Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Busy streets, whinging children. The click-clacking of heels. And the smell of burnt coffee beans that was being freshly brewed over in the cafe down the street. The typical morning of Hermione Granger headed to the Auror Training Facility–she presumed. The new familiar scent and scenery she would very soon become accustomed to. 

Parks (Pansy Parkinson): You know, Floo’ing does wonders. Especially for hair…

Hermione: Noted. 

Parks: And since you need all the help you can get…
Parks: It feels like something you should look into. 

Hermione: You never fail to give me unsolicited advice. 

Parks: Full time job. 

Hermione: Isn’t that your fresh new French Designer shop? 

Parks: Parks n Leather, you mean. 

Hermione: Right, everything set up? 

Parks: Just about, Ron’s being a total arse about hanging up the shelving but you know he was a C-section baby. 

Hermione: And that relates to what? 

Parks: He runs away from labor    

Hermione: ha-ha. 

Parks: Draco thought that was much funnier. 

Hermione: Must be a pureblood thing. 

Parks: Anyway, you will note that I am not mentioning your first day of training. 

Hermione:You just did. 

Parks: Semantics. 

Hermione sipped her last bit of takeaway coffee before tossing it in the trash, psyching herself up for what will inevitably decide her future. She didn’t think she was the type to be an Auror… perhaps, Healer would have been a more obvious choice. But really, she thought she would be a Professor. Suitable, respectable—obvious. But she was denied the position multiple times…and while she would like to stay home and lick her wounds she knew she had to move forward. 

Which brought her here…At the ATF of Nott Corporations. She had thrown away the many invitations of Alastor Moody to come check it out, see if it would be a good fit for her and while it was thoughtful she couldn’t help but feel it was for show. They wanted another person from the Golden trio to showcase in their Auror Officials and she couldn’t blame them… But, she would not be another monkey in someone’s circus. 

Hermione: Just say what you need to say. 

Parks: I just wanted to check the temp

Parks: That’s all

Hermione: I’m a bit chilly but I imagine whatever practice they have me do will warm me up

Hermione: shit i left my workout clothes in our loft. 

Parks: You’re so very bright, why do you play this game with me? 

Because I don’t want to talk about it. Obviously.

It already felt like a walk of shame, coming back around after declining a handful of offers. But the added embarrassment was having to see… him.  

Parks: That bad huh? 

Hermione: I didn’t say anything. 

Parks: exactly!! Tell me something!! What’s the worst thing that could happen? He’s going to say “hello, long time no see, you’re looking hot as hell” and then you will go about your day in class. 

Hermione: Yeah, sure, it’s only been five years of no contact. But sure. 

Parks: You’re doing that thing in your brain where it expands for no reason. 

Hermione: Leave my brain and its size out of it. 

Parks: It’s no big deal, babes. Have drinks with Draco and Stori after, I’ll meet you guys one drink later. Love you! Go kick some arseeeeee xxxxxxxxx

Hermione smirked, clicking her screen off and sliding it into her back pocket. She would, in fact, need a drink after today. Something to satiate the nerves–something that numbs her arms other than the face Harry made the last time she saw him. 

But, what she didn’t know was what would go completely numb when she walked through those doors…

⋆˙⟡

Stori (Astoria Malfoy): Babe, you can’t leave me here with this buffoon. 

Draco: I’m literally your husband.  

Stori: A buffoon, all the same. 

Draco: It’s half price pints, Granger. If you’re gonna bail, choose a different night. Preferably a night I offered to pay. 

Stori: Cause money is so hard for you to come by

Draco: Granger, don’t be a wuss. I would hate to add that to the list, right under swot.  

Stori: What he means is, please come because he is very nosy and wants to know how today went. 

Hermione rolled her eyes, grunting as she shoved her head into the pillow as she let her phone continue to vibrate. Her friends were relentless, loyal—yes, but bloody relentless. Why couldn’t they just let her have the night to rest? Why must they see right through her bullshit? 

It’s not totally bullshit. She was exhausted, her toes were forming blisters by the second, and she felt sweaty in places she didn’t know could perspire such moisture. 

Parks: Draco you’re horrible at this. 

Stori: see!!

Draco: I don’t see either of you getting her arse over here… I have to use different tactics. 

Stori: Next time we need to invite Theo to entertain you.

Draco:I don’t like your tone.

Parks: @Hermione G that bad huh? 

The bright light glowed on Hermione’s face, the room now completely covered in darkness as the sun was setting. She couldn’t be bothered to turn on the lights knowing she was going to choose sleep over food within the hour. 

Sure, she was being a bit dramatic. But you—yes you, didn’t see his face this morning. 

She smiled, sliding through her friends' ridiculous texts. She could clear it up tomorrow, insist on breakfast at the Manor on Saturday. It would be fine, she just needed a few days. 

Maybe Harry: Hey
Maybe Harry: It’s Harry

Hermione's eyes widened as her heart plopped right into her gut, her phone slipping out of her hands and into her crotch as she stared into the dark abyss. 

Um. 

One buzz. 

Two buzz. 

Shit! How did he get my number?

Hermione took in a deep breath, picking up her phone and holding it to her chest, unwilling to look at the screen again. 

Oh for fuck sakes, pull yourself together. It’s just Harry–Harry from school. Harry, you know,  your old bestie who you nearly died for and—-

“Ugh,” Hermione grunted audibly. She shook her head before lifting her phone up and letting one eye squint at the new text messages. 

Maybe Harry: Look I’m sorry it was so weird today. That’s my bad. It’s just been a bit since ya know… 

Maybe Harry: Anyway, not trying to make this weird. But I just wanted to break the ice. Theo gave me your number, don’t be mad at him–I was pretty demanding. See you around and in class, teammate. (haha that was odd, right? Yeah, I won’t call you that again lol) 

Hermione blinked, her mouth hanging open as she reread his texts several times–perhaps even a grand total of five times before she let her thumbs type back. 

Hermione: haha yeah kinda weird

No. 

Hermione: No worries, see you around bud

What the hell?

Hermione: Thank you for reaching out 

Nope-nope-no.

Hermione didn’t need to be so awkward about this—she didn’t. In fact it was very plausible that he forgot everything. Which would be fine, she supposed. 

Hermione exhaled, ready to catapult her phone across the room when another text popped up in the text thread. 

Maybe Harry: It’s all good by the way, I didn’t go around telling people what happened. Just thought I’d give the reassurance. 

Hermione’s lips thinned and let her head fall onto her knees, closing her phone and tossing it across her bed causing Crookshanks to meow.. “Great… Great.” 

Chapter Text

Parks: I am not above holding you in contempt, Hermione Jean. Just because you saved the world, does not mean I’m above kicking you upside the head!!
Draco: Well good morning to you too, Parks. 

Stori: Wrong chat, babe lol. 

Parks: It's fine, she needs to be held accountable. 

Hermione: That's not what “being held in contempt” means… 

Parks: You would finally respond only to correct me. We should have been using the wrong form of there this whole time! 

Hermione: I was tired, long day. I’ll make it up to you guys. 

Draco: Technically the phrase works, btw. 

Hermione: Do you want a picture of my middle finger or can you use your imagination?

Stori: I vote for something that involves pastries.

Draco: Only if it comes with a side of telling us what the fuck happened with you and Potter. 

Parks: Bloody hell…

Hermione: What do you mean??? 

Parks: He just knows you were nervous, right Draco? 

Stori: Pans, why do you confide in my husband? It is a wasteful habit.

Draco: I’m going to pretend that wasn’t rude as hell.

Stori: Kissing you on the mouth through the phone! 

Pansy Parkinson was Hermione’s best friend, right next to the lovebirds and then Lavender Brown. All unlikely and entirely not what Hermione thought her future life would look like. A lion in a little snake pit with an added wolf. Ginny and Ronald were still very much siblings to her; the Weasleys were a present and adoptive family for her. And then there was Theo Nott and Blaise who were disgustingly in love with little to no attention span for anyone else but each other but good friends to her, nonetheless—it’s why she got in so quickly after declining so many times. And then… There was once Harry. 

But Pansy was like a sister she didn’t ask for but one she didn’t know what she had done without for so many years. 

Hermione: The better question is why do I even bother telling you things–I might as well tell Draco myself next time. 

Draco: Ah, that would be lovely, hun. Thank you. 

Parks: I simply brought up that it had been years since you saw Harry, not the other stuff. 

Stori: You almost had it, almost, Pans. Lolz. 

Draco: ???? Other stuff?? 

Parks: OH FUCK ME 

Hermione: Blocking you all. 

⋆˙⟡

Theo: Moody looks impressed. Keep up the good work, HG. 

Hermione: That’s good, never can tell with the guy. 

Theo: It's the eye, isn’t it? 

Hermione: lol piss off 

Theo: Seriously though, you will be ready in no time. I think Moody might even bump you up a few levels so you can be with seasoned Aurors. 

Hermione’s eyes widened as she mulled over his text. Seasoned Aurors was just a fancy way of saying it was Aurors who came to do training for a refresh but were otherwise signed and on the fields.

Which meant a certain raven-haired wizard would be in more of her classes. Harry was only observing the ones she was currently in—popping in and out, sharing a few words with the Auror instructor. But now she would see him… more? Right…of course…absolutely brill. 

It was already uneasy to make eye contact with him, especially after not responding to his texts. To be fair, it seemed as though Harry had cleared it up enough for both of them. What was she supposed to say that wouldn’t make things weirder? The answer was nothing, truly nothing. 

Parks: You avoidant mother-fucker. 

Hermione: You have got to get out of my head.

Parks: Start answering the Gala group texts or I’m kicking you off the Event Team. You know how these things must go. I am stressed as it is. 

Hermione: Sorry, sorry! I just got out of class. 

Parks: You are chronically online, you think I don't see when you like things? Post things to your story? 

Hermione: Stalker. 

Parks: I am and don’t you forget it, bitch. (Respond to my mother.) 

Hermione: will do xxxxx

Parks: xxxxxxxxxxx PS soz about telling Draco, promise to zip it from here on out. He just cares! 

Hermione peeled her track-pants off, turning the shower handle with her free hand as she contemplated the right way to tell Theo “Fuck no”. Something softer, she supposed—professional. Typically she would jump at the opportunity to skip levels, to reach the highest goal possible in record time—there would never be a scenario where she wouldn’t want to. Except for this. 

Hermione: I’m so fine with keeping the normal pace of things, Theo.

I don’t want to cut corners with this. 

Theo: Haha. Okay, sure. 

Hermione: I’m perfectly serious. 

Theo: I don’t care what people say, I think you’re hilarious, babes. 

Hermione scowled, ready to battle him via thumbs as another text popped up on her phone. A text, she did in fact not want. (Again.) 

Maybe Harry: I meant to say good morning to you in class, sorry if I seemed a bit rude. Moody has me running all over the facility these days. 

She sighed, scratching her forehead as she let her bathroom fill up with steam. She wasn’t sure if she ever thought for a moment Harry owed her a good morning or even that he was going to. Sure, they were in the same building every morning but he…he didn’t need to do this. 

Hermione: It’s alright, Potter. I appreciate you for clearing things up last night but please don’t feel obligated to keep things friendly. Totally get it, we’re all good here. 

Reasonable. Chill-ish? A get-out-of-free-jail card was handed to him right on a platter, so that he wouldn’t feel like he had to be tied to her out of obligation. Honestly, very kind of her. 

His text bubble popped in and out of the chat several times, causing Hermione to shake her head and click her phone off. He could sort himself out, she thought as she stepped in the shower and hopped in the shower. 

She let the hot water burn away the anxious residue that was etched in her skin. Scrubbed every memory that flashed in her mind when his name popped up on her phone—when she saw his bloody face. She could do this. It was going to be fine. Eventually, he wouldn’t even notice her. 

Maybe Harry: I admit, this is all weird and I’m not sure how to navigate this.

Maybe Harry: But you of all people don’t get to call me Potter. 

Maybe Harry: See you in the arvo

Chapter Text

Don’t get to call me Potter.

What the hell? Hermione scoffed and tsked as she got ready for her day of training. 

“Well don’t look at me like that, Crooks. You know he is being ridiculous. Plenty of time has passed and—-what? What?” Hermione cooed, nuzzling her nose into her familiar’s fluffy orange fur. 

Lavey (Lavender Brown): I would like the records to state that I gave it my all but I have now sworn off dating forever.

Hermione: Bill Weasley would get on one knee tomorrow, what are you on about? 

Lavey: Yeah, cause he’s got some bum-fuck wolf ideations.

Hermione: He’s a good man, babe. 

Lavey: Don’t side with a bloody man in my time of need, Mi. 

Hermione: I love you, I just want what's good for you. 

Lavey: Speaking of good things, how's the new job you never wanted? 

Hermione: It’s fine. 

Lavey: Parks said you were vague but I didn’t realise you were handing out phantom crumbs. 

Hermione: Lol, what do you actually want to know? 

Lavey: Potter, obviously. 

Hermione: Nothing to report. Top dog and all—very busy. 

Lavey: He was never too busy for you when he was saving the world. 

Hermione sighed, grabbing her purse before she headed out for brunch with Stori and Parks. Mentally preparing for their questions to be invasive and nosey. They would dig and she couldn’t blame them. She was avoiding, avoiding, avoiding. Which reminded her to email her Mind Healer later that day. 

It wasn’t as if she didn’t know Harry would be around—she agreed willingly, knowing they would run into each other. What she didn’t know was that she couldn’t bring herself to give any sort of friendly professionalism to him. 

Theo: Alright, Pan’s Gala event is happening and we have got to showcase our new line of Aurors. It will be important to the Ministry. Please make sure you dress classy and drink one to two drinks. Not to break the fourth wall here but the Ministry will cut expenses in our field if they find us lacking decorum. 

Maybe Harry: Of course. Is there a speech I need to be prepared for that Moody isn’t telling me about? 

Theo: Probably…wouldn't hurt to have a few words ready just in case. You know how he thinks things and doesn’t relay said thoughts. 

Maybe Harry: Beautiful. 

Theo: HG, I think it would be good to also speak. Given you are part of the original three. 

Hermione sighed, hoping to escape this thread she was thrown into against her will. It was very possible that Theo didn’t know–Harry did say he didn’t say anything. And although Theo was a good friend, Harry definitely got him in the unspoken divorce. 

Maybe Harry: We can go over notes, too. Just to make sure we don’t overlap. 

Hermione: Heard, Theo.

Theo: Great and sounds good, Harry. You two can link up after class hours. 

Link up? How about…No. 

Hermione: I’m not sure that’s needed. He can email me the notes and I’ll be sure to not overlap what he says. 

Theo: I know you aren’t busy, HG. Just make the time to go over your notes. 

Hermione: no need!

Theo: I’m not asking. 

Maybe Harry: Aye Aye, captain 

⋆˙⟡

Hermione huffed, scrolling past the photo before allowing herself to be tempted to look at Harry’s profile. She was fine not seeing it, not knowing—completely unaware of what was going on in the Golden Boy’s life. She heard bits and pieces, of course. He and Ron were still maintaining a friendship and well, so she supposed him and Ginny were also still close. 

And why wouldn’t they be? After all that. 

Parks: Giving a speech at the Gala…lol. 

Hermione: Against my will. 

Parks: With Potter. 

Hermione: Not with, he just also happens to be giving one. 

Parks: No, the notes say: shared mic moment with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.

Hermione: They would put his bloody name first

Parks: Yeah that's the detail to harp on 

Hermione: You know Theo isn’t good with the details, he was just making sure you guys slotted it in.

Parks: We, bitch. We!!! We are planning the Gala, not you guys tf

Hermione rolled her eyes, typing back a response when she got a notification pop-up from WizGram. 

NEW FOLLOWER: HarryJPotter

Hermione: I’m not following you back. 

Maybe Harry: You don’t typically have to let people know that. 

Hermione: I thought I might have needed to or you might fuss about it. 

Maybe Harry: So you thought to text me anyways to avoid texting me… who am I to correct your logic lol

Hermione: As I said, I just didn’t want the fuss. It’s perfectly normal for me to not want to follow you. 

Maybe Harry: Who are you trying to convince here? 

Hermione: You, before you fuss. 

Maybe Harry: Feels like you want me to fuss

Hermione: Wrong.

Maybe Harry: Ehh

Hermione: Okay, conversation over.

Maybe Harry: Why, when this has been so lovely?

Hermione: Goodnight. 

Maybe Harry: lol sweet dreams, Hermione. 

Chapter Text

Maybe Harry: Change your face. 

Hermione veered her attention over to the Auror that was standing in the corner of the room. He was scrolling through something on a tablet as Moody continued to go over wand safety measures. 

Hermione: You first. 

Maybe Harry: I’m not the one mean-mugging Moody right now. 

Hermione: Well, he’s ignoring my raised hand each time. 

Maybe Harry: He doesn’t take questions, but I do. 

Hermione: Didn’t ask. 

Maybe Harry: Come on, you know you want to the answers 

Hermione: Whatever you’re doing, stop it. 

Maybe Harry: You can’t help yourself, you have to know things. 

Hermione: And neither can you–stop texting me. 

Maybe Harry: Have you saved my number yet? 

Hermione: Why would you think I didn’t have it saved? 

Maybe Harry: Cause I know you lol 

Maybe Harry: Harry’s good—Head Auror sounds nice. Open to Commander.

Hermione: I like Potter. Only Potter. 

Maybe Harry: See, now you’re just flirting with me. 

Hermione scoffed, biting down a smile that was completely betraying every part of her that wanted to glare over at him. It was a familiarity–an old blanket she found in her childhood home’s basement. The type of nostalgia that sent her back to a time when she thought she almost had it all. 

Cause I know you.

She wanted to fight it, tell him to piss off and that he didn’t really. Not anymore. But unfortunately, he was irritatingly right about this specific thing. 

Maybe Harry: Risky business doing that with your future boss.

Hermione: You loved saying that. 

Maybe Harry: Save my bloody number. 

Hermione: And bossy already. 

Stop it—this had to stop. This was too easy, too slippery. Too bloody normal.  

Maybe Harry: Rich coming from your demands the past few weeks. 

Hermione: Name them. 

Maybe Harry: See, again, you’re just asking for me to keep talking to you. Unlike you to be so indecisive. 

Hermione: I think I’ve been pretty firm in the things I want.

Maybe Harry: Spare me. 

Hermione looked over to him then, tilting her head. Fine then, she thought, clicking her phone off and tossing it onto her purse.

Stori: Who is going to Neville and Ginny’s house warming party?

Draco: You ask as if I have a choice. 

Stori: Not you, I’m mostly asking Hermione. Pans would never pass up an invitation to inspect someone’s interior design. 

Parks: What people do with their living room says a lot about them. 

Draco: Mine’s huge, what does that say? 

Parks: Puffing your chest before noon? New record. 

Stori: Your mother designed that living room

Draco: Must you make it weird, babe? 

Hermione: Yeah, I should be good to go…is Ronald going? 

Parks: No :/ tournament is going over due to a forfeit. 

Draco: Knew the weasel wasn’t cut out for endurance. 

Parks: Funny, that used to be what people said about you in school. 

Stori: LOL 

Draco: Astoria, darling, I sure hope you are laughing because that is the exact opposite of what you were saying last night in bed. 

Hermione: Okay, ew. 

Parks: Anyway… I wanted to bring a few nice bottles of wine but if we get a few things together, I could make a huge housegiving basket! (This isn’t a suggestion!) 

Hermione: In another life you and Theo were made for each other. 

It was nice she had so many distractions, her calendar filling up right before her eyes without even having to try. Granted, seeing Ginny would spark a bit of anger in Hermione’s core. Some specks of shame and embarrassment. All things she had kept locked away and shoved in the far back corner of her mind. Ginny never knew and she never would. 

It was better that way. Better to feel the weight of recklessness alone than throwing it in the light and see what parts of you burn. 

A buzz cut off her thoughts then. One, two. Then three. 

Maybe Harry: I think we should go over what we are going to say, btw
Maybe Harry: We can do it all your way, I’m not pressed.
Maybe Harry: And I’m not accepting a barmy email about it. 

Hermione betrayed herself once more, peeking up to find Harry organizing a few files at his desk, his hair freshly tousled as if he had been stressed and gripped through his fingers through his chocolate mess. It reminded her of a time they stayed up late, cracking spells and spilling potions. That corner in the Library—the table everyone joked was haunted. 

“You say it like it's easy, Mi.” 

“It is—to me,” she chastised. 

“I can’t wait to find what doesn’t come naturally to you. What’s it like to be so bright?” 

He was right, most things did come naturally to her. She found solutions and answers with one kick of urgency. It was a part of her—she searched and she would find it. 

But he would also be prophetic in a way, waiting to see what would be the hiccup in all her knowledge. She just ran away before he could see and catch a glimpse of a time Hermione didn’t know something. That she didn’t know the answer, didn’t have the solution for getting over the one Harry James Potter. 

But that wasn’t even the most worrisome part for Hermione. It was the knowledge in knowing she never would. 

Chapter Text

Parks: Where did you go??
Parks: Did something happen? 

Hermione sniffled as she read her best friend’s text through her glossy eyes before looking at herself in the mirror, having just locked herself in the powder room of Ginny and Neville’s new home. 

Lavey: I’m not taking this shot alone, get your phat arse to the kitchen. 

This was dumb–stupid,stupid,stupid—UGH. It was just a stupid picture and in theory, it didn’t mean anything…But then why did her fingers shake as she held the portable camera to her face, peaking her eye through the viewfinder to see Ginny beaming as she sat between Neville and Harry. 

The act alone felt like a mirror to her life all those years ago; what she inevitably let unfold without putting up a fight or asking a single question. In truth, she had many that rolled around in her brain like marbles in a worn down maze but she didn’t think she could handle the answer—she wouldn’t be able to come to terms with what she found at the finish line. 

Harry: Did you leave already? 

Hermione sighed, twisting around and leaning up against the bathroom sink. 

Hermione: No

Harry: I was about to remind you of how rude it is to leave without saying goodbye. 

Hermione: This isn’t your party.

Harry: I said hello to you. It's a courteous thing to do, Mi. 

Hermione: One for manners, are you?

Harry: And you as well—oh wait, I forgot you got a hard on for Irish goodbyes. 

Hermione’s mouth parted, her arms going numb as she read over his text several times. 

Harry: Well is it really, if you leave a cryptic note as well? Or are the lines blurred there? I’m not aware of the credentials of Irish goodbyes or if the Irish are sticklers to the rules of them. Should we ask? 

Hermione: Are you drunk?

Harry: Gods, I wish. 

Hermione: What is wrong with you?? Stop it—and stop texting me. 

Harry: I’m not a fan of spreads which appears to really upset people but I suppose having dead parents is more of the obvious “what went wrong” with me. 

Hermione: How do you not like mustard? 

Harry: It's acidic as hell. 

Hermione: Aw, poor baby got tummy problems?

Harry: No no, keep calling me baby and see what happens. 

Hermione snorted, shaking her head and hating that suddenly the conversation turned so casual and entirely them.

Hermione: I hope you can hear my eyes rolling at you right now.

Harry: Think I’d rather see them roll back. 

Hermione: Harry James Potter. 

Harry: sozzzzzzzzzz lol 

Hermione: You’re sloshed. 

Harry: Nah, you just make it easy, Mi. Come on out of the washroom and have some fun. Parkinson is being a wretched cow. 

Hermione: I’m not good at parties. 

Harry: I know. You still do that ridiculous thing where you think things are better off if you remove yourself. 

Suppose, it was quite the habit of hers–not believing she ever added that much value to things, places or people. She was useful for once in her bloody life when she helped Ronald and Harry through the war but now she… She was left with just her. And she didn’t know if she could make use of just Hermione Jean, a muggle born witch. Sure, saving the world and everything —it should have opened a plethora of doors for her to choose from but the doors only worked if she believed in herself. And who was she, who was she to believe in without the duty of being Harry Potter’s friend? Who she was, in many ways, was molded by Harry—how she viewed the world was wrapped in the weight she helped carry alongside him. 

And then she lost him. What she once believed was a crutch now she could tell it was much more dire than that; Harry James was her lifeline and she had been trying to sever the cord for the last five years and failed—rather miserably.  

Hermione: do not. 

Harry: Alright, then come out. 

Hermione: I like it here. The rose-scented candle is nice. 

Harry: Thank fuck candles are portable then. 

Hermione: I thought I said to stop texting me. 

Harry: Happy to come to you, if that’s easier. 

Hermione: No need!!

Harry: What if I need to?

Hermione: Pardon?

Hermione watched, keeping their messages open as Harry’s text bubble popped in and out for the next forty-five seconds. 

Harry: Yeah some people actually need to use the loo. 

Hermione: Oh, right. Of course. 

Hermione let out a sigh, opening the door quickly and nearly running into someone’s chest before veering up and meeting a set of coke-bottle eyes. A hint of nostalgia slammed into her nose, Harry still wearing the same cologne since their 8th year and that night… Where the scent of him was burned, entirely ingrained in her brain. As if his name and the touch of his calloused fingers were branded inside every inch of her Hippocampus. 

As if he were teasing–taunting her in a faint, ghostly whisper of “I’m still here, even if you left.” 

“Were you outside the door the whole time?” Hermione asked, swallowing as she gripped her thumbs. 

“You should be more aware of your surroundings,” Harry said as he arched his brow. “Given you’re training to be an Auror and all.”  

Hermione rolled her eyes as she nodded her head. “Right, thanks for the tip.” 

It was then that as she scooted past him, careful not to brush against any part of him, that Harry leaned down, his lips tickling the tip of Hermione’s ear and said, “Happy to help my trainees.” 

Chapter Text

Draco: People are going to start wondering if Weasley was a rescue, Pans. 

Parks: First time I let him outside in a while, cut him some slack. 

Stori: Honestly, how was he supposed to know the difference between a duvet and bidet? lol

Draco: Through common civilization, I fear. 

Parks: He was nervous! 

Draco: He said the bidet was “comfy”. If you can imagine a grown man even using that adjective. 

Stori: I nearly pissed myself hahaha

Parks: I’m sighing. Can you hear my dramatic sigh?

Hermione: Ronald couldn't name a single nut outside of peanut so…

Stori: And Merlin help him. 

Draco: Didn’t you teach him anything in school, Granger?

Hermione: I was a bit busy dealing with your dipshit antics. 

Parks: You seem to be real busy these days. 

Stori: Oh.

Draco: Darling, shall we see ourselves out and grab some brunch? 

Stori: Let me grab my heels!

Parks: No. Stay. Hermione, tell me. 

Hermione: I have a whole new job that involves extensive training, what are you on about? 

Stori: Feels reasonable. 

Draco: Totally get it, love. 

Parks: You left Gin's house warming party without saying goodbye and you declined lunch the next day with me, Gin and Ron. Is it because I’m with him? Are you feeling weird now?

Draco: Now, Pans, why would you bring up someone's sad past like that? She doesn’t bring up that you were a Death Eater, you don't need to bring up that she—I don’t even want to say it. 

Parks: I wasn’t a Death Eater, that was you. Or does your memory still fail you? 

Draco: Now you’re just being mean. 

Stori: Babe lol. 

Hermione: Gods no. I could not give two shits if you are with Ronald. You know you have my unwavering support. It was just a measly snog. 

Draco: I’ll keep my eyelids open.You pour the bleach, Astoria. 

This secret, this one thing she swore to herself to never tell–to even think on, was beginning to be an infection she thought was once cleaned but instead started blistering under the skin of her heart. She didn’t like keeping things from Pansy, she didn’t like keeping things from any of her friends, but this one thing—this was hers to hold, covering it from any sharp thing that might pierce right through it and thus making her bleed right open. What she and Harry shared all those years ago was a cyst that grew and grew till she could use it as a shield—a reminder to never reveal the last time she was completely raw, entirely vulnerable. 

Parks: Well Gin says you just go through moods but I think it's something else. I know a bad lying witch when I see one. 

Hermione: I’m not lying. 

She’s just asking all the wrong questions, fortunately. (Which, one would suppose as the reader, is completely exhausting.)

Parks: Ron’s not even inviting Harry. Though, he thinks it's a bit odd how you are, given you and Harry only…Well. 

Draco: If you finish that I will actually remove you from the chat. 

Parks: I started this chat, you wagon. 

Hermione: No please, keep airing out all of my shit. Feels like you love doing that while I’ve been so busy. 

Stori: Alright, let’s take a beat guys, yes?

Draco: My money’s on Granger. 

Parks: Oh fuck off, Malfoy. 

Stori: GUYS!!

Hermione: Got to go to training, Ta. 

Maybe it was just good intuition that she never shared it all with Pansy Parkinson. That she kept the most tender and destructive part to herself. Pansy knew where to jab and poke and she was terribly skilled at hitting below the belt at the worst time—but she knew Hermione was keeping something from her and she was spiraling from it. Avoiding her best friend was probably not the best course of action on Hermione’s part. But–

No. She could not give this part up.

Harry: Found this the other day x

Hermione’s eyes widened as she double-clicked on the photo, a version of her that was loose and free—a woman who survived a war and still had the will to have fun after it. Harry and her had been drinking, having just come from Hogsmeade, and Hermione was joking about how she had all of her mum’s old nightwear from the seventies. 

“Put it on!” Harry demanded, falling back on her bed. 

Hermione snorted. “I could not,” she replied, giggling as her cheeks burned. 

“Why not?” His tone was more serious, his playfulness dissolved from his voice. 

She studied his face through her hazy vision, catching his set of eyes entirely fixed on her. 

“I would just feel silly,” she admitted, wanting to cave into herself, his stare burning a hole in her chest. 

He shrugged then. “What’s wrong with silly?” 

She was bright, but Harry was brave. And in his bravery, so was she. 

Hermione still felt ridiculous as Harry had her pose on the floor, placing his cigarettes between her fingers. But it’s what he had said, though nothing really profound, that stopped the clock for her then. The words that changed, well, everything. 

“Perhaps, silly, is just a shy way of saying sexy,” he said softly, before snapping his shot with his film camera and shattering the paper-thin glass between friends and something Hermione knew she could never take back. 

Hermione: That feels like a lifetime ago. 

Harry: Yeah a bit, hey. 

Hermione: It was fun. 

Harry: We always had fun. 

Hermione: Well yes, when I was pushed to. 

Harry: Good thing I liked pushing you. 

Hermione: Turns out you were good for something. 

Harry: By your standards, that's a win. 

Hermione: Why were you looking for this?

Harry: Oh…well, I just thought you could use the reminder. 

Hermione: Of what? 

Harry: You’re bright. You’ll figure it out. 

Hermione smirked, biting on her lip and not letting herself look over to where she knew Harry was sitting, grading a few of the new hires’ wand tactics.

Theo: You’re up, hun. 

Hermione: Thank you?

Theo: Sure, I’ll need you on the field at 7am. 

Hermione: Oh gods, you mean I’m up to start???? How?? I haven’t even gone through all my training. 

Theo: Potter thinks you're gold. No pun intended. 

Hermione: He is quite the embellisher. 

Theo: Eh, Moody said you passed your written exams with flying colors. 

Hermione: Yes, because I am fantastic on parchment, Theo. 

Theo: And Blaise thinks you will do wonderful. 

Hermione: Blaise owns a bookstore…

Theo: I know, I just thought his added support would help. 

Hermione: Lol, send my gratitude. 

Theo: You’ll do great. It’s just a basic protocol mission. Just the usual check up. 

Hermione: Who am I with?

Theo: Me, congrats. 

Hermione: Not Harry? 

Theo: No, this is under his pay grade. 

Hermione: Ouch. 

Theo: I know and they sent me.

Hermione: lol. Alright. Tomorrow. 

Theo: Tomorrow x

Hermione sighed, sliding back over to Harry’s texts, wanting to ask if he knew they were going to send her out for her new mission when a notification bubble popped up at the top of her phone: 

Chapter Text

Harry: Aren’t you dead in the middle of your very first protocol? 

Hermione: That is completely beside the point here. 

Harry: You really need to sort out your priorities, Mi. 

Hermione: Oh piss off, you slag. You posting that pic that was mad!! M-A-D.

Harry: Are you checking if you spelled that right? Because if so, we have more dire issues at hand. 

Hermione: Insufferable. Absolutely insufferable. Take down that photo. 

Harry: Everyone else seemed to like it, this feels like a personal problem. 

Hermione: You’re making it seem like there is something going on.

Harry: And what exactly is that something?

Hermione exhaled, shoving the phone in her robe and clearing her head before she and Theo entered the glass doors. 

“Perhaps a different face?” Theo asked, his voice sweet and careful as if he didn’t want to poke at a sleeping beast. 

“Sorry,” Hermione sighed. 

Draco: My, oh my, have we been left out of the loop for sure now. 

Stori: It says throwback. 

Parks: The audible scream I let out yesterday, Hermione. I stg. Did you guys make up? (See? I waited! I didn’t immediately text you. I gave you all your space for busyness. yay!)

Draco: What a doll. 

Stori: I would still like to know what exactly happened… If plausible. 

Draco: Harry, thumbs down. Hermione, thumbs up. 

Parks: Wonders persist that they declined your resume to teach at Hogwarts, D. 

Stori: You’re biased my love–oh, do you mind picking up a parcel for me at Madam Delirant? 

Draco: Lucky you, I was just on my way to that very shop right now. 

Parks: It’s a women's boutique.

Draco: Can’t a man be romantic? 

Hermione: I don’t know why Harry did that but I have asked him to take it down. He was just being daft. 

Parks: Oh, cheeky ;) 

Hermione: Stop. 

Draco: Mm, reckon he doesn’t know his cheek from his thumb. 

Parks: Take a day off, Draco, fuck sakes. I’m trying to get the 411 for all of us. 

Hermione: Nothing to report. Harry is just probably trying to be friends again, in his weird roundabout way. 

Stori: Friends!!! 

Draco: You already have friends >.> 

Parks: Oh, sure…sure. 

The post was still there, getting likes and comments with each passing hour—ugh! How could he be so reckless and bold? Speaking a language only she would know? It felt a jab to a sore wound, the thing she had kept trying her very best to not even notice, let alone touch. 

Lavey: I am not one to pry

Hermione: Then don’t! 

Lavey: You and Harry….wtf. 

Hermione pinched her nose, toggling over to her and Harry’s messages. This was getting out of hand and also? Very unprofessional of a Lead-fucking-Auror. 

Hermione: Not anything that is real. I am already getting my phone blown up with nosey nellies. 

Harry: Popular girl. 

Hermione: Harry!!!!

Harry: The jokes I could make right now…..tsk tsk. 

Hermione: It's hard enough to have to work with you, why are you making it worse by doing something like this? 

It was a question she would only have felt brave because she was currently already on high alert, fueled by anxiety and fear of screwing her very first job. Even if it was just grabbing a record of the recent meads and draughts that were accounted for at St Mungos. The Ministry needed to see that the money that went into each of these government facilities was being handled correctly. Nothing out of sorts or being washed—no vials suddenly misplaced. Standard and monthly. 

“Eh, hold on,” Theo said, lifting his hand up to the Healer. “It says here that you received about five containers of memory-replacing draught and I only see—” Theo paused, counting each container again with his index finger. “Three?” He turned around, double checking he hadn’t missed one. 

“A lot of draught to go missing in forty-eight hours,” Hermione inserted. 

The Healer gave them a thin smile before clasping her hands in front of them. “We have many Mind Healer patients and many of their medical needs were on back order due to the unfortunate supply delay.” 

Harry: Hard? It’s hard for you? You left me. 

Hermione: Bringing this up right now is not the time. 

Harry: It's never a good time, you bloody avoidant. 

“See, the delay was happening because of the sudden burst in orders over the last month or so,” Theo answered. “A burst we kindly glossed over, given the rise in some severe mental illness but now…Now I can’t do that.” 

Hermione: Don’t play dumb.

Harry: Rich coming from the likes of you, Mi. 

“I would advise against that,” the Healer warned, calmly.

Hermione: This can not happen right now

Hermione: Oh/gods244mtn

Harry: Are we stroking????

Hermione:

Harry: What the fuck is happening?? 

MISSED CALL FROM HARRY

Harry: Are you okay?!

THREE MISSED CALLS FROM HARRY 

Harry: Just like this message so I know, okay???  Answer your phone!!

SIX MISSED CALLS FROM HARRY 

Harry: HERMIONE!!!!!!!! 

⋆˙⟡

Harry: Tell me what the fuck happened, right now. 

Moody: There was an accident. 

Harry: An accident?! Where is she?? 

Moody: The hospital. Thankfully the incident happened there. 

Harry: Not Hermione—I am outside her room now. Where is that bloody-fuck Healer?!

Moody: Being handled. How is Theo holding up?

Harry: He is fine. I’ll wait for you to ask how your new agent is doing. 

Moody: Harry, you knew this was entirely unlikely. It was just a standard check up of inventory. 

Harry: Yes, and we always sent Pucey until things were looking dodgy as hell. I told you something might be off about this and then you bloody went and sent her in anyway.

Harry didn’t know they were sending her out on her first mission until she was already there, curious of where she was when he hadn’t seen her in training that morning. Once upon a time he was a lucky man, and knew where Hermione was at all times. And now… now it was a blank map in his mind, dotted with possible and educated guesses of where his little witch would go. Time helped him move on from knowing, though it didn’t smooth out the sting of it. But he could handle it, manage it. And then she walked through those doors. Her damn sun-kissed cheeks and button nose—and her thighs, hair—-fuck him. 

Now that Hermione was smack in the middle of his life again, the thought of not knowing everything about her again was antagonizing. Maddening. It kept him up most nights and even on the nights he did sleep he prayed to Merlin’s tits that it would be a guide into getting a spot back into her life. 

It was working, he thought—he hoped. And now there was this bloody disaster. Harry stared into the door’s window, seeing a sleeping Granger–still silly and all. A couple of wounds on her hands and one little slice to her chin that would heal just fine…but the knowledge of knowing she would be okay and heal, didn’t satiate the anger that bubbled in his chest. 

Harry: Start talking, cuck. 

Pucey: You’ll have to be more specific. 

Harry shook his head, gritting his teeth as he sent over an exact location to Adrien Pucey. 

Harry: How about where you are right now? That specific enough? 

Harry: Oh look, you’re moving. Funny how charms work. 

He clicked the phone icon up top, waiting for a few rings to pass before he heard the click. “You have seconds, Pucey. But even that’s quite generous of me.”