I hope our story has a happier ending

I'm lost, but that's alright

The summer before fourth year passes so, so slowly.

It's easier to talk to Draco, now; on the days they can both receive messages, Hermione's skin is absolutely covered. Their discourse is more fluid than it's ever been, too; they hop back and forth between muggle and magical subjects, several conversations always happening at once, and it's just—perfect.

(It gets them both through the bad days.)

Draco still likes to call her Juliet, sometimes; "that's who I loved first," he says.

(She sends her own battered, annotated copy of Romeo and Juliet for his birthday present, and he spends hours laughing at her sarcastic handwritten comments in the margins.)

She sends Harry letters via muggle post; since his murderous godfather is on the loose, his aunt and uncle are pretending to be decent human beings—also, Dobby isn't stealing his mail, so that helps.

And then, just a few weeks into summer, Andromeda Tonks shows up at Privet Drive with a smile and a wand pointed at Vernon Dursley.

("I am Harry's second cousin, and though I offered to take him into my care after James and Lily's passing, I was assured you were the best possible choice. It has been brought to my attention that you don't deserve to care for a cockroach, and as such, Harry will be staying with me for the remainder of his school breaks until he is of age or until his godfather has a place of his own, and if you kick up a fuss I will transform the both of you into toilet brushes and put you for sale at the nearest store. I might even do so anyway.")

("May whatever god there is have no mercy on your souls, you abusive monsters. I do believe I'll see you in hell," she hisses once Harry is outside, before slamming the door behind her and promising him he'll never go back.)

Harry had gleefully relayed the interaction to Hermione over the phone Andromeda's husband possesses, Sirius's raucous laughter audible in the background.

She's happy for Harry, truly—there's no one who deserves that kind of happy home more than he does, the kind he should've had all these years. He's an entirely different person, so much lighter, so much more joyful; not to mention how much stronger his magical abilities have grown without a summer being closed off from half of himself—and with Professor Lupin, now frequently referred to as Uncle Moony, over nearly every day (to visit Sirius, who is apparently his soul mate) and happy to tutor him.

(But a dark part of her is jealous of his happiness; she's always loved how similar she and Harry felt, not being alone in her misery outside of Hogwarts, and yet now...well, it's a part of their relationship she'd never thought she'd miss.)

In all honesty, Hermione's making it day by day at the thought of the upcoming Quidditch World Cup, which—the last thing she would have ever imagined to be true.

But the Cup means an invite to the Weasleys from thereon out through time to board the Hogwarts Express; means Ginny, and Harry, and the twins, and the Burrow (the first place she'd ever known a house to exude love and—home.)

And Draco's said he'll be at the cup; even if they can't talk, just seeing her boyfriend is a welcome comfort she can't wait for.

She receives a missive from Sirius, at one point; "kindred spirits, kitten—reach out if you need anything.

(She won't take him up on it; can't bear the thought of the shame and vulnerability that would come along with doing so.)

(But—it helps, knowing she's not alone.)

/

Thrilled as she is to leave for the Burrow, it's...hard, hopping from her own home into the happy Weasley family life.