Lessons were suspended. Examinations postponed.
Many parents had come to Hogwarts over the next few days, pulling their children from the school. The Patil twins were gone before breakfast the morning following Dumbledore's death. Zacharias Smith was escorted from the castle by his father. Seamus was flatly refusing to accompany his mother home.
The funeral was to be held soon, Hogsmeade filling steadily with witches and wizards coming to pay their respects.
The Weasleys had arrived the day of the attack, Fleur coming with them to be at Bill's side.
According to Theo, the Greengrasses had arrived as well.
He'd been expelled from the hospital wing by them the moment they came round the curtain to find him sitting beside their daughter on the bed.
"We were just reading!" Theo complained. "Apparently, sitting with Daphne is some kind of personal offence to them."
Blaise snorted. "You were in the bed."
"On the bed. There's a difference."
"Mister Greengrass doesn't like you. I thought we established that over the holidays."
Hermione leaned back against the cool stone wall of the Slytherin common room, arms folded, watching the argument unfold between Blaise and Theo with a faint smirk. "I'm more surprised your parents aren't here as well," she admitted. "I figured all the pureblood families would be pulling their children."
Theo looked at her. "My father's in Azkaban — thanks for that, by the way, 'Mione — and my mother's been dead a couple of years."
Hermione was taken aback by the bluntness. "Blaise?"
"Think Mum's on a honeymoon," Blaise replied, glancing toward the girls' staircase. "Although — if I had to guess — there's a reason we haven't seen Pansy yet."
Hermione blinked. "Pansy's mum is here?"
Both boys nodded.
"Got here last night. They had a screaming match." Theo supplied.
Hermione was on her feet before she'd properly decided to stand. "I need to go."
Blaise raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean you need to go?"
She was already halfway through lacing her trainers when Pansy's footsteps began echoing from the staircase above. "I mean," she said, pulling the lace tight, "I met Pansy's mum while I was impersonating Pansy just before the start of term. She doesn't particularly like me."
Theo gave a low whistle, watching Hermione tie the other lace with focused urgency. "You impersonated Pansy and met her mother? Just casually? That's suicidal."
"It's not like I planned it!" she hissed, stuffing her jumper into her bag. "I was trying to work out what Draco was up to. Cassandra was just… there. She let it go at first. I wasn't even Polyjuiced — she could tell who I was, but she didn't make a scene. We left Borgin and Burkes before she called me out. Said I was showing initiative and nerve. Then told me to watch my back around Pansy."
She was already moving toward the door.
"Hermione Granger, don't you dare," Pansy said from the top of the stairs, her mother appearing a step behind her.
Hermione froze. Slowly turned around.
Pansy descended with a grin and steered Hermione firmly toward her mother. "Mum — Hermione."
Cassandra smiled — a controlled, measuring thing. "Miss Granger. Still sneaking into places you don't belong?"
"Only when it's for the right reasons," Hermione said, forcing a smile.
"A Gryffindor answer." Cassandra hummed, her gaze sweeping Hermione from head to toe and settling, briefly, on her jumper. "And yet, here you are. In my daughter's common room. In Slytherin colours. Making yourself quite comfortable."
Hermione glanced down at herself — Draco's jumper. "What can I say? I've grown rather fond of the lot." It was a feeble attempt at charm.
"Yes, I can see that." Cassandra's gaze lingered. "Tell me something, Miss Granger."
Pansy leaned swiftly toward Hermione's ear. "She knows about you and Draco," she breathed, by way of warning.
Hermione's eyes went wide for just a moment. She filed the threat to thoroughly reprimand Pansy later, and straightened. "Yes, Mrs Parkinson?"
"Who is the boy who seems to have caught my daughter's fancy?"
"Mum!" Pansy hissed.
Theo brightened immediately. "There's a boy?"
"There is no boy," Pansy said.
Blaise had folded his arms, visibly fighting back laughter. Theo was beaming — plainly delighted to have found something new to use against Pansy.
"Oh, this I have to hear," Blaise said.
"There is no boy," Pansy repeated, with considerably less conviction, as the tips of her ears went pink.
Hermione almost laughed. "Godric, you're pink."
Pansy turned to her mother, clearly flustered. "This is your doing. You always do this. You walk in and suddenly I'm eleven again."
Cassandra didn't look the least bit put out. "Maybe, if you'd stop fighting me and simply come home —"
"I'm not leaving until my friends do." Pansy stood her ground.
"Draco is already back at the Manor. Narcissa owled me when he arrived."
Hermione felt her chest tighten. "Draco's home?" she asked quietly.
Cassandra turned to Hermione slowly, her expression unreadable for a long beat. Then, with an almost imperceptible nod: "Yes."
Draco was alive.
He was home.
And he hadn't sent word.
Not to her. Not to any of them.
"I should go," Hermione said quietly, a cold shiver moving through her. "I'll see you all after the funeral, yeah?"
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The funeral had ended some time ago. Harry and Hermione stood out in the grounds, Crookshanks settled in Hermione's arms.
"You're not coming back, are you?" she asked quietly.
Harry shook his head. "I've got a mission."
She nodded, running her fingers slowly through the half-Kneazle's fur. "Harry, I —" her voice cracked.
"I know," he said softly, not looking at her. "I didn't do it for him, Hermione. I did it for you."
She couldn't meet his eyes. "He's not a killer."
"No." Harry agreed, after a moment. "I don't think he is either." He paused. "He's still a Death Eater, though."
She tilted her head down, watching Crookshanks breathe. What could she possibly say to that?
"How long did you know?" Harry asked.
She shrugged, her hold on Crookshanks tightening. "Not long. A month or two. Maybe three. After the — the Sectumsempra…" Her voice came out thinner than she'd meant it to. "The days have been blurring since. It feels like both days and years at the same time."
Harry nodded.
They were quiet for a while, the wind filling the space between them.
"Ron's coming with me," Harry said at last. "To find the Horcruxes."
Hermione said nothing, letting the silence hold.
"You could come too, you know," he added, quieter. "You're the brains of the whole thing."
She let out a small, rough sound that was almost a laugh. "You still trust me? After everything?"
Harry looked at her steadily, a small, wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth but not quite forming.
"I still love him," she said, as though she needed him to hear it before he answered.
Harry's gaze didn't shift. "I know."
"You know," she repeated, as if hearing it in a foreign language.
He shrugged. "Does it change anything?"
"I'd die for you, Harry. If it came down to it — I'd put my life on the line for yours." She loosened her hold on Crookshanks. "I'd kill for him, though. I practically did."
Harry went still, his jaw tightening.
Hermione didn't apologise for the words. Didn't soften them. Didn't explain. She just watched Crookshanks pad away into the tall grass, his tail twitching in rhythm with the wind.
"I think…" Harry hesitated. "I think that's why I still trust you." He admitted.
Hermione turned to look at him, her brow furrowing. "Because I'd kill for him?"
"Because you were honest about it," Harry said.
A beat of silence.
"I'll need to find someone to watch Crookshanks," she said.
Harry's mouth twitched. "That mean you're coming?"
Hermione shrugged. "You wouldn't last a day without me, Potter."
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Hermione was still sitting on the grass hours later.
Harry had left a while ago, needing to pack, but she hadn't felt like moving.
The sun had dipped low, casting long shadows over the grass, the last of the daylight flickering gold across the surface of the lake. The distant hum of voices from the castle had gone quiet. Most had gone in for dinner or to be with their families.
Crookshanks had curled up in her lap, now asleep.
Footsteps approached behind her. She heard a soft huff as someone settled in the grass beside her.
"What is it with Gryffindors and sitting on the ground?" Pansy wondered.
Hermione's lips twitched. "How's your mum?"
"Hovering." She said, somewhat irritably. "At least I haven't run into Potter yet. Knowing him, he'd probably tell her exactly what positions he had me in."
Hermione snorted. "I cannot even imagine her face."
"I'm not sure what would be worse for any of us, really — her finding out about my love life, or finding out it's been with The Boy Who Lived."
She laughed softly, dragging her fingers down Crookshanks' back. "You know he's leaving, right? Harry."
Pansy didn't answer immediately. "Figured." She said, finally.
"So is Ron."
Pansy looked at her then. "So are you." She wasn't asking.
Hermione smiled, and it was a sad thing. "If you want to see him —"
"I want to see you." Pansy placed her hand over Hermione's, meeting her eyes.
Hermione couldn't hold the smile. "You're not mad?"
"I'm livid." Her voice caught slightly. "I already lost Draco. The way things are looking, I don't think Daphne's coming back next year. And now I'm losing you."
Hermione didn't say anything. She kept stroking Crookshanks' back, watching his side rise and fall with every soft breath.
"I need a favour," she said quietly.
Pansy looked at Crookshanks. "No."
"It's a bit inconvenient, I know —"
"I'm not a cat person."
"He's half-Kneazle."
"I'm not an animal person, Granger."
"I wouldn't ask if I didn't think you were the right person."
Pansy sighed and leaned back on her elbows, staring at the horizon. "You're lucky I love you."
"I love you too, Pans." Hermione's lips twitched.
A beat of silence passed between them — thick with everything unsaid.
Pansy broke it. "I'm giving him to his father."
Hermione's brows pulled together. She turned. "His what?"
Pansy didn't look at her, her eyes fixed on the horizon where the blue bled into orange.
"I'm giving him to his father," she repeated, calmly, as if Hermione was simply being slow. "I'm giving him to Malfoy."
Hermione stared at her. "That's not —"
"Don't fight me on this. You won't win."
Hermione rolled her eyes and reached into her pocket. She pulled out a small, flat, rectangular device and held it out.
Pansy looked it over, turning it carefully in her hands. "A bomb?"
"A Muggle flip phone."
Pansy turned it over as if it might bite her. "A what?"
"A flip phone." Hermione took it back and opened it with a satisfying snap. "A Muggle communication device. I've already set it up. Give it to Draco. If he wants to reach me, my number's in there. I had Mum send them."
Pansy held the small device like something she fully expected to curse her. "Muggles," she muttered, with a slight scowl. "You're really disappearing off the face of the earth, aren't you? Secret Gryffindor mission?"
Hermione's smile was quiet. "Something like that."