I hope our story has a happier ending

still walking on eggshells

Summer passes—so, so slowly.

Holistically, Hermione has been very productive—she's working a few days a week as a receptionist at her parents' dental practice, she has plenty of time to read and research and really flush out her ideas about the world. Communication with Romeo is always more abbreviated when they're not away from home, but they've been finding the time to talk, to discuss politics and philosophy.

(He likes Descartes and Plato, because of course her soul mate has to be that pretentious, abstract kind of an academic. She loves him to pieces anyway.)

He's told his best friend more about her now, too—the guy in question had known for years that he had a soul mate his father wouldn't approve of, but he'd had some life-changing soul mate issues of his own last term, so lately Romeo's taken to sharing her habits and commentary. She knows everyone else knowing about their connection is impossible, but—it makes her feel warm, to know someone so close to Romeo knows about her—to know she means enough to him to be worth sharing.

(He's taking your side again, Jules—this is absolutely ridiculous, the two of you are never allowed to meet or I'll never win another argument as long as I live.)

And of course, she spends a good deal of her time corresponding with her friends from Hogwarts—actual postal service letters to Harry (who sounds entirely unhappy but relatively stable—she'll never forgive Dumbledore for leaving him in a known abusive household, leader of the light side and Order of Merlin or not. It's unacceptable—positively disgusts her.)

It seems as though his aunt's family is out of the house much more this summer than they used to be, though, so he's much less on edge, using a lot of the free time on his hands to explore parks nearby, to visit the animal shelter regularly (they're so wonderful, Mia, when you and I get a flat together after graduation—we will be roommates, won't we?—we're definitely getting a cat. preferably multiple. maybe some fish too?)

(Of course they'll be roommates—Ron will live with his family until he's settled, because he loves them and because he can and it's comfortable, and he's the kind of person who likes comfort; she and Harry, on the other hand, will be clambering for a home of their own at the first sign of an opportunity.)

The Hogwarts owl she's fostering for the summer takes care of ferrying messages to Ginny, who reports that she's fairly certain Fred has a secret boyfriend (as his pranks have caused little actual damage, lately) and that Percy has burnt himself out to a degree that has her worried (the mental exhaustion is so deep that he confided a large part of him wants to drop out—as hard as he's worked, it's too much, there's so much pressure to maintain it all, now, and he doesn't know how to stay afloat—doesn't know if it's worth it to bother).

More than that, though, she talks about how hard it is to come back from Voldemort's possession—so much of the last year is a blur, and sometimes she does something before wondering if it's a habit of hers or one she picked up from the piece of the dark wizard that imprinted itself on her soul. It's all she can think about, some days—wondering if she might be dark on some biological level, now.

Her parents, Molly and Arthur, don't want to talk about it—they think it'll be easiest to move on if they just pretend it never happened.

(But I can't, Hermione—this thing is eating me alive. I need to talk about it, need someone to tell me it was real, or I think I might lose my mind. Why are they so happy to pretend everything is fine when I'm not, I'm not okay—I'm so, so far from okay.)

Hermione does her best to console her friend—to be there for her, despite how impossible it is to even begin to understand what she's going through.