Chapter 8: Invitation
Hermione sank into her sofa, exhausted, dressed finally in what she had been craving to wear all day- sweatpants and a hoodie. While most of the witches and wizards (after Peters had left, of course) were fairly reasonable, they didn't have much common sense when it came to basic technology- understanding that icons represented words, that everything, yes, was on the Internet, that you could delete files and they'd be gone forever. Whipping up a quick salad dinner, she settled in for a night of relaxation at home when a gorgeous owl Hermione recognized to be Astoria's tapped on her window. Feeling the fresh air of the night sky as the owl swooshed into her apartment, the letter it had been carrying fell to the floor. As she thanked it with a treat from Eeylops Emporium, she opened it.
At that last sentence, she was a little confused, but once she'd flipped over the letter, it made sense. Looking at the address, Astoria's apartment was located in one of the classiest apartment buildings in London; it actually wasn't very far from her apartment. Hermione thought it over. She didn't fancy seeing the bitchy girl from their school days, but if what Astoria said was true (and she had no reason to think Astoria might lie) then the encounter would definitely go better than it would have a few years ago.
Scribbling a reply on the back of the letter, she sent it off, and went to change.
***
I bite my tongue, and curse the piece of parchment in front of me. How does one apologize to one's former best friend that they yelled at for being a liar? I throw the quill across the room in desperation, and try something else. Drawing my memories out with my wand- I had never done it before but Hermione had taught me the formula one night- I slap it onto the parchment and it slowly dissolves into words that describe how I'm sorry.
I wouldn't usually write this kind of letter; I don't tend to go back on my word. But Harry has had me see sense- he was reluctant to believe Ron in the first place. Not to mention the more I think about it the more it makes sense- I can't believe I let Ron talk me into thinking Hermione was the deceitful, cheating liar.
As I seal the letter, and whistle for Pig, I fail to see the sulky shadow that sits around the corner, and as Pig flies off, I feel the overwhelming sensation of relief, even though a small part of me is convinced that something will inevitably go wrong.
***
Astoria POV
Pansy and I sit at the edge of the small jacuzzi that sits in a separate chamber outside my bathroom (with an adjoining door to my bedroom) when I hear knocking at the door. Excusing myself from Pansy, I slip on a Slytherin green silk robe and open the door, where I see Hermione, dressed in a simple blue dress. She waves shyly, and I can tell that she's nervous.
❤️
"Come on it! We were just about to get into the hot tub. You brought a swimsuit, right?"
Hermione smiled. "Of course. I just need to change..." She trailed off. I smack myself mentally.
"Naturally; I should have thought of that. Would you like a short tour first?"
"Sure."
Hermione looks around, a mystifying air about her as she takes note of the locations of the kitchen, washroom, hot tub, guest rooms, and common area. I suppose the apartment is more like a small house; it's very large for the term.
"How were you able to afford this?" I stiffen a little at her question; off the top it would seem like she assumed that I inherited a lot of money, but when I look at her face, she's genuinely interested.
"My job pays surprisingly well. I guess the boss saw potential in me."
She smiles softly. "Would you like to go to the hot tub now?" I suggest, hoping my voice is kind and doesn't sound like I'd rather pay attention to Pansy than her. Luckily, she agrees.
"I'll just change quickly." She turns and heads toward the washroom, and I follow, hoping Pansy hasn't overthought this. She wasn't exactly comfortable with this idea either, but I persuaded her (the pros of being a Slytherin) that it was best to get past misdeeds out of her conscience.
***
Asmy toes drag on the surface of the warm water, my thoughts wander, turning into a whirlwind of nervousness.
I had never been nice to Granger- the panicking part of my brain slides in a snide comment, upsetting my calm surface and giving light to the turmoil of nervousness and a jumble of other emotions underneath. Even if it was a lot of pressure, I feel guilty that at times, I actually enjoyed taunting her. I know that it was forced on me to become someone I didn't want to be, but I still could've done it without enjoying her pain.
I spot her slip into the washroom, and the flash of long legs and the short navy dress surprises me- the, for lack of better word, prudish Gryffindor I remember wouldn't have worn that if hell froze over. A few muffled thumps later, she emerges clad in a high-waisted two-piece, and it is gorgeous as fuck on her.
It clings to her toned body that she must have gotten in our last year, and, well, let's just say if I swung the other way I would definitely go for her. Her makeup is en pointe, with a perfect cat eye and mascara elongating her long already-long lashes. Her lips are a quiet red, but it just makes everything stand out more. As I scrutinize my memories, trying to think about when she would've worn something- anything like this ever, I come up blank.
I wonder what happened.
***
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