STARLIT SUPERNOVA. h. potter

xi. Non-Trelawney Nova

starlit supernova
❛ xi. non-trelawney nova ❜

━━━━━ HERMIONE'S SUPPORT MADE Nova want to spill everything — and she meant everything. She had been so patient and understanding (Nova had burst into her dorm room and cried, you know), and Hermione never once acted like she was a bother.

               And Hermione had believed her. That was more than Nova could say for her parents. Her own parents. And she had been understanding at the news of the dreams — she hadn't acted like Nova was some freak for them. And not for the Grim (despite her disbelief in the topic), and Hermione never looked at her odd for having passed out time and time again because of the dementors.

               "Um, Hermione," Nova said cautiously, "you know I've passed out when the dementors get near me ..."

               Hermione nodded to her.

               "Well — I see things; I hear things. The first time, I saw the — the Grim. On the train, you know? And then during the Quidditch match, I heard ..." she sighed, "I heard a conversation."

               "What was the conversation?" asked Hermione.

               Nova wrung her hands. "It was two women. One was older, and one was younger — maybe early twenties? She sounded much younger. Um — they were arguing. Something about one being a traitor; the younger one being the traitor. And then they talked about a he. He wanted to know something from the 'traitor'. And — and then the 'traitor' screamed."

               "What else?" Hermione urged.

               "I — I don't know," Nova admitted hesitantly. "The conversation stopped after that. But then I heard it a second time, during my latest dream. I only heard bits and pieces, but it was the older woman's voice."

               Hermione pursed her lips. She read through Nova's notes about her dreams again, tracing her finger down the page. "I — I know you didn't want me to suggest it, but you think it's possible you ..." She trailed off.

               Nova's bottom lip quivered. She had tried to deny it. Oh, how she tried. She didn't want to admit it at all, not even to herself. She traced the lines of her palm, swallowing the bile in her throat. "You asked once about me being adopted," she changed the topic. "And then you asked if I had ever met my bio mum. I haven't met her, but I do have a letter."

               Hermione watched her for a moment. "You do?"

               Nova nodded. "My friends are sick of me talking about it. She told me to not find her, but I want to meet her. Ask her why she gave me up for adoption. Or — at least know her name. Maybe I want to see how much I look like her. How much I act like her."

               Hermione gave her a sad look and grabbed her hand. "Do you — do you know if you can? Meet her, I mean."

               "In the letter — actually, I have it on me," Nova admitted, patting down her pockets. She took the yellowing paper out, and handed it over to Hermione. Once she was finished reading, Nova said, "She's probably dead, but I still —"

               "Want to know," Hermione said softly, handing the letter back. "I couldn't imagine, Nova."

               "Yeah ..." Nova tucked the letter away. "My parents and my friends — my parents especially — are sick of me talking about it. They think I'm being consumed trying to find her. And they're right, but they don't — I mean, they're raised by their parents. Their biological parents."