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thestralsandthunder · 30 days ago

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Wax Dripped From My Wing | One Shot

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Narcissa Black Malfoy

Rating: Mature

Summary:

The eerie silence pervading the city did little to shake her resolve. She was no longer that impetuous little lion rushing into battle. Hardhearted and ruthless, she was a dagger of impenitent steel. A phoenix succumbing to her ashes with ardor, prepared to asphyxiate the insidious villain that threatened their world.

Hermione Granger was an icarian weapon, but Narcissa was the sun.

OR a smutty, angsty Cissamione one shot that might end up being developed further. Who knows.

Word Count: 4.3k

Tags: 18+, Angst, Lesbian Sex, Oral Sex, Self-Harm, Soulmates

AO3

Hermione sunk further into the shadows as the figures passed.

The alcove she found herself in was no bigger than a Hogwarts’ broom closet, but the moonless sky blanketed the city in a deeper darkness than usual and she was thankful.

The mens’ maroon colored robes shifted in the night breeze as they continued on, unaware of a wanted criminal hiding mere feet from them. She grit her teeth at the air of self importance that shrouded them. They were nothing but wolves in sheep’s clothing. Death eaters who’d long ago sullied the integrity of the position they now held. Her wand itched to cut them down, to be their reckoning, but she refrained from advancing and reinforced her silencing charm instead. It wouldn’t do for her to be captured. Not now. Not tonight.

The aurors turned the corner and she continued on her way. Torn and faded posters bearing her adolescent face plastered the streets as she walked. Some of them were old and faded, while crisp replacements had been adhered to cover pieces of others. The photo of her younger self looked on passively from the black and white print, seemingly bored.

Hermione smirked. The offending moniker printed alongside her visage still managed to stroke a small level of pride within her.

UNDESIRABLE NO. 1 Hermione Granger 500,000 galleon reward Wanted for questioning related to the murders of Dolores Umbridge, Thoros Nott, and Druella Black.

The prize money for her capture had only increased as Voldemort’s influence festered internationally. She wondered idly if anyone’s capture had ever been worth five hundred thousand galleons before. Even Harry had only managed a fifth of that number during their initial year on the run.

A twinge of anguish pierced her heart at the thought of her long lost best friend. The moment Lucius Malfoy had murdered him still both haunted her and filled her with a blinding rage. The ill-gotten Sectumsempra had laced Harry’s body with force, his blood soaking the flagstones of the courtyard in a river of crimson. Hermione had watched as the light in his emerald green eyes faded completely and all hell broke loose.

The blonde bastard’s last ditch effort to regain the graces of The Dark Lord had sent them on a path to destruction. The Order had been forced into hiding following the Hogwarts massacre. With their numbers depleted by more than half they were forced to operate underground, biding their time for the right opportunity to strike.

That was five years ago.

Readjusting her hood, Hermione continued on. It was so late now she would almost consider it morning. Berlin’s nightlife had begun to die down, muggle and wizarding folk alike poured out of the closing clubs like sluggish, vulnerable ants. Her Notice-Me-Not and well-placed glamours allowed her to traverse the inebriated crowds with ease. Not even her own mother would have been able to discern Hermione from another amidst the masses.

She was close to their temporary headquarters now. They’d managed to secure a condemned muggle office building a few months back. It’d only taken a few structural reinforcement charms and a complex layer of runic wards to deem it usable. A few more blocks and she’d be able to slip back under the fidelius undetected. It wouldn’t do for Kingsley to find a reason to question her again. His suspicions over her recent excursions had come to a breaking point, but she only needed to delay his impending confrontation another day.

After tomorrow they’d be free and she would die knowing the Order persisted towards a better future.

She made it two more streets before she felt it. The telltale tingling spread from her forearm to her fingertips, threatening to create sparks. She clenched her fists to smother the urge. The familiar, melancholic thrum of her magic alerted her to the presence as much as the rustling coming from a few meters behind her. They may have silenced their footsteps, but Hermione recognized the accompanying sound of street debris brushed aside by fluttering robes.

She adjusted course, taking a turn down an unfamiliar street to draw her newfound prey away from the headquarters’ hidden location. Diverting her path twice more, she clocked the entrance to a small alley up ahead. She kept her ears trained on the shuffling disturbance behind her and felt the stalker begin to close the gap between them. Keeping calm, she arrived at the mouth of the alley and entered as if it was an everyday occurrence. Disappearing around the corner of the adjacent building, she turned and waited. As soon as she caught the anticipated shimmer of magic, Hermione struck.

Grabbing the disillusioned figure by the front of their robes, she swung them bodily around and pinned them against the rough bricks by their throat.

“Long time no see, Mrs. Malfoy. If I recall correctly, you owe me your life for daring to show your face again.”

Her voice dripped with a venom so potent, even Nagini would have cowered.

The culprit canceled the disillusionment charm and Hermione seethed with righteous anger at the sight of Narcissa. Her platinum blonde hair looked every bit as flawless as always and her silver silk robes screamed pureblood pretension. Hermione loathed that it suited her and she squeezed the hand wrapped around her neck that much tighter.

“P-Please,” Narcissa choked, her soft hand scrabbled at the one gripping her, “Just- Just listen to me, Mia.”

“Don’t call me that,” Hermione hissed menacingly, but she leapt away from her like she’d been burned.

Finally able to stand of her own accord, Narcissa took a few moments to catch her breath. Hermione noted the dark circles under her eyes. She looked like she hadn’t slept properly in weeks. The sharpness of her cheek bones were a little too prominent, standing out in stark contrast to her sullen face.

Hermione felt another twinge of discomfort from her magic, but she ignored it. She threw up a few preventative wards to deter anyone from entering the alley, adding a further Notice-Me-Not for good measure.

“Why are you here?” She asked.

Leaning back against the building, Narcissa met her disdainful amber eyes with resilient blue ones.

“The Dark Lord arrives in Berlin tomorrow—”

“—No shit,” Hermione bit back, cutting her off. “Why do you think I’m here?”

She knew that Narcissa knew the entire Order was here as well, but neither of them acknowledged it.

“You don’t understand,” she continued, her eyes boring into the brunette, “He intends to do it tomorrow during the rally. Lucius and Bella are to infiltrate the Reichstag in his stead. His speech at Pariser Platz is merely a cover. The ICW will cease to exist.”

At Hermione’s complete lack of reaction, realization dawned in Narcissa’s eyes.

“You already knew,” she whispered, shocked.

Hermione smirked, her amber eyes glinting in the street lamp.

“You’re not the only one capable of tracking their soulmate, Narcissa.”

She watched as the blonde flinched at the callous use of her full name. A myriad of different questions warred for dominance in Narcissa’s eyes, and a minute later she settled on the most pressing.

“How?” She asked, her voice laced with confusion. “How did I not feel you?”

Hermione’s smirk fell away and her eyes hardened, taking on a deadened, unfeeling quality that made Narcissa flinch once more. The brunette unconsciously shrugged the sleeve of her robe further over her right arm.

“Runes are my specialty,” she muttered shortly.

She offered no further explanation, but Narcissa connected the dots quickly enough. There was a reason they were fated. Two halves of the same whole destined to become one once more. Narcissa’s intelligence matched that of her own and she saw through what the brunette had done in the span of a second. She lunged forward and grasped Hermione’s right wrist, before shoving up her sleeve and gasping in horror.

Hundreds of deliberately carved runes had been etched into her arm with intricate precision. The scars looked fresh even now, but the edges gave away their age. The pin pricks of each line looked red and angry against Hermione’s usually tanned skin, like they’d been forcibly reopened over and over again. Starting from the backs of her fingertips, they wound all the way up to her elbow, covering every available patch of skin apart from one.

In the dead center of her forearm was a mark that Narcissa was intimately familiar with, because its twin resided on her own skin. Except, where her own mark was smooth and unmarred, Hermione’s was crisscrossed with deep, jagged silver scars, like she’d tried to carve it from herself with a blade. The little skin that remained untouched by scars and runes looked blistered and distorted, as if someone had doused the inky tattoo in acid.

Narcissa thumbed a finger over the jet black soulmark with reverence as tears burned at the back of her eyes. Bile climbed up the back of her throat and she fought down the urge to be sick.

Hermione tore her arm from her grasp and yanked her sleeve down over the skin once more. Ignoring the tingling feeling left behind from the blonde’s touch, she met Narcissa’s betrayed blue eyes with a stone wall of defiance and hatred.

“I can only contain it for short bursts of time. A few hours at most, but it does its job,” she sneered.

Narcissa paled.

“Last week’s meeting…at the manor…Y- You were there?”

Hermione’s eyes burned like fire in the glow of the street lamp and she stalked closer to the blonde, pushing her back to the wall once more.

She tutted softly, bracing her scarred hand on the wall next to Narcissa’s head and leaned in close, “I sat beside you the whole time, love. Surelyyou noticed.”

Heart pounding, Narcissa searched her memory for an indication that it could be true. She thought back to the day in question, but she couldn’t remember much about the meeting itself. She’d picked up the finer points from Lucius later in the evening, because she’d spent the entire council in a fugue state of desperation and fear.

A searing pain had lanced through her chest minutes before she entered the dining room, making her buckle to the floor. Her magic had felt like it was being torn from her very core. She remembered sitting through the monotonous reports unable to think of anything but the sudden disconnection of their bond and what that could possibly mean. She’d forced her distress deep down inside, doing her best to reinforce her occlumency shields in case The Dark Lord questioned her lack of participation.

But she’d been there.

Narcissa forced her mind back to her seat at the table. Nothing had seemed out of place. Lucius had sat to her left as always and Rowle…Rowle had sat to her right, but he’d been…off.

Now that she focused on the memory with scrutiny, he’d been overly stiff, almost silent. His usual boisterous brogue was absent, but she’d chalked it up to an injury.

An injury.

He had been injured. She’d noticed a slight trickle of blood seeping from the sleeve of his robes. The right sleeve in fact.

She gasped as it clicked.

“Rowle?”

“Right in one,” Hermione smirked once more. “He was startlingly easy to subdue.”

Fully grinning now, she looked back to the blue eyes in front of her, but her triumphant expression faltered momentarily at the sight of the tears streaming down Narcissa’s face. She looked distraught and absolutely furious all at once. She threw her fists forwards, pushing violently against Hermione’s chest as she sobbed.

“I thought you’d died!” She screamed, her throat ripping raw from the force of her voice. “I thought you’d died! Th-that you’d- that you’d left me!”

Hermione saw red.

“Left you? Left you?” she uttered dangerously, grabbing the offending fists and pinning them to the wall above the blonde’s head. She pressed Narcissa’s body tight against the coarse facade behind her, caging her in with her body. “Don’t you dare accuse me of leaving you.”

Their breaths mingled together harshly at the close proximity. Hermione maintained her grip above Narcissa’s head as she watched tears continue to stream down her cheeks. She could see every facet of the sky reflected in those expressive blue eyes. She watched as they flicked down and lingered on her mouth, the blue orbs darkening exponentially, swirling with emotion.

Hermione’s breath hitched.

Her magic was going haywire. Her hands warmed against the skin of Narcissa’s wrists, her soulmark tingling at the prolonged contact. She could feel the tendrils of her magical core trying to bridge the gap between them. It did terrible things to her resolve. Her anger and resentment were nothing in comparison to the covetous, zealous longing she felt thrumming through her at finally having her soulmate this close again. Heat pooled in her belly at the feeling and she felt helpless to stop it.

Narcissa looked up at her with those crystalline eyes and whimpered, her tears streaming once more.

“Mia,” she pleaded softly, her words no more than a breath, “please…”

Drowning in the sound of her voice, helpless against the tides of fate, Hermione’s resolve snapped.

She crushed her lips against the soft ones before her, devouring Narcissa with a force that left them both breathless once again. Pouring months of frustration, anger, and longing into the kiss, Hermione released the woman’s wrists. Moving one hand to grip the back of her neck, she angled Narcissa’s face upwards for better access, deepening the kiss and scraping her nails through the silky blonde tresses at the nape of her neck. Narcissa gasped against her at the feeling, bringing her arms down to clutch at her waist.

Relinquishing her lips, Hermione blazed a path along Narcissa’s jaw. She shifted further and sucked an ear lobe between her teeth, giving it a harsh nip. Pale manicured hands gripped the front of Hermione’s robes at the sensation and pulled her ever closer, before they shifted to the topmost fastenings. Narcissa began to undo them, but she only managed to release one, before the brunette pushed her away.

Narcissa groaned, frustrated, “Darling…”

“Patience, sweetheart,” Hermione murmured, trailing kisses down the blonde’s neck to the collar of her robes. “Don’t make me restrain you again.”

With a swipe of her hand, Hermione magically undid the buttons on Narcissa’s robes. She deftly slipped them off her shoulders, letting them fall in a heap at their feet. Glancing down to relish in the newly revealed skin, she expected to be met with the blonde’s typical lacy brasserie, but Hermione’s breath stuttered to a halt at the sight of a familiar worn t-shirt.

She stared at the faded graphic and brought her thumb to the hemline, smoothing it between her fingers slowly. The fabric felt much thinner than she remembered. She struggled to maintain her grip against the tidal wave of conflicting emotions. Surprise. Anger. Despair. Lo…

Narcissa fidgeted beneath her touch.

“My…I mean…You kept it,” she murmured dumbly. She felt a bit unmoored. This was the last thing she expected to find under Narcissa’s robes. She looked at her soulmate’s face and saw an answering look of trepidation.

“I…I wanted you with me,” she admitted. She sounded nervous, like she was afraid the revelation would end their tentative truce. Narcissa forced herself to swallow and take a breath, meeting those amber eyes directly.

“I needed you with me,” she amended softly.

A rush of affection, of love, one that she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in over a year, rushed through Hermione’s veins at the soft admission and her magic pulsed with elation. She took a small step forward and brought her hand up to Narcissa’s face. Stroking a thumb over her cheek, Hermione felt a tension she didn’t know she’d been holding fall away from her.

“I’ll always be with you, Cissa,” she promised resolutely. “Always.”

Narcissa sucked in a breath at the familiar nickname and searched her face for any sign of deceit. Finding nothing but tenderness shining back at her, she choked back a sob and pulled Hermione in for a burning kiss. Heat scorched her skin as Hermione wrapped her arms around her waist and slid a hand up the back of her t-shirt. Her arousal from earlier came back with a vengeance.

“Mia,” she breathed between kisses, begging now, “please, darling.”

Taking the hint, Hermione trailed her lips away from Narcissa’s, back down the length of her neck. Latching onto the skin above her collarbone, she sucked a particularly dark bruise onto the blonde’s skin and Narcissa hissed at the sensation. In the momentary distraction, Hermione waved the hand she’d snuck under the back of the t-shirt and vanished the blonde’s bra.

Snaking her hand back around to Narcissa’s chest, she ran the pad of her thumb over a nipple and watched as it peaked against the thin fabric of the shirt. She moved to do the same to the other and Narcissa made a noise low in her throat. Her hips bucked forward involuntarily at the attention, her sensitive chest only adding to her building arousal.

Hermione drank in the sight of her as she tilted her head back against the wall. Her skin was flushed and goosebumps had erupted down her arms as Hermione continued to tweak her nipples. Narcissa’s back arched at a particularly rough twist and the younger witch felt her own arousal burn brighter at the sight of her so uninhibited.

Laying a kiss against Narcissa’s sternum, Hermione knelt down in front of her, thankful that Narcissa’s robes cushioned the ground beneath her knees. Running her hands down the blonde’s soft stomach, she hooked her fingers under the band of her lacy, midnight blue knickers and pulled them down. She slipped them carefully from under Narcissa’s feet, before stuffing them in her pocket. She couldn’t help but groan at the sight in front of her and Narcissa’s blush darkened.

She brought her hand up to the glistening lips and ran a finger gently through Narcissa’s slit, she moaned at the wetness that greeted her.

“Fuck, Cissa. You’re so wet.”

Narcissa whimpered, biting her lip as Hermione continued to run her fingers through her folds. She carefully avoided going anywhere near her clit.

It left the blonde beyond frustrated. She braced her hands against the rough wall behind her, using the leverage to try and grind more forcefully against Hermione’s hand.

“Darling, please,” she whispered, “I need more- I need you.”

But before she could work up a rhythm, Hermione removed her hand altogether and shifted closer.

Grabbing Narcissa behind the knee, she lifted her leg so it rested over her shoulder, opening her up even further. Hermione braced a hand against Narcissa’s soft stomach and leaned in, swiping her tongue firmly against her core and flicking her clit with her tongue.

Hermione groaned, “Merlin, I’ve missed this…You taste so good, sweetheart.”

Narcissa keened at the feeling of Hermione’s tongue flattening against her clit once more and she gripped the back of her head. Tangling her hands in the riotous chocolate curls, she urged her closer. She needed her closer. Their magic thrummed like electric currents beneath the surface of their skin. She could feel Hermione’s magic fusing with her own so acutely, she thought she might be vibrating from the power.

Hermione licked and sucked at her folds with such intent that after a few minutes Narcissa’s legs began to shake. With one hand tangled in Hermione’s hair and the other laced with the fingers braced against her stomach, Narcissa struggled to maintain her breathing.

The brunette swirled her tongue deeper and Narcissa’s core clenched. When Hermione entered her with two fingers moments later, she almost collapsed entirely.

“Circe—oh fuck.”

She was so wet. The lithe, callused fingers driving into her did so with such ease that she would have been embarrassed had she the presence of mind to care. Hermione picked up the pace, angling her hand so her fingers brushed against Narcissa’s sensitive front wall with every thrust. Her tongue lavished hard pressure against her clit, circling the bud in time with every thrust.

“Oh my—more. More, Mia. Please. S- So close,” she whined. Grinding her hips against Hermione’s face, Narcissa couldn’t think straight anymore.

She looked down at the younger witch between her legs and caught those amber eyes staring up at her. Fire burned within them and the golden flecks looked even brighter as she drove Narcissa higher and higher.

Lost in her soulmate’s gaze, Narcissa felt the telltale signs of her orgasm fast approaching. Her magic rushed through her veins, tightening with the tension of a bow prepared to snap. She clenched harder around Hermione’s fingers, trying to force them deeper. Amber eyes darkened considerably in response.

The brunette lifted her mouth away from her clit, using her thumb to press tight, fast circles against the swollen bundle of nerves.

“I need you to be a good girl and cum for me, sweetheart.”

Hermione’s voice was so rough and deep, she almost came from the sound of it alone. Her movements were frantic now, her hips undulating against Hermione’s hand without any sense of rhythm.

A barely there golden haze began to manifest around them, glowing softly in the early morning light, wrapping them both in the warmth of their shared magic.

Sensing the impending arrival of Narcissa’s completion, Hermione added a third finger to her ministrations and refocused her thrusts. When the blonde moaned loudly at the added pressure, she wrapped her lips around Narcissa’s clit one last time and sucked. Hard.

“Mi—ah!”

Stars erupted behind Narcissa’s eyes, her vision whitening momentarily.

Pale thighs clenched tight around Hermione’s head as the wave crested and she watched in adoration as Narcissa threw her head back in ecstacy. A fresh wave of release coated her lips and Hermione gently ran her tongue through the sodden folds, cleaning Narcissa up as she helped her come down from her high.

She was thankful she’d thought to ward the alley prior to their confrontation, because she’d be damned if she allowed anyone else to see Narcissa like this.

Once Narcissa had come down entirely, Hermione placed a kiss on the inside of her thigh and removed her fingers. She stood carefully, wrapping her arms tightly around the blonde’s waist to keep her upright. Narcissa sunk into her embrace as Hermione kissed her temple.

“Such a good girl,” she murmured softly.

Narcissa hummed in contentment, leaning her forehead against Hermione’s chest.

A quiet stillness overtook them in that moment and neither dared be the one to break it. Hermione felt that to do so would shatter the last remaining vestiges of calm the early morning had to offer.

Eventually recognizing that Narcissa stood practically naked in a random Berlin alley, Hermione pulled back. Picking up the discarded robes, she cast a quick Tergeo on the clothing and handed them back to the blonde.

As she watched Narcissa button up her robes, it was like the sight of her worn, ratty t-shirt disappearing beneath the impenetrable guise of pureblooded elegance brought her crashing back to reality.

It was definitely morning now and in a few short hours her plan would be enacted. The crowds of the rally would mask the true mechanizations of the moment and she would do what she needed to do to secure a future free from Voldemort. She couldn’t afford to be distracted. Not now. Not today.

She kept her face impassive as Narcissa focused on the last few buttons on the collar of her robes. With the marks of their coupling hidden deftly beneath silver silk, Hermione slipped her wand into her hand with practiced ease.

“Petrificus totalus,” she muttered, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Narcissa’s arms and legs snapped together at the incantation and Hermione caught her, laying her gently on the ground. Furious azure eyes glared up at her through the frozen expression, doing everything they could to convey their ire effectively.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way, but I don’t know what else to do,” she murmured, regret lacing her tone. “I have to end it…I need to end it.”

She reached down and brushed a stray hair from Narcissa’s face.

“I wish this life could have been different for us,” she continued softly, “that we could have loved each other differently…been better for each other…”

The fury that had been prominent in the swirling eyes moments ago quickly shifted to panic at her words, but Hermione pressed on.

“Maybe we’ll be better in the next life,” she stood straight now, looking down at Narcissa’s prone form. She took in every detail of her soulmate one last time, from her platinum blonde hair to her smooth pale complexion to the wondrous depths of her eyes. Hermione committed it all to memory.

“Promise me you’ll find me, Cissa. Promise me,” she pleaded, forcing herself to look into her favorite crystalline gaze once more.

Tears streamed down the sides of Narcissa’s face as she fought to break the enchantment binding her, but she could do nothing but watch as her soulmate prepared to leave her there, lying helpless on the cold stone floor of the alley. Frozen until someone lifted the enchantment.

Or until…until Mia…

She refused to finish that thought.

Hermione straightened her shoulders, and Narcissa saw the moment her occlumency shields shifted into place.

“Goodbye, Cissa,” she whispered quietly.

With a final wave of Hermione’s wand Narcissa felt the cold dripping sensation of a disillusionment charm settle over her skin. Unable to turn her head, she could only listen to Hermione’s retreating footsteps before they too vanished beneath the incantation of a well-placed silencing charm.

#harry potter #ao3 #cissamione #hp fanfic #hermione granger #harry potter fanfiction #angst #hp fanfiction #hp wlw #one shot #narcissa x hermione #narcissa black #narcissa malfoy #hermione granger x narcissa black

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thestralsandthunder · 30 days ago

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Honeyed Flowers | Series

Chapter 1 — Of Cepheus & Cassiopeia

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Narcissa Black Malfoy

Series Rating: Mature (18+)

Summary:

When Hermione finds herself without a flat weeks before the beginning of her last year of grad school, she’s desperate to find a new place to live. Striking up a deal with the owner of Solstice books, she finds herself caught in the gravitational pull of the enchanting Black sisters. After years of fending for herself, she catches the eye of one sister in particular. Little does Hermione know that her world just got a whole lot sweeter.

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: I've been writing this fic for a while now and posting it on AO3, but have since decided to repost it here as well. I'll be releasing future chapters here now in tandem with the updates on AO3.

Tags: Non-magical AU, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, 18+

AO3

“Life is the flower for which love is the honey.” – Victor Hugo

Hermione truly believed the universe was out to get her—a ruthlessly unfair version of the universe that reveled in her suffering.

She barely refrained from snapping her pen as she crossed out yet another listing in the crumpled newspaper clutched in her hands.

“Can you believe someone’s asking a thousand pounds a month for a studio that shares a loo with the entire floor?”

She was at her wits end. In the last five days alone, she’d toured no less than twelve available flats within walking distance to the university and not one of them could be characterized as livable. Her standards couldn’t be any lower given her situation, but the difficulties she faced irritated her to no end.

Earlier this week, she viewed a flat that leaked so badly the landlord had left his umbrella open while showing her around the place. At another, an amateur rock band lived next door and the noise encompassed the entire block. She and the building’s manager had only escaped to the adjacent street corner before she quickly thanked the woman for the viewing and left. And the most recent option? Well, she adamantly refused to cohabitate with mice. And you wouldn’t think that’d be a hard line to keep, but the market had proved her decidedly wrong, leaving her with fewer options than she cared to admit.

Hermione squinted as a slight throbbing ignited behind her temples. Her lack of success and her subsequent frustration with the lackluster flat listings only reinforced her decision to kill Harry and Ron for doing this to her.

The trio had shared a comfortable three bedroom flat for the past three years and, up until last week, had planned to continue doing so for Hermione’s last year of grad school. Harry and Ron, however, had thrown a wrench in those plans. In a move that left her speechless, the boys had quit their jobs, deciding to blow their meager life savings backpacking across the continent for the next year. Hermione knew they wouldn’t last two days alone in a foreign country, but the boys had backed their decision and argued that they were fully capable of navigating unfamiliar places. She’d shut her mouth after that, biting her tongue when Harry debated the merits of bringing anything other than one change of clothes for the journey. The boys had packed haphazardly over the following three days—Ron stuffing an abhorrent amount of sweets into his knapsack—and had hopped on the first flight out. Unable to afford a three bedroom flat for herself and her cat, Hermione was forced to look elsewhere.

Easier said than done, considering any decent and affordable flat in the area had been snatched up months ago. University classes started back in three weeks and Hermione’s desperation threatened to overwhelm her. Not to mention her scholarship only allotted so much money for her housing budget.

So in her very limited free time, she also plotted the murder of her two favorite boys.

“I told you, you’re welcome to our couch,” Ginny said, not looking up from her meticulous drawing. “Luna has already said she’s fine with it too.”

Hermione frowned, glancing down at her friend as she paced next to the bench.

“I can’t live on your couch for an entire year, Gin.”

Running her eraser over a spot on her page, Ginny scoffed, “Of course you can. I happen to know it’s a very comfy piece of furniture. It’s been broken in with love and care.”

Hermione grimaced, “Yeah, that’s generally why I can’t.”

She knew exactly what broken in really meant. Ginny may be her best friend, but they led starkly different personal lives.

Hermione’s one serious relationship had ended in a tumultuous parting over three years ago. Katie, her ex-girlfriend, had complained increasingly about Hermione’s lack of free time during the latter half of her undergraduate studies. Nothing Hermione did eased the tension and Katie had eventually sought solace in someone else one night while Hermione studied elsewhere. They had broken up after Katie drunkenly admitted to the indiscretion a few weeks later during a particularly loud row. Hermione hadn’t dated since.

Ginny, on the other hand, had made it her personal mission to bed as many of their fellow classmates as possible during both undergrad and grad school respectively. She even went as far as keeping a tally a couple semesters before. Hermione wasn’t under any delusion that the entirety of the girl’s conquests made it over the threshold of her bedroom, so no.

No.

The couch was not an option.

“Oh come on…” Ginny muttered, eyeing a tourist who unknowingly idled in her line of vision, “move your arse out of the wa—there you go.”

The late sunset broke through the large skylights, casting a warm glow over the expansive room where they were camped in front of the Mausoleum of Halikarnassos exhibit in the British Museum. For the past few hours, Ginny had sketched numerous angles of the broken statue of a horse as practice for her upcoming senior art seminar. Not that Hermione minded in the slightest. She frequented the Greek and Roman exhibits far more than Ginny did regarding her own studies.

Knee deep in initial preparations for her last year of grad school, Hermione graced the city’s museums with her presence more often than most of the institution’s part time employees. The British Museum in particular held a special place in her heart. The security team might as well offer her a personal key card at this point.

Past prime tourism hours, most visitors had already left in favor of other summer activities and the museum was close to closing now. Hermione idly wondered where Luna had gone, having not seen the girl in over an hour. The blonde had made a comment about a shift in the auras coming from the Egyptian mummy exhibit and wandered off.

Hermione hoped she meant a positive shift.

“So,” Ginny started again, finally looking up from her paper and bringing Hermione back to the present. “Still no luck?”

Hermione tutted, “Nope.” She folded up her abused newspaper, finally abandoning the over-read publication. She plopped down onto the other side of the bench and sighed. Ginny cleared her throat in hesitation.

“I mean, you could always go back to on campus housing,” she suggested, her face scrunching like she smelled something foul. “Although, most of the grad students who do live on campus give me the creeps. They always seem like they have some kind of nefarious secret,” she mused, “like they’ve got body parts in their freezer or something.”

“Ginny.”

“You know what, scratch that,” Ginny continued, holding up her hand in objection to her own suggestion, “I can’t, in good faith, let you cohabitate with potential cannibals. I refuse to have your murder on my conscience.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

Ginny turned towards her, incredulity dancing in her eyes. “Do you want to risk it?”

Hermione stared at her, but Ginny ignored the lack of response, whipping herself into a passionate tirade.

“I mean, if I were one of them,” she continued, “you’d be a prime target. Especially if they were the kind who thought they’d absorb your intelligence by consuming you. There are cannibals that do that, you know. Eat brains. Disgusting stuff. I think that Dahmer guy did it in the States. Or maybe that was some other nutter…” she trailed off, murmuring to herself. Hermione made a mental note to change the parental controls on the girl’s television. She’d clearly watched one too many crime documentaries again.

Shaking her head solemnly, as if realizing that she’d witnessed a small miracle, Ginny came back to the topic at hand. “With your brains, it’s a wonder you’re still alive and well.”

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. Her headache pounded now.

“There aren’t any cannibals on campus, Gin,” Hermione stated, exasperated at the conversation’s direction.

“Actually,” came a light, airy voice from over their shoulders, “given the size of London and the university it’s quite possible statistically speaking.”

Both girls turned in unison to see a short blonde approaching their bench. She smiled serenely at them, her gauzy summer dress covered in kaleidoscopic flowers. The visage bordered on overwhelming.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Don’t encourage her, Luna.”

Before her friend could answer, an announcement blared through the exhibit’s speakers, informing them of the museum’s impending closure. The three girls packed up their belongings and trekked the familiar path to the exit. It wasn’t until they’d bid goodnight to Joe the security guard and turned the corner towards the tube station that Ginny spoke.

“Don’t give up yet, ‘Mione,” she soothed, patting Hermione consolingly on the back. “There’s a decent flat out there with your name on it. I’m sure of it.”

Luna, who had been quietly admiring the evening sky, closed her eyes for a moment before turning towards Hermione.

“Neville might be able to help actually.”

Hermione perked up at the admission. “Really?”

Luna nodded.

“One of his bosses has a studio space she’s been looking to fill. It’s been empty for a while,” she mused. “Nev thought about taking it a few months ago, but it didn’t have enough space for all of his plants,” she said dreamily.

Hermione’s lips turned up softly. Luna always turned to mush when she talked about her boyfriend.

“It’s fairly small apparently, but your aura isn’t nearly as clouded as Nev’s is sometimes. Maybe a cozy space would be good for you.”

A small seed of hope sprouted in Hermione’s chest.

“I can deal with cozy,” she avowed, trying not to let her desperation seep through.

Luna smiled. “I’ll ask Nev tomorrow when I see him.”

Hermione beamed and slung an arm around her friend in appreciation. Maybe the universe wasn’t against her entirely.

———

The bell attached to the door tinkled lightly as Hermione pushed it open. Grateful to escape the lingering summer heat, she took a moment upon entering the space to absorb her surroundings.

The shop was nothing short of gorgeous. Hundreds, if not thousands, of flowers filled the small space. Varieties of every color covered every inch of available real estate, from hydrangeas to orchids to lilies to more exotic variations that Hermione couldn’t place. All were meticulously cut and blooming. Sunlight filtered in from the many windows and the greenhouse effect made the store feel alive right alongside its floral companions.

Hermione appreciated the subtle elegance that pervaded the space. Though the wide selection catered to many different tastes, it was all organized in a way that exuded a certain class and higher station. The owner of the shop clearly prided themselves on perfection and Hermione couldn’t help but wonder what kind of person created and maintained such a magnificent symphony. She understood now why Neville enjoyed his job so much.

As if summoned by her thoughts, her friend caught her eye as he exited the backroom of the shop.

“Alright, ‘Mione?” Neville grinned, coming around the shop’s counter to pull her into a hug.

“This shop is incredible, Nev. I can see why you’re so obsessed now,” Hermione chuckled.

“If you think this is incredible, just wait until you see the books,” he smirked.

Hermione laughed.

Though she had never pulled herself away from her studies to visit the establishment, Three Sisters & Co. was a notoriously popular place in town. The larger building had been bought a few years ago by a wealthy family looking to expand their entrepreneurial investments. Notably designated into separate commercial spaces, the three sisters in question had turned the building into three successful, adjoining businesses. On the left side sat Toujours Pur Tattoo, which specialized in tattoos of distinct detail and skill. The city widely appreciated the shop as one of the best tattoo studios in London. People came from all over to be branded with the intricate art.

In the middle, Solstice Books anchored the three businesses with a cozy yet expansive collection that offered its readers a study haven complete with a coffee bar and two massively overstuffed couches. Hermione knew if she ever sunk into one of them, no one would be able to pry her away. Of the small glimpses she could see of the adjoining bookstore from her place beside Neville, Hermione already longed to get lost in its stacks.

Which left the final of the three shops in which Hermione now stood, Calanthe. Gorgeous did not begin to cover it.

“Andy should be expecting you next door,” Neville nodded towards the steps leading into the bookshop to her left, “I know she had a meeting earlier, but it should be wrapping up.”

“Thanks, Nev,” Hermione noted, squeezing his forearm, “I really appreciate this.”

“Of course,” he smiled, “anytime.”

As the bell to Calanthe tinkled again, Neville swooped away from her to help his newest customer. Hermione turned towards the steps leading to the adjacent bookstore and shuffled through the clear french doors.

Upon entering the darker space, she took a deep breath and inhaled the comforting scents of coffee and old books. While Calanthe surrounded its visitors with the freshness and brightness of nature, Solstice invited its inhabitants to get lost in the warmth of its pages. Hermione had never felt so immediately at home.

The two enormous couches took up the front of the store and they surrounded what seemed like a well-used fireplace. Rough brick walls ran the length of the space, almost entirely covered in towering bookshelves. Towards the back, Hermione noted a worn but polished wooden counter that served both book buyers and coffee sippers alike and a gleaming espresso machine sat to the left of the till. On the far wall, across from the doors to Calanthe, were two more french doors and Hermione glimpsed a peek of the moody tattoo studio beyond.

Considering a few weeks remained until the return of the university students, a relative calmness pervaded the bookstore with only a couple visible customers perusing the stacks further towards the back.

Hermione—realizing no one stood stationed behind the counter—decided to wait on one of the couches for the owner to appear. As she stepped towards the seats, however, she noticed two individuals already occupying the space. She’d missed them upon her initial entrance, too enthralled by the shop itself. From her vantage point by the side door, Hermione saw a timid looking boy who seemed barely old enough to attend university. Clearly nervous to be talking to his companion, he fidgeted every so often in his seat as he sweated through his t-shirt.

He sat facing a woman with her back to Hermione. She had darker hair in tone to Hermione’s own chestnut curls, but the woman’s locks fell over her slim shoulders in soft, shiny waves. Given what little she could see of the woman’s back, Hermione concluded that she must be quite striking to elicit such a fumbling response from the young man sitting across from her.

Just as Hermione turned towards the nearest section of books on ancient civilizations and their histories, the two stood from their seats. The woman shook the young man’s hand politely and he left. She let out a lingering sigh of frustration, before she turned and caught Hermione’s eye. Hermione watched as all traces of annoyance melted from the woman’s face.

“Hi,” she smiled at the brunette as she made her way over, “you wouldn’t happen to be Hermione, would you?”

Hermione nodded, rendered momentarily speechless now that she had a clear view of the woman in front of her. She now understood the reason behind the departing man’s nerves. The woman approaching her was stunning. She looked to be in her early forties. Her long dark brown waves bordered on black and framed her face softly. Her chocolate eyes scanned Hermione’s face warmly, the bright kindness in their depths immediately endearing her to the grad student. It was clear the woman radiated the warmth and openness so embedded in her bookstore.

“Andromeda Black,” the woman intoned, shaking Hermione’s hand in greeting, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Though not the daughter of Cepheus and Cassiopeia I’d wager?” Hermione questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

Andromeda’s own eyebrows inched up a bit before she smirked, “I can see Neville wasn’t kidding when he gushed about you, but no. I’m afraid my lovely parents named me after the galaxy, not my Greek counterpart.”

Hermione’s face flamed at the passing compliment. She didn’t know what Neville could have possibly said, but she wasn’t someone to gush about.

“Well you certainly don’t seem the type to require rescuing from a sea monster,” she quipped, inwardly cursed her lack of control around beautiful women. She hoped Andromeda wouldn’t take offense—or worse, think her mad.

To her relief, the older woman laughed.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Andromeda stated, her eyes shining in amusement.

“It was meant to be,” Hermione admitted quickly, avoiding the woman’s gaze in her embarrassment. “Neville mentioned you had a flat you were looking to fill?” she asked.

Andromeda straightened, as if remembering Hermione was there for a reason. “Yes,” she affirmed. “Come on through and I’ll show you the place.”

She turned and Hermione followed her past the right side of the counter, where she stuck a small sign that read Back in a moment! in front of the till. They continued down a hallway towards the back of the store. Pushing through a door on the back wall, Andromeda led them up a flight of wooden stairs to a small landing that contained two identical doors.

“There are two flats on the top floor,” Andromeda stated, “My sister, Cissy, lives in the larger of the two.” She indicated the door to the right. “The other is a smaller studio space. It has its own bathroom and kitchen, though I’ll admit the flat is a bit older than some.”

Unlocking the door to the left and swinging it open, she stepped back to allow Hermione entrance. The flat was indeed small. A simple kitchen sat to the left of the front door and faced the rest of the space. It consisted of a small countertop with an old stove and fridge pairing that looked to have been there for a while. To the right was…the rest of the flat. Hermione quickly estimated there to be enough space in the room for a double bed and a small loveseat. If lucky, she may be able to fit a breakfast table near the kitchen. Two built-in bookshelves framed a small fireplace on the wall opposite the front door and a large bay window overlooked the street in front of the shops below. Two more doors bordered the space which she assumed led to the bathroom and closet respectively.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione noted the subtle scent of fresh flowers lingering in the air and deduced the small studio must sit directly over Calanthe below. She smiled. It was perfect. Leagues better than the abysmal options she’d suffered over the last week.

“It’s a bit outdated, I’ll admit,” Andromeda expressed as the brunette ran her hand across the edge of a bookshelf, “it could do with some updating, but I’d be open to giving you free creative reign if you took it off my hands.”

“It’s lovely,” Hermione breathed, turning back to face her in the doorway. “How much?”

“It’d be nine hundred a month for the first year, but I’d be willing to go monthly after that,” Andromeda said.

Hermione’s smile slipped away as quickly as it had come. She silently cursed the state of her bank account. Why did finding an affordable flat have to be so bloody difficult? The endless searching and continued disappointments were starting to exhaust her. She didn’t know how much more she could take. Maybe she’d end up on Ginny and Luna’s couch after all.

Sighing, she reluctantly stepped away from the built-ins and looked at Andromeda.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to pass,” Hermione admitted shyly, clearing her throat in an attempt to fight the heat creeping up her neck, “My budget is a bit tighter than that.” She took one more look around the room, lamenting the loss of what could have been.

“That’s too bad,” Andromeda stated lowly.

She looked Hermione over with an intensity that made her want to fidget. She couldn’t fathom what Andromeda was searching for, but she averted her gaze nonetheless, feeling unmoored under the sudden scrutiny. As the answering silence lingered, Hermione glanced back at the woman’s face. She could see the questions forming in the other woman’s mind before she even spoke.

“What is your budget? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Erm,” Hermione blushed, embarrassed by the reality of her situation, “The highest I could go is seven hundred a month with the allocation I have from my scholarship. I was sharing a flat with some of my mates, but uh…that’s not an option anymore.”

The older woman frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. She seemed to ponder something further before pursing her lips.

“You know, Neville couldn’t shut up about how smart you were when he was telling me about you yesterday,” she smiled slightly at the deeper blush now adorning Hermione’s cheeks. “Brightest person I’ve ever met, I think were his exact words,” Andromeda noted.

Hermione scoffed a bit at the admission, but her denial died on her lips as Andromeda spoke again.

“I’ve been looking for someone to help me in the bookstore a few days a week,” she continued, “but as you probably witnessed from the failure of an interview I had prior to your arrival, it’s not going so well.”

Hermione laughed, recalling the flustered young man from earlier. “I’ll admit he didn’t seem promising,” she ventured.

Andromeda chuckled in agreement and stepped directly in front of Hermione.

“What would you say if we struck a deal? I offer you the flat free of charge—” Andromeda started and upon Hermione’s impending interruption held up her finger and continued, “—and in exchange you help me at the store three days a week?”

“I’d be willing to accommodate your university schedule as needed and you’d keep any and all tips you collected from your shifts serving coffee,” she offered.

Hermione stared at her dumbfounded, finding herself unable to respond. She was offering to let her stay rent free? In exchange for working in a bookstore? A bookstore that Hermione had already mentally vowed to thoroughly explore, whether she landed the flat or not. It took a few seconds for her to realize her mouth had fallen open at some point. She snapped her jaw shut in the next second, waiting patiently for the moment the woman would yell Gotcha!.

At Hermione’s continued silence, Andromeda elaborated further. “I mostly need the reprieve from the store to spend time with my grandson,” she joked, her smile softening. “He’s only three and a bit of a handful. Dora, my daughter, is an artist at the tattoo shop. It’d help us to have some flexibility between our work schedules.”

Hermione blinked, shaking away her shock when she realized the sincerity of the offer.

“You’re serious?” she asked quietly, unable to fully accept the truth of such a suggestion without further confirmation.

“Absolutely,” Andromeda intoned, “it’d be mutually beneficial for both of us.”

Hermione couldn’t quite believe it. Not only was the flat in which she stood now hers, but she’d also get to use her housing stipend as supplemental income. On top of that, she’d get to work at Solstice. Solstice with its many books and endless coffee. Her chest felt tight as she processed the opportunity laid out before her.

“Yes. Yes, I agree,” Hermione grinned, barely stopped herself from throwing her arms around the older woman. She settled on shaking the woman’s hand instead. “Thank you, Mrs. Black. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”

“The appreciation is mutual, believe me.” Andromeda chuckled, as she handed her the keys to the flat. “Now, Mrs. Black makes me feel like my mother and Andromeda is a bloody mouthful,” she smirked. “Call me Andy.”

———

Over the next few days, Hermione moved her small amount of possessions to the new flat with the help of Ginny and Luna. Her friends were ecstatic that the opportunity had worked out and Hermione had thanked Neville so many times since leaving Solstice that he now had a permanent blush.

She’d managed to fit her small breakfast table and two chairs from her old flat on the wall between the kitchen and the bookshelf. Neville helped her reassemble her queen sized bed directly under the bay window and she even found a small but gently used loveseat at a second hand furniture store down the street.

She spent the first couple of nights in the new flat organizing her extensive book collection into the built-ins along the wall. When she soon realized there wasn’t enough space on the available shelves, she carefully placed the remaining titles into neat stacks against the loveseat and her small bedside table. Crookshanks commandeered the ledge of the window as his preferred spot for sunbathing and Hermione doubted he’d leave his selected throne for the foreseeable future.

The subtle scent of lilac and lemongrass wafted from the flower shop below. It welcomed her every time she entered her new home and she couldn’t help but relax the moment she breathed it in.

During the times she flitted in and out of the bookstore while moving, Hermione chatted with Andy frequently. She found that the two of them had similar interests when it came to books and topics of discussion. Andy took great interest in Hermione’s Greek and Roman antiquity studies for her degree and showed her the expansive sections on related topics she offered throughout the shop.

It wasn’t until Hermione returned from handing over her keys to her old landlord that she had the pleasure of meeting Andy’s older sister.

Bellatrix was a force of nature, Hermione surmised. As the owner of Toujours Pur, the woman was undeniably Andy’s elder sister upon first glance. The two could almost pass for twins if not for the countless number of intricate tattoos adorning Bella’s body. Upon closer inspection Bella appeared notably wilder and darker than her middle sister. Where Andy kept her dark brown waves soft and controlled, Bella’s black curls fell in riotous ringlets around her face. They bounced wildly as she spoke and Hermione got the impression the woman ran her fingers through them quite frequently as she worked.

Andy introduced them while Bella poured herself an espresso behind the counter.

“Hermione, this is my older sister Bellatrix,” Andy smiled, tilting her head towards Bella as she did so.

“Bella, Hermione,” she nodded again before locking eyes with her sister, “Be nice to her, please. I’d prefer you didn’t scare her away before the store has had a chance to benefit from her brilliance.”

“Oh please,” Bella scoffed at Andy, rolling her eyes, “I’m an angel, what do you take me for?”

Eyes gleaming with barely concealed mischief, she turned to appraise Hermione with a long, sweeping look that brought a rush of heat up the young brunette’s neck. Though a few years older than Andy, Bella looked good. Hermione quickly concluded that the striking woman would give Ginny a run for her money if the two ever met.

Bella took a sip of her coffee and rounded the corner of the counter before stopping directly next to Hermione. A wicked smirk danced across her painted red lips as she leant closer to the brunette.

“Don’t let my sister take advantage of you, pet,” she whispered in Hermione’s ear, her black curls falling across Hermione’s shoulder. Her voice sounded like sin, low and dangerously dark.

Hermione shivered involuntarily, before Bella swept back towards the doors leading to Toujours Pur. She turned once and threw a wink over her shoulder before she disappeared completely. Hermione let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

“Don’t listen to a word she says, love,” Andy chuckled at Hermione’s flustered appearance. “Bella is the family menace.”

Though Hermione had encountered both Andy and Bella on multiple occasions over the last few days, she had yet to meet their elusive younger sister. She learned from catching up with Neville that Narcissa Black was not only the owner of Calanthe, but also a highly sought after wedding florist. Often busy outside of the shop dealing with private clients, she trusted Neville’s expertise to handle the everyday business in her absence.

Hermione would have thought the woman was a figment of her imagination if it wasn’t for the telltale sounds of life entering and exiting the neighboring flat. She heard the door click open and close early each morning and late each night, but she never crossed paths with the woman.

That is, until tonight.

Hermione’s phone rang for the third time in the last five minutes and she groaned at the sound of it. Hopping into her remaining boot, she scooped up the device, answering it blindly.

“Gin, I swear to god, I’m coming,” Hermione chirped, throwing her bag over the shoulder of her t-shirt.

“Well gods, ‘Mione, I’ve been standing outside the pub for ten minutes already. Luna and Nev are gonna be late, something about her earring missing a radish.”

Hermione snatched up her keys as she headed towards the exit. She furrowed her brow and threw her front door open distractedly. “What do you mean she’s missing a radish—”

She screeched to a halt and fumbled the phone, barely cradling it against her ear as she almost ran into someone standing on the small landing. She managed to save herself and the person in question from the impending collision, but only just. Straightening herself, Hermione glanced up only to become absolutely entranced by the clearest set of azure colored eyes she’d ever seen.

The woman had turned abruptly upon Hermione’s exit and she gazed at the flustered brunette with barely concealed amusement. Her eyes glittered under the landing’s dim lamplight and Hermione stood momentarily stunned by the vision in front of her.

Because if Andy and Bella were the night sky, then Narcissa Black was pure moonlight.

Hermione noted the familial resemblance in the structure of the younger sister’s aristocratic features, but quickly determined the comparison ended there. Her platinum blonde hair flowed in silky strands across a smooth pale neck and shoulders. Her summer dress fitted her slim figure impeccably and she exuded a level of demure elegance that made Hermione weak in the knees.

The sheer height of the woman’s heels put her only an inch or so above Hermione, but she quickly determined the blonde would stand quite a few inches shorter than her if she toed them off.

Hermione found herself wishing Narcissa would do just that.

Rein it in, Granger.

“Hellooooo? ‘Mione?”

The brunette blinked at Ginny’s intrusion, still unable to tear her eyes away from the woman in front of her. Realizing her friend had been trying to catch her attention for a few minutes, Hermione felt heat creeping up her neck. As Narcissa continued to appraise her, Hermione finally realized how long she must have been standing there like an idiot.

Scrambling to scoop her melted brain off the floor, Hermione scrunched her nose. The blonde woman’s eyes flickered towards the action.

“Err…right,” Hermione stuttered dumbly into the phone, “Did—Did she find the radish?”

Narcissa’s lips twitched upwards at the odd question and the brunette reddened further.

“I don’t know,” Ginny continued, exasperated now, “Are you here yet?”

Pulling herself out of her gay-induced stupor, Hermione reluctantly tore her gaze from the woman in front of her and locked her door.

“Right, no. I’m coming, I swear,” she replied, mortified to hear she sounded a little breathless.

“Well hurry up! My eightieth birthday is around the fucking corner.”

Turning towards the stairs, Hermione began her descent as she listened to Ginny admonish her tardiness through the phone. Unable to help herself, the brunette cast one last look at the landing and caught a final flutter of platinum locks before they slipped behind her neighbor’s door.

#honeyed flowers #hp fanfic #harry potter #cissamione #ao3 #hermione granger #harry potter fanfiction #current wip #narcissa x hermione #narcissa black #hermione granger x narcissa black #hp wlw

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