I'll answer everything, but first…close your eyes."
Hermione worries her lower lip, and after a moment, she closes her eyes. Immediately, she feels a warm hand slip into hers, gently tugging her forward. She takes a few steps and pauses, waiting for Pansy to presumably open the Great Hall doors. Hermione can hear a series of locks pop open, then the groan of heavy wooden doors creaking slightly. As soon as the noise settles, the hand pulls her forward once more.
"Wait right there and keep your eyes closed," Pansy says, her voice echoing through the Great Hall.
Hermione hears the Great Hall doors close and lock behind them, and she breathes out a small sigh of relief. At the very least, no alarms are blaring, and no professors are storming in, demanding answers. They seem to be safe for now.
Through her closed lids, Hermione sees the lighting in the room change, and after a moment, she feels Pansy return to her side and take her hand once more, leading her further into the room.
"Don't let me crash into a table," Hermione says.
Pansy chuckles. "You'll be fine, love. Just a few more steps."
After a moment, Pansy slows beside her and squeezes her hand. "Okay," she murmurs. "Open your eyes."
Hermione exhales slowly, then opens her eyes.
And this time, it's her turn for her mouth to fall open.
Because somehow, they've stepped back in time.
Somehow, it's three years ago.
And somehow, Hermione is standing in the middle of the Yule Ball once more.
The entire Great Hall is decorated just as it was that night. Snow covered conifers line the front of the room where the professor's table should be, a pristine, white dance floor has taken the place of the four house tables, and high, glittering archways of ice stretch overhead, catching the glow from thousands of twinkling fairy lights and making the entire hall sparkle. Every detail is the just as Hermione remembers, up to and including the snack table, pushed off to the corner and featuring a massive, silver bowl of punch and something that looks suspiciously like her favorite sticky toffee pudding.
She opens her mouth to try and form a sentence, when suddenly, she becomes aware of quiet strains of music, floating from somewhere in the room. It's not the Weird Sisters this time—it's something softer and mellower, and perfect for dancing.
Hermione's head reels at both the resplendency surrounding her and the overwhelming nostalgia, and she takes in the room with starry-eyes, trying to figure out how any of this is happening. After a long, dazzling moment, she turns her astonished gaze to Pansy to find the other girl watching her with soft eyes.
"Pansy," she whispers. "I…I don't…I mean, how—"
"I couldn't get my hands on a Time-Turner," Pansy says. "So I did the next best thing."
"I…I…" Hermione shakes her head, still too overwhelmed to speak.
"That night in the library," Pansy says. "The night we danced together. After we talked about what the Yule Ball could have been, I just…I kept thinking about it. I kept thinking about how badly I wanted to go back and change everything, and how much I wanted to shake myself for all the time I wasted, but I…" She exhales softly and drops her gaze to the ground with a small, sad smile. "I can't. I can't change our past," she says. Then she turns her gaze back to Hermione. "But even though I can't redo that night, I can make every moment from here on out something worth remembering. Which is why I did this. After that dance, I wanted to come as close as I could to redoing that night. I wanted to give us both the Yule Ball we deserved."
"Pansy…I…"
Hermione trails off, overwhelmed with emotion. Because somehow, this witch before her—this gorgeous, mad, absolute hopeless romantic—has somehow managed to give Hermione a private Yule Ball.
Part of Hermione wonders if this is all some elaborate dream. Because there isn't any reality that could possibly be this perfect. Things like this only exist between the pages of a fairytale.
But then again, she reasons, I am Robin Hood and she is my bard.
They're already the stuff of fairytales. Perhaps at long last, this is their happily ever after.
And if it is, it's quite a good one. It's extravagant and it's beautiful and it's just so Pansy that all Hermione can do is shake her head with quiet wonder
"It's beautiful," Hermione finally manages to say, blinking hastily to keep a surprising round of tears at bay. "You're beautiful," she adds. "I mean, just to think about something like this, I…" she trails off and laughs a bit. "You know, if you had told me a few months ago you were a massive romantic, I'd have never believed it."
Pansy immediately scoffs. "I'm not a romantic." She crosses her arms in front of herself as if she's insulted by the very idea.
"We're standing in the middle of the Yule Ball, love," Hermione says fondly. "The Yule Ball you recreated just to give us something worth remembering," she says, quoting Pansy's words back to her as she moves further into her space and lifts her hands to gently tug on Pansy's lapels. "I think you might need to reevaluate yourself, just a bit."
Pansy flushes a bit. "Oh, fine," she grumbles, letting her hands fall to Hermione's hips. "Maybe I am. But only for you."
"I can accept that," Hermione says, bumping their noses and using her grip on Pansy's jacket to pull her forward just a bit and brush their lips together. Pansy smiles as she returns the kiss, but before Hermione can properly kiss her, she pulls back to eye Hermione warily.
"You're not going to tell anyone about this, are you?"
"About what? The Yule Ball, or the fact you're a hopeless romantic?" Hermione asks, idly playing with Pansy's lapels. "To be fair, I think they'd infer the latter from the former."
"Merlin," Pansy grumbles, tilting her head down and scrunching her eyes closed. "I already have Daphne on my case about all of this. She's been driving me mad for the past week. The last thing I need is Ginny Weasley taking up the cause."
Hermione chuckles as she places a finger beneath Pansy's chin and gently angles her head back up to kiss her once more. "If it's any consolation," she murmurs, pulling back just an inch, "I think she'll be too jealous to really think about the whole hopeless romantic thing."
"Jealous? A–about what?" Pansy asks, her breath catching as Hermione slowly moves her lips to gently graze her teeth against a sensitive spot just below Pansy's ear. When she hears Pansy's noisy exhalation, she smirks.
Hermione drops a long, lingering kiss to the spot, then pulls back just a bit. "Harry and Ginny's idea of a date is walking around the Quidditch pitch and snogging under the bleachers," she says. "So something tells me Ginny is going to be beside herself when she hears about this."
Even though Pansy looks a little breathless, she still manages a small, cocky grin. "It is pretty good, isn't it?"
"It's…"
Hermione pulls her eyes away from Pansy to take in the room once more.
It's not pretty good.
It's astounding.
"How did you manage any of this?" she asks. Her natural curiosity sneaks in and manages to overwhelm her physical needs for a moment, and she takes a step back to more fully view the decorations. "I mean, it's almost identical. And how did you manage to do this in the Great Hall without anyone knowing?"
At the question, Pansy flushes. "I…may have had a little help," she slowly admits, looking a bit embarrassed.
Hermione's eyes swing back to her. "You did? Who?"
Pansy rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet. "I may have asked McGonagall."
Hermione has no idea who she had been expecting Pansy to say, but it certainly wasn't McGonagall. Her eyes grow wide and she shakes her head a bit. "I'm sorry…did you say McGonagall?"
Pansy nods, and at Hermione's incredulous silence, she deflates. "Turns out, dating her favorite student makes her more receptive to granting mad favors. When I told her I wanted to do this for you, she…" Pansy runs a hand through her hair and says, "she gave me this strange look. Almost like she thought it was funny. And I thought for sure she'd say no. I mean, I don't even know why I asked her, I was so sure she'd say no…"
"But?"
Pansy sighs. "She said after the year we've had, we deserved something nice. Said that as long as we promised to be out by midnight and not make a mess, she'd help me set all of this up." She hesitates, then adds with a small wince, "and I also may have agreed to help grade her first and second year Transfiguration students' end of year exams."
"You did?"
"I'm hoping she'll forget," Pansy says. She looks decidedly annoyed at the deal she had presumably struck in order to use the Great Hall, and Hermione can't help the smile that comes to her face.
"Be nice to them," Hermione says. "No writing mean comments on the page."
"No promises," Pansy grumbles.
Hermione grins, then glances back at the ice archways with appreciation. "I can see why McGonagall struck that deal, though," she says, craning her head back to get a better look. "This must have taken her ages."
"Not really," Pansy says, regarding McGonagall's handiwork. "It actually took her about five minutes. All the ice is just a modified Glacius charm. Clever, but not particularly tricky. And the designs aren't as elaborate as last time. Though they're still better than I could do," she admits. "The extra tables were in storage, and all the trees are transfigured. To be honest, the hardest part was those things," Pansy says, nodding toward something on one of the tables.
Hermione glances over and for the first time, she notices that the ice sculptures in the center of each table are different than they were three years ago. Back then, they had been crystalline, glittering palaces, with every intricate detail carved to perfection.
But now, standing proudly at the center of each table, is a beautifully sculpted dragon.
Hermione laughs in delight as she crosses to one of the tables. "McGonagall did these?" she asks, trailing a finger over the icy wing of a Swedish Short-Snout as she admires the careful craftsmanship in the sculpture.
"Actually, no."
Hermione hears Pansy's heels click across the floor, then feels warm arms wrap around her waist. "I had a little help with these, too," Pansy murmurs in her ear.
Hermione glances over her shoulder and raises an eyebrow, waiting to hear who Pansy had recruited.
"Turns out, Lovegood is…surprisingly talented," Pansy says with a shrug.
"You got Luna to do these?" Hermione asks, her words colored with shock at the implication Pansy had willingly talked to Luna at any point in time. "I…I…"
Pansy loosens her grip and steps to Hermione's side to examine the dragons for herself. "I ran into her last week and for some reason, she stopped to talk to me. She had just finished her Blubbering Dingbonker painting—"
"Blibbering Humdinger," Hermione corrects automatically, then immediately exhales in frustration for even having that piece of ludicrous information tucked away in her mind in the first place.
"Right. That. Anyway, she asked if I'd like to see it, and since we're doing this whole try to be nice to each other's friends thing, I said yes. Which, mind you, you got off a lot easier in this ridiculous deal than I did," Pansy says, pulling out a chair to sit down and eyeing Hermione with amusement.
"What do you mean?"
Pansy reaches out and tugs on Hermione's arm, guiding her to her lap. "I mean I have Daphne," she says once Hermione is comfortably seated and Pansy once again has her arms wound around her. "You have half the bloody school."
"You're exaggerating."
"Am I? Think about all the people I'll eventually have to be cordial to," Pansy says as she runs a hand up and down Hermione's thigh. "Lovegood, Longbottom, Potter, Weasley, Weasley…Weasley, Weasley, Weasley, Weasley, Weas—"
Hermione laughs. "You don't have to meet the entireWeasley family, you know. Just Ron and Ginny." She tilts her head for a moment, then adds, "and I suppose it'd be nice if you knew their parents. Oh, and Fred and George, too—"
"Weasley, Weasley, Weasley, Weasley…"
"Fine, you'll have to meet the entire Weasley family," Hermione concedes. After all, the Weasleys were essentially a second family to her, so it's only right they get to know the person she loves. "But for what it's worth," Hermione adds, "I might have more people, but Daphne requires the same amount of emotional energy as all of my friends put together."
Pansy snorts. "Suppose that's fair."
"Trust me, it is. Anyway, what about the Blibbering Humdinger?"
"Oh, right. Sorry," Pansy says. "I went to see it and it was…it was pretty good. As were the artichokes, actually," she adds, thoughtfully gazing at the floor. After a moment, she clears her throat and says, "anyway, once I realized she was capable, I asked if she'd be willing to help with an idea I had. She agreed. Said she knew it was for you because when I asked her, I was extra pink,"Pansy says, raising her voice to mimic Luna, "and that she'd be happy to help. And…" she gestures toward the ice dragon. "She did."
"They're amazing," Hermione says, admiring the detail once more, from the imposing, curved horn, all the way down to a perfectly chiseled snout. "Luna outdid herself."
"Mm," Pansy hums. "And I'm glad, too. After all, the entire reason you agreed to this date was because I promised you a dragon." She drops a light kiss to Hermione's shoulder, then says, "I had to deliver."
"And you did." Hermione looks around the room and shakes her head in absolute wonder. "I can't believe you did all of this. No one has ever done anything like this for me before. I can't…I mean, I…"
"You're worth all of it," Pansy says, gently interrupting when it becomes clear that Hermione is still overwhelmed. "You're worth grading papers and talking to Lovegood and meeting all two hundred and seventy-two Weasleys. I'd throw you a Yule Ball every night of the week if I could."
Somehow, Hermione finds it within herself to push past the immediate wave of love that settles in her chest, a wave that's heavy and warm and beautiful and makes her feel so many things, all at once, and she manages to gently tease Pansy. "And you think you're not a romantic."
Pansy chuckles. "Oh, piss off," she says fondly. Then, she quietly asks, "but you like it?"
"I love it. And I love you."
"I love you, too," Pansy says, kissing the bare shoulder before her once more and sending a little zip of electricity throughout Hermione's body. Pansy's fingertips sweep along Hermione's dress and she says, "I know I already said this, but you really do look amazing. I didn't think you'd top your last Yule Ball dress, but this…" she trails off and shakes her head appreciatively.
Hermione's not what you'd call vain, but the simple, honest words still manage to make her feel warm and tingly inside. But then, something occurs to her. "You remember my dress?"
To her surprise, Pansy laughs. "Kind of hard to forget, love. I mean, you were the most beautiful girl in that room, and that's including Delacour. It infuriated me to no end at the time. Somehow I hated you, but I couldn't take my eyes off of you."
"That night in the library," Hermione says as the gears turn in her mind. "That night we danced. You said you noticed me?"
"I did. Everyone did. Though it's only because you weren't being fair."
"What do you mean?" Hermione asks, her brow furrowing a bit as she tries to puzzle out Pansy's meaning.
"You were already the cleverest witch in the entire bloody school. You had no right being the most beautiful, too."
Another wave of warmth fills Hermione's chest, but she still manages to scoff. "You're being too kind."
"I'm not. And had I managed to pull my head out of my arse earlier, I would've spent the entire night completely furious at Krum for getting to dance with you all night. To be honest, I'm still furious at him for getting to kiss you that night."
"Don't be," Hermione scoffs. "There was no part of me that wanted that kiss. And if I'm being honest, I'm sure it was one of the worst kisses he's ever had. Possibly the worse," she adds with a wince as she remembers how quickly she had recoiled from his over-eager tongue.
Pansy however, looks buoyed by the words, and she smirks. "Well, if you play your cards right, maybe you'll find someone more worthwhile to kiss at this Yule Ball."
"Oh?" Hermione asks, arching an eyebrow and running gentle fingertips over Pansy's arm. "Did you have anyone in mind?"
"I—"
"Invited an Acromantula or two?"
Pansy heaves the heaviest sigh Hermione's ever heard and gently pushes a laughing Hermione from her lap. "Merlin," she grumbles good-naturedly. "You're like a dog with a bone."
"Oh," Hermione says, widening her eyes as she stands up. "Did you mean you?" She grins, takes a step closer, and winds her arms around Pansy's neck. "I suppose I could be persuaded."
She leans forward, letting her eyes flutter close and lovely anticipation swirl in her stomach, but just before she can capture Pansy's lips, the other girl takes a step back. "Oh, no," she says, eyeing Hermione. "No, just for that, I'm making you work for it."
Hermione blinks her eyes open. "You…what?" she asks a bit stupidly. "Work for it how?"
"It's a ball, isn't it? And you know what you have to do at a ball…?"
"You want to dance?" Hermione asks. She glances down at Pansy's feet and raises an eyebrow. "Can you dance?" she adds dryly.
"How dare you," Pansy gasps. "I'll have you know I can dance in heels twice this height. I could dance with actual knives strapped to my feet."
"You know you're just describing your shoes," Hermione says flatly.
"That…may be true," Pansy concedes. "But anyway, I didn't ask the prettiest girl in school to the ball only to sit at a table all night."
"I—"
"And this time, we have music."
At the reminder, Hermione cocks her head and tries to place the quiet strains floating through the air. It's vaguely familiar, all lush strings and muted trumpets, and after a moment, she glances back to Pansy with surprise. "Is that Muggle music?"
"It is."
"How on earth did you get your hands on Muggle music? And how on earth are you playing Muggle music?"
Pansy grins, grabs Hermione's hand, and pulls her toward the snack table. As they grow closer, the music gets louder, and before Hermione can place the song, Pansy points to something tucked away beneath the table.
"That's a boombox," she says. She sounds so pleased with herself for remembering the word and her eyes are shining and for a brief, ludicrous moment, Hermione is reminded of Arthur Weasley.
She wisely decides to not make that comparison to Pansy.
"I put the tape into the boombox," Pansy adds with a note of pride. She pulls her bright gaze away from the boombox to look at Hermione. "Have you ever used one of these before?"
The question is so earnest and Pansy's eyes are sparkling and Hermione can't help the little laugh that bubbles out of her. "Yes," she says, squeezing the hand she's still holding. "I've used one. My dad has a whole collection of tapes at home, actually."
Pansy's lips part in surprise. "There's more than one?"she finally asks in pure disbelief, pulling another delighted laugh from Hermione. She decides to temporarily ignore Pansy's ridiculous rule about having to earn it and leans forward to kiss Pansy.
It's slow and easy. Pansy's lips are warm and her mouth tastes of something sweet (pear drops, Hermione thinks as her tongue sweeps against Pansy's). Pansy's arms circle Hermione's waist, pulling her close, and even though it's a relatively simple kiss, it still makes Hermione's pulse thud in her ears and her skin buzz pleasantly, just like every other simple touch that came before. She had never realized her body was capable of feeling so many things from a soft brush of a hand or a warm press of lips, but when it comes to Pansy, all bets are off.
After a moment, Pansy pulls back with starry eyes. "What was that for?"
"You," Hermione says simply. "You're adorable, did you know?" She leans forward and drops another quick, chaste kiss to Pansy's lips, then asks, "where did you find a boombox?"
Pansy hesitates for a moment, as if she's trying to decide whether or not she should say something. Finally, she says, "I spoke to Professor Burbage."
Hermione's eyebrows rise at the unexpected mention of the Muggle Studies professor. "You did? About boomboxes?"
"That would be oddly specific," Pansy says with a wry smile. "No. I…I was asking her about Muggle Studies. I wanted to know if I could take classes with her over the summer."
Hermione stares at her, overwhelmed. She knows Pansy had mentioned it in passing days ago, but she had assumed she had just been day-dreaming about what could have been. But if Pansy had actually talked to Professor Burbage, then…
"And? What did she say?"
"She said she'd be happy to tutor me. Honestly, I think she was just thrilled to have a Slytherin show interest."
"But…what about your housemates? I mean, I know we'll be out of school soon, but I don't want you to put yourself in any danger if they find out before then."
Pansy shakes her head. "Only Crabbe and Goyle would be stupid enough to instigate something, but luckily, I could take them both on with all my limbs missing." She pauses thoughtfully and adds, "I could probably take them both with my head missing, come to think of it."
Hermione wrinkles her nose at the mental image, but Pansy doesn't seem to notice as she continues on. "Everyone else is…" she trails off, then shrugs. "I don't think they'd understand it, per se, but I doubt they'd be cruel."
"Really?" Hermione asks nervously.
"Really. Despite what your lot like to think, we're not all bad," Pansy says with a wry smile. "You just had the unfortunate distinction of knowing me."
"Oh, stop. You weren't that bad."
Pansy scoffs. "Are the ice dragons and boombox blinding you to our past?"
"No. I mean, you weren't great—"
"Understatement."
"But even so, I wouldn't change our past."
Pansy's body stiffens beside Hermione. "You know you don't have to say that," she says, her gaze more serious than it's been all night. "I know you've forgiven me, and trust me, I'll never take that for granted. But you don't have to act like you're okay with everything that happened. You don't have to forget."
"I'm not forgetting," Hermione says calmly. "I couldn't if I tried. But everything that happened between us is a part of me. It's a part of me, it's a part of you, and it's a part of our story. And while it may not be a perfect story, it's ours."
"It is. But it would have been nice had it started differently. Or had one of the main characters not been irredeemable for the first few chapters."
"You weren't irredeemable," Hermione says. "You may have been a bully, and you were certainly misguided, but everything you did made sense, and you've apologized. And anyway, that doesn't matter because I wouldn't want a different beginning, either."
"You wouldn't?"
"Well…I might have changed a few things," Hermione admits with a smile. "But at the risk of sounding horribly cliche, everything that happened in our past made us the people we are today. And I like those people. I like the people we grew into."
Pansy exhales quietly and murmurs, "so do I."
Hermione takes a step forward. "And if we didn't have our past, we wouldn't be standing here right now." She lifts a hand and gently brushes her knuckles against Pansy's jaw. "I don't know about you, but I wouldn't trade this moment for the world."
Hermione gently lets her thumb trail over Pansy's lower lip, noticing the way Pansy's eyes darken and immediately fall to her own mouth.
"No," Pansy says quietly. "Nor would I."
She takes a step forward and pushes Hermione's hair behind her ear, but she doesn't immediately kiss her. Instead, she lets her gaze linger over Hermione's features, and after a moment, a slow smile steals to her face.
"What is it?" Hermione asks, her voice hushed.
Pansy shakes her head. "The way you look at me sometimes," she says, sweeping a finger back and forth across Hermione's cheek. "I just…I can't believe we're here. I can't believe it all worked out."
Her other hand wraps around Hermione's waist and she gently tugs her closer, completely eliminating the distance between their bodies. Warm breath ghosts over Hermione's lips, and just before Pansy can capture her lips, Hermione murmurs, "breaking your own rules now, are we?"
Pansy pulls back just an inch to eye Hermione carefully. "What do you mean?"
"I thought you were going to make me work for this."
"I think we've both worked hard enough, don't you?"
"Maybe," Hermione says as she winds her arms around Pansy. "Or maybe you're just worried you won't actually be able to dance on those spikes," she whispers, brushing her lips against Pansy's.
She feels Pansy's smile against her mouth. "Merlin's pants. You know you might look stunning, but at least an Acromantula wouldn't have been as mouthy."
"You'd be surprised," Hermione says, pulling back to gaze seriously at Pansy. "They're surprisingly talkative."
"…Do I want to know why you know that?"
"No, probably not. But anyway, being mouthy isn't a bad thing. At least, it wasn't two nights ago. I distinctly remember you being quite fond of my mouth," Hermione says, thinking back to how Pansy's hips had jerked up from the bed when she had sucked hard against the uncovered skin just above her waistline.
The memory is clearly replaying in Pansy's mind, because her breath catches just a bit. Somehow though, she manages to steel her face into something almost apathetic and with a surprising amount of dignity, says, "I'm not sure I know what you're talking about."
"Oh?" Hermione says, scratching her nails lightly against the nape of Pansy's neck and smiling when the other girl shivers. "That's too bad."
"It is. Perhaps you could remind me?"
Hermione smiles at the invitation, but before she can lean forward to claim Pansy's lips, she pauses and frowns. "Hang on…you said we only had the room for two hours?"
"Mm. McGonagall said if we were still in here at midnight, she'd kick us out. She also told me we were strictly forbidden from attending to our personal problems here," Pansy adds with a flush, though Hermione's not sure whether it's from McGonagall's warning or Pansy simply thinking about how badly she wants to take care of said personal problems.
But the mention of McGonagall immediately changes the mood for Hermione, and she takes a step back. "She didn't say that," Hermione says, completely aghast.
"She did. I almost transferred to Beauxbatons then and there. Honestly, I'm not sure I've even looked her in the eye since then. Anyway, why do you ask?"
Hermione decides to shelve the newfound and awful knowledge that her favorite professor had expressly forbidden them from having sex in the Great Hall, as if that's even something Hermione would consider.
She can always be properly horrified later.
With some effort, she pulls her thoughts back to the matter at hand. "I just think we should take advantage of the room," Hermione finally manages. "I mean, as much as I'd like to spend the entire night kissing you, I can do that any day of the week."
"Ooh, cheeky, aren't we?"
"Well, it's true. But this?" Hermione says, looking around the Great Hall. "This is special. It's not every day two students get a private Yule Ball."
"You know, all I'm hearing is that you're desperate to dance with me," Pansy says with a sly grin.
Hermione scoffs. "And risk impaling my feet with your ridiculous knife-shoes?" Pansy shakes her head in fond exasperation, and Hermione smiles at her then says, "I just want to make sure we do this right. I want to make the most of every minute with you. I mean, everything you've done tonight is…it's all perfect and I suppose I don't want this night to end without doing everything we should have done the first go-around. And if I'm being honest, I don't want this night to end period," she confesses softly.
"No, nor do I. But it has to end," Pansy says gently, taking Hermione's hands. "After all, we've got the rest of our lives to get to."
Perhaps Hermione should gently chastise Pansy for thinking so far ahead, but she won't. Because she believes her. She believes that they've got a lifetime ahead of them, filled to the brim with memories that are theirs for the taking. And the fact of the matter is, Hermione can't imagine her future with anyone else. She gave her heart away months ago to a mysterious bard, and now, she's trusting Pansy with it til the end of her days, til the mountains crumble and the stars fall, til forever comes and goes. Because she knows that this is it for her. She knows that Pansy is the love of her life in the same way she knows the sky is blue—it's a simple, immutable fact that no amount of time could ever change. It sits heavy and true in her chest, somehow both more logical and illogical than anything has ever been. She can't explain it—it simply is, and it always will be.
Because when it comes down to it, they just work—Pansy's dry practicality cuts through Hermione's sometimes naive idealism; Hermione's tendency to see the good in others balances Pansy's somewhat less-than-favorable outlook on mankind; Pansy's Slytherin streak reminds Hermione to take time for herself while Hermione's Gryffindor core pushes Pansy to fight for what's right.
And at the end of the day, Pansy will take care of Hermione when the days are hard and she's exhausted to her core and Hermione will take care of Pansy when the nights are overwhelming and sleep proves elusive.
They'll be there for each other for the rest of their days to balance each other, to sharpen each other, and to love each other, flaws and all.
And as thoughts of the future and all its beautiful, wonderful opportunities build in Hermione's chest, she can't help the ridiculous tears that spring to her eyes.
"What is it, love?" Pansy murmurs, clocking the tears and lifting a hand to gently caress Hermione's face.
Hermione manages a wet laugh. "Nothing. It's nothing, I just…" She shakes her head, surprisingly overcome by emotion.
Pansy's eyes soften and she leans forward to kiss Hermione. It's soft, sweet, and completely unhurried, as if Pansy has also realized they have all the time in the world together. Their lips press and part and this time, there's no undercurrent of fire licking across Hermione's skin. Instead, there's something more—something deeper and almost sacred.
Something that feels like a silent promise of forever.
After a moment, Pansy pulls back and tilts her forehead against Hermione's.
"Have I mentioned," Pansy says against Hermione's lips. "That I'm really, really glad you were my parchment pal?"
Hermione's heart flips and she manages a shaky laugh through the remnants of her tears. "Not as glad as I am," she says, smiling at Pansy's hum of pleasure and the way her eyes immediately soften.
Pansy kisses her one more time, then pulls back and murmurs, "now, then. About that dance…?"
Hermione places her hand in Pansy's and gives it a gentle squeeze.
"Lead the way."
Notes:There's one more chapter to come and this time, I'm not making any promises on word count lmao