Chapter Text
“Let’s go.”
Hermione looked up from her book, her eyes landing on Ron. His hair was matted with sweat against his forehead, his cheeks tinged pink from practice.
She could tell by his voice he was annoyed.
She closed her book and quickly stood, following him from the spot she’d found near the Quidditch pitch.
“Everything okay?” she asked, taking two steps for every one of his as they made their way back toward the castle.
“You’d know if you were paying attention.”
Hermione furrowed her brow.
He knew she had a big test coming up, knew she had to study, and yet she’d still been there for him. Sure, her mind had drifted, but physically, she’d shown up.
“I was studying,” she said tightly, “and you know I don’t understand Quidditch, let alone Quidditch practice.”
He huffed.
Hermione’s lips pressed into a thin line as she followed him.
“Ronald,” she said sharply as they rounded a corner.
He spun abruptly on his heel, causing her to stumble.
He didn’t reach out to steady her. His blue eyes simply watched as she caught herself against the wall.
“I think this,” he said, gesturing between them, “has run its course.”
Hermione’s mouth parted in shock. Her brown eyes immediately filled, tears blurring her vision as she watched him turn and walk away.
The further he got, the more it felt like her chest was collapsing inward.
Two years. Gone in an instant.
After the war, they had finished seventh year together. Then they’d been told the Wizengamot had approved multiple new magical universities.
Wycliffe Academy on the Northumberland coast, carved into the cliffs, where she was now attending with Harry and Ron.
And Bellamere Conservatory, located on a remote island, catering primarily to Durmstrang and Beauxbatons graduates.
She had wanted Bellamere. She’d wanted distance, new faces, a different world entirely.
But Ron had convinced her to come to Wycliffe instead, since he and Harry had been offered Quidditch positions on the school team.
And of course, she had agreed.
Now, watching Ron’s figure disappear completely, her stomach twisted sharply.
She wished, painfully, that she had followed her own plans.
Hermione was sulking. There was no other word for it.
It had been nearly two weeks. She went to class and back again, barely eating, barely sleeping.
As she lay on her bed, Crookshanks curled beside her, she barely moved at the sound of tapping on her dorm door.
“Hermione, I know you’re in there.”
Ginny’s voice slipped into the room.
Hermione slowly pushed herself up. Ginny wouldn’t leave until she opened the door.
She pulled it open.
Ginny’s blue eyes widened immediately, her jaw dropping slightly.
“Oh, Merlin,” Ginny said as Hermione shuffled back toward her bed and collapsed face-first into it again.
“Now normally, your hair is a bit of a mess,” Ginny said, judgment in her tone, “but this is just horrid.”
“Gee, thanks,” Hermione muttered into her pillow.
“He’s my brother and all, but he’s not worth this.”
Hermione begged to differ. Ron had been her first love. Her first everything.
“I’m coming back after the game,” Ginny said, “and we’re going out.”
Hermione should’ve known Ginny was here for the match. She only came up from Hogwarts when there was one.
“I’m not going out,” Hermione muttered, turning away.
Three hours later, she was out.
Ginny had charmed her hair into soft, silky ringlets and even allowed a light glamour charm on her face.
Hermione didn’t care that the dress pants felt too tight or that the shirt was slightly uncomfortable. Her mind was focused on getting the night over with.
As they walked toward The Lantern, one of the only bars near the school, they spotted Harry outside.
His black hair was more unruly than usual, but his green eyes brightened instantly at the sight of Ginny.
As he pulled her into an embrace, his gaze flicked to Hermione. His expression shifted for just a second, eyes widening.
“Wow, Hermione, you look—”
“Great!” Ginny cut in quickly. “She looks great.”
Harry nodded. “That’s what I was going to say.”
He glanced over his shoulder as the door opened and two boys stepped out.
His posture shifted slightly.
“What?” Hermione asked.
Harry looked between Ginny and Hermione. “Ron’s in there.”
Ginny opened her mouth, but Harry continued, “With Lavender.”
Hermione felt it immediately, the tightening in her chest. Of course it was Lavender. It was always Lavender.
Ginny’s eyes narrowed as she peered through the stained glass windows. “I could kill him.”
Hermione shook her head quickly. “It’s fine. We have to coexist at some point.”
Ginny’s expression softened. Harry looked concerned but said nothing.
They entered.
Music crashed around them as people danced, smoked, laughed, and someone was playing what looked like wizarding pool in the corner.
Ginny tugged Hermione’s arm. “Let’s sit over there.”
She pointed to a booth tucked into the corner, away from Harry’s path.
Hermione nodded.
As they moved, her eyes caught on red hair.
Ron.
He was smiling, leaning in toward Lavender, who looked at him like he was something rare and beautiful.
Hermione felt sick.
“Maybe I’m not up for this,” she said, stepping back.
“No, wait—”
Ginny didn’t finish.
Hermione turned too fast and collided with someone solid. Drinks slipped from his hands, spilling across both of them, mostly her.
“Merlin,” Hermione gasped, jumping back from the cold liquid.
“Nope. Guess again.”
Her blood ran cold.
Slowly, her eyes lifted.
Silvery grey.
Draco Malfoy.