Chapter 9Notes:Chapter 9 is another 60k word chapter. I didn't expect it to happen twice, but I sincerely hope each and every word is enjoyable :)
But more importantly, thank you for the constant support <3 I can't put into words what your beautiful, inspiring comments mean to me, but I can say that all of you have helped make my first fic writing experience something I'll cherish forever :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter TextAs Hermione sits beneath the shade of the beech tree, her face tilted toward the sun, she knows she should be thinking about her bard. She knows that she should be beside herself with excitement and filled to the brim with nervous energy.
And she is. She absolutely is. She can't wait to finally meet the person she's been dreaming about for months.
But even though most of her mind is on the meeting at hand, there's just a tiny little part of her that's still thinking about Pansy.
But it's tiny. It's just a little blip in the corner of her mind.
It's honestly inconsequential.
What matters right now is her parchment pal.
Just her parchment pal.
…But really, how could she not be thinking about Pansy, too? How could she just forget about the things Pansy had said in the Great Hall?
I hope she'll always make you feel beautiful. Because you are. So, so beautiful
A small shiver goes through Hermione as she remembers the way Pansy had delivered those words. There had been something so earnest in her voice and her eyes had been somehow soft and intense, all at the same time.
I hope that she'll make you feel loved. Because you deserve that. More than anyone in the world, you deserve that.
Hermione shakily exhales as Pansy's voice echoes in her mind, and when she closes her eyes, all she can see are shining, green eyes, looking at her like she's the only thing that matters in the entire universe.
Hermione's chest swells with warmth and she keeps her eyes closed, remembering exactly how she had felt in that moment. How she had felt under that gaze. It had made something in her chest ache and more than anything, she had wanted to tip her head forward and capture Pansy's tempting lips between her own.
Which of course, wasn't a new sensation. Not by a long shot. Over the past few weeks, it's taken a considerable amount of will power to not give into her overwhelming desire to kiss Pansy senseless. Because she wants to. God, does she want to. In a very short amount of time, Hermione has gone from thinking she was someone who had no interest in romantic entanglements to realizing she's someone who desperately wants to be entangled in every conceivable way with the most stunning girl she's ever laid eyes on. To be honest, the amount of times she's imagined Pansy's sinfully dark lipstick staining various parts of her body is quite frankly, embarrassing (and also a frequent feature in all of her recent imaginings when she feels the need to take care of her urges, so to speak).
And she's had so many chances to kiss her. It's like the universe has noticed her mounting desperation and has kindly presented her with countless opportunities. She's come close quite a few times, too. But anytime that need flares in her chest, strong and potent and almost overwhelming, Hermione has managed to stop herself and remember that there's a person in her life that she's already promised herself to.
Her parchment pal.
Her parchment pal, who she's currently waiting to meet.
Her parchment pal who she's in love with.
Hermione raises a hand and rubs her forehead in frustration, trying to force the thoughts of Pansy from her mind.
Perhaps she was lying. Perhaps there was more than just a tiny part of her that's always thinking about Pansy.
Perhaps it's actually quite a large part of her.
All things considered, though, it makes sense. Because after everything that's happened between them, it would be absurd to not find her thoughts straying to the beautiful, sharp tongued Slytherin at all hours of the day and night. The unfairly gorgeous girl who makes Hermione feel like she's losing control of herself whenever she spends more than two minutes in her intoxicating presence. The maddening, sometimes infuriating witch who looks at her like she's something to be cherished.
Something to be desired.
Which is of course another thing that's changed—Hermione no longer thinks she made a mistake that night in the library. Now she has a feeling that had she given into her temptations and actually kissed Pansy, it would have been more than welcomed. Because even though she might not have a lot of experience in this particular realm, Hermione isn't stupid; she can see the way Pansy looks at her. She can hear the things Pansy says. She can feel the way the air sometimes changes around them, growing thick with anticipation and something else.
Something that seems an awful lot like mutual want.
Hermione can remember with crystal clarity the way Pansy's gaze had changed after they had successfully brewed Amortentia—normally clear and clever green eyes had darkened considerably, to the point where it had made arousal coil tightly in Hermione's stomach. She remembers the way Pansy's heavy lidded gaze had dropped to her breasts and how the already-blown pupils had somehow managed to grow impossibly darker as she surveyed the rise and fall of Hermione's chest with an almost desperate hunger. She remembers how Pansy had licked her lips, and how the simple motion had made the heat in Hermione's stomach zip down to make its presence known between her legs.
Hermione shifts a bit on the grass and bounces her leg, trying to forget about the physical sensations of that day.
Stop thinking about Pansy.
She's going to meet her parchment pal. That's the only thing that should be on her mind.
Not the way Pansy had felt, safe and curled up against her side in the library, as if she had been made to fit there, soft with sleep and whispering words against her neck that had made Hermione shiver uncontrollably.
Not the way Hermione had wanted to stay there all night, tucked around Pansy and content in the knowledge that she was safe. That nothing would ever happen to her again. That she'd be okay for the rest of her days.
Not the way Hermione's chest had burned when she thought about the rest of Pansy's days and how much she desperately wanted to be a part of them.
And not in a friendly sense.
"Oh my god," Hermione mutters, rubbing both her hands over her face.
Stop. Thinking. About. Pansy.
Today should be the greatest day of Hermione's life. She shouldn't feel like her heart is being torn into two pieces. Like half of her is here, sitting on the banks of the Black Lake, and the other half of her is miles away in the Slytherin common room, watching some ridiculous arm wrestling tournament. She shouldn't feel guilty over meeting her parchment pal for the first time.
She shouldn't be in love with Pansy when she's already in love with someone else.
But that's exactly what's managed to happen. And as she sits there, waiting to meet the person she's absolutely mad about, she can't find it in herself to feel excited. Not when she has these feelings swirling inside of her. Not when she feels so fucking guilty for thinking about Pansy right now.
So, yes. Today should be the greatest day of Hermione's life. But instead, she's absolutely miserable and wracked with shame. Because somehow, against all odds, she's managed to fall in love with two separate people at the same time.
Hermione exhales sharply, and as she turns her head toward the path that leads from the school up to the beech tree, she thinks about how much simpler things would be if the timing had been just a bit different. If the parchment pal experiment had happened a few months earlier, she wouldn't have had the time to develop these new and deeply confusing feelings. She wouldn't have had so much time to spend with Pansy, and she wouldn't have been so mesmerized by her frustratingly gorgeous face.
She sighs, anxiously tucks her hair behind her ears, and pushes said gorgeous face from her mind. She keeps her eyes on the path, looking for any signs of movement, and as she worries her lower lip and bounces her leg, she comes to a decision.
No more.
Today is about her parchment pal.
So with some effort, Hermione manages to turn her thoughts away from Pansy and to her bard.
Her bard who she loves. Her bard who makes her laugh. Her bard who makes her feel safe and cared for and heard. Her bard who she's promised Paris to. Her bard who she would trust with her heart, her dreams, her life. Her bard who—
Hermione's back stiffens as she hears something behind her.
Something that sounds like a footstep.
She holds her breath and listens carefully, and after a moment, she picks out the sound of another footstep, followed closely by another.
Hermione continues to hold her breath as the person behind her draws a bit closer. She can feel her heart rate pick up with each soft step, and she feels a wild rush of nerves flood into her chest as she realizes that this is it.
It's finally happening.
It's finally here.
She's about to meet the person she's in love with.
One of the people you're in love with.
Hermione digs her fingertips into her thighs and pushes the traitorous thought away.
She can deal with that later. She can deal with all of it later. Right now, she just wants this moment to be as perfect as she can manage.
She takes a deep breath as she prepares herself. Because the moment she turns around, everything will change. Her bard won't just be a soft, lovely dream anymore. Her bard will be a real, living and breathing person. She'll finally be able to put a face to the soul she knows by heart. She'll finally know what their voice sounds like, what their laugh sounds like. She'll finally get to know everything about the person she's given her heart to.
The footsteps have stopped, and Hermione knows that her bard is right behind her, waiting for her to make the first move. And even though her heart is thudding alarmingly fast and she's so nervous, she feels like she might pass out, somehow, she manages to gather her Gryffindor courage together and prepare herself to take one of the biggest leaps of her life.
She takes one more deep breath.
She squeezes her fists tightly.
She exhales slowly.
She straightens her back.
And after months and months of waiting, Hermione twists her body around to finally, finally meet the person she's been dreaming of for ages.
And when her gaze lands on incredibly familiar green eyes, her heart stops.
***
Hermione's been stunned into silence plenty of times in her life.
When she was seven, she broke her wrist trying to save a cat stuck up a tree.
She had climbed higher and higher and as she was reaching for the last branch, she had slipped and tumbled to the ground. Her wrist ended up pinned between the unforgiving pavement and her body, and the pain was so enormous that she hadn't been able to breathe for a few moments. She had simply laid there on the ground, trembling and completely shocked.
(Of course, the cat had jumped down moments later, completely unscathed.)
When she was ten, a tall, somewhat severe looking Scottish woman had turned up at her front door and completely upended her entire life.
She had been seated at the table eating breakfast while Good Morning, Britain played in the background on the telly. As she lifted her spoon for her very last bite of Coco Pops, she heard a knock at the door.
Hermione remained in the kitchen at first, completely uninterested in whichever friend of her parents was visiting so early in the morning. But when she heard a prim voice speaking of witches, wizards, and magic, her curiosity had managed to get the better of her. She had slid from her chair and tip-toed toward the living room, intent on figuring out why her perfectly normal parents were entertaining such an odd woman at eight o'clock in the morning.
It only took a few minutes for the woman in question (a Minerva McGonagall) to explain to the gobsmacked Granger family that their one and only daughter was a genuine witch, capable of casting actual, magical spells, and that her place at a strange, magical boarding school was secured, should she choose to attend.
Hermione hadn't managed to say a word the entire meeting. Her normally quick-thinking brain had completely shut off, and instead, she had simply stared at McGonagall in stunned, awed silence.
When she was fifteen, Viktor Krum put his tongue in her mouth during the Yule Ball.
She had needed to take a break from her absolutely horrendous attempts at dancing, so she had politely asked Viktor if he'd accompany her to refill her punch. They had picked their way through a throng of people and when they finally made it to the refreshment table, Hermione had turned to ask Viktor if he'd like a refill as well.
Instead of answering her question, he had slowly leaned toward her with a determined look in his dark eyes. To his credit, he had given her more than enough time to back away. But in those brief seconds before his lips made contact with hers, Hermione had reasoned that this was something she should want—she should want to snog a famous Quidditch player. So instead of leaning away as she had so desperately wanted to, she had fought against all of her instincts and let him kiss her.
The tongue was a surprise.
Her eyes had flown open and she had stepped away so quickly that some irrational part of her was almost afraid she'd pulled Viktor's tongue from his mouth. His brow had furrowed and he had quietly inquired if she was okay, but Hermione had been so surprised by the turn of events that the only thing she was capable of doing was taking his arm and silently leading him back into the throng of dancing students.
So, yes. Hermione has been stunned into silence plenty of times before.
But none of her experiences compare to the way she feels right now.
Because right now, Pansy is standing before her.
Right now, Pansy is standing before her on the banks of the Black Lake, right where her bard should be.
Right now, Pansy is standing before her on the banks of the Black Lake, right where her bard should be, and Hermione can't fucking breathe.
She can't breathe, she can't move, she can't speak…she can't even manage to string a thought together. Not when Pansy's looking at her like that—with nervous eyes and a shy smile and so much raw, undisguised love burning in her gaze that it makes Hermione's stomach flip wildly and her pulse pound in her ears.
Somewhere in the very back of her mind, Hermione is aware that her mouth is hanging open. She knows her eyes are wide and her body is rigid and her fingernails are digging into her palm and she must look ridiculous, but none of these things really register.
The only thing that registers is that Pansy is standing before her.
Right where her bard should be.
And if Pansy is here, then that means…
"Hello, Robin."
The words are delivered gently, but they still manage to turn Hermione's world on its axis. She takes a sharp breath and finally manages to close her mouth, all while strange, disjointed thoughts tumble through her mind, each one passing by too quickly for her to fully grab onto. Her breath is coming in quick, shallow puffs, she's vaguely concerned her heart might quite literally explode, and she feels so lightheaded that she has to press her fists into the ground beneath her in an attempt to tether herself to reality.
A few long seconds tick by as Hermione tries to ground herself and come to terms with what's happening. Her pulse is pounding in her ears and all the while she's desperately trying to remember how to think, how to speak, how to breathe, Pansy is watching her nervously—her shoulders are high and tense, there's a small furrow between her brows, and she's dragged her lower lip between her teeth. But even though her entire body is tight with anxiety, her eyes are still so full of love and warmth and hope that it takes Hermione another few seconds to remember how to form words.
When she finally manages it, she's only capable of one.
"Pansy?"
Her voice is hushed and full of so much awe that she's not sure if Pansy has even managed to hear her. But when Pansy gives a small nod, Hermione's head reels again.
"I…I don't…" Hermione shakes her head, trying to jumpstart her thoughts. She blinks rapidly a few times, then somehow, against all the odds, she manages two more words.
"It's you?"
"It's me," Pansy replies, her quiet confirmation hitting Hermione like a bolt of lightning and striking her dumb once more.
Her bard is Pansy.
Her bard is Pansy.
"It's…I…" Hermione shakes her head once more. "I don't understand."
Which is a colossal understatement, considering she feels like she's been hit by a freight train.
Pansy glances at the ground in front of Hermione and inclines her head. "May I…?"
Hermione nods stupidly, watching as Pansy gently lowers herself to the ground. She elegantly folds her legs beneath herself and takes a moment to carefully smooth down her skirt, then she looks back to Hermione.
"I'm…I…" Pansy trails off and exhales slowly. She lets her eyes roam over Hermione's face, tenderly taking in each detail as if she's trying to commit the moment to memory, then she says, "I don't know what to say. You'd think after all the letters we've sent…after all the time I've had to imagine this…you'd think I'd know what to say, but I just…" she gives a small, wry smile and says, "I suppose you never expected that your bard wouldn't be able to string a sentence together?"
Of all the things Hermione had never expected, that's fairly low on the list.
Her bard is Pansy.
Her bard is Pansy.
A curious sensation bubbles in Hermione's chest, almost as if she wants to laugh, but she manages to suppress it. "I…I don't …how?"
Pansy must think she means how did you know, because she says, "the day we brewed Veritaserum. You had your parchment out and you were writing to…well, to me," she says, sheepishly running a hand through her hair. "When you left to put the ingredients away, I…I sort of saw your parchment. And when I realized I could read it, well…" she shrugs. Something must occur to her though, because she quickly lifts her gaze to Hermione's. "And I wanted to tell you. I did, but I had to wait until you…well, until you didn't hate me. Which took quite a while," she concedes with a small wince. "But once it happened, once I thought we were actually friends, I got it into my head that if I waited just a bit longer to tell you, it would be this big, romantic declaration. Silly, I know," she says, rubbing her neck self-consciously. "But eventually, I couldn't wait any longer. Which is why I asked you to meet today. I mean, to be honest, I was going to tell you weeks ago in the library but…well, you know," Pansy trails off with a small shrug as if she doesn't know what else to say.
It's all together a decent answer, and it certainly helps to alleviate at least some of the confusion, but it's not the answer to the question Hermione had been asking. So somehow, she manages to push through her shock and say, "no, I…how is it you?"
Pansy gives her a puzzled frown. "What do you mean?"
"You told me you weren't participating," Hermione says. "That day in Potions. You…you said it was a waste of time. That you'd never talk to a stranger for a few house points." The confused haze in her mind is finally starting to lift and complete thoughts are beginning to form once more, but they're coming too quickly for her to keep up with. "And so I never thought it could be…I mean, I would have wanted it, obviously, but I didn't…how could I have…? It…I—"
"You would have?" Pansy asks, interrupting Hermione's ramble with hope in her voice. "You…I mean, you would have wanted it to be…me?"
The question cuts through the tangled jumble of thoughts in Hermione's mind, and she brings her gaze back up to Pansy.
Pansy, who is looking at her nervously, her hands twisted together in her lap and a small furrow on her brow.
Pansy, who has somehow managed to become the one person Hermione looks forward to seeing every single day. Who makes her laugh, challenges her, and fills her heart with every conceivable emotion under the sun.
Pansy, who Hermione is attracted to in every possible way.
Pansy, who had drawn her in with shifting green eyes and a sinfully slow smile, and had kept her on the line with her quick wit, her quiet bravery, and her surprisingly big heart.
Pansy, who somehow—improbably, wildly, ridiculously—Hermione is in love with.
As Hermione slowly begins to put the pieces into place, as she begins to realize that yes, somehow, miraculously, Pansy is her bard, the same strange feeling enters her chest again, like a frothy, effervescent laugh bubbling through her system. But this time, instead of suppressing it, she lets it fill her to the brim. Because this time, she knows what that feeling is.
It's relief.
It's pure, powerful relief.
It's relief that she isn't in love with two people at once. Relief that she won't have to worry about choosing between her bard and Pansy. Relief that it's Pansy, beautiful, exasperating, infuriating Pansy, standing before her, asking with shining eyes if Hermione would have wanted it to be her.
And of course she would have.
How could she have wanted it to be anyone else?
There are other emotions, of course. There's so much confusion, Hermione will probably need a shovel to dig through it all. There's certainly a fair bit of frustration at herself for having missed the obvious similarities between Pansy and her bard, and tiny bit of irritation at Pansy for keeping her in the dark for so long. There's an incredible amount of nerves at what this all means, and at how their relationships is going to change. But somehow, all of those things seem to pale in comparison to the shining, glorious relief that's still lighting up her entire body.
Because her bard is Pansy.
Her bard, the one person she knows better than anyone in the world, the person she gave her heart to, is Pansy.
Her bard is Pansy, and she's so, so, so in love with her.
And Hermione knows there are things they need to talk about. There are questions she needs to ask and plans they need to make. In almost any other situation, Hermione would be gathering a bulleted list of thoughts to fire toward Pansy, demanding solutions and action from the other girl.
But sitting here with Pansy, none of those things seem important. Because for the past few weeks, all Hermione has been able to think about is Pansy. And anytime she's felt her thoughts or desires getting the better of her, she's turned her mind to her parchment pal.
But now that her parchment pal is Pansy, all bets are off.
Hermione can do whatever she wants.
And if that means shelving all the rational, practical thoughts she's so famously known for for once in her life and letting her heart lead the way, then she's going to do it.
For once in her life, she's going to act first and think later.
She pulls herself out of her thoughts to see Pansy's lips moving.
"And I know you'll have questions," Pansy is saying, almost as if she's been able to read Hermione's mind. "I mean, obviously, you'll have questions," she adds with a small, adorable wince that makes Hermione's heart flip. "And I'll answer them. I'll answer every last one of them, whenever you want me to. But if you need to take some time and space to think about all of this, then I completely underst—"
"No."
Pansy freezes mid-sentence and looks at Hermione nervously. "No?"
"No," Hermione repeats.
She doesn't want time or space.
She's had more than enough time, and quite frankly, after months and months of thinking, yearning, wanting, wishing, and hoping, space is the last thing on her mind.
In this moment, after everything that's happened and after falling in love two times over, the only thing Hermione wants is Pansy.
"I—"
"I don't need any more time," Hermione says. "And we can talk about all of those things later," she adds, slowly leaning toward Pansy.
Pansy notices the movement, and her breath catches. "We…we can?" she asks, her voice a bit shaky as she watches Hermione with nervous eyes.
Hermione nods as she moves more fully into Pansy's space, her eyes lingering on Pansy's mouth. "We can. Because all those things can wait. But to be honest," she whispers, "I don't think I can wait another second to do this."
There's a breathless pause before Hermione closes the distance between them, and in those precious, glimmering seconds, she thinks about everything that's led to this very moment. Every single event that had to be put in motion to lead to the two of them sitting here, in the shade of the towering beech tree, about to jump hand-in-hand into an unknown future.
But when Pansy's soft breath ghosts over Hermione's lips, she stops thinking rational thoughts and instead, focuses solely on Pansy. She takes in the way Pansy's eyes have already fluttered closed and the pretty pink blush that's spread across her cheeks. Absently, Hermione lifts a hand to trace over the flush, privately marveling at the way Pansy's breath catches as she slowly caresses her thumb over a sharp cheekbone. And after a few long and lingering swipes, she moves her hand to gently push Pansy's hair behind her ear and presses forward just a bit, letting her nose bump against Pansy's. Somehow, over the pounding of her own heart, she hears the other witch emit a soft, shaky sigh from barely parted lips and at the sound, Hermione lets her own eyes slide close.
Her body tingles with anticipation as she leans forward just a tiny bit more, and in the space of a single breath, she finally, finally lets her lips brush against Pansy's.
It's simple at first—just a gentle press of closed lips against hers. But it's enough to send heat flooding through Hermione's entire body. It radiates from her neck down to her chest, pouring into her fingertips—which are still hovering gently on Pansy's cheek—and spreading all the way down to her toes. And even though she's hot all over, she still manages to shiver slightly at the gentle pressure against her mouth. Slowly, her hand migrates from Pansy's cheek toward the nape of her neck and once it's there, she lets her fingers tangle in silky, dark hair. When she tugs gently, a quiet gasp leaves Pansy's mouth, and it sends a surprising jolt through Hermione's system.
She wants to hear Pansy gasp again.
She wants to make Pansy gasp again.
There's a part of Hermione that's dimly aware that Pansy's holding back. That she's purposefully taking things slow in some chivalrous attempt to not scare Hermione off before they've even begun. And in any other situation, Hermione might be touched by the incredible amount of concern Pansy's showing for her.
But in this particular moment, she couldn't possibly care less.
Because in this particular moment, all Hermione wants to do is to give into the overwhelming desire she's been fighting off for months. She wants to listen to this strange, almost-primal instinct that's telling her to push forward and claim everything she wants, and she wants to let the heat that's still flickering over her skin like wildfire devour her, all while Pansy's lips follow along its scorching trail.
And if she has to take control to make her fantasies a reality, she'll do it.
Hermione purposefully runs her tongue along the seam of Pansy's mouth, and it's a testament to how much she wants this that she doesn't pull back in surprise at the sound of shock that immediately rips its way out of Pansy's throat. It's a sort of half-gasp, half-whimper that Hermione can feel across her entire body, setting every last nerve ending she has on fire in its wake. And the whimper isn't the only thing she can feel—Pansy's hands, which had up until now been settled lightly on Hermione's knees, immediately splay and grab at her desperately, as if she wants to hold her in place forever.
Hermione might just let her.
Pansy parts her lips to deepen the kiss and the moment their tongues brush, Hermione feels the heat in her body intensify. She hums with pleasure as it sinks into her stomach and the more Pansy takes control of the kiss, the more it seems to concentrate, burning lower and lower and lower. She continues to meet Pansy stroke for stroke, and when she feels hands tantalizingly trail their way up her legs to rake against her sides, Hermione can't help the needy groan that leaves her body.
Somewhere in the very back of her mind, she thinks that maybe she should be embarrassed by her emphatic reaction. But when she swipes her tongue against Pansy's once more and feels the other girl kiss back hard, feels fingertips dig into her side, feels the way Pansy seems to desperately press closer to her, any lingering thoughts of embarrassment fly from her mind.
She pulls her lips from Pansy's, only to return again a moment later, like she's been magnetized. And maybe she has been, because even though it's only their first kiss, she already feels addicted. Addicted to the little sounds of pleasure Pansy makes, addicted to the taste of her, and addicted to the way Pansy seems to know exactly what Hermione needs at every turn. Because while Hermione doesn't have a whole lot of experience, she can tell that Pansy is a very good kisser. She's thorough in a way that makes Hermione's toes curl with unbearable pleasure and her insides burn. It's as if each press of her soft lips and every stroke of her tongue is perfectly calculated to completely unravel Hermione's already tenuous self-control, and even though she feels like they're teetering on the brink of some sort of blissful, beautiful destruction, Pansy seems more than content to take her time getting there. It's like kissing Hermione is the only plan she has for the rest of her life, and she's going to put everything she can into it.
And to be perfectly honest, Hermione's more than okay with that plan.
But even so, she knows she'll have to break the kiss eventually, mostly because she knows that if she doesn't, there's a very good chance she'll end up throwing caution to the wind and straddling Pansy out in the open where anyone could see them.
Where anyone could see them.
The thought enters Hermione's lust-fogged mind and even though every part of her wants to disregard it, to continue kissing Pansy until her lungs burn and her lips are numb, she forces herself to focus on it long enough to figure out that she probably should be worried about people seeing them.
Pansy's lips leave her own for a moment, and before they can return, Hermione leans back, desperately trying to catch her breath and to put some space between their bodies.
It takes a long moment for Pansy's eyes to blink open and when they do, it takes all of Hermione's will power to not immediately surge forward and kiss her again.
Because honestly? Hermione's never seen a more attractive sight than a just-kissed Pansy Parkinson. Her heavy lidded gaze is still trained on Hermione's mouth, her pupils are blown with want, and her chest is rising and falling rapidly. Hermione watches with hungry eyes as Pansy sucks her lower lip in and catches it between her teeth, and she feels whatever will power she has slowly slipping away at the sight.
She's never seen Pansy look this way, and knowing that she did that, that she's responsible for Pansy looking like she's two seconds away from devouring her increases the need hovering in her mind. But even though all she wants to do is chase after the heady desire, she forces herself to take a deep breath instead.
"Pansy," she starts, her voice low and breathy.
Before she can say anything though, Pansy's eyes darken just a bit, and she surges forward to capture Hermione's lips again.
Whatever nonsense Hermione was thinking about will power immediately flies out of her mind as she whimpers in surprise and desperately returns the kiss. Desire thrums through her body at the knowledge that Pansy had wanted more from her, and as Hermione nips at Pansy's lip, she feels almost giddy. Because she knows just how badly she's been wanting this. So knowing that Pansy had evidently been wanting this just as much? It does something to Hermione. It makes something delicious shiver down her spine and fills her with an almost unbearable need to explore every bit of Pansy she can get her hands on. But before she can think to act on that need, Pansy snares her lower lip between her teeth and bites down just hard enough to draw a long, needy whine out of Hermione.
God, Pansy is unfairly good at this.
Their lips hungrily press and part against each other for a few more long moments, and when Pansy pulls back just far enough to let them both take a ragged breath, Hermione somehow remembers what she was going to say once more.
"Pansy…someone could…someone could…oh, fuck."
That is absolutely not what Hermione meant to say. It's not even language she would normally use out loud, but when Pansy's lips move down to suck at Hermione's pulse point, she can't really help it. She feels completely wild and untethered, as if Pansy is taking her apart piece by piece, but she doesn't care at all.
She fucking loves it.
She hears the surprised way Pansy inhales at her curse, and if anything, Hermione's unexpectedly foul language seems to spur Pansy on, pushing her to explore more of Hermione's neck with her teeth, her lips, her tongue. Hermione gasps and closes her eyes as her hands shakily curl against Pansy's jumper, tugging her impossibly closer. Her head involuntarily lolls back to give Pansy better access to her neck, and Pansy murmurs against her skin in quiet appreciation. And when Hermione feels teeth graze against her already-sensitive pulse point, she can't help the way her mouth falls open, nor the low, breathy fuck that tumbles from her lips once more.
When Pansy finally finishes mapping the skin of her neck and returns to brush her lips against Hermione's, she feels like she might implode, right then and there.
"Pansy…we…we…"
"Public," Pansy murmurs against her mouth, staying close enough that their noses brush. "I know. I know," she says, catching Hermione's eager and willing lips once, twice, three times more before pulling back. "I just…Merlin, Hermione," Pansy murmurs, trailing her hands up and down Hermione's sides and staring at her with dark eyes that make Hermione want to immediately drag her back for another long, hungry kiss.
After a moment, Pansy finally drags her eyes away and manages to sweep her gaze behind Hermione. "We're still alone," she says as she drops her hands to idly draw patterns with her fingertips on Hermione's thighs.
"Good," Hermione murmurs, surprised by the way Pansy's touch seems to burn right through her jeans. "That's…that's good."
"Fuck," Pansy breathes. "That was…I mean, you're…" she shakes her head and whispers, "you're really good at that, did you know?"
Hermione manages a low, surprised laugh. "You're not so bad yourself," she says, lifting a hand to brush her fingers against Pansy's swollen lips. "But to be honest, I've been wanting to do that for a while," she adds, dropping her fingers down to sweep over Pansy's jaw.
"You have?"
Hermione smiles fondly at the amazed tone in Pansy's voice. "I have," she confirms, leaning forward to capture Pansy's lips one more time, just to really drive the point home.
And as Hermione kisses Pansy, marveling in the overwhelming feeling of soft lips against hers, her heart thumps harder when she realizes that she can do this anytime she wants. She can kiss Pansy anytime at all.
Because Pansy is her bard.
Before she can help it, a laugh escapes from her lips, causing Pansy to pull back in surprise.
"What?"
"Nothing," Hermione murmurs, reverently trailing her fingertips along Pansy's jawline. "I'm just…I'm so glad it's you."
Pansy smiles. "I'm glad, too. And for what it's worth…I've been thinking about it, too. Kissing you, I mean. I've been thinking about it for ages."
"Really?"
"Mm. Honestly, it was starting to drive me mad."
Hermione hums. "Well maybe if you'd told me sooner, we wouldn't have wasted so much time just thinking about it."
Pansy winces at the reminder of her deception and says, "about that…I know we got a bit sidetracked, but are you…are you upset with me?"
Hermione leans back as she ponders the question for just a moment. She's not upset that Pansy had kept her in the dark for such a long time, because she can more or less understand all of Pansy's reasonings. And for all she knows, had roles been reversed, she would have made the same ridiculous decisions. But even though she's not really upset, there are a few things that are weighing on her, so she glances back to Pansy and says, "upset? No. Annoyed? …Maybe just a bit," Hermione says, raising a wry eyebrow. "I mean, honestly. Did you have to tell me I was talking to Millicent, of all people?"
Pansy eyes light up at the reminder of her prank. "Surely the brightest witch of our age hasn't forgotten that Slytherins are cunning by nature?" she asks, tapping Hermione's knee lightly.
Hermione rolls her eyes. "I hate that stupid nickname, you know," she mutters. "And anyway, there's a difference between being cunning and being a massive prat."
"Well, luckily for you, I happen to be both."
Hermione scoffs, then tilts her head and surveys Pansy. "So you said it was the day we brewed Veritaserum?" she asks, going back to what Pansy had said before she had thoroughly distracted her. "That was when you saw my parchment?"
Pansy nods. "I nearly had a heart attack," she says dryly. "And I was this close to dropping out of school so we'd never have to meet face to face at the end of this mad experiment."
"I'm glad you didn't," Hermione says, reaching out to tangle her hand with Pansy's. "Can I ask what convinced you to stay?"
Pansy hesitates for a moment, then says, "Daphne. She stumbled upon me in the midst of a complete meltdown and I sort of told her…well, everything. I came out to her, told her I was falling in love with my parchment pal, and told her that my parchment pal just so happened to be you."
Hermione raises her eyebrows in shock. "That's…that's quite a lot to take in all at once."
"It was. But Daph was…she was amazing. She accepted it all and she's the entire reason I decided to try. She told me that I should get to know you. That you were quite literally the same girl I already had feelings for and that if I would stop being a twat to you, I might see that you were…well. That you were Robin, I suppose," Pansy says, her voice warm and fond.
Hermione smiles at the nickname as she lightly strokes her thumb over Pansy's hand, but then something occurs to her. "So…Greengrass knows?" she asks, her thumb pausing in place. "About…about everything?"
Pansy shakes her head quickly. "I didn't tell her what you told me in the library. I would never do that. But she's annoyingly observant," she says with a grimace. "So she probably knows more than she should. And she knows everything on my end. Knows how I feel about you, knows that I was meeting you today…"
"That day in the Three Broomsticks," Hermione says, realization dawning on her. "Rosmerta didn't have a shipment, did she? I thought it was strange at the time, but…"
"Daphne bribed her," Pansy says, wincing slightly at the memory. "I didn't ask her to," she adds quickly. "But she's nothing if not determined."
Hermione shakes her head in wonder at the confirmation. "You know, normally, I'm not a fan of sneaky tricks, but I suppose in this case, I'll make an exception. I think that conversation was the entire reason I broke things off with Ron and figured out who I was and what I actually wanted." Hermione looks at Pansy with wide eyes. "God…does this mean I owe Greengrass a thank you?"
"If only she was that easy to please," Pansy mutters darkly.
"What does that mean?"
"It means I already owe her something absolutely mad. But no, you don't owe her anything."
Hermione hums. "Well, either way. I'm grateful to her."
Pansy frowns a bit as she absently plays with Hermione's hand. "Can I…can I tell her about this? About us?" she asks quietly. "If you don't want me to, then I won't," she adds quickly. "I can keep it a secret, if that's what you'd prefer."
"I…"
Hermione's thrown by the question. She hadn't really thought about who should know about their relationship, if anyone at all. But the thought of keeping this completely secret seems absolutely absurd. How could she possibly keep secret the way she feels about the witch before her? How could she not let Harry, Ron, and Ginny in on this monumental development?
"No. No, I don't want you to keep it a secret," Hermione finally says. "At least, not from Greengrass. She's your best friend and she certainly deserves to know. But that said, I do think we should probably limit the amount of people we tell."
"Really?" Pansy asks with a sardonically raised eyebrow. "You didn't want to make a special announcement tomorrow morning at breakfast?"
Hermione scoffs. "God, can you imagine? I mean, I'll have to tell Ron and Harry eventually, but that's not exactly the way I'd go about it."
"You're going to tell Potter and Weasley?" Pansy asks, her eyes widening with surprise.
"Of course. I mean, I don't know when, but…they're mybest friends. I can't just not tell them that I'm in love with—"
Hermione cuts herself off so abruptly, it's almost comical. Her eyes grow wide as she realizes what she was about to say, and she looks at Pansy with alarm, fully prepared to apologize for her slip of the tongue. But Pansy is already staring back at her with burning eyes and a beautiful smile.
"Why'd you stop?" Pansy asks, her smile growing impossibly wider.
"I…I mean we…we haven't even talked about what we are yet," Hermione says, letting go of Pansy's hand and running flustered fingers through her hair. "I didn't think I should be saying that I'm…that I'm…well, you know, that I'm—"
"Hermione. May I tell you what I think we are?" Pansy asks, smoothly cutting off Hermione's pathetic ramble.
Hermione nods her head, grateful for the interruption.
"I think," Pansy says slowly, "that we're something unexpected. I think that we're two people who know each other, inside and out…from the tiniest, most inconsequential things to the big, awful, messy secrets…though most of those are mine, mind you," she adds with a small smile. "But I think we're two people who against all the staggering odds, somehow bring out the best in each other. I think we're two people who think about each other all the time…who think about what tomorrow holds and the day after that and the day after that and every day that we're lucky enough to spend together. And I think…" Pansy takes a brief pause and Hermione waits with bated breath and shining eyes for her to continue. "I think," Pansy finally murmurs, "that we're in love with each other. I think that despite all of our faults and all of the odds and all our past, we love each other. At least, I hope we do. Because I know that I love you. I know that I fell in love with you before I had any idea who you were, and I know that I've only fallen more in love with you every day since. You astonish me, Hermione Granger," Pansy murmurs, taking Hermione's hand once more. "And I don't want to wait around any longer, pretending that I haven't spent the past few months completely head over heels for you. And maybe that's mad!" she says with a small laugh. "Maybe it's absolutely reckless and mad and far too soon, and I'm sure Daphne would smack me for telling you all this before we've even gone on a date. But I don't care. I don't care, because all I know is that I love you. I've wanted to tell you for weeks now, and now that I can, I'm never going to stop myself again. I love you, Hermione. And I'll spend every day of my life loving you, if you'll let me." Pansy lifts the hand in hers and brushes her lips against Hermione's knuckles.
Hermione watches the gesture with damp eyes and so many feelings exploding in her chest that they all come pouring out in a burst of laughter. "I…I…" she reaches up to swipe her sleeve against her eyes. "How did I not realize it was you?" she asks with a stunned shake of her head.
Pansy lifts an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that reply. "What do you—"
"I love you, too," Hermione says quickly. "I love you, and I…god, you talk exactly the same, I don't know how I didn't…I mean, I thought I was in love with two different people, but you didn't even try to hide yourself, and I just…"
A slow smile stretches over Pansy's face. "I didn't, did I?"
"Not even a little."
"So…if I pulled one over on the brightest witch of our age," Pansy says thoughtfully, "does that mean that I'm the brightest witch of our age now?"
"Oh my god…"
"No, really! That has to be how it works, right?"
"You're ridiculous."
"Is there some kind of ceremony? Ooh, or a crown? Do I get a crown? I mean, if I'm the new brightest witch of our age, surely I deserve a crown?"
"You, Pansy Parkinson," Hermione says, "are the most infuriating, insufferable, frustrating witch of our age."
"I—"
Hermione leans forward and gives Pansy a quick kiss, her lips curling up when she hears Pansy's surprised inhalation. She cups her hand to Pansy's cheek, swipes her thumb over soft skin, and pulls back just an inch to gaze into green eyes. "And I'm so in love with you."
Pansy smiles, then immediately leans back in to kiss Hermione. And Hermione lets her for a moment. She lets her eyes flutter closed as Pansy's fingertips skim along her jaw. She lets her hands tangle in Pansy's hair once more as she eagerly parts her lips. She lets the same wonderful, overwhelming sensations settle into her chest as she catches Pansy's muted whimper of pleasure in her mouth.
And she'd probably be content in completely losing herself in Pansy's intoxicating kisses for the rest of the night when something suddenly occurs to her. She pulls back and fixes Pansy with a wary look. "Wait. Is this what you wanted to tell me in the library?"
"What?" Pansy asks, blinking her eyes open and looking completely confused as to why Hermione's lips were no longer on hers.
"Before you left. You wanted to tell me something. Was it this?"
"Oh. I…uh…yes?" Pansy says sheepishly.
Hermione stares at her incredulously. "Pansy."
"What?"
"Why didn't you just say something?"
The haze lifts from Pansy's eyes and she manages to roll them. "I tried," she says with exasperation. "But you kept interrupting."
"Because I thought it was going to be something stupid! I didn't think it was going to be this!"
"Why would I have wanted to tell you something stupid?" Pansy asks, leaning back and sounding completely bewildered.
"I don't know! I just…you could have been killed and you didn't think I'd want to know that you were my bard all along?"
"No. I definitely thought you'd want to know, which is why I tried to tell you," Pansy says, stressing each word.
"Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable."
"It's not my fault you never stop talking!"
"Maybe don't lead with this might make you angry."
"Well, it might have! I didn't know how you'd react! And besides, I tried to tell you the week before, but again, you wouldn't stop talking!"
"When?"
"After you figured out the wire. After you almost kissed me."
"That's not fair," Hermione says quickly. "I thought I had made you uncomfortable. I didn't know you felt the same way!"
"Right, which is why I was going to tell you, but then you told me that I wasn't your type."
"I—"
"Which, I'm no expert, but based on the way you just kissed me, I'm going to say that might have been a lie?"
Hermione rolls her eyes at Pansy's cocky smirk. "You're unbelievable," she repeats.
"Thank you, but we're not discussing my snogging prowess right now."
Hermione laughs in spite of herself. "And so humble." Pansy grins, and Hermione shakes her head. "Okay. First ground rule of this?" she says, ticking a finger between them. "You tell me important things before you march off into battle."
"I can agree to that," Pansy says amicably. "Mostly because I never plan on marching into battle again. But considering I was mad enough to fall in love with a Gryffindor, I suppose I should say that the same rule goes double for you."
Hermione smiles. "Agreed. And second ground rule? No more massive secrets."
Pansy nods, then, something flickers in her eyes. "I suppose there's one more thing I should tell you, then…"
"Oh, here we go," Hermione says, preparing herself for another one of Pansy's ridiculous bits.
"McGonagall knows about us."
Hermione rolls her eyes at Pansy's newest attempt to bait her. "Hilarious. Honestly, you're wasted at Hogwarts. You should be performing in Muggle comedy clubs."
Pansy shakes her head emphatically. "I'm not lying."
"Of course you're not. Let me guess, does Sprout know about us, too? Flitwick? Or, no, I know…Snape. Does Snape know about us?"
"Merlin, I hope not," Pansy says with a wince. Then she tilts her head and says, "but you must have noticed the way McGonagall looked at us, though?"
Hermione's gaze narrows. "What do you mean?"
"That night she found us in the library? And I said we were dealing with a personal problem? You didn't notice anything?"
"I…"
Hermione drops Pansy's gaze to study the grass, trying to remember the moment in question. Eventually, she pulls together a memory of McGonagall looking between them with wide, almost shocked eyes. And when she remembers the way McGonagall had said in the future, try to tend to your personal problems outside of the library with a small, mischievous smile, Hermione brings her own shocked gaze back up to Pansy's.
"She knows?"
Pansy shrugs as she scoots back a bit to settle her back against the trunk of the beech tree. "Seems like it."
"But…but…"
"And it probably didn't help that she found us essentially sleeping together in Snape's office."
Hermione's cheeks burn at the implication. "We weren't sleeping together, we were just…"
"…Sleeping together?" Pansy puts in with a smirk when Hermione is unable to find the right words.
"We weren't. We were about to sleep together," Hermione says. But when she realizes that her correction somehow sounds even more suggestive, she immediately covers her face with both hands as Pansy laughs in delight in the background.
"Merlin! If only I had managed to stay awake a bit longer," Pansy says. "I mean, had I known what you had in mind, I would've taken a second Wideye Potion."
Hermione shakes her head back and forth, her face still covered by her hands. "You're impossible," she mutters.
"I am. But you love me."
Hermione lowers her hands at the simple statement and flashes Pansy a small smile. "I do," she says, the truth in the words burning brightly in her chest and filling her heart to the brim.
Pansy's face shines at Hermione's words and she leans forward to tug on Hermione's arm, gently pulling her closer. Hermione willing follows and after a moment of repositioning, she finds herself seated between Pansy's legs with the other girl's arms wound loosely around her. She lets her head fall back to comfortably rest against Pansy's chest, and when she feels slim fingers gently comb through her hair, she closes her eyes and sighs in content. Pansy drops a kiss to Hermione's temple and murmurs, "I love you, too. Even if all our professors think we're shagging."
Hermione snorts quietly, then as cooly as she can manage, says, "well…all in good time," with a light squeeze to Pansy's knee.
Pansy's body stiffens behind her, and when Hermione cranes her head back to catch Pansy's eyes, she finds the other witch grinning with surprise shining on her face. "Always the ones you don't expect," Pansy says.
"Hm?"
"Nothing," Pansy says, ducking her head down to drop a quick kiss to Hermione's lips. "Just remembering something Daphne once said."
She kisses Hermione once more, then they fall into a comfortable silence. Pansy's fingers gently play with Hermione's hair and Hermione absently runs her thumb over Pansy's knee, and for a few lovely and long seconds, the only sounds are the water lapping in the Black Lake and the birds, still trilling merrily around them. But after a moment, Pansy very tentatively breaks the peaceful quiet.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"Does this mean that we're…together?" Pansy asks nervously. "I mean, together together?"
Hermione scoffs. "Well, I genuinely don't make a habit of snogging my friends or telling them that I'm in love with them, so…yes. I'd say this means we're together. I mean, if that's okay by you?" she adds, once again tilting her head back to find Pansy's eyes.
Pansy grins. "That's very okay by me."
Something occurs to Hermione, though, and she sits up out of Pansy's hold and bites her lip nervously. "It's not…I mean, it's not too soon, is it? After everything that happened with your father, I don't want you to jump into something you're not ready for. I mean, obviously, I want this. I want us to be together more than anything, but…" She trails off, then sighs. "You offered me time and space, and I think it's only fair I do the same to you. If you need to put this on hold until you've sorted through things, I'll understand. And I'll be here whenever you're ready."
Pansy's eyes soften and she shakes her head. "No, I…I don't want to put anything on hold." She frowns at the Black Lake for a moment, and when she speaks, it's carefully measured. "I won't lie to you…I have a lot to work through, and it might take me a while. And I can't promise that I'll be the…the easiest partner in the world. I unfortunately seem to come with more baggage than I'd like," she adds with a rueful smile. "But I want this, too. More than I've ever wanted anything before. And as long as you don't mind putting up with an occasionally poor bedfellow, then no. It's not too soon."
"I don't mind that at all," Hermione murmurs, her mind immediately turning to a lovely vision of Pansy in her bed, tucked under her covers, legs tangled with her own as she holds the other girl close. It makes her heart ache with want and she feels momentarily breathless when she realizes just how possibly her little daydream is.
"So…we're dating, then?" Pansy asks, pulling Hermione out of her private fantasy.
"I suppose we are," Hermione says, a small thrill running through her body at the confirmation. Her old, familiar butterflies swarm in her stomach, making her skin buzz and her heart thud just a bit faster.
It still doesn't feel real. She still feels like she's in the plot of some idyllic Muggle movie and at any moment, it's all going to slip away. Because in Hermione's experience, life doesn't work out like this. It's never neat and tidy and clean. There are always curveballs, or unexpected bumps in the road, or twists you never see coming. So to have everything boil down to something as simple as Pansy being her bard? It feels unreal, but in the best possible way.
But then Pansy is smiling at her and Hermione is feeling everything and she knows that nothing has ever been this real before.
"You know, most people don't say they love each other before they've even decided that they're dating," Pansy says. "And most people don't decide they're dating after a day, for that matter."
"Well then, most people are terribly dull," Hermione says.
"Mm. I suppose no one can ever accuse us of going about this in a dull way."
"I'm the Robin Hood of Hogwarts, remember? I couldn't be dull if I tried. And you," Hermione says, taking Pansy's hand once more and gently playing with it. "You have a dragon."
Pansy rolls her eyes. "The only thing she ever remembers," she mutters, tilting her head up and directing her words to the sky.
"Well, it's not dull, is it?"
"Hundreds of letters! Hundreds of letters, and you're still stuck on the bloody dragon. It's like you don't know anything else about me," Pansy adds with a fake, petulant pout.
The pout is surprisingly endearing, and Hermione finds herself leaning forward to kiss it away almost on instinct. It's a gentle, affectionate kiss, but one that still makes Hermione's body fill with so much warmth, it's almost overwhelming. After a moment, she leans back and says, "I know everything about you, Pansy Parkinson." She gazes steadily into green eyes and lifts a hand to gently cup Pansy's cheek. "I remember every last thing you've ever told me. And do you know what?" she whispers, her lips just a breath away from Pansy's.
"What?" Pansy asks breathlessly.
"Nothing has ever been," Hermione murmurs, kissing Pansy once more, "nor ever will be," she adds with another light kiss, "as good as the dragon."
She can't help the grin that immediately forms on her face and when Pansy pulls back to aim an exasperated look at Hermione, she simply laughs.
"I'm beginning to think you just want me for my dragon," Pansy says, raising a petulant eyebrow.
"Caught me," Hermione says. Then she tilts her head. "Well, that, and you're a good kisser."
"Mm. So is that the foundation of every good relationship, then? A dragon and a decent snog?"
"It's certainly the foundation of ours."
A devious twinkle enters Pansy's eye. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to really strengthen the foundation, then, would it?"
Hermione frowns in mock-thought. "I'm not sure howwe'd go about strengthening a—"
"If you say dragon, I'm leaving," Pansy says with a warning in her tone.
Hermione grins at Pansy. "Oh. Did you mean the snogging bit?" she asks innocently. "No, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to strengthen that, either. But maybe we could work on it behind the tree this time?" she adds, deciding to think about the quite large matter of privacy before she's rendered completely useless by Pansy's talented lips.
Pansy cocks an eyebrow and says, "I can work with that." She flashes an almost sultry smile that immediately turns Hermione's insides to jelly, then stands up and impatiently tugs Hermione off the ground. And as Hermione follows her behind the tree to work on strengthening their foundation, she genuinely can't remember the last time she's been this happy.
And of course, there are still questions. There are still so many things to discuss and so many things to figure out. She wants to ask Pansy how she knew about Robin Hood in the first place. She wants to poke fun at her for having the absolute nerve to give her advice on forgiveness that long ago night. She wants to know exactly how much Greengrass knows, and whether or not she's been honest with Malfoy. She wants to know more about Pansy's grandmother (or perhaps her aunt…?) She wants to figure out how they're going to navigate a secret relationship for the rest of this year. She wants to know if Pansy's as serious as she is about going to Paris.
She wants to know everything and more, because no matter what, for better or for worse, Hermione will always be the girl with too many questions and an unquenchable thirst for knowledge.
But when Hermione finds herself pushed back against an unforgiving tree trunk and feels Pansy's body press firmly against hers, she thinks that those questions can probably wait.
When she lazily winds her arms around Pansy's back and feels her blood start to run hot at the first touch of dark lips to hers, she completely forgets what questions she had in the first place.
And when she sucks Pansy's lower lip into her mouth and nips at it, drawing a low, desperate groan from the other girl, she becomes fully focused on a much different unquenchable thirst.
They'll figure it all out later. But as of right now, they're too thoroughly wrapped up in each other and too desperately in love to care.
And Hermione has never been happier.
***