#but yeah. harsh reminder to Me that harry sucks even when I as the Player try to make him good

[mihotose]

wait. harry can be racist to kim for not wanting to dance in any playthrough. for real? i only failed that check in my fascist run which made sense but harry. come on

[lesbooblur]

summer days, drifting away (but oh those summer nights)

Title: summer days, drifting away (but oh those summer nights)

Pairing: pansmione

Word count: 1532

Genre: muggle AU, camp counselor AU, enemies to lovers

Summary: Hermione wonders if she’ll ever feel okay again, and the other counselor Pansy is just making things worse.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, one mention of a thought of jumping off a high place (im just including this as a precaution i don’t know if it really needs a warning)

AN: This is for the birthday of the amazing Lauren over at @ahmortentia She’s honestly one of the best people I’ve ever met and I’m so proud to call her an irl friend of mine. Per her request, here’s some more pansmione and with one of her favorite aus. Also the google doc I made this in is called “my presence is your present” so happy birthday babe.

Hermione Granger knew that Pansy Parkinson’s cabin was going down, or rather, what started as a casual job had turned into an all-out war.

It was only supposed to be fun.

Hermione was going off to college next year, the ever so prestigious and expensive Cambridge University. She had worked so hard. So hard.

Summer camp was supposed to take her mind off the inevitable stress that would arrive with college, or at least that’s what her parents said as they packed her bags and shipped her off to a summer camp in Long Island Sound, New York. It was supposed to be fun.

Fun.

Hermione remembered the word.

It was the feeling she used to have before Harry and Ron took off together, touring the world and ignoring college.

Harry had brought along Ginny.

Ron had broken up with Hermione the day the boys left.

He told her it was for the best.

She asked whose best he was speaking for.

Her parents had noticed, as they always seemed to recently. And sure, they were nice, and Hermione wouldn’t trade them for anything, but they just seemed to know when something was wrong, and maybe that infuriated her a little bit.

And that’s why she was here, in Long Island, heading a cabin of 12-year-old girls. And so was Pansy Parkinson.

Oh god, Pansy Parkinson.

Pansy Parkinson showed up to camp on the first day with perfectly manicured nails and neat hair that didn’t even touch her shoulders. She seemed tolerable to Hermione until she showed up in a Cambridge hoodie one morning. The same hoodie Hermione had laying on her bunk bed. And maybe that bugged Hermione a bit, because she would have liked to be the only one going to such a great school, to be the only one the kids asked for life advice and help on picking a college.

Okay, maybe it bugged her a lot.

The director was none other than Fleur Weasley, the wife of Ron’s older brother, Bill.

She didn’t know that Ron was long gone from Hermione’s life.

On the first day of camp, she called Hermione her future sister.

Hermione tried not to cry that night.

The first few days at camp fell into routine: keep the girls safe. Make sure they’re fed, sunscreened, and don’t step into poison ivy on hikes.

For the first time in months Hermione felt okay.

Almost.

Pansy Parkinson’s kids stole her cabin’s idea for the talent show.

War was declared.

Well, not really.

But to Hermione it was.

She started by dousing Pansy with water “on accident”. They just both happened to end up on opposite teams for the water balloon fight, and Hermione somehow got ahold of the bucket that previously held all the balloons (and was filled to the brim with water), and that bucket mysteriously landed all over the dark-haired girl with the pristinely manicured nails.

Pansy pretended not to care, but when Hermione woke up with shaving cream in her hair the next morning, there was only one person who could have done that.

Pansy Parkinson got a faceful of oatmeal at breakfast when the food fight began.

Hermione Granger was still picking banana out of the underside of her nails the next day.

Fleur tried to settle the problem by making Hermione’s and Pansy’s cabins camping buddies for their annual camping field trip.

It seemed to go well at first.

The fire was made, the kids were settled and sharing ghost stories around the burning logs, and Pansy and Hermione were off to the side, donning matching Cambridge hoodies (by complete accident they both had brought theirs), and sipping tea.

They didn’t speak, but maybe that was for the best. If they did it probably would end in an all-out scream fight, which would not only have sucked for the campers, but would attract the attention of multiple animals that roamed in the dark.

Hermione shuddered at the thought.

Pansy noticed.

“You cold?”

For someone who seemed to hate Hermione so much, it was funny how kind Pansy was being.

“Uh, no. I’m fine, I guess.”

“Boy troubles?”

Hermione blinked.

“You know,” Pansy said, gesturing out into the cold air. “I just assumed that-”

“You’re right, actually.”

For someone who seemed to hate Pansy so much, it was funny how kind Hermione was being.

“Boys are the worst,” Pansy breathed, leaning back into her chair and taking a long sip of the tea in her hands. “That’s why I stick to girls.”

Hermione realized this was Pansy coming out to her. “Wait- you’re-”

“Gay? You’ve got a problem with it?” Pansy immediately went on the defense. It shocked Hermione how fragile a relationship with this girl probably was. One minute they were getting along, the next they were back to fighting. Hermione didn’t blame her, though. Pansy probably got a lot of shit for being gay.

“No, no. Not at all. I’m actually bi myself, so… yeah.”

Silence and steam from the tea curled in the air. Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath in.

“So what did this boy do?”

Hermione had nearly forgotten Pansy was there. Nearly.

“Well, he broke up with me. His best mate took his girlfriend along on their crazy year-long ‘see the world’ expedition, but no, I just got dumped.”

“Sucks,” Pansy said, exhaling loudly. A chorus of laughs rung out into the night. The 12-year-olds must have found something funny.

“I can’t be mad, though. His best friend’s girlfriend is actually my ex’s sister. Really lovely girl too. She wants to be a professional softball player when she finishes college.”

“What do you want to do? I mean, when you grow up.”

Hermione wanted to tell Pansy that they were already grown up. Everything would have to be decided come fall.

“Politics. You?”

Whenever she said that recently, people seemed to throw a fit. They often told her that she should rethink that, that politics was no place for a nice girl like her, that this world was too harsh and they didn’t need another politician. Not Pansy.

“Cool. I like art, I guess. Sketching, painting. Maybe a wine connoisseur. I like wine. I don’t know.” Hermione was all logic and books. Pansy was emotion and impulse.

It was funny how in one night total enemies could become friends. And not even grudging friends, but actual, healthy, friends.

Neither had spoked about Cambridge yet, but they didn’t need to.

Hermione had been all set to fight Pansy for a bigger spot in the tent they were being forced to share, but when it came time to sleep, they ended up sharing the space equally.

Hermione woke up the next morning with Pansy’s arm draped across her waist, and she found herself not complaining about the peculiar position.

Neither spoke about it at breakfast.

When Pansy made Hermione blush by sending a wink her way during lunch, Hermione wondered if maybe Ron breaking up with her was for the best (whose best, she still didn’t know, but maybe it didn’t matter anyway).

Pansy took her to a cliff overlooking the ocean. Well, the whole camp was on a cliff, but there was this one part with a long drop down into rocks below.

Hermione wondered what it felt like to fall all that way down.

Their feet dangled off the top, brushing the shrubs that grew on the underside of the rock they were sitting on. The sunset painted Pansy’s face shades of gold and red, making her dark eyes dance like fire.

Hermione would have given anything to stay in that moment forever.

Hermione leaned her head on Pansy’s shoulder. “We should be getting back,” she whispered, but she didn’t take her eyes off the ocean.

Pansy kissed her in response.

Ron’s kisses reminded Hermione of chocolate: warm and comfortable, but safe. Pansy’s kisses were like riding a rollercoaster in the middle of a fireworks show.

They were beautiful.

Fleur shot Hermione a knowing look when Pansy showed up in Hermione’s favorite t-shirt the next morning.

Hermione cracked a smile in response.

Maybe it was going to be okay after all.

And then it wasn’t okay, because summer ended.

Pansy Parkinson left without a goodbye.

No phone number, no email, no way of ever seeing her again.

But then she showed up at freshman orientation in August at Cambridge.

Hermione should have seen it coming.

They kissed in the courtyard in front of the dorms at the end of the mandatory tour, and Pansy Parkinson moved into Hermione’s dorm room only a week later.

When Pansy broke down one night because she couldn’t figure out what major she wanted to pursue, Hermione stayed up until 2am consoling her. When Hermione threw her folder across the room because she just couldn’t understand the United Nations anymore, Pansy helped her pick up all the loose sheets. When Pansy punched a wall in frustration, Hermione bandaged her hand. When Hermione forgot to eat because she was so busy studying, Pansy brought her food.

So maybe it wasn’t perfect.

Maybe deep down they were still the girls who put shaving cream in one’s hair and poured water all over the other, but maybe that didn’t matter.

Since when was perfect fun?

Maybe, just maybe, it was all for the best.

For everyone’s best.