Your imprint,
Your marks,
Your impact,
All on me to savour.
ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
So much tension between two girls, so much things to unfold between them, so much to explore within them.
This story contains mature content.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
"Knew I'd find you here." spoke Ginny after finding her bestfriend in the library. "It's nearly midnight." she pointed out with a curious look.
"I was waiting for (Y/N)." shrugged Hermione casually as though there was nothing wrong with waiting 4 hours for someone to show up. She could feel Ginny's amused stare, making her scoff as she got up, packing her stuff.
"That was the longest I've seen you wait for someone." commented Ginny as they made their way out of the library. "You're being a tad bit too patient with her, no?"
"She needs help with her Transfiguration." stated Hermione, her voice slightly high-pitched as she she felt her cheeks flush a bit.
"I don't think you'd help Goyle and Crabbe since it's not your responsibility." said Ginny. "Come on, Hermione. I'm your bestfriend, just spit it out." she added, faking a hurt look on her face.
"Spit what out?" queried a bewildered Hermione, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. The ginger looked at her in disbelief.
"Nevermind," sighed Ginny, she wanted the girl to figure it all out by herself. "I'm just saying that I've never seen you this patient with someone, and I've never seen you laugh that way around my brother."
Ginny baded her goodnight, leaving Hermione to decipher what she said.
Next day, no (Y/N) outshining her in Potions. No (Y/N) ruffling her hair with a lollipop in her mouth. No smug smirk in sight. Nothing.
Another day passes, (Y/N) let out a groan as she was woken up by the harsh sunlight. There was a pounding in her head, her eyes felt heavy as well as the rest of her body. She plopped herself up and allowed her back to rest against her bed's headboard.
"What the fuck??" she nearly screamed at the sight of a Gryffindor sitting on the floor beside her bed. "I mean, hey." she quickly said, trying to put up her chill and cool demeanor that clearly wasn't fooling Hermione.
What was Hermione doing here??? Her bed was a mess, she herself was a mess, her hair was unkept and her face probably resembled a zombie.
"Why are you here?"
"You weren't showing up." replied Hermione calmly, completely ignoring the fact that the latter was a nervous mess, which she found adorable honestly. "I thought I'd skip class and check on you, I asked Winky— a house elf to cook you porridge since you missed breakfast. Oh also, I'm writing you notes that we took yesterday, I don't want Professor McGonagall thinking that my teaching skills are mediocre."
"Why does that sound rehearsed?" snickered (Y/N), seeing the faint blush on the Gryffindor's face. Her heart felt light, was the girl actually here to take care of her?
"Just because you're sick, doesn't mean I won't hesitate to stomp on you if you do or say anything stupid." huffed Hermione with a roll of her eyes. She got off the floor and settled herself at the edge of the Slytherin's bed, taking in her rough features.
"You don't need to be here." said (Y/N) firmly with a shake of her head, looking up at the Gryffindor who gave her a shut-up-you're-being-stupid-again look. "I can take care of myself— I'm fine any—way, I've never been better—" she insisted, unable to finish her sentence clearly due to her cough.
"It's okay," assured Hermione softly, gently placing her hand on the Slytherin's forehead, checking her temperature. "You don't need to act all smug and tough. Besides, everyone needs someone to take care of them."
"Who takes care of you, Mione?"
The nickname caught Hermione off-guard.
"I prefer to be the one who takes care of others." replied Hermione, wearing a bitter-sweet smile, her gaze not meeting (Y/N)'s. She felt a hand on hers, her eyes meeting a soft pair. Suddenly, she felt vulnerable. She felt as though this was a safe place to convey the feelings that she set aside.
"My parents," began Hermione with a shaky breath. "I erased their memory around a year ago because of the Battle, I didn't want to risk them getting hurt or getting involved in any way."
"I planned on giving them back their memories when the Battle ended," she went on. "I found them. In Australia. With their newborn baby, they looked so happy. I couldn't bring myself to come back to them." she finished off quietly, her voice barely a whisper.
(Y/N)'s eyebrows were furrowed in worry, her face sympathetic although she didn't know what to even say. But her hand intertwining softly with the Gryffindor's was enough for Hermione. The heavy feeling in her chest was now lighter.
Having (Y/N) in her life was like walking on a long path of broken shards of glass bottles, piercing her with every step. But having her was also like walking through a field of violet coloured flowers in spring, and smelling freshly cut grass.
Having (Y/N) in her life was like the heat of summer, she's outside and she can't enjoy anything because of the annoying heat. But it was also like the first sip of hot chocolate in winter, and it's the perfect temperature.
And for (Y/N), having Hermione is like holding your breath underwater for so long, to finally come up and take a breath. That breath of air fills your lungs, and suddenly you're okay. You're not suffocating anymore, and staying alive doesn't seem like a hard task.
But both of them set these thoughts aside, deciding to enjoy the mere touch of each other's hand.
