Chapter 59

Another few days gone, another late-night dance session with Fleur tucked under Atlas’s belt. The girl was walking back to Gryffindor Tower in some casual attire this time and it was perhaps the worst thing she could have done. Though she hadn’t been getting many date invites after everyone somehow found out about Fleur and her going to the Ball together, she was still gawked at as she jogged up the stairs, her tank top fluttering just that bit higher with every step she took, her calves, still glistening with the water of the Black Lake, tensing with every ounce of pressure she put upon them, her narrowed eyes cooly surveying the bodies surrounding as she swiped a hand through the loose strands that fell from her half-tail.

She stopped when she turned a corner, bracing herself against a sudden form that rushed into her. The young Hufflepuff looked up at her, eyes glistening as she stuttered out an apology and Atlas waved it off kindly, a disarming smile on her face that sent those surrounding into awed silence. There was just something about Atlas lately, something so mysterious and alluring hanging over her, the bags under her eyes and the resting frown she wore not entirely unattractive. It was gloomy at moments but in a way that made those around her want to coddle her and tell her everything was going to be ok. And Atlas hated it. With a burning passion.

It was one thing being playfully flirted with but it was another when her reciprocating that playful banter turned into some sort of obligation. Having one Romilda Vane following her around was one thing, but a whole crowd? Atlas was on the brink of asking Fred and George to deliver to them all separate boxes of Canary Creams just so they would leave her alone for five minutes. She’d always decide against it when the time came, making someone purposefully ill was scummy and Atlas was a lot of things but scummy was not one of them.

Perhaps the only thing that had cheered her up even slightly was the letter she’d gotten from her dad, telling her how proud but also angry he was at the stunt she had pulled with the Albanian Agoniser while also reminding her to not grow complacent and to quickly work out what the next task would be. She’d responded quickly, using Kalo to deliver the response despite her father’s warnings, she knew that bird and his capabilities better than he did after all.

The Fat Lady’s painting swung open to admit her entry and she sighed, wiping another sheet of sweat from her forehead as the incessant noise of the beyond attacked her senses. Right. It was the end of term, Christmas Eve and everyone had stayed at Hogwarts, leaving the Common Rooms constantly cramped, loud and occupied. It didn’t help that the ball was tomorrow, which meant everyone was more excited than usual. And Atlas…Atlas could really do without all that extra excitement.

She sighed and denied a treat offered to her by Fred and George Weasley, wary that it may contain some concealed Canary Cream that she did not want to deal with. She was still finding feathers in her bedsheets from the last hexed Chocolate Frog she’d been offered by the boys and didn’t feel like cursing them at the moment. Or dealing with a sudden plague of numbness up her arms. It hadn’t been happening quite as much but Atlas could tell her control over her magic was progressively slipping and she’d end up casting accidental spells soon enough. Didn’t help with how stressed she had been.

“So you’re going with the Beauxbatons champion tomorrow?” A voice asked in her left ear.

“Lucky sod,” An identical one added to her right.

Atlas couldn’t help the glance she slipped over in the direction of Gryffindors resident bookworm, sat by the fire with a book in her hand – as always. She shrugged the twins off and left them responseless, ignoring how they both peered in the direction she had and shared equally as knowing smiles while she continued up to her room. Crookshanks mewed as soon as she entered, Little Robin, chirping happily as her little Agoniser reanimated from its statue-like state. Seemed Kalo was still on his delivery.

“Hey everyone,” she greeted hoarsely, taking off her shirt and trousers to just collapse onto her bed. She’d shower in the morning, when her eyes weren’t forcibly closing and the bathrooms weren’t so crowded with smoking, drinking, drunk teens. Celebrating early for an event Atlas herself was dreading. Mainly because Hermione’s date was still a complete unknown identity, she hadn’t asked, mind, but she knew Ginny knew because each time the topic of Hermione’s partner was so much as whispered she froze up and desperately sought an escape or a shift in conversation.

A groan came out muffled by her pillow as Atlas sunk further into her mattress, peeking an eye open when she felt three figures, varying in sizes, snuggle up to her fatigued form. Crookshanks wormed his way underneath her arm, the Agoniser nuzzling her burn soothingly while Little Robin settled by her ear, breathing softly into her hair. She managed a smile and drifted off into a deep unsettling dream.

It was not, however, the thing to startle her awake the very next morning. Christmas Day. Instead, when she had regained her consciousness, what met her blurred gaze was a pair of blown, watery eyes, blinking rapidly once, twice, thrice, before turning into smiley slits. The large grin on Fobbo’s face would have been horrifying to wake up to if Atlas wasn’t so used to it.

Slowly and heavily she reached out from beneath her cover – one she had not remembered draping herself in – and ruffled the elf’s bald head, a tired and half-hearted smile on her face as she let out a small moan of contempt and yawned largely, her ears rumbling slightly at the action. She went to move, a greeting on her tongue, but remembered the other sleeping occupants of her bed and decided against it, settling to just talk while trapped by her unwillingness to wake her animal friends.

“Fobbo…” She smiled, another yawned breath coming through her nose, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Miss!” He squealed excitedly and Atlas couldn’t help the habitual glance she sent over to Hermione’s bed, only to find it empty and already made. She simply smiled defeatedly and turned back to her elf, taking her hand back and letting it hang limply over the side of her bed. “Fobbo has requested to be paid, Miss! After Mister Dobby told Fobbo about Mister Dumbledore’s agreement! And Fobbo has gotten you something with some of his earnings, Miss!”

“Fo…you didn’t have to do that,” Atlas smiled.

“Fobbo is knowing this Miss, but Fobbo is wanting to get you something!” He stepped aside and revealed a box behind him, prompting Atlas to peer over the edge of her bed, surprised to see how big the gift really was. It was even wrapped. “Fobbo was paid the earnings he has made his many years working here at Hogwarts School, so Fobbo decided to…splurge.”

“I hope you didn’t spend too much on me,” Atlas murmured.

“It was not just me who bought the present, Miss! Miss Hermione put some of her moneys towards it and helped Fobbo find a perfect present for the Miss! She said not to spend much because the Miss wouldn’t want Fobbo to spend all of his earnings on the Miss and decided to pay half for the present! She helped Fobbo wrap it just last night!” Fobbo declared happily and Atlas couldn’t fight the smile that threatened the corners of her mouth. She buried her face in her pillow and simply left it there a moment, Fobbo looking her over in concern as he started to fidget. “Is the Miss angry?”

“No…no Fobbo,” Atlas sighed, turning back to him with brightly flushed cheeks. “Miss Hermione is just a very kind person, isn’t she?”

“Oh, yes Miss! Miss Hermione is very, very kind! She tucked the Miss in when the Miss forgot to get a blanket last night!”

“…did she, now?” This was not helping her pining heart. Her turmoil had indirectly awoken the pets surrounding her and Crookshanks was the first to rise, looking around curiously a moment after finding himself beneath both Atlas’s arm and a blanket rather than just the former before he stretched out and wriggled his way out of the bed. “Charming, just gonna use me for warmth and leave me, Crook?” Atlas huffed as the cat mewed and the remaining creatures in slumber made their respective noises of consciousness.

Agoniser, a quiet little chitter, and Little Robin, a sound that almost resembled a purr. This did leave Atlas plenty of room to move now, however, and she turned onto her back, sitting up to pluck Fobbo’s present from the floor. She eyed it silently, glancing at Fobbo’s bouncing figure before she gave in to her curiosity and ripped the wrapping paper from the box. It was strange, the sight that greeted her.

It was a rectangular shaped box, blue in colour with a few scratches here or there so it had clearly been used. It had earmuffs attached to it, though they were smaller than any Atlas had ever seen and it was quite light for something that looked like it was made out of metal. She tentatively took it out of the box, shaking it lightly and holding it to her ear as she read its front. ‘SONY WALKMAN’. She had never heard of anyone by the name of Sony Walkman, perhaps they were the previous owner? Atlas didn’t know.

“What is it, Fobbo?”

“Miss Hermione told Fobbo it plays music. It is a Muggle thing! Fobbo does not know much, only that Miss Atlas would like it because the Miss would like to see Muggle things,” Fobbo told and Atlas went a little wide-eyed, glancing back to the device before putting the earmuffs on and closing her eyes, waiting for some sort of sound. But nothing came. “Oh! Fobbo forgots to show the Miss how it is turned on.”

He reached forward, a finger hovering over the many icons lining the metallic boxes front before his eyes shone with recognition and he pressed a button that resembled a triangle. Atlas jumped slightly when a song began and slowly grinned, watching through the see-through side as whatever inhabited its innards whirled around funnily. She hummed and bopped her head to the music, eventually taking the earmuffs off to hold them out to Fobbo.

“Listen Fobbo, it’s brilliant,” She urged and the elf carefully took the earmuffs from her hands, hovering them just by his head. He soon smiled and swooned from side to side, letting them fully rest over his overly-large ears as Atlas laughed, genuinely, for the first time in quite a bit and reached over for her other presents, opening them one by one. She immediately donned the Weasley sweater she had gotten, giving Fobbo a few of the repeat gifts she’d received from quite a number of anonymous people and soon she was down to the last two.

Sirius and Hermione.

Sirius’s was first and she smiled when she set her sights on the clip. It was a solid golden colour, cool to the touch and bore her mother’s name engraved into its underside. Atlas took a moment to admire its craftsmanship before bunching up the top portion of her hair into a haphazard bun and clamping it in place. 

She moved over to Hermione’s, gazing at it for a long second while Fobbo continued to listen to music beside her, making little decorations with leftover ribbons. The paper was golden, covered in silhouettes of stars and she smiled, carefully pulling back each crease to reveal what was inside. Once again, she found herself confused by her present, pulling out each plastic rectangle and reading the little notes on each one, all of them clearly in Hermione’s handwriting.

For studying. For sitting in the sky. For before you sleep. For practice. For jogs in the forest. For tinkering with things. For hard nights. It went on and on, personalised strips of writing on each one until she got to the bottom of the box, finding an older, used looking rectangle. Hermione Granger’s Mix.

That was the one she fully pulled from the wrapping, taking a good look at it and glancing over to Fobbo. She reached out, tapped his shoulder and gently took the music player back, turning it over a few times in her hand before randomly pressing a button by the see-through screen. It popped open and Atlas panicked momentarily before realising it was supposed to happen, noticing how the rectangular plastic box she had in her hand looked like the one inside.

On a whim she swapped them out, anxiously shutting the slot closed and placing the earmuffs on once more, pressing the button Fobbo had to start the music. The sounds that graced her ears set an instant smile on her face, as while the music of the other rectangle was happy and exciting, this rectangle was calmer, nicer and soothed the stress she had been feeling to an almost unnoticeable degree. 

She felt good, great even and didn’t even notice how Ginny stood in her doorway with a bundle of clothes in her arms, a smile on her face as she watched Atlas sway lightly to whatever song was playing in that moment. Then it stopped, the songs coming to an end and Atlas frowned, eyebrows furrowing as she took the earmuffs off and looked at the contraption curiously.

“You have to restart the cassette,” Ginny suddenly said and Atlas jumped slightly.

“Cassette? The littler rectangle?”

“Yes, Atlas, the littler rectangle,” Ginny sighed and placed the dress robes on top of her trunk. “Who got you that?”

“Fobbo did–“

“And Miss Hermione!” Fobbo piped in before Atlas could finish. 

“That so?” Ginny smiled. 

“How do you know so much about it?”

“Dad brings home loads of things, I saw it in a Muggle Magazine he got from work. It’s called a Walkman, made by Sony…it’s a Japanese company,” Ginny mused and Atlas nodded slowly, her mouth hung open just a tad. “Those cassettes need to be reset manually but you could probably charm it to do it automatically.”

“I don’t want to risk it,” Atlas mumbled.

“Ask Hermione to do it, I’m surprised she didn’t already–” Atlas suddenly jumped, the music restarting in her hand. “Oh, looks like she did…just took a moment. Anyway…” she patted the pile of clothes. “Zash told me to bring you these.”

“Couldn’t do it herself?” Atlas asked, turning her Walkman off and gently setting it on her desk.

“She’s helping the other Durmstrangs with their clothes. Turns out, she doesn’t only like photography but she likes fashion as well.”

“Did I…forget to tell you that?”

“Yes,” Ginny deadpanned and then turned, casting a wave over her shoulder as she left the room. “You stink, by the way, you should shower.”

“You’re a real charmer, Weasley!”

“That’s what Zash says! Nice meeting you Fobbo! Hermione says you’re a sweetheart!” Fobbo cheered. “She says that about both of you!” And Atlas’s cheeks coloured, her hand reaching out to grab her wand to whisk the door closed. Ginny cackled beyond and the champion sighed, standing from her bed and grabbing a towel for the showers. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be as crowded.

That hope, for once, did not fall through and Atlas found herself exiting the showers undisturbed, ruffling her hair dry with another smaller towel. She slipped past a crowd that approached and hurried back to her dorm to get changed. Fobbo was still there but he was knocked out cold, snoring quietly into her sheets. He probably stayed up all night with Hermione, sorting out her present, not to mention the heavy workload the elves had been given for the Christmas Feast that afternoon.

She didn’t really have an idea of what she wanted to do for the day and Fleur had told her she wouldn’t have been able to hold any more lessons by the Lake. Last night had been their last. Perhaps she should do some solo training, or would that be too much? She was pretty confident with her capabilities now, she’d at least be able to do the opening dance without falling and tripping over her feet so that was a plus.

Maybe she should go and find the rest of her quartet, she hadn’t seen the boys nor Hermione in the Common Rooms and heard whispers of a snowball fight in the courtyard so she’d look there first. As soon as she got changed, that is.

She pulled her Weasley jumper back on and grabbed a pair of gloves and a scarf, jogging out of her dorm after whispering quick goodbyes to her companions. Snow lay thick upon the Hogwarts grounds now, evidence of Christmas all around from the mistletoe hung high in the doorways to the snowmen patrolling the white fields of cold and endless snowfall. Atlas wound her scarf around her one last time and pulled her gloves on with her teeth, stopping just outside the entrance hall as she finalised her preparations for the freezing temperatures.

It wasn’t hard to spot her trio, from Ron’s ginger head of hair to Hermione’s bushy locks and Harry’s Quidditch Jacket, his number standing out in gold against the crimson fabric. She grinned and jogged out to meet them, scooping up two large snowballs and smashing them done on the heads of the boys. They both spluttered and spun around, so fast they ended up slipping to their behinds. Atlas let out a hearty laugh, not expecting a sudden force to push her down also.

The culprit of the act was plain to see as Atlas looked up through a faceful of snow. Hermione was giggling loudly above her, clutching her stomach as Harry and Ron shared equally as large smiles and worked together to dump a large pile of snow on top of Atlas’s head. She cried out and jolted upright, shaking her head around like a dog would, just out of water. Her chest, rising and setting from the unexpected attack as she stared at Hermione, a slow, mischievous grin falling across her face as the bookworm went wide-eyed.

“Atlas don’t you dare–“

“Too late, Granger. I’ll go easy on you though, as thanks for that music thing,” Atlas chuckled lowly, darkly as she lunged forward and heaved the girl over her shoulder, walking over to a great pile of snow used as some sort of protection from incoming snowballs. Hermione warned her incessantly, pounding – lightly – at her back, telling her to let her down.

“Put me down, you meathead!” 

“If you insist, kitty-cat,” Atlas grinned, dropping her directly over the mound. Hermione shrieked, sinking into the soft snow and remaining there, stuck. Harry and Ron came running over, grinning from ear-to-ear with rosy red cheeks. The girl before them was beaming just as red, her face practically wafting steam that melted that which surrounded her. But she wasn’t angry, nor were they rosy from laughter, it was something else entirely as she stared up at Atlas, mouth slightly agape. “Merry Christmas…you alright, Mi?”

“What — why did you call me–?”

“Kitty-cat?” Atlas smirked, leaning against Harry who hooked an arm around her shoulder. “Harry was telling me about a Polyjuice Potion mishap you had when we were doing Potions homework yesterday morning. How could you keep such gold from me, Mi? After all that I’ve told you,” she mock-pouted as Hermione glared at a snickering Harry Potter.

“Harry flirted with Moaning Myrtle in second year,” She said quickly and Atlas went wide-eyed, a large grin blooming across her face as Harry blushed furiously. “She kissed him…somehow, well she basically went through him but the visuals were there.”

“Hermione!” Harry yelled indignantly as Ron snorted loudly. “It was a dare! Anyway, why are you laughing!” He turned to Ron, poking him in the shoulder. “You got detention for trying to kick Professor McGonagall that one time when she was an Animagus cause you thought she was Mrs Norris!”

“You what!?” Atlas shouted, shaking her head in her hands as Ron spluttered his defences and then went back to Harry, scooping a big ball of snow into his hand and smacking the grin right off his face with it. A battle ensued. Atlas ducked under a stray ball and grabbed Hermione from the mound, pulling her over to a suitable cover, panting and beaming. She laughed, clutching her stomach as she leant against the cool sanctuary behind her. “Idiots…”

A quiet laugh came from beside her and she turned, smiling softly and reaching out to brush a few snowflakes from Hermione’s hair. She looked up and they stared. Just stared. Faces flushed and breathing heavy, as the snow hugging them muffled any noise from beyond their little spot. Hermione broke their intimate eye contact first, looking down to her mittens and fiddling with some of the flayed fabric with a low, content sigh. Their breaths came out in clouds and Atlas found her mind just as fogged, becoming mesmerised in the girl beside her. 

Everything was lost to her at that moment. It was mush. Background noise. Static. Her thoughts were of Hermione and only Hermione. Hermione’s smiles when she was praised in class. Hermione’s laughs at her ridiculously unfunny jokes. Hermione’s gentle digits tracing the scars of her cheeks. Hermione’s fingers nestled into her hair. Hermione’s eyes lighting up whenever she figured something out. Hermione’s fervour when talking passionately about the things she loved. Hermione being Hermione.

And then she began leaning forward, uncaring of the knowledge in the back of her mind telling her to stop her movements because this was Hermione, her best friend, who, yes she had a crush on but it would ruin what they had. Because Hermione didn’t have a crush on Atlas. Hermione was going to the Ball with some lucky jerk who couldn’t even be bothered to pluck the thorns from the rose they’d given her. Someone whose flowery gift had cut her finger. Someone that was going to hold her tonight. Dance with her. Actually dance with her, properly, without all the flailing and falling, the accidental harm to her feet and the clammy hands. Someone that was not Atlas.

Suddenly she found herself caring and she pulled away at the last moment, gripping tight on the snow beneath her so it darkened the leather of her gloves with the cold wetness of winter. Hermione was not hers and she would never be because Atlas would forever hesitate, she would never make the first move. Because Hermione deserved better. Hermione deserved the best. And that was not her, nor was it her date to the Yule Ball. A person that couldn’t even de-thorn a Merlin-be-damned rose. Godric, why was she getting so worked up over a flower?!

“Atlas?”

Reality struck and Atlas looked up, shocked to find a steady stream of tears falling from her eyes. Her breathing hitched and she turned to look at Hermione in surprise. Hermione’s wide concerned eyes doing nothing to quell the pain she felt in that moment. She was stressed, emotional and scared, yet her arms did not numb, her fingers did not itch and her chest did not clench. And Atlas had not a clue why such a paradox had occurred. Her status ticked all of the boxes that should induce some sort of accidental magic yet all she could do this time, was cry. It was perhaps the most humanising experience she had ever faced.

“Atlas, what’s wrong?” Hermione asked quietly, reaching out to brush the girl’s tears away. Atlas remained silent. “Did you get hit?” she peered over their cover. “Did someone hit you with a snowball? Turn around, let me see. Is it hurting?”

“No, it’s uh…” Atlas sniffled, chuckling as she wiped her eyes and Hermione ran a familiar hand through her snow-laden hair. “Just…thinking about — about tonight.”

“Oh…” Hermione removed her hand and sat back down, drawing her knees to her chest as Atlas stared at the floor, the sounds of laughter and pure joy sounding around them and Atlas paid attention this time if only to drown out her rampant thoughts of rejection and self-loathing. “Are you not excited?”

“I’m not going with the person I wanted to,” Atlas admittedly quietly, Hermione’s blatantly startled expression going unnoticed. “Me and Fleur decided to go together because the guy she liked rejected her and I hesitated to ask the girl…I like to the Ball and by the time I had plucked up the nerve, she was already — already going with someone.”

“The girl you like?” Hermione whispered. “You…you really don’t like Fleur?”

“Not in a romantic way,” Atlas murmured, rubbing at her eyes as Hermione furrowed her brows and bore her gaze into the snow beneath her. “I guess going with her’s convenient anyway. She’s been teaching me how to dance…and I guess we make sense.”

“No you don’t,” Hermione said rather shortly and both of them seemed to startle at the girl’s finality. She carried on, however, driving her point home. “The only thing that makes sense about you two is that you look good together because individually, you’re both incredibly attractive.”

“I guess so…” Atlas shrugged, sniffling again. “So, how about you? Are you excited?”

“No, not really. I guess I should be, considering who I’m going with.”

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter…I can’t back out of it now.”

“Are you — are you not going with your crush?” Atlas asked, wiping her eyes repeatedly. Hermione huffed out a sardonic sounding laugh.

“I think I read too far in between the lines, for once. Though, I wish I had just asked her to the Ball regardless.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because, amongst other things, I was scared she’d say no…” Hermione admitted and then turned to Atlas. “Why did you hesitate?”

“The same as you. I was scared I’d get hurt and well, there are things, words I know she’d want to hear from her partner, words that would make her content if she heard them, you know? Words that I can’t…I can’t say and so, I was scared of holding her back from what she deserves.”

“…and what does she deserve?”

“True happiness.”