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He is sensible and so incredible, and all my single friends are jealous.
Pansy got back home on Christmas Eve at seven o’clock precisely. She sat down on her cream velvet sofa in a nice dress she’d bought specifically for this evening, leaning back against the seat with the command to pour a glass of wine on her lips before she realised the bloody elf was still with Theo and his parents.
Theo and his parents, who were nice and welcoming and perfectly polite, a truly ideal family-in-law if Pansy had ever seen one. They’d invited her over because that is what you do with the girls your son considers marrying — even if the girls in question are distant and a little rude and don’t use the right cutlery because they’ve long stopped caring.
She left as early after dinner as she could manage, no matter how impolite it looked, and Pansy only felt a little guilty about that. When he got home, Theo would ask questions and he would be angry — they’d been getting so angry with each other lately — and Pansy would have no satisfying answers to give him.
Theo was respectable and handsome, as Pansy’s friends reminded her so often, but as much as Pansy wanted that to matter, it felt like it hardly did. He was exactly what she’d said she’d wanted — a nice, pureblood husband to be by her side and make her life easier than it would otherwise be.
She’d wanted easy. She’d been so tired of fighting battles she hadn’t chosen. So Pansy had swallowed her pride and accepted Theo’s invitation for dinner, knowing that he wanted to wed her one day, and she’d insisted to herself and the girl she’d left behind that that was what she wanted.
Her own mother had been proud and encouraging, so relieved her daughter was finally behaving like a proper lady, and that had made Pansy feel like she was making the right decision. Narcissa Malfoy — now Black — had looked at her with understanding and concern, and whispered a promise that if Pansy ever changed her mind, she needed only owl her. Pansy had rolled her eyes then, but Narcissa hadn’t looked surprised at that in the slightest.
Pansy wondered if the time had come to write Narcissa Black and admit to her mistakes. She leaned back against the sofa, not wanting to get up and get her wine herself, and tried to picture the older witch’s reaction to this admission. She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to admit it to anyone. She’d been so boastful when Theo had introduced her as his girlfriend — so proud, so relieved that something in her life was going well — it’d be so dreadfully embarrassing to admit she didn’t want him after all.
That she’d probably never really wanted him. Not the way she was supposed to.
Away from Narcissa Black, Pansy’s thoughts drifted to Hermione Granger — who’d surely be celebrating Christmas with her clan of Weasleys right about now. She wondered what Hermione’s reaction might be, if she told her she’d changed her mind, if she’d told her that a pureblood husband wasn’t all she’d ever wanted and that what Pansy wanted was her back.
She pictured Hermione Granger laughing right at her, rolling her eyes at Pansy’s grand show of poor timing and attempt at homewrecking. It hurt enough that it made her angry with Hermione — angry for not fighting for her harder, angry for not waiting for her to come around; angry for all the mistakes Pansy had made herself. Pansy tilted her head back, hanging it from the sofa dramatically as her earrings rang prettily with the movement. She laughed at her own misery.
Pansy had been warned, and she’d ignored the warning, and now she was paying the price in the form of a nice, good wizard who wanted to marry her. Any other witch would’ve been so fucking pleased with her predicament — Daphne told her so often how much she wished Theo had chosen her, and Pansy had never been bothered by the clear display of jealousy. She’d never felt threatened at the idea of someone taking Theo from her — only ever for the sake of her pride that’d be hurt in the process.
She wanted to break up with Theo, if she was perfectly honest with herself, but that wasn’t easy, and Pansy had long discovered that she was a coward when it came to love. She thought of Theo coming back here tonight, of the argument they’d no doubt have and the sex that might follow, and with her head still tilted off the edge of the sofa, Pansy imagined a sword coming down on it. She wondered if it’d be easier to just fake her death and get it over with — maybe Narcissa could help with that.
Her mind travelled back to Hermione Granger.
It hadn’t been long, whatever had occurred between them. They’d both returned for an eighth year at Hogwarts — Hermione without her Weasley and Potter and Pansy without Draco and Tracey — and it’d just happened. Nothing romantic about it, really, just hook-ups in empty classrooms and Prefect’s bathrooms that had continued for a little while after Hogwarts, too.
They’d needed distraction and a welcoming touch, and it’d been easy enough to find it in each other despite all their differences and hatred. Pansy could close her eyes and picture the feel of Hermione’s curls between her fingers perfectly, the smell of her lotion and the sound of her voice when she rambled on about Arithmancy and house elves. She imagined the feeling of Hermione’s lips on hers, her soft sighs and moans against Pansy’s skin, the way bite marks looked on Hermione’s dark complexion.
Pansy closed her eyes and instinctively lowered her hand beneath her dress, finding her knickers as she pictured Hermione Granger’s fingers there instead. She shivered, aching at the mere thought, but forced her eyes open anyway. She didn’t know when, or if, Theo was going to come here — and Pansy refused to put herself in such an embarrassing situation, even if it was starting to feel like her life was nothing but.
She wasn’t going to get off to memories of her ex-girlfriend while waiting for the man she was supposed to marry to come back after she’d properly humiliated him in front of his parents. Pansy wouldn’t lower herself to that.
Instead, she finally got off the sofa and kicked her heels off on the floor, heading towards the kitchen to find herself a glass of wine she desperately needed. Pansy poured herself a glass and then opted to take the bottle with her back to the living room, not bothering to pretend she was only going to have one tonight.
When Pansy came back to the living room, a small note lay on the side table in Theo’s neat handwriting, and she felt her heart sink in her chest. She put the bottle down quickly, sitting down on the sofa before she grabbed the note and read it almost frantically.
Pansy, I’ll stay with my parents tonight. I don’t think this is working out as we planned. We should talk soon. Love, Theo.
She laughed out loud in the quiet living room. Pansy figured her heart should be broken right about now — the man she thought to marry telling her this wasn’t going to work out — but as much as she tried to summon that feeling, it wouldn’t come.
Instead, she put her shoes back on and downed half her glass of wine at once. Pansy was still dressed in her black evening robes that she’d picked out because Theo’s mother liked the style, wearing suede heels and extravagant silver earrings. There were only a few places she knew would be open on Christmas Eve, and she’d stick out like a sore thumb in all of them wearing this, but she didn’t care.
She could take the knowledge that Theo wouldn’t be back here tonight and use it to indulge her fantasies of Hermione Granger — but even if she wouldn’t be caught, Pansy didn’t want to feel that pathetic about herself at any moment.
She opted to head into Diagon Alley, just to see what was available for her tonight, finding a bit of comfort in knowing that the only people she could possibly run into were other losers with nowhere to be on Christmas.
Finishing the last of her wine, Pansy took out her wand and apparated directly into the Leaky Cauldron’s apparition spot.
oOo
He respects my space, and never makes me wait. He's charming and endearing, and I'm comfortable.
Hermione Granger spent Christmas Eve on the couch in her living room, a book on Ancient Runes in her lap with Crookshranks purring quietly beside her. She couldn’t remember a lonelier Christmas — even during the war itself, Harry had been with her — but she didn’t want to mind it.
It’d been her own decision, and she stood by it.
Two weeks ago she’d broken up with Ron after a relationship of nearly a year and a half — in retrospect, perhaps Harry had been right that her timing had been poor. Mrs Weasley hadn’t revoked her invitation to the Burrow, and she knew there’d be people still happy to see her there, but Ron had been hurt and upset, and she didn’t want to make Christmas awkward.
The Weasleys were his family, not hers, and she didn’t mind spending an evening on her own. Hermione kind of liked the quiet, even if it was Christmas. Even if she started to genuinely look forward to tomorrow, when Parvati and Lavender would host a party where most of the former DA members were invited to.
She’d made herself a simple dinner — cooking had never been her forte and she didn’t mind having a quick and easy meal for Christmas, knowing that tomorrow the food would be extravagant enough to make up for it. She thought of the dinner Molly Weasley would’ve made, the amount of plates and bowls filled with everyone’s favourite dishes, prepared to everyone’s liking.
If she’d shown up, Hermione knew there would’ve been a large plate with potatoes and bacon prepared the way her own mother had always done it — a habit Molly had adopted when Hermione had come to the realisation that she couldn’t undo her parents’ obliviation. She wondered if the potatoes were there, if Molly had still made them just in case Hermione chose to go at the last minute.
She didn’t think she wanted to know. Either she’d be forgotten about quickly enough and she’d be hurt, or she’d have to live knowing she was still expected and accepted in Ron’s family, and she’d just feel guilty for not accepting the warmth so gladly offered to her.
It wasn’t his fault that it hadn’t worked between them. Hermione didn’t think it was all on her, either, but it hadn’t been him.
During eighth year, after Harry and Ron had both opted not to go back to Hogwarts for reasons that she’d found incomprehensible at the time but could understand much better now, it’d been easy to fall into Pansy Parkinson. Pansy had been broken in a way so different from Hermione herself that it’d almost been a comfort — she’d been lonely, and hot, and she’d wanted Hermione just as much as Hermione wanted her.
It’d been fun, but she’d always gone into it with the knowledge that they wouldn’t last. So, when eighth year reached its end and their stolen moments hidden from the rest of the world grew less frequent and more dangerous, it hadn’t come as a surprise that it had ended. She hadn’t been surprised, she hadn’t even been particularly hurt because she’d seen it coming so she’d never gotten too attached, and it’d been almost easy to move on with her life.
Hermione had desperately needed comfort, love, and family. The war had left her bruised and broken, flinching when someone grabbed her arm the wrong way. It’d left her without parents — a choice she’d made herself that didn’t hurt her any less for that. It’d left her more desperate for something familiar and warm than she’d ever imagined she could be.
When Ron had asked her to go to dinner, and when he’d asked her to be his girlfriend that first cautious date, to Hermione it had felt like the perfect answer to everything she was looking for. Ron was familiar and comforting, a sweet freckled grin with kind laughter who always knew what to do when she had nightmares of the war.
He came with a family she’d known for years and a life that she thought made perfect sense for her. Ron Weasley was happy to stay in the background, work in his brother’s shop and stay home with potential future children, while she pursued any dreams and ambitions she had. She’d needed that — she’d wanted his comfort, stability, and his family and how at ease he made her feel — and she hadn’t thought twice to consider if it was what she needed.
A year and a half of trying later, Hermione desperately wished she had stopped to consider that simple question. It’d saved them both a lot of trouble.
Hermione stared at her Christmas tree, protectively charmed against any attempts Crookshanks might make to jump it. She didn’t feel lonely, even if she knew that objectively she might be. She’d never minded being on her own, even if it was Christmas. Still, now that she was here on her own, she couldn’t quite stop herself from imagining what she’d be doing right now if she’d made slightly different choices.
For the first time in a while — having worked hard to push any memory of her away — Hermione started to think about Pansy Parkinson.
Pansy Parkinson had made her feel on fire when the war and its consequences had done their best to extinguish any flame within her. The stolen moments between classes and late at night, the lies told to friends to cover her clandestine meetings with a witch no one knew she was seeing: it’d been a welcome rush, a gladly accepted change of pace before she entered the life meant for her.
Pansy was in a relationship now, the very relationship she’d eventually left Hermione for. They’d never been officially together, so Hermione questioned if she could even call it leaving. They were never really together — always merely engaging with each other when it was convenient and wanted, with no long-term plans in mind for any future belonging to the both of them.
After a whirlwind of hookups and falling for each other without admitting or acknowledging it, they had both made the same decision for the rest of their lives. It hadn’t been to choose each other.
Hermione wondered if Pansy had ever looked back on that time and asked herself what might have been. She didn’t know if it’d be better or worse if she had \.
It was too late to worry about it now, anyway. Pansy was seeing Theodore Nott, who’d been a Slytherin in their year. Surely she was not spending Christmas Eve on her own.
Hermione closed her book. There was a small cafe that she liked to read and do her work in during the days — cosy and quiet enough that, despite it being a public place, it felt perfectly peaceful. She’d seen the sign saying it would be opened over Christmas for anyone who wanted to stop by. If she was going to spend her Christmas Eve on her own, reading a riveting book on Runes, she might as well do it in a place where she would not be totally alone.
oOo
Just so frustrating, intoxicating, complicated. You got away by some mistake.
I miss the way I loved you.
Diagon Alley was freezing when Pansy stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron into the winter winds. She wrapped her cloak tightly around herself and walked through the nearly abandoned shopping street, looking around with a frustrated glare at anyone who deigned to look at her questioningly. Near the end of the main street, a small coffee shop was still open, a sign outside offering hot chocolate with liquor.
Just what she was looking for, Pansy sighed to herself, glad at least that she wouldn’t be entirely alone, even if it was among other strangers with no one to go to tonight.
She entered the shop with a scowl and looked around to see how many lonely people there were tonight when the sight of a particularly bushy set of dark brown curls made her stop in her tracks, the door still wide open in her hand. “In or out, honey, don’t make us all cold at Christmas,” the witch behind the counter told her strictly, but with a grin on her face.
Pansy rolled her eyes and closed the door behind her quickly, not looking away from Hermione Granger who had now looked up from her book and turned around. She didn’t know if she should feel ecstatic or horror-struck to find herself here, with Hermione of all people, minutes after the end of her relationship.
“What are you doing here?” Pansy demanded of her, having the presence of mind to walk closer to Hermione first. Her heart picked up a pace at the sight of Hermione’s frown.
Hermione crossed her legs and sighed, picking her bag up from the chair next to her to give Pansy a chance to sit before Pansy had made any indication that she wanted to. “What does it look like?” She asked, so clearly exhausted that Pansy felt bad for coming for her so aggressively. “I’m celebrating Christmas.”
“I figured you’d be with your Weasleys,” Pansy shrugged, taking the offered seat.
“I assumed you’d be with your Notts,” Hermione retorted, and they both stared at each other for a few seconds before Pansy burst out laughing.
“Merlin, we messed up somewhere along the way,” she stated, the laughter fading from her face as quickly as it’d appeared. Pansy wanted to ask about the Weasleys — about what had happened there, why it was over, and why Hermione wasn’t anywhere else tonight. She said nothing.
Pansy ordered a hot chocolate with hazelnut liqueur — something Narcissa Black had started pouring her after she’d started dating Theodore. She looked at Hermione, dark brown curls curtaining her pretty, tired face, and even if the Christmas music playing in the background was Celestina Warbeck of all people, she didn’t mind spending Christmas this way.
“I’m pretty sure me and Theo are over,” she said by means of making conversation — not knowing what else to say, and desperately needing to know what Hermione’s reaction would be. She wanted there to be another chance for them, another shot now that they both realised the men they chose over each other weren’t the right ones. “He sent me a note, just now. Christmas Eve, isn’t that ridiculous?”
She conveniently left out the part where she was scowling all through Christmas dinner and left early, left out the part where she’d been postponing any conversation about engagement rings and wedding plans because the thought made her skin crawl. Pansy didn’t need to tell everything.
“Christmas Eve?” Hermione repeated, looking both surprised as all hell and intrigued. Pansy’s hope for a Christmas miracle increased a little bit. “That’s even worse than ending it two weeks before Christmas.”
“Weasley did that?” Pansy rolled her eyes. “Bastard — at least stick it out until after the holidays, inconsiderate prat that he is.” She couldn’t stand any of the Weasleys, really, but Ron in particular. She didn’t know what Hermione had ever seen in him.
But Hermione shook her head with darkened cheeks, looking properly embarrassed now that Pansy had insulted her ex, and Pansy sighed. Hermione stared into her nearly empty mug of chocolate. “ I did,” she admitted. “I ended it. And his family still invited me for Christmas.”
“Oh,” Pansy muttered. Fuck. “In that case, I’m sure you had your reasons.”
Hermione looked at her for a second before she laughed, finishing the last of her chocolate. She leaned forward to place her mug on the table and Pansy noticed she was wearing a hand-knitted jumper with a golden H on it. It looked beautiful on her.
“If by reason you mean, realising I made a horrible mistake ever choosing him, by no fault of his own… Sure. I had my reasons.” Hermione told her, and Pansy hated how guilty she looked. “He thought we were gonna spend forever together, and I broke his heart just before Christmas.”
Pansy ordered her a second hot chocolate, liqueur included, the moment Hermione said that. She didn’t know what else to do — she’d never been great at providing emotional comfort — and honest to Merlin she didn’t see breaking Weasley’s heart as a bad thing. He could live with it, surely. Hermione was better off with someone else.
Someone like her, maybe, but Pansy wasn’t going to barge in and suggest that.
“Sounds like a reason,” she said instead. “What else were you gonna do? Marry him so you don’t have to break it off? He’s bound to catch on at some point, even if he’s— ”
“ Don’t \.”
Hermione cut her off angrily and Pansy wanted to roll her eyes but didn’t. She did love to see that look of fierce, powerful loyalty that Hermione Granger possessed; it was just a shame that it was wasted on friends like Potter and Weasley. Pansy shrugged. “Fine. Still, good a reason as any to break up with someone you don’t feel anything for.”
“So what happened with Theo?” Hermione asked her, abruptly shifting the conversation back to Pansy. “I imagined you’d be visiting his family or vice versa — not breaking up tonight.”
Pansy briefly considered asking the lady behind the counter for an extra shot of liqueur in her hot chocolate at that question.
“I did go to see his parents,” she said as casually as she could manage, knowing full well that Hermione saw right through that attempt. “Then I left early, because I don’t like them and he’s not really worth the effort. Because I needed a break. So he sent me a note while he was still with his parents.”
Hermione didn’t say anything. She only looked at Pansy with expectant brown eyes and her mug of chocolate clutched to her chest. Pansy knew what she was doing — let the silence go on long enough that Pansy would just continue talking about her miserable love life — which made it all the more frustrating that it was working.
“It wasn’t entirely out of the blue, I suppose,” Pansy continued, annoyed with herself for giving in so easily. “I settled for him, and it showed. Can’t blame him for not sticking around.” She was really more frustrated by the fact that it was Christmas, and she’d have to visit her parents in all discomfort surrounding a recent breakup tomorrow. Pansy didn’t feel heartbreak at the thought of Theo — just a pinch of regret.
“I know what you mean,” Hermione said, and for the moment they left it at that.
They sat in silence for a while — more comfortably than Pansy had expected. Pansy finished her hot chocolate and leaned back, waiting for Hermione to finish even though there was no agreement that she should. She didn’t want to leave this shop and leave Hermione behind, even if that feeling made no sense at all.
“Impatient much?” Hermione rolled her eyes, though Pansy was sure she could see her hurrying to drink the remainder of her chocolate. “What are you after, anyway?” She asked, but Pansy didn’t answer. She didn’t know.
They went back out into the cold together, gloved hands brushing against each other as they walked the icy cobblestone road. Pansy felt more excited about the accidental brush of her hand against Hermione’s than she’d felt anytime Theo had come onto her in the past year and a half of dating. That said more than enough, didn’t it?
In a surprising rush of bravery, Pansy reached for Hermione’s hand and took it in her own, holding it just loose enough that Hermione could shake her off if she wanted to. She didn’t. Pansy felt like she couldn’t breathe when Hermione stopped walking, still holding her hand.
“What are you after?” Hermione asked again in a tone that suggested that this time, she knew what Pansy wanted well before Pansy herself did. Pansy swallowed nervously.
She knew exactly what she wanted.
The red and green coloured Christmas lights from the nearby shops reflected beautifully on Hermione’s dark skin. Pansy stared at the specks of light flickering in her dark brown eyes, the smudge of cocoa powder just above Hermione’s lips from when Pansy had rushed her to finish her drink, and she couldn’t have pictured a more beautiful Christmas present.
When they’d messed around before — no strings but all the emotions attached, both uncertain and scared of their place in the world and how to get to it — Pansy hadn’t been decisive. She’d been intimidated and sought the easy way, the way she was least likely to be hurt and rejected.
Tonight, with Theo’s parents’ wine and the hazelnut liqueur in her system, Pansy wanted to be bold. She took Hermione’s gloved hand in her own, squeezing it tightly as she took a step closer. There was a chance — albeit small, if she read the look in Hermione’s eyes correctly — that she’d be rejected still, that it was too soon after Weasley to go back to this. There was a chance that someone would see, and word would get back to Theo that she’d been kissing Hermione Granger on the night he’d called it off.
Pansy wanted to take her chances — she didn’t want this night to be another regret, another chance she was too scared to take.
Her heart was beating loudly in her chest and her lips were cold, painted dark red in lipstick that had faded a little through the wine and the chocolate. Pansy didn’t let go of Hermione’s hand, but raised her other hand to Hermione’s cheek so that she felt more in control about the situation.
“I’m going to kiss you,” she told Hermione, shivering slightly from the cold but refusing to break the moment in order to cast a heating charm on herself. Pansy didn’t look around, forcing herself not to care who of the lonely people here on Christmas Eve were watching. She didn’t care about their opinions. She didn’t care about anyone’s opinions. She didn’t want to care anymore. “If that’s alright with you.”
Hermione smirked at her, fire in her dark brown eyes that didn’t stop Pansy from shivering. She looked like she wanted to lean in and kiss Pansy herself, but she held back and for that Pansy was grateful. She wanted this to be her moment of boldness. “That’s alright with me, Parkinson,” Hermione told her, and Pansy wasted not a single second after she got the confirmation.
With velvet green gloves, Pansy cupped Hermione’s face in both her hands and kissed her with all the passion that had always felt wasted on Theo. Any murmurs from the street quieted down into blissful silence as Pansy closed her eyes and felt Hermione’s hands on her waist, her cold lips moving against hers until the heat of their excitement had warmed them both up.
She didn’t hear the footsteps hurrying around them, didn’t pay attention to a young boy’s giggly exclamation to his mother that he saw them kissing. Pansy could only pay attention to Hermione’s skin against hers, the taste of hazelnut liqueur and chocolate on her lips, and how it made her feel like she’d come back to life after a year and a half of just existing.
When they broke apart, Pansy’s cheeks were burning up and her lipstick was smudged across Hermione’s mouth. Theo barely crossed her mind and she hoped, she really hoped, that Weasley wasn’t on Hermione’s mind anymore either.
“I want to do that again,” Pansy breathed out, her hand holding on to the edge of Hermione’s coat. “Often. Wherever we want. Fuck the rest of it.” She wanted to say more but didn’t know how to.
“That wouldn’t be very easy,” Hermione told her, looking at Pansy like she wanted to kiss her again. “What happened to your need for simple ?” she asked, cautious and a little cruel at the same time.
“What happened to your need for comfort?” Pansy asked her in return without answering the question.
Hermione shrugged; a casual gesture betrayed by the nervousness in her eyes. “Sometimes you get so comfortable and things are so easy, you forget what living really feels like.”
Yes, Pansy thought, she understood that only too well. Theo, marriage, family, purebloods—those things were all part of her easy life. Only, they didn’t really feel like living at all.
Living felt like kissing a Muggleborn girl on a street corner on Christmas Eve, the ice under their feet reflecting the twinkling lights of the shop fronts. Living felt like Hermione’s lips beneath her own. Pansy realised then, once-and-for-all, that she couldn’t really live her life unless Hermione Granger was in it.
Pansy didn’t want an easy life if she couldn’t have Hermione Granger in it.