Her lunch never took long to heat;
Title. Her lunch never took long to heat
Author. Zee
Pairing. Hermione/Luna (Ginny/Pansy)
Rating. PG/PG13
Word Count. ~3400
Summary. It was good to go.
Warnings. Uh.. Short lines and fluff.
Disclaimer. Not mine, not making any profit out of it.
Author Notes. I wrote this last time, just after I started my temp job. It isn't by any means autobiographical. The temp job's over and I just finished this two days ago. Any mistakes are my own.
Her lunch never took long to heat, just three and a half minutes in the microwave and it was good to go. She usually ate alone on her desk, reading a book or the latest news on some gossip magazine they had at the office - she was used to it by now.
It had been six months since Hermione had given up her life in the magical world and had decided to live as a muggle. No one knew her, people didn’t pay attention to her every move and, most of all, her love life wasn’t on the first page of any newspaper. She enjoyed her life as a muggle.
The beep from the microwave woke her up from her reverie and she sighed, getting up to pick the tiny pot that had her now warm lunch in it. Pasta. Again. These days it felt that her lunch was always pasta. And it was, since it was the only food that didn’t make her sick during the eight hours she had to stay there.
After lunch, she was trying to organize her desk (since it seemed that she could never keep it organized lately), when her boss walked over and gave her a little note with some numbers scribbled on it.
“Hermione, dear, could you find those files and ask them to be brought here, please?”
The girl nodded, still shy even after six months, and took a deep breath. If there was one thing she just couldn’t get used to was talking on the phone. But she wasn’t about to refuse any of her boss’ orders because getting fired was not on her plans. She picked her phone, dialling the branch line number for the accounting department.
“Accounting, this is Vanessa speaking.”
“Hi, Vanessa,” she breathed a little, “this is Hermione from sales. I was wondering if you could check for me if you guys are holding case file number 1770?”
“Is the file from this year?” She sounded annoyed.
“Uh, yes.” Hermione could hear the laughs inside the department; it only made her feel even more uncomfortable.
“It’s here, but Miranda has it. I’ll have to ask her if she’s not working with it and if I can send it to you. Can you hold?”
“Of course.”
The voices got muffled after Vanessa put her hand on the phone, but Hermione could still listen to them, faintly.
Miranda, Hermione from sales wants to know if you’re using file 1770 and if she can have it.
Hermione? Who’s Hermione?
It’s that bushy-haired girl from sales.
Oh, her. What does she want it for? She’s not a manager.
She didn’t say, just said she needs it.
I don’t think I’ll send it.
Hahah, you evil woman. Are you going to send it or not?
Of course, of course. Tell her we’ll do it through protocol.
“Hello, Hermione?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“She said I can send you. I will do the transaction through protocol, okay? It should be there by the end of the day.”
“Thanks, Vanessa. Bye.”
She took a deep breath, feeling her cheeks, her neck and even her ears get red with the embarrassment. She had no reasons at all to be embarrassed from a phone call, everything had gone well, and her boss was going to get the file.
The bushy-haired girl from sales.
She closed her eyes, resting her face in her hands for a moment. It would not affect her, she would not let it. Being invisible in the muggle world was ten times better than being a war hero in the magical world; she would not let it affect her, she would not regret her decisions (but she knew, deep inside, she knew it was too late; she had regretted her decisions the day after she left).
Going home was a good thing most days, even if home meant a little flat the other side of town. Crookshanks had always been good company, and he always greeted her jumping on her lap and letting her pet him to his heart’s content.
She thought about fixing herself some dinner, but for some reason food didn’t sound so good. So she went for the shower instead; she could always make herself one of those quick soups later while watching the telly.
Reading before bed was one of her few pleasures, and that day... After six months she retrieved her copy of Hogwarts: A History from a box under the bed. It was still her favourite book.
She fell asleep with the book open on top of her chest; Crookshanks was curled up near her head. Staring at his owner for a while, it seemed he was thinking her foolish. He probably was.
The next morning was like every other morning. She put the book inside the box and the box under the bed again and went to the kitchen. She thought about her lunch while drinking tea and eating some crackers. Maybe she would have pasta again.
If there was one thing about the muggle world that Hermione really liked, it was the tube. She always thought it absurdly amusing, how people dressed in completely different fashions could all be going to their jobs. And every day she found someone to observe and try to come up with a story.
Today... the blonde girl standing next to the door, maybe? She was pretty. And didn’t look at all like she belonged there, like she was going to work. Her clothes were light, in colour and type. Her eyes were a deep blue. She looked like... No, Hermione wouldn’t remind herself.
At work that morning, it seemed that no matter what she did, she was reminded of the blonde girl from the tube. She sighed; the thought of the girl annoying her to no end (even more so after she had fallen asleep reading the book.)
The day at the office wasn’t so bad. Her boss got there slightly later than usual (or maybe she had been on a meeting with the other managers). The pasta she had for lunch tasted as bland as usual, she still got embarrassed calling people - it was a normal day.
She found herself plenty of things to do; so that she wouldn’t remember the book and the girl and just everything. It had taken her a long time to not think about any of it, and now it was all coming back like it had never left in the first place.
Whenever she had a break between one job and another, though, her thoughts wandered back to the six months she was there and everything that had happened before. Her life. She missed her life. She missed fitting in (even if she didn’t fit in so much before), she missed her friends. She did not miss, however, the spotlight life had given her.
The few hours left at the office were spent overthinking and overanalysing everything that had happened during those six months and before. She knew her choices hadn’t been right. She knew they hadn’t been the best. But she just couldn’t take all that had been happening to them at the time. It had all been too much.
She didn’t pay attention to anything on the way back. Her head was so full of thoughts from the war and Hogwarts and everybody, there was no more room for anything else. She bumped on some people on the street, but even that didn’t bother her.
That night she felt so tired she didn’t pick the box from under the bed. She didn’t even mind eating anything. She showered and went to bed, petting Crookshanks softly before falling asleep. To dreams of Hogwarts and home and a better time.
When she woke up the next morning she wondered if maybe she was going insane? It could be that, she knew; she had read a thesis about it once, about how stress could make people go insane. Maybe that was happening with her.
At work, things were normal. Or as normal as they could be. She spent a long time dealing with papers and holding herself not to kick the computer most of the time. What she didn’t know, though, was that her patience with all that was at its limit. She had been so inside her own head lately she didn’t even notice it. Until her lunch hour, at least.
There was no lunch. She had completely forgotten about her lunch. She took a deep breath, checking her wallet for some money and got up. The bar on the other side of the street it was, then. Fish ’n’ chips would be just as fine as pasta.
“Where are you going?” Her boss asked from the other side of the room.
“Lunch,” she answered tiredly, “I forgot mine so I’m to the bar to buy some.”
“Mmhm. Don’t forget it’s just an hour.”
She was back with the fish ‘n’ chips in less than fifteen minutes and sat on her desk. She wasn’t even halfway through it when her boss came again, depositing a bunch of files on her desk. Hermione stared at her.
“Hermione, if you’ll be a dear? Half these files need to be sent to the presidency. This is a contract and that pile over there needs to have the numbers of each file on the computer archive.”
“After lunch I’ll -”
“They are urgent, Hermione. Lunch can wait. Go on!”
“But I’m -”
“Urgent! They need to be signed as soon as possible.”
“But Samantha, this is not right! The interns aren’t doing anything. I’m finishing my lunch.”
“Oh? I thought your job was to assist? Assistant Manager, was it not?”
“Yes, but I’m not your assistant. I’m just an assistant.”
“Well, assist!”
“I’m not your bloody secretary! Charlie is the department’s secretary, so ask her, or the interns.”
She just realised she had raised her voice when the room was silent after she was done speaking. Her boss looked slightly frightened. Hermione looked at her real hard, trying to remember one good thing this job had brought her. There was none.
“I’m done here.”
There was a couple on the tube. But she had been the only one to notice them; to pay attention. They weren’t too obvious; light touches to arms, hips, taking hold of a hand one more second than normal. Talking close, looking around, smiling like they had everything; smiling like it was a secret only they shared.
She wasn’t exactly paying attention to them, not after that, but she saw when one of them looked at her and said something to the other. The boyish girl turned to take a good look at her and said something back to her girlfriend. Hermione smiled, shaking her head. She never thought she was that obvious.
Crookshanks was already waiting for her by the door. It was like he knew (and he had been with her for so long he probably did know). She petted him behind the ears. And now what? Pack her things and go back (go home) and plead for forgiveness after being gone for months? It sounded pretty good to her.
It wasn’t even a matter of being forgiven. Just seeing everybody again one more time; even if they didn’t want to see her ever again after that. She knew she had done wrong, she would understand if they didn’t even want to look at her. She fell asleep lying on the couch; it was 3pm.
There was something on her face. There wasn’t. There was there wasn’t there was there wasn’t there was there wasn’t there was there wasn’t there was there wasn’t there was there wasn’t there was there wasn’t there was there wasn’t there was there wasn’t - she opened her eyes abruptly and a paw fell on one of them.
“Crookshanks!”
He mewled.
“Thanks for waking me up so nicely.”
He pawed her face one more time for good measure.
It was almost 7pm, so if she was quick enough maybe she would be able to get there before ruining any dinners. She just had to pack her things (which weren’t much, when she thought about it) (and which wouldn’t take long to be packed, if she used magic), take a shower and eat... maybe eating wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe just tea.
She should probably go look for her wand, though. Wandless magic after six months of no magic could go wrong. As could Apparition. She knew she was already nervous, so it was no good if things went wrong (but she knew they would at some point) (because she wouldn’t be lucky, not this time).
Crookshanks jumped from her lap looking... pleased, she thought. He even picked his toys, scattered around the tiny flat and put them all together. Well, she thought to herself, if he’s packing...
The packing was done, she had showered, the tea was almost all drank; Crookshanks was already inside his much hated cage. Everything was okay. Settled. Fine. Now she just had to go outside and close the door and call for the Nightbus.
She was relieved when no one inside recognized her. Maybe those six months had been a little good, after all. It had given time for people to get over things, rebuild their lives, and forget Hermione Granger was ever a part of the Golden Trio. She was invisible again.
Her trip on the Nightbus didn’t last long and soon her stop was being announced. She only held Crookshanks’ cage now, everything else had been reducted to fit in her pockets. She got out, watching as the magic bus disappeared. There was no avoiding it now.
Looking up, she could already see the house she had grown so fond of. She didn’t remember, though, when it had been that Luna’s house had become home. When she became so attached to it (to Luna) that, for Hermione, this had become more of a home than the Burrow itself.
It was too dark to see all of Luna’s flowers around the garden, but the light that came from inside the house helped her walk on the short stone path. She could feel her legs shaking, her stomach churning and the colour leaving her face; she was sure her face was sweaty from nervousness, too (her hands sure were).
She stared at the door for what felt like minutes. Crookshanks mewled. She had come all the way, just for this. Knocking on the door was the last step, so she did. She knocked three times, with a firmness she didn’t feel at all.
When the door opened, Hermione closed her eyes for a second; the light from inside blinding her. She forced herself to open them, staring straight at whoever had opened the door. Luna. Luna Luna Luna Luna.
“Hermione.”
“Don’t. Please. I know. I know I have no right, after what I did. I know. I’m sorry. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I just couldn’t. I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.” She stopped and took a deep breath, “I’ll understand if you don’t want to see me again, if you’re... if you’re with someone. I just had to come. I couldn’t... I had to see you.”
They looked at each other. Hermione was sure that she would start crying if Luna didn’t say something. Please say something, please.
“Welcome back home.”
Luna was crying. Crying and smiling and her chest was moving up and down with her sobs. Hermione stepped in, hugging the blonde with all the strength she had. She started crying as well, and they stayed like that for a long time (until Crookshanks lost his patience and started mewling loudly to be released from the cage).
She lost count of how many times she said she was sorry (probably until Luna told her to stop). The herbal tea didn’t help as much as she thought it would. Luna’s hand on her was probably the only thing that was keeping Hermione there, calm.
“Luna...”
“It’s okay. No more apologizing.” The blonde held her face close, “I’ve been waiting. I knew you would come back.”
“You knew?”
“Of course. You’re stubborn. You just need time to see things with your own eyes. After what we’ve been through, that’s understandable.” She gave Hermione a little smile, “And I love you, so of course I knew you would come back home.”
She didn’t even know what to say. She hugged Luna fiercely, hiding her face on the crook of the blonde’s neck. They stayed like that for a long time; Luna’s hand was making circles on her back. It was soothing. Hermione couldn’t remember a time she was so at peace.
“We should go to bed.”
But Luna didn’t get an answer; Hermione had already fallen asleep, her face still close to the blonde’s neck, her arms loose. The blonde moved slowly, laying the brunette’s sleeping form on the sofa. She put a blanket on top of the woman and kissed her forehead.
Hermione could hear voices. They weren’t too far, but she still couldn’t figure out what they were saying. The smell of Luna on the blanket was so thick, the brunette pulled it to her face. Some things would take time, she knew; but for now she was happy.
“You sent us a message in the middle of the night saying we should have breakfast.” Ginny said, frowning, “Did anything happen?”
“I just thought we should have breakfast together, that is all.” Hermione heard Luna say nonchalantly.
Oh, Merlin. Ginny. Which probably meant Pansy was there as well. This was going to be her end. She had just seen Luna again after months and the woman had owled Ginny. Ginny! Who would kill her, probably more than once.
She wasn’t about to run away again, she wasn’t. Just get over with it, she thought to herself. If she thought well, Luna was also risking herself (for letting Hermione back again). So she would show up, and deal with whatever consequences she had to.
“Ginny.”
That was the only thing she managed to say before being caught in a bone crushing hug by the red head. Her ribs hurt from it, but she didn’t mind; Pansy looked astonished at them and Luna was... starting to get blurry.
“Ginny, let her go, she isn’t breathing!” Pansy said, pulling her girlfriend away from the brunette.
Luna smiled, not minding at all Ginny’s reaction to Hermione’s appearance. She hugged the brunette herself, giving her just enough time to take a deep breath. Their hug didn’t last too long, though, because soon Pansy was pulling them so she, too, could share.
Most breakfast was spent with Hermione telling them what she had been doing the last six months; sometimes Ginny would spontaneously hug her and then just be quiet again. Pansy laughed every time, too amused to feel jealousy. But Luna... the blonde was glowing with happiness.
After their two friends had left, Hermione took her time studying the blonde’s movements while she cleaned the table. She just watched while Luna picked the plates and the tableware and put everything on the sink, taking her time not to use magic.
“Thank you, Lun.”
Luna turned to her, her brows slightly arched. “Why?” She asked simply, even though her eyes showed none of her word’s doubt.
“For not telling them.”
(For not telling them I made most of it up. For not telling them how miserable I was when I got here yesterday.)
“Your things are yours to tell,” the blonde said like things were so simple (but things always were simple when it came to Luna), “besides,” she turned and started washing the dishes, “I can’t tell things which I do not know.”
But she knew. And Hermione knew (and Luna knew Hermione knew, because they knew each other). The brunette looked at Luna’s back, the blonde hair that covered good part of her body. She felt her eyes full of tears; loving, thankful tears (Luna did that to her, even if she never meant to).
She got up abruptly, squeezing Luna’s petite body in a hug. She could hear the blonde’s gasp; she could feel the small hands on top of her own. She kissed the blonde’s hair, her arms squeezing the woman a bit tighter. She felt one of Luna’s hands on her face, still managing to get rid of the tears, even with their awkward position.
Crookshanks mewled, clearly complaining about being left out.
She was home.
Author. Zee
Pairing. Hermione/Luna (Ginny/Pansy)
Rating. PG/PG13
Word Count. ~3400
Summary. It was good to go.
Warnings. Uh.. Short lines and fluff.
Disclaimer. Not mine, not making any profit out of it.
Author Notes. I wrote this last time, just after I started my temp job. It isn't by any means autobiographical. The temp job's over and I just finished this two days ago. Any mistakes are my own.
Her lunch never took long to heat, just three and a half minutes in the microwave and it was good to go. She usually ate alone on her desk, reading a book or the latest news on some gossip magazine they had at the office - she was used to it by now.
It had been six months since Hermione had given up her life in the magical world and had decided to live as a muggle. No one knew her, people didn’t pay attention to her every move and, most of all, her love life wasn’t on the first page of any newspaper. She enjoyed her life as a muggle.
The beep from the microwave woke her up from her reverie and she sighed, getting up to pick the tiny pot that had her now warm lunch in it. Pasta. Again. These days it felt that her lunch was always pasta. And it was, since it was the only food that didn’t make her sick during the eight hours she had to stay there.
After lunch, she was trying to organize her desk (since it seemed that she could never keep it organized lately), when her boss walked over and gave her a little note with some numbers scribbled on it.
“Hermione, dear, could you find those files and ask them to be brought here, please?”
The girl nodded, still shy even after six months, and took a deep breath. If there was one thing she just couldn’t get used to was talking on the phone. But she wasn’t about to refuse any of her boss’ orders because getting fired was not on her plans. She picked her phone, dialling the branch line number for the accounting department.
“Accounting, this is Vanessa speaking.”
“Hi, Vanessa,” she breathed a little, “this is Hermione from sales. I was wondering if you could check for me if you guys are holding case file number 1770?”
“Is the file from this year?” She sounded annoyed.
“Uh, yes.” Hermione could hear the laughs inside the department; it only made her feel even more uncomfortable.
“It’s here, but Miranda has it. I’ll have to ask her if she’s not working with it and if I can send it to you. Can you hold?”
“Of course.”
The voices got muffled after Vanessa put her hand on the phone, but Hermione could still listen to them, faintly.
Miranda, Hermione from sales wants to know if you’re using file 1770 and if she can have it.
Hermione? Who’s Hermione?
It’s that bushy-haired girl from sales.
Oh, her. What does she want it for? She’s not a manager.
She didn’t say, just said she needs it.
I don’t think I’ll send it.
Hahah, you evil woman. Are you going to send it or not?
Of course, of course. Tell her we’ll do it through protocol.
“Hello, Hermione?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“She said I can send you. I will do the transaction through protocol, okay? It should be there by the end of the day.”
“Thanks, Vanessa. Bye.”
She took a deep breath, feeling her cheeks, her neck and even her ears get red with the embarrassment. She had no reasons at all to be embarrassed from a phone call, everything had gone well, and her boss was going to get the file.
The bushy-haired girl from sales.
She closed her eyes, resting her face in her hands for a moment. It would not affect her, she would not let it. Being invisible in the muggle world was ten times better than being a war hero in the magical world; she would not let it affect her, she would not regret her decisions (but she knew, deep inside, she knew it was too late; she had regretted her decisions the day after she left).
Going home was a good thing most days, even if home meant a little flat the other side of town. Crookshanks had always been good company, and he always greeted her jumping on her lap and letting her pet him to his heart’s content.
She thought about fixing herself some dinner, but for some reason food didn’t sound so good. So she went for the shower instead; she could always make herself one of those quick soups later while watching the telly.
Reading before bed was one of her few pleasures, and that day... After six months she retrieved her copy of Hogwarts: A History from a box under the bed. It was still her favourite book.
She fell asleep with the book open on top of her chest; Crookshanks was curled up near her head. Staring at his owner for a while, it seemed he was thinking her foolish. He probably was.
The next morning was like every other morning. She put the book inside the box and the box under the bed again and went to the kitchen. She thought about her lunch while drinking tea and eating some crackers. Maybe she would have pasta again.
If there was one thing about the muggle world that Hermione really liked, it was the tube. She always thought it absurdly amusing, how people dressed in completely different fashions could all be going to their jobs. And every day she found someone to observe and try to come up with a story.
Today... the blonde girl standing next to the door, maybe? She was pretty. And didn’t look at all like she belonged there, like she was going to work. Her clothes were light, in colour and type. Her eyes were a deep blue. She looked like... No, Hermione wouldn’t remind herself.
At work that morning, it seemed that no matter what she did, she was reminded of the blonde girl from the tube. She sighed; the thought of the girl annoying her to no end (even more so after she had fallen asleep reading the book.)
The day at the office wasn’t so bad. Her boss got there slightly later than usual (or maybe she had been on a meeting with the other managers). The pasta she had for lunch tasted as bland as usual, she still got embarrassed calling people - it was a normal day.
She found herself plenty of things to do; so that she wouldn’t remember the book and the girl and just everything. It had taken her a long time to not think about any of it, and now it was all coming back like it had never left in the first place.
Whenever she had a break between one job and another, though, her thoughts wandered back to the six months she was there and everything that had happened before. Her life. She missed her life. She missed fitting in (even if she didn’t fit in so much before), she missed her friends. She did not miss, however, the spotlight life had given her.
The few hours left at the office were spent overthinking and overanalysing everything that had happened during those six months and before. She knew her choices hadn’t been right. She knew they hadn’t been the best. But she just couldn’t take all that had been happening to them at the time. It had all been too much.
She didn’t pay attention to anything on the way back. Her head was so full of thoughts from the war and Hogwarts and everybody, there was no more room for anything else. She bumped on some people on the street, but even that didn’t bother her.
That night she felt so tired she didn’t pick the box from under the bed. She didn’t even mind eating anything. She showered and went to bed, petting Crookshanks softly before falling asleep. To dreams of Hogwarts and home and a better time.
When she woke up the next morning she wondered if maybe she was going insane? It could be that, she knew; she had read a thesis about it once, about how stress could make people go insane. Maybe that was happening with her.
At work, things were normal. Or as normal as they could be. She spent a long time dealing with papers and holding herself not to kick the computer most of the time. What she didn’t know, though, was that her patience with all that was at its limit. She had been so inside her own head lately she didn’t even notice it. Until her lunch hour, at least.
There was no lunch. She had completely forgotten about her lunch. She took a deep breath, checking her wallet for some money and got up. The bar on the other side of the street it was, then. Fish ’n’ chips would be just as fine as pasta.
“Where are you going?” Her boss asked from the other side of the room.
“Lunch,” she answered tiredly, “I forgot mine so I’m to the bar to buy some.”
“Mmhm. Don’t forget it’s just an hour.”
She was back with the fish ‘n’ chips in less than fifteen minutes and sat on her desk. She wasn’t even halfway through it when her boss came again, depositing a bunch of files on her desk. Hermione stared at her.
“Hermione, if you’ll be a dear? Half these files need to be sent to the presidency. This is a contract and that pile over there needs to have the numbers of each file on the computer archive.”
“After lunch I’ll -”
“They are urgent, Hermione. Lunch can wait. Go on!”
“But I’m -”
“Urgent! They need to be signed as soon as possible.”
“But Samantha, this is not right! The interns aren’t doing anything. I’m finishing my lunch.”
“Oh? I thought your job was to assist? Assistant Manager, was it not?”
“Yes, but I’m not your assistant. I’m just an assistant.”
“Well, assist!”
“I’m not your bloody secretary! Charlie is the department’s secretary, so ask her, or the interns.”
She just realised she had raised her voice when the room was silent after she was done speaking. Her boss looked slightly frightened. Hermione looked at her real hard, trying to remember one good thing this job had brought her. There was none.
“I’m done here.”
There was a couple on the tube. But she had been the only one to notice them; to pay attention. They weren’t too obvious; light touches to arms, hips, taking hold of a hand one more second than normal. Talking close, looking around, smiling like they had everything; smiling like it was a secret only they shared.
She wasn’t exactly paying attention to them, not after that, but she saw when one of them looked at her and said something to the other. The boyish girl turned to take a good look at her and said something back to her girlfriend. Hermione smiled, shaking her head. She never thought she was that obvious.
Crookshanks was already waiting for her by the door. It was like he knew (and he had been with her for so long he probably did know). She petted him behind the ears. And now what? Pack her things and go back (go home) and plead for forgiveness after being gone for months? It sounded pretty good to her.
It wasn’t even a matter of being forgiven. Just seeing everybody again one more time; even if they didn’t want to see her ever again after that. She knew she had done wrong, she would understand if they didn’t even want to look at her. She fell asleep lying on the couch; it was 3pm.
There was something on her face. There wasn’t. There was there wasn’t there was there wasn’t there was there wasn’t there was there wasn’t there was there wasn’t there was there wasn’t there was there wasn’t there was there wasn’t there was there wasn’t - she opened her eyes abruptly and a paw fell on one of them.
“Crookshanks!”
He mewled.
“Thanks for waking me up so nicely.”
He pawed her face one more time for good measure.
It was almost 7pm, so if she was quick enough maybe she would be able to get there before ruining any dinners. She just had to pack her things (which weren’t much, when she thought about it) (and which wouldn’t take long to be packed, if she used magic), take a shower and eat... maybe eating wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe just tea.
She should probably go look for her wand, though. Wandless magic after six months of no magic could go wrong. As could Apparition. She knew she was already nervous, so it was no good if things went wrong (but she knew they would at some point) (because she wouldn’t be lucky, not this time).
Crookshanks jumped from her lap looking... pleased, she thought. He even picked his toys, scattered around the tiny flat and put them all together. Well, she thought to herself, if he’s packing...
The packing was done, she had showered, the tea was almost all drank; Crookshanks was already inside his much hated cage. Everything was okay. Settled. Fine. Now she just had to go outside and close the door and call for the Nightbus.
She was relieved when no one inside recognized her. Maybe those six months had been a little good, after all. It had given time for people to get over things, rebuild their lives, and forget Hermione Granger was ever a part of the Golden Trio. She was invisible again.
Her trip on the Nightbus didn’t last long and soon her stop was being announced. She only held Crookshanks’ cage now, everything else had been reducted to fit in her pockets. She got out, watching as the magic bus disappeared. There was no avoiding it now.
Looking up, she could already see the house she had grown so fond of. She didn’t remember, though, when it had been that Luna’s house had become home. When she became so attached to it (to Luna) that, for Hermione, this had become more of a home than the Burrow itself.
It was too dark to see all of Luna’s flowers around the garden, but the light that came from inside the house helped her walk on the short stone path. She could feel her legs shaking, her stomach churning and the colour leaving her face; she was sure her face was sweaty from nervousness, too (her hands sure were).
She stared at the door for what felt like minutes. Crookshanks mewled. She had come all the way, just for this. Knocking on the door was the last step, so she did. She knocked three times, with a firmness she didn’t feel at all.
When the door opened, Hermione closed her eyes for a second; the light from inside blinding her. She forced herself to open them, staring straight at whoever had opened the door. Luna. Luna Luna Luna Luna.
“Hermione.”
“Don’t. Please. I know. I know I have no right, after what I did. I know. I’m sorry. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I just couldn’t. I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.” She stopped and took a deep breath, “I’ll understand if you don’t want to see me again, if you’re... if you’re with someone. I just had to come. I couldn’t... I had to see you.”
They looked at each other. Hermione was sure that she would start crying if Luna didn’t say something. Please say something, please.
“Welcome back home.”
Luna was crying. Crying and smiling and her chest was moving up and down with her sobs. Hermione stepped in, hugging the blonde with all the strength she had. She started crying as well, and they stayed like that for a long time (until Crookshanks lost his patience and started mewling loudly to be released from the cage).
She lost count of how many times she said she was sorry (probably until Luna told her to stop). The herbal tea didn’t help as much as she thought it would. Luna’s hand on her was probably the only thing that was keeping Hermione there, calm.
“Luna...”
“It’s okay. No more apologizing.” The blonde held her face close, “I’ve been waiting. I knew you would come back.”
“You knew?”
“Of course. You’re stubborn. You just need time to see things with your own eyes. After what we’ve been through, that’s understandable.” She gave Hermione a little smile, “And I love you, so of course I knew you would come back home.”
She didn’t even know what to say. She hugged Luna fiercely, hiding her face on the crook of the blonde’s neck. They stayed like that for a long time; Luna’s hand was making circles on her back. It was soothing. Hermione couldn’t remember a time she was so at peace.
“We should go to bed.”
But Luna didn’t get an answer; Hermione had already fallen asleep, her face still close to the blonde’s neck, her arms loose. The blonde moved slowly, laying the brunette’s sleeping form on the sofa. She put a blanket on top of the woman and kissed her forehead.
Hermione could hear voices. They weren’t too far, but she still couldn’t figure out what they were saying. The smell of Luna on the blanket was so thick, the brunette pulled it to her face. Some things would take time, she knew; but for now she was happy.
“You sent us a message in the middle of the night saying we should have breakfast.” Ginny said, frowning, “Did anything happen?”
“I just thought we should have breakfast together, that is all.” Hermione heard Luna say nonchalantly.
Oh, Merlin. Ginny. Which probably meant Pansy was there as well. This was going to be her end. She had just seen Luna again after months and the woman had owled Ginny. Ginny! Who would kill her, probably more than once.
She wasn’t about to run away again, she wasn’t. Just get over with it, she thought to herself. If she thought well, Luna was also risking herself (for letting Hermione back again). So she would show up, and deal with whatever consequences she had to.
“Ginny.”
That was the only thing she managed to say before being caught in a bone crushing hug by the red head. Her ribs hurt from it, but she didn’t mind; Pansy looked astonished at them and Luna was... starting to get blurry.
“Ginny, let her go, she isn’t breathing!” Pansy said, pulling her girlfriend away from the brunette.
Luna smiled, not minding at all Ginny’s reaction to Hermione’s appearance. She hugged the brunette herself, giving her just enough time to take a deep breath. Their hug didn’t last too long, though, because soon Pansy was pulling them so she, too, could share.
Most breakfast was spent with Hermione telling them what she had been doing the last six months; sometimes Ginny would spontaneously hug her and then just be quiet again. Pansy laughed every time, too amused to feel jealousy. But Luna... the blonde was glowing with happiness.
After their two friends had left, Hermione took her time studying the blonde’s movements while she cleaned the table. She just watched while Luna picked the plates and the tableware and put everything on the sink, taking her time not to use magic.
“Thank you, Lun.”
Luna turned to her, her brows slightly arched. “Why?” She asked simply, even though her eyes showed none of her word’s doubt.
“For not telling them.”
(For not telling them I made most of it up. For not telling them how miserable I was when I got here yesterday.)
“Your things are yours to tell,” the blonde said like things were so simple (but things always were simple when it came to Luna), “besides,” she turned and started washing the dishes, “I can’t tell things which I do not know.”
But she knew. And Hermione knew (and Luna knew Hermione knew, because they knew each other). The brunette looked at Luna’s back, the blonde hair that covered good part of her body. She felt her eyes full of tears; loving, thankful tears (Luna did that to her, even if she never meant to).
She got up abruptly, squeezing Luna’s petite body in a hug. She could hear the blonde’s gasp; she could feel the small hands on top of her own. She kissed the blonde’s hair, her arms squeezing the woman a bit tighter. She felt one of Luna’s hands on her face, still managing to get rid of the tears, even with their awkward position.
Crookshanks mewled, clearly complaining about being left out.
She was home.