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Hermione Granger had stopped pretending she didn’t notice.
Ron’s laughter carried across the pub, too loud, too familiar, punctuated by the fluttering giggle of a witch who was very much not his girlfriend. His posture loose with the confidence of a man who thought the world owed him admiration. War hero. Harry Potter’s right hand. Auror by proximity if not by merit.
Hermione sat at the table with Harry, Ginny, Luna, and Neville, her spine straight, hands folded neatly around her glass like composure alone could stitch dignity back together.
Again. Ron had left her again.
Ginny shot her a look that said “I will hex him myself if you ask.” Neville stared determinedly into his drink. Luna hummed to herself, serene in a way that somehow felt like quiet judgment.
Harry noticed last. He always did. His jaw tightened. “I’ll talk to him.” Hermione shook her head. “Don’t.” Her voice didn’t waver. That scared her more than if it had.
Hermione stared into her glass. She told herself she shouldn’t care. Ron had always been like this, charming when he wanted to be, careless when he didn’t. He’d called it harmless. Called her sensitive. Said she was overthinking it. Hermione had built a career out of thinking.
The door of the pub opened, letting in a wash of cold night air and with it, Emeraude Black.
Harry’s partner at the Auror Department. Tall, composed, dark hair falling down like cascades, eyes sharp with perception rather than arrogance. She didn’t announce herself. She never did. She simply observed and then moved with intention. She scanned the room once, efficiently.
Her gaze landed on Ron first. Then on Hermione. Something hardened.
Emeraude didn’t greet the table. She didn’t hesitate. She walked straight toward Hermione and pulled out the empty chair beside her, the one Ron had abandoned.
“Hello, Hermione,” Emeraude said, voice smooth. “Mind if I sit?”
Hermione blinked. “No. Please.”
Emeraude sat close. Intentionally so. She ordered Hermione another drink without asking. Whiskey, neat. Hermione’s favorite.
Ron finally noticed. “Oi,” He ambled over, grinning like he hadn’t just been caught. Already half-smiling. “Didn’t know you two knew each other this well.”
Emeraude didn’t look at him. She leaned closer to Hermione instead. “You looked bored.” Hermione let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “I was.”
Ron scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Emeraude turned then, calm and lethal. “It means you left your girlfriend alone. Again.” Ron bristled. “She’s fine.”
Hermione opened her mouth, habit, reflex but Emeraude spoke first. “I don’t think she is,” Emeraude said. “But then again, I pay attention.”
Silence fell sharp and sudden. The table went silent.
Ron laughed, incredulous. “What’s your problem?” Emeraude’s eyes flicked back to Hermione, softening just enough to be unmistakable. “You are.”
Ron bristled. “This is between me and her.” Hermione opened her mouth but Emeraude beat her to it.
“No,” Emeraude said evenly. “It’s between you and your lack of awareness.” She reached for Hermione’s hand. The contact was deliberate. Steady. Public.
“She deserves someone who notices when she’s uncomfortable,” Emeraude continued evenly. “Someone who doesn’t treat her like background decoration while he chases validation but specially someone who doesn’t need to be reminded how lucky he is.”
Ron laughed, incredulous. “And you think that’s you?” Emeraude’s eyes flicked back to Hermione, softening. “I know I could do better.” The words landed like a match struck.
Hermione’s heart pounded. For once, someone wasn’t asking her to tolerate less. Wasn’t minimizing. Wasn’t embarrassed to stand beside her.
\
Ron scoffed again. “This is ridiculous.”
Her voice was steady when she spoke. “No, Ron. What’s ridiculous is how long I let you make me feel small.” Ron stared at their joined hands. “Are you serious?”
Hermione stood. Her voice was quiet. Lethal. “I am.”
Ron scoffed, desperate now. “You’re really going to do this? Over that?” Hermione met his eyes for the first time all night. “Over everything.” She turned to Emeraude. “Take me home.”
Emeraude rose immediately, offering her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. Ron stared, stunned, as Hermione walked past him without a backward glance.
Hermione stepped into the night beside her.
Outside, the night air hit Hermione like freedom.
She stopped only once they were a few steps away, breath unsteady.
“I didn’t plan that,” Hermione admitted.
Emeraude turned to her fully now. “Neither did I.”
A pause. “I can hear your thoughts, Hermione. You don’t owe me anything,” Emeraude added quietly. “I stepped in because I wanted to. Because watching him dismiss you made my skin crawl.”
Hermione studied her face, the certainty, the respect, the presence. “You didn’t need to humiliate him.” Emeraude’s mouth curved slightly. “I let him humiliate himself.” Hermione laughed sharp, relieved, almost disbelieving. “You really do pay attention.”
“Yes.” Emeraude said. “To you.”
The silence between them changed, no longer charged with tension, but possibility. Hermione straightened. “I’m not looking for someone to replace him.”
Emeraude nodded. “Good. I’m not interested in replacing anyone.” She stepped closer, just enough. “I’m interested in choosing you." Hermione swallowed.
For the first time, she didn’t feel like she was asking for too much. She felt like she was finally being met where she stood.
“If I wanted a girlfriend,” Hermione said slowly Emeraude smiled, confident and unflinching. “You’d have one.” Emeraude slowed only when they reached the edge of the street.
“Come with me,” she said quietly, turning back toward Hermione and offering her hand. Not demanding. Not assuming. Offering.
Hermione hesitated not because she didn’t want to, but because something tugged at her. She glanced back through the pub window.
Ron was arguing with Harry now, face flushed, hands gesturing wildly. Harry looked furious in that restrained, disappointed way that somehow hurt worse than shouting.
Ginny caught Hermione’s eye. She lifted her glass, then gave Hermione a very deliberate thumbs up and a grin that said about damn time. Something in Hermione finally loosened. She turned back and took Emeraude’s hand immediately. Emeraude’s fingers closed around hers, warm, sure. She stepped closer, her other hand sliding to Hermione’s waist, anchoring her there like she belonged exactly where she stood.
“Ready?” Emeraude murmured. Hermione didn’t trust her voice, so she nodded. The world folded.
———————
The door closed softly behind them, enchanted locks sliding into place with a muted click that felt far louder than it should have. Hermione barely noticed.
Emeraude’s hand was still at her waist, thumb resting just above her hip like it had found its home there. For a moment, they simply stood in the entryway of the flat, warm, quiet, suspended between what had been and what was about to be.
The flat was beautiful in that understated way Hermione appreciated immediately: tall windows, dark wood floors, shelves lined with books and artifacts that spoke of travel and intention rather than decoration. It smelled faintly of bergamot and magic.
“You don’t have to stay if—” Emeraude began. Hermione stepped closer, closing the distance herself this time. “I want to.”
That was all the invitation Emeraude needed.
She leaned in, slower now, giving Hermione every chance to pull away. Hermione didn’t. Their mouths met, unhurried, exploratory, softer but somehow more intense. Hermione exhaled into the kiss, a quiet sound she hadn’t meant to make, and felt Emeraude smile against her lips. Her fingers curling into Emeraude’s coat, grounding herself in the reality of it of her. The taste of firewhisky still lingered, softened by something unmistakably Emeraude.
They broke apart only long enough to breathe. Emeraude’s forehead rested against hers afterward, breath warm. “You’re shaking.”
Hermione laughed under her breath. “I just ended a three year relationship and apparated into your flat. You don’t have idea of how many rules I just broke.”
Emeraude’s thumb brushed a reassuring arc at her waist. “I understand, I apologize. Hermione don’t worry, we can go slow.”
Hermione looked up at her, eyes bright and certain. “That’s the thing, I don’t need slow. I need real.” Emeraude nodded, reverent almost. “Then stay.” Hermione shyly nodded.
Hermione kissed her again, slower this time, deeper, her hand firm at Hermione’s waist like she wasn’t going anywhere. Hermione melted into it, the noise of the world finally gone, replaced by quiet murmurs and the hum of magic still clinging to them both. For once, Hermione wasn’t being left behind. She was exactly where she wanted to be.