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Hermione had entered the flower shop, looking for something to brighten up her flat. The woman at the till caught her attention: her short black hair, streaked with gray was styled in a fauxhawk and a form fitting tank top showed off a lean body. Her hands moved quickly and expertly, snipping stems and arranging bouquets. There was a weathered look to her skin, but her face gave a healthy glow and Hermione kept surreptitious eye on her, butterflies in her stomach. No sooner had Hermione decided she might actually try flirting, than the woman turned exposing one of her bare arms. It was covered in wizarding tattoos, including a wriggling snake curling around the crest of Slytherin.
Hermione made a beeline for the stranger and tapped her brusquely on the shoulder. “Excuse me,” her voice quiet and stern. “Are you aware that you’re in breach of section 37g of the Wizarding Statute of Secrecy?”
“Granger?” The woman rolled her eyes and sighed. “I’m not in violation of the statute of secrecy; they’re spelled to appear normal to muggles.”
“Oh.” Hermione paused, took another look and recognized Pansy Parkinson’s snub nose and dark brown eyes which seemed somehow gentler than in their school days. “Pansy? What in Merlin’s name are you doing in a muggle flower shop?”
“Is there something I can help you with?” Pansy asked pointedly.
Hermione blushed. “Yes, I’m just looking for something springy—daisies perhaps…” Embarrassed, her voice trailed off quietly.
“I know just the thing,” Pansy smiled forcibly, pulling out a lovely bouquet of crocuses, snow drops and daffodils. “Bring these home to the weasel and he’s sure to forgive you for correcting his grammar or whatever it is you’ve done to offend.”
Hermione coughed. “Pansy, is there any chance we could not act like we’re in NEWT potions?” She paused, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed that you were revealing magic to muggles and I didn’t realize it was you. I’m just an insufferable know it all.”
Pansy smiled again, genuinely this time and put out a hand. Hermione shook it, dry and warm.
“The flowers are lovely. They aren’t for Ron, though. I’d have thought you’d know; it was all over the prophet. Sexual deviance ends fairy tale for war heroes and all that rot.”
Pansy smirked, “Haven’t seen the prophet in years. Sexual deviance eh? Yours or his?”
Hermione’s first reply was unintelligible and her cheeks reddened momentarily. Then she cleared her throat, a determined, almost flirtatious look coming over her face. “Mine.”
Pansy’s expression softened. “Look, I’ll be off in a couple hours. I haven’t seen anyone from the wizarding world in years and you look like you could use someone to talk to about all this—if it’s as new for you as it seems. Meet me for a drink?”
*****
The directions Pansy gave her led to a muggle gay pub in Soho and Hermione was pleasantly surprised to find it quiet and filled with middle aged patrons. She didn’t think her forty-five year old ear drums could withstand booming music. Casting muffliato in a muggle establishment was not a violation Hermione was willing to commit. She spotted Pansy who waved her over and offered to buy her a drink.
They spend the first few minutes chatting aimlessly about Pansy’s work and Hermione’s kids. Pansy’s hands slipped over Hermione’s slender fidgeting fingers and her eyes met Hermione’s with warm intent.
“Pansy, I’m still not sure this is a good idea. I mean, we hated each other.”
“Christ Granger, I wasn’t mean to you at school because you’re a mudblood.” Pansy paused, “well, that’s not entirely true. But mostly I was mean to because you’re gorgeous and confident and bright and I didn’t understand why I felt the way I did. Pureblood heiresses aren’t supposed to have crushes on muggleborn witches. Lesbian wasn’t in my vocabulary. I was supposed to grow up and marry Draco Malfoy. So it was…easier to tease you. ”
“Are you trying to tell me that you were just jealous? I do have two teenage kids, I know that’s bollocks.”
“Not jealousy,” Pansy said softly, “self-loathing.”
A pained look crossed Hermione’s face. “Why do you think it took me fifteen years to leave Ron?”
Pansy let out a low whistle, “How’s it going?”
Hermione’s lip trembled slightly and she took a deep breath, regained her composure. “It’s hard. I didn’t know what to expect. Seeing it smeared all over the press doesn’t make it easier. Ron’s been great though, really supportive, even if the rest of the Weasleys are snubbing me.” She lowered her eyes.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re one of the family now. You can choose your family. Wizard or muggle, pureblood or mudblood, there aren’t any rules. I haven’t spoken to a Parkinson, or a Malfoy for that matter, in the twenty years since my mother broke my wand.”
Hermione looked incredulous, “But that’s illegal.”
“Goodness, Granger, you’re still as naïve as ever. That never stopped powerful pureblood families from thinking they were the law and they could do whatever they pleased to daughters who came home with something like this…” She rolled up her sleeve to reveal a tattoo of two interlinked Venus symbols flashing in rainbow colors.
Hermione reached out a cautious hand and pressed a finger gently to the ink. “It’s beautiful.”
There passed between them a pregnant moment, the air still with potential. Finally Hermione let out her breath, “You’re beautiful.”
Pansy leaned over, brushed a lock hair out of Hermione’s face and ran a thumb over her smooth white cheek. Hermione relaxed into the touch and brought a hand up to Pansy’s face, pulling her in. The kiss was soft and gently and slow. Pansy’s tongue firmly explored Hermione’s mouth and she ended the kiss with a playful bite of Hermione’s lip. Her hand stayed in Hermione’s hair combing her fingers through the long auburn locks.
After a long moment, Pansy broke the silence. “Let’s get out of here.” A look of fear made Hermione’s face appear frozen.
“Nothing you’re not comfortable with. I promise. Just a change of scene, somewhere we can talk more freely about old scars and new wounds.”
They walked slowly, hand in hand to Pansy’s flat where they put the kettle on and settled onto the sofa. In low tones, they talked about the good times and the bad. When Hermione told Pansy that Molly Weasley tried to take custody of her children, Pansy placed an arm around her shoulder. And when Pansy told the story of the first job she lost because ‘no one wants to buy drinks from a dyke’, Hermione’s hand shifted onto Pansy’s knee. Kisses and tears mingled with sweat and laughter and stories. Hands slipped under shirts, undoing buttons and caressing skin. Tears were gently licked off of faces and fingers threaded into thick hair. And eventually, when they had cried their last, Pansy took Hermione to bed.
*****
In the wee hours, they lay in bed together; Hermione slept on her back, Pansy curled around her, stroking her arm gently and whispering words of comfort in her ear.
*****
Sunlight peeked in through yellow curtains, bathing the bed in warmth. Hermione opened her eyes to find herself in someone else’s room. It took her a moment to get her bearings, until she remembered bits and pieces of the previous night. Pansy lay next to her, still asleep, as far as she could tell. She sat up, careful not disturb the other woman. Pansy’s hair was mussed and her arms flung across the bed. Hermione let out a sigh of contentment and Pansy’s eyes opened.
Hermione bent down to kiss her slowly, moving a hand lightly over Pansy’s stomach. She nuzzled Pansy’s neck, breathed in the scent of her: the sweetness of the flower shop, smokiness of the pub and a distinct muskiness. “Good morning.”
“Mmmm,” Pansy smiled, running a hand over Hermione’s back. “I’ll be back,” she said and got out of bed.
Pansy was gone for a worryingly long period of time and Hermione was about to pull the sheet around herself and go looking when the door opened. Pansy brought in tray of tea and biscuits. They settled back into bed and began a leisurely breakfast.
“How many other queer witches and wizards are there who’ve left the wizarding community?” Hermione asked curiously.
“Dunno. You’re the first person I’ve run into since I left that I’ve spent more than thirty seconds talking to. Are you thinking about leaving?”
“Logistically it would be simple. After all my parents are muggle; I know how it all works. But I don’t think I can. It would mean never seeing Rose or Hugo again. Besides, all the attention means I can’t just fade into a new life. Keeping my seat on Wizengamot was a challenge, but after fighting for it, I can’t just give it up.” Pansy noted a gleam in Hermione’s eye reminiscent of her ridiculous SPEW days and smiled.
“Good for you.” Pansy placed a kiss on Hermione’s neck.
Hermione gave her a wistful look. Pansy answered the unspoken question. “I can’t go back. The family I chose is here. There isn’t anything left for me there.”
A tear rolled down Hermione’s cheek and she pulled Pansy into a quick, fierce kiss. “Then let’s make the most of now.”