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urstarlitharlot · 2 days

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Come around for tea?

Ever since the war had ended, there was something restless within Hermione. Something that refused to be quieted. And she did not like it all.

She tried everything she could think of. Things that made her happy. Being with her parents, with Harry and Ron, with the Weasleys. Reading books, researching magic. Catching up on all missed course material (actually, that just made her stressed- the healthy thing to do would be to take a break but since when has she been that type of person?)

She suspected it had something to do with the grief that came with burying her friends, attending funerals day after day. The nightmares that plagued her every night; sometimes she was at Hogwarts, surrounded by slaughter and death. Other times, she was back at Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix's knife carving into her skin.

The war had been cruel and ruthless and harsh on her- she wasn't ignorant enough to say otherwise. But it had been just as horrible to everyone else, which is why she decided not to speak of this to anyone else. The last thing anyone needed was more problems; the Weasleys were a broken, scattered mess ever since Fred's death. She'd never gone so long without hearing any laughter in the Burrow.

Nobody seemed to notice, at first. Her parents were still busy recovering from their impromptu trip to Australia- they were furious at her (rightly) and very troubled themselves. Ron was busy drowning in his grief with the rest of his family. Even Luna and Neville were busy mourning their dead friends.

But Harry noticed. Of course he did.

"Are you okay?" he asked her quietly one day; they were sitting outside of the Burrow, on the porch. Ron had just gone up to get a pack of Exploding Snap for them all to play. "You've been...off, lately."

Hermione avoided his eyes. She didn't like lying to him- to any of her friends, really- and it was always easier if there was less eye contact. "Fine," she replied, picking at the edge of her shorts. The summer heat was beginning to take a toll on her; her legs were already growing tan. "Just tired, that's all." She wanted to ask him how he was doing, but knew he'd prefer not to be asked. Harry was the type to sit quietly in his grief, unbothered and not fussed over.

She looked back at him; his green eyes were studying her intensely, like he could tell she was lying. He wouldn't probe- that wasn't his style, she knew, especially since she was the prober of the trio- but she still felt naked under his gaze.

"You ought to do something other than read and hang out with us," he said, rather bluntly. Never one to pull his punches. "It's not healthy for someone to just spend all their time around books."

Hermione wanted to laugh. Books had been her sole comfort growing up, her passion and first love. She would never tire of it. "You sound like Ron," she said amusedly, then imitated his voice. "'Put down the bloody book, Hermione! Come play chess instead! It'll humble you!'"

Harry snorted. "He's not wrong."

Hermione swatted at him playfully. "Oh, hush."

He dodged her hands, grinning- but then his face grew serious again. "Seriously, Hermione. You need to get out and do something. Ron and I have Quidditch and chess. You need something to do."

"And what, exactly, do you suggest I do?"

To her surprise, he looked thoughtful. "I dunno. Maybe go to Diagon Alley, do some shopping. Go eat ice cream at Fortescue's. Something."

"Ice cream? You think ice cream will solve my problems?" Hermione said incredulously.

Harry shrugged. "Doesn't have to be ice cream. Can be anything you want. Just do something, you know?" He paused, casting a furtive glance behind them. The door was closed, but he lowered his voice anyway. "Look, I know Fred's dead...Lupin's dead, Tonks's dead, Moody's dead. But we can't just sit here grieving for the rest of our lives. We should- do something, you know? They gave their lives for us to be happy; only right if we oblige them."

Hermione arched her eyebrows. "Since when did you become so wise?" she asked jokingly, but secretly, she found herself agreeing with him, seeing the reasoning behind his words.

Harry smiled grimly. "Sirius," he said; it was one word, but Hermione instantly understood.

The door behind them clicked open. Ron stood in the doorway, the pack of Exploding Snap in his hands. "Alright then," he announced, yanking the door shut behind him. He plopped in between Harry and Hermione. "Got the cards, let's play a few rounds."

"Alright," said Harry, grinning; Hermione didn't miss the look he sent Ron as the redhead began to distribute the cards.

Idiots, she thought fondly, wondering when they would realize.

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"Oi! Watch it, miss!"

Hermione winced, rubbing her shoulder, as she turned to apologize- but the rude wizard was already scurrying off in the other direction.

The last time she had been to Diagon Alley was the day she had impersonated Bellatrix, broken into Gringotts, and escaped on a stolen dragon. Needless to say, she would be avoiding the goblins for this trip.

Harry had recommended Fortescue's, but she'd never really been an ice cream person (truffles and chocolates were much better, thank you very much). So she decided to steer right, towards the clothing shops. Yes, clothes. She needed to buy more robes; her wardrobe right now was absolutely horrendous (Ginny could attest to that).

Madam Malkin's was her favorite shop (and only shop) to buy from, so she chose there to start. It was empty, except for the squat witch in mauve robes, taking someone else's measurements. The person had their hood pulled over their face, so their features were disguised, but Hermione thought they looked rather familiar.

"Hello, dear!" Madam Malkin called, straightening up to smile kindly in Hermione's direction. She'd always been an easy-natured woman (unless someone displayed signs of aggression within her shop; then she became rather scary).

"Hello," Hermione said, a little shyly. Oh, for Merlin's sake, why was she acting bashful? It was just robes. "I'll just look around for a bit." She edged away into the women's robes section; social interaction had never been her thing. People are a lot harder to read than books, she thought ruefully.

She peered within the racks, wrinkling her nose. The robes were all floral, bright colors- pretty, but not her style. She preferred something casual, less noticeable. The vast variety of colors reminded her all too much of the peacocks back at Malfoy Manor.

She decided on a pair of black robes. Simple, classic. It reminded her of her Hogwarts robes- wearing that had always brought her a sense of comfort and warmth. A feeling of home. She wasn't in school anymore, but she could still cling to the reassuring memories. Hogwarts was the only place she had ever truly she felt like she belonged.

"Hermione?"

The voice was a high-pitched squeak. Hermione turned, curiously- it was the hooded figure from before, now clutching a set of glorious purple robes.

Then the hood fell over, and she almost gasped.

She'd heard rumors of Lavender Brown's scars; she'd assumed they were all exaggerations. But now, looking at the scarred pink flesh etched all over the young girl's face, she truly believed it. Her encounter with Fenir had left her alive, but horribly marred. It was almost painful to look at her- especially when you could recall her flawless beauty in her earlier teenage years.

As if sensing her thoughts, Lavender flushed, and hastened to pull her hood back up. Hermione impulsively reached out a hand to stop her.

"Lavender! I- It's been so long," she stammered. "How are you?"

Lavender managed a meek smile. "Fine, thanks," she said, and Hermione was struck by the lack of tone in her voice. Lavender Brown had been famous for her expressive nature- loud giggles, huge smiles, narrowed glares. But now it seemed all the joy and enthusiasm had been sucked out of her. "How've you been, Hermione?"

"Oh, fine, fine," Hermione lied. "It's been a bit busy, I suppose, with all the funerals..." She trailed off and almost winced. Funerals? Really? That was the conversation topic she was going for?

Lavender, to her credit, seemed unfazed. "Yeah, same," she said quietly, and Hermione remembered she'd been close with a lot of Gryffindors who were now dead.

They stood, awkwardly, for a few moments. Then, Lavender said tentatively, "Well, it was nice seeing you-"

"Do you want to come around for tea?" Hermione blurted out.

"What?"

Hermione flushed. She wasn't sure what had prompted her to say that; maybe it was the sense of nostalgia that came with seeing Lavender. She longed for her old Hogwarts days, when her biggest troubles were passing exams and Pansy Parkinson's stupid Slytherin gang. And, dare she say it, she missed Lavender. She and Parvati had been a little annoying, sure, but Hermione had secretly liked them as dorm-mates and friends.

"Do you...do you want to come around for tea?"

Lavender stared at her, wide-eyed. It was an old expression of surprise, something that brought Hermione a sense of relief (at least she hadn't changed completely) and a sense of apprehension (had she said something wrong? Had she overstepped?). At last, a wide grin stretched across her face. "Of course!" she beamed. "What time?"

Hermione felt a strange, triumphant feeling, like she'd aced a particularly difficult spell. "Three, maybe? If that works for you?"

Lavender practically glowed. "Of course it does!" she said happily, a hint of her old self shining through. She reached over and pulled Hermione into a fierce hug; Hermione felt her whole body tingle. "See you then?"

"Yeah, sure," the brunette managed as Lavender pulled away. "I'll...see you."

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Heheh hope y'all enjoyed, this fic idea's been brewing in my head for a while. Lavmione isn't a very popular ship, but I enjoy the concept very much. Please let me know if you want a part 2 :)

@urstarlitharlot i think i read a post of yours not too long ago that talked about how you love lavmione fics so come and get it

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