Chapter 133

“It wasn’t in my head…”

Glass bit into Atlas’s thumb. Voices echoed around her as what few members of the Order they could spare examined the charms and wards placed on the gates of Hogwarts, wands waved slowly over metals, magical threads hung stationary in the air, waiting for any ping, any slight disturbance. The pocket mirror in Atlas’s hand reflected darkness, an endless black staining the sharp shards. She winced at the sting and looked at the bead of blood growing on her thumb, her expression distant.

“There’s nothing, Atlas,” Tonks said. She was one of the Order in charge of securing the perimeter. She placed a hand on Atlas’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly as she glanced down at Atlas’s bare feet. Atlas was in her pyjama bottoms, a sleeveless tank top on, not at all dressed for the outside weather. 

But of course not. As soon as Atlas had jolted awake, she had run to the Headmaster’s office, where she was told that Dumbledore had left soon after his meeting with Harry. She’d cursed, panicked and immediately gone to Minerva, who had taken her word and called for a prompt tightening of security. Even now, she waited, speaking in hushed tones with the Aurors, asking for any clue, any update.

Atlas bit into her lip, her fang drawing blood as the mirror further cracked in her grasp. “She was here…she really was…”

“I believe you, Atlas…I do, but…there’s no sign of her coming in or out,” Tonks said, cupping her cheeks and pulling her into a hug. Atlas’s hands shook as she held Tonks fiercely, fingers digging into her spine, her face buried against her neck. “If she were here, she’s gone now.”

“No…she’s not, she’s not, I can feel it,” Atlas repeated, clutching Tonks tightly, her body cold—burning up as a light danced across her fingertips. Tonks tensed, and Atlas wrenched herself away, waving her hands around to dissipate the dark tint to her fingertips. Before her, Tonks was frozen, pale. She clenched her hands so hard that her fingernails bit into her palms. “Tonks?”

“What?” Tonks blinked, returning again and stepping back, “Oh…right, Atlas, we’ll do what we can, so just go to bed, okay?”

Minerva walked over, exchanging a few hushed words with Tonks before guiding Atlas back up to the castle with a pinched expression. No words were spoken between them. Minerva seemed to sense that a conversation was not what Atlas needed, not about what transpired that night at least — since the silence seemed to disturb Atlas just as much. If not more. “Is Hermione doing well?”

“What?” Atlas’s arms warmed, and the tint washed away. “Yes…yeah, Hermione’s ok, I need to see her.”

“I think she must’ve been quite startled when you ran away.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so,” Atlas nodded, biting her bottom lip guiltily. She palmed her eyes and walked over to the fountain in the courtyard, whisking her wand to wash off the dirt from her feet. Minerva waited patiently and transfigured her hat into a pair of slippers. Atlas had no idea where she had left hers; perhaps Visha had taken them off for her while tucking her in at night. In her common room. In her dorm. Next to Hermione. The thought of Visha getting anywhere near her girlfriend sent chills down her spine. “I really need to see her.”

They made it to The Lady’s portrait. Minerva kissed the top of her hair softly, wishing her goodnight. She looked pensive, quietly panicked; the night’s events had worried her greatly, but she didn’t say anything further, perhaps to not trouble Atlas any more than she had already been. She stayed even as the portrait slowly closed behind Atlas, watching for as long as possible until the fibres of The Lady’s portrait blocked her line of sight. Atlas paused on the other side, glancing over her shoulder at the wooden door of the entryway. She listened for a long while, until she heard the soft footfalls of Minerva retreating.

“Minnie…” Atlas sighed and shook her head, her throat clicking on a swallow. Her Godmother, who had never wanted children of her own, was forced to care for her, to be her guardian, to suffer Atlas’s burdens as if they were her own. To watch and simply continue as her goddaughter injured herself over and over, had her life threatened time and time again. “Shit…”

“Atlas,” Hermione sat curled up on the sofa, her expression worried as she stood and approached with Crookshanks clutched to her chest. She set him down, reached out and cradled Atlas’s cheek, thumb brushing over the reopened scars on her face. “She was here?”

Atlas nodded, not trusting her voice. 

“Oh, Atlas…” Hermione breathed, and Atlas collapsed into her open arms, her entire body shaking as Hermione held her head against her chest and stroked her hair back, she pressed a soft kiss to her temple, her brow and then angled her head up to kiss her on the lips – ready to comfort, ready to hold, ready to just listen and be there when a soft gasp interrupted them. Atlas wiped her eyes and looked up, coughing to clear her throat. Hermione had frozen, her cheeks flushing pink as Ginny gawked at them.

“Ginny –“

“Are you okay?” Ginny had, of course, noticed Atlas’s distress, and though both Hermione and Atlas could see the questions burning behind tight lips, first and foremost, Ginny had asked if Atlas was all right.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m all right, I had a nightmare,” Atlas said, straightening. Ginny didn’t believe her. Not for one second. She stared at her skeptically, but seemed to think better of questioning Atlas further. After all, she knew Atlas well enough to know that out of everyone, Hermione was her anchor.

“If you’re sure…” Ginny said, brows furrowed before they deepened even further. She took a step forward, pinched Hermione’s arm, and lightly slapped Atlas’s shoulder. “What in Merlin’s name did I just witness?”

“Ouch, Ginny,” Hermione hissed and batted away Ginny’s hand, but Ginny persisted, pinching them both again.

“You guys were snogging!” she snapped, poking them all over. “What the bloody hell, when did this happen?”

“Erm…November?” Atlas said and received another slap to her arm, “ouch!”

“And you didn’t tell me?!”

“We…we thought it’d be funny? I mean, at first we didn’t realise no one knew. But then, we did and decided to see how long it took…” Atlas said and groaned again when Ginny hit her shoulder. It didn’t hurt, not at all, but still. This was a welcome distraction. The three of them stared at each other for a long while before dissolving into easy laughter. Ginny hugged them both tightly, shaking them from side to side as she beamed. 

“This is so big! Congratulations!” Ginny said and then sobered, her face suddenly serious, “Who else knows? I’d better be the first!”

“Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione said, looking at Atlas before suddenly realising another, “Oh, and my parents.”

“Your parents? Oh…oh, Atlas, you sly dog,” Ginny smirked and poked at her again, “now I know why you really stayed with Hermione over Christmas. Wanted some alone time?”

“Ginny,” Atlas said with a flush as she covered her face and looked off to the side. “We…I mean, that wasn’t –“

“Wait, you actually…?”

“Goodness,” Hermione breathed as Ginny’s eyes widened, “don’t look at us like that. It’s perfectly normal for two people who love each other to explore other facets of a relationship—perfectly healthy. In fact, I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

“Oh, but it’s oh-so intriguing!” Ginny grinned. “Obviously, when it comes to the giving and the taking, Atlas is –“

“– Not having this conversation with you, nor am I,” Hermione huffed and dragged Atlas towards the stairs. Unfortunately, Ginny was not a boy nor a hostile entity, so the stairs did not change into a slide, and Ginny followed them all the way up, asking questions like an overexcited dog begging for a treat. Hermione spun around and ordered in a whispered shout: “Go to your room, Ginny!”

“Ooo, assertive, is she like that in the bedroom?” Ginny grinned.

Over Hermione’s shoulder, Atlas shook her head.

Hermione stomped on her foot, “I can be!”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Both of you off to bed! I don’t want to hear another word,” Hermione hissed viciously, and Atlas sensed the very real threat underlying her words. Ginny made herself scarce whilst Atlas held her hands up in submission. “You need to sleep.”

“All right,” Atlas nodded quickly and stumbled into their room, rubbing the fatigue from her eyes. A shadow whisked by their window, and Kalo appeared through the glass. He entered, cooing at Little Robin, who lay asleep in its nest, before hooting at Atlas. Her jaw clenched, brows furrowing as she bolted the windows closed and surveyed the surrounding school grounds, her expression pinched. “You need to stop staying out so late.”

“He’s an owl, Atlas, he needs air,” Hermione sighed and then poked Atlas’s side, “You didn’t tell Ginny that Daphne knew before her?”

“She’d blow her top,” Atlas said as she plumped her pillow and lay atop it, staring up at the canopy of their bed. There was a slight dip in the mattress as Hermione lay beside her, her head resting against Atlas’s chest, listening to the strong beat of her heart. Kalo cooed by the window, and Atlas glanced at him, watching him stare out at the grassland, unblinking, so still he could’ve been stuffed. Her heart clenched, and Hermione flinched, “What?”

“Nothing…for a moment I just — I couldn’t hear anything,” Hermione whispered and clutched Atlas’s t-shirt, fingernails digging into the soft fabric. There was a beat of silence. Atlas’s hand caressed Hermione’s shoulder in slow, gentle movements. “Why did you go out?”

“What?”

“You went out. After curfew. You woke up and left the dorm in the middle of the night,” Hermione said, and though there was worry, there was also frustration, a furrow between her brows that Atlas could not smooth with gentle caresses.

“I don’t know, just…a gut feeling,” Atlas said softly.

“We’ve established that your gut feelings are never normal, Atlas. You should have woken me up,” Hermione sighed and sat up. Atlas sat up with her, palms cold where Hermione had slipped out of her grasp. For a moment, she remained silent, staring at Hermione guiltily, knowing how afraid Hermione had been recently, how scared she was the last time she had woken up alone. Knowing she was the reason. “We’ve talked about this. Now that we’re dating Atlas, please communicate with me. Talk to me.”

“I’m sorry, Hermione, you’re right…I just — I didn’t think anything of it,” Atlas placated as she reached out and rubbed Hermione’s back, “I really am sorry, Mi. Please don’t move away from me…” Hermione had slowly moved away throughout Atlas’s apology and paused when Atlas brought it up. She let out a soft sigh and melted back against Atlas’s chest, pressing a soft kiss to her collar, “I’ll try to do better.”

“I know you will.”

The next morning, whilst Atlas and Hermione both lumbered into the Great Hall for breakfast, exhausted, Ginny was practically buzzing. She kept smiling at them both, smirking at Harry and Ron as if she knew something they didn’t. She did. And it was unbearable for Ron, who hated being out of the loop and Harry, who was trying his damndest to get through his explanation of what he had seen in his session with Dumbledore the night before. But Ginny kept smirking at him down the table.

“Ignore her,” Atlas sighed, rubbing her eyes as she leaned against the table.

“So what you’re saying is, Professor Dumbledore seems to be under the impression that Voldemort cursed the Defence Against the Dark Arts position?” Hermione questioned, her brow raised, “I mean…that would certainly make sense, we haven’t had a professor who could hold the position for more than a year since Quirrell.”

“What did he want with the position? You said Dumbledore didn’t think he had a desire for it,” Atlas pushed and then frowned, “Do you think he wanted something that only a teaching position would allow him to get?”

“More soldiers,” Ron suggested, and Atlas nodded.

“Brainwash them young.” She added.

“But what does this have to do with Slughorn’s memory? And Horcruxes…?” Harry continued, and Atlas shook her head in confusion. None of this made sense, and once again, Atlas was under the firm belief that Dumbledore knew more than he was letting on. She scoffed and rolled her eyes, pushing away her food. She’d suddenly lost her appetite.

“He’s such a prick,” she muttered, and everyone looked at her as she stood, “I’m going for a walk.”

“Can I come with you?” Hermione asked gently.

“Yeah, course,” Atlas said as she grabbed her bag and walked away. Hermione hurried to follow, catching up with Atlas, who waited for her at the end of the table. “Sorry, I just needed to leave before I upset Harry.”

“I don’t think he likes Dumbledore as much as you think, not since last year,” Hermione said and took Atlas’s hand, the two of them walking out of the hall in the general direction of their next class. “I’m sure he’s just as fed up with being left in the dark as you.”

“Yeah…” 

“Have you decided on whether or not you’re going to tell Ginny about Zasha?” Hermione suddenly asked.

“Merlin, Hermione,” Atlas almost snapped, and Hermione clenched her jaw, frowning, “Sorry…sorry, it just feels like it’s one shitty situation after another. Look, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry for springing that on you,” Hermione said and trailed off. They walked in silence for a little longer, just walking, hand in hand, towards their next class, taking all of the diversions and extra halls to prolong the moment. They were in the gallery, walking past all of the paintings, still blissfully sleeping in their portraits. “I taught Crookshanks how to get me a new inkwell from our room to the common room.”

“…” Atlas blinked and then blinked again before offering Hermione a lopsided, disbelieving smile, “what?”

“Yeah, but he really hates it. He does it, but he always sets it down just out of reach. He’s so petty.” Hermione said with a huff as she tugged Atlas down a dead-end and reached up to hook her arms around Atlas’s shoulders. She tugged her down, and Atlas didn’t fight. “He has no respect for me.”

“You baby him too much,” Atlas said, her hands settling on Hermione’s hips as their noses brushed, bending against one another as she pressed a ghost of a kiss to the corner of Hermione’s mouth. “You’re too soft.”

“I’m very stern.”

“He has five different brands of cat food, each costing a silly amount.”

“You spent 50 galleons on a book for me.”

“Add a zero, baby.”

“What!?”

Atlas pressed their mouths together and caught the back of Hermione’s head against her palm to stop it thudding against the wall as she crowded her against it. Below, Atlas’s other hand remained curved around Hermione’s hip, holding her against her, thumb gently caressing the pale slip of skin exposed by the slight upward pull of her shirt. Atlas was overwhelmed with Hermione, her scent, her warmth, her taste, her entire goddamn being, and she couldn’t be happier remaining where she was.

“Should we skip?”

Hermione pulled back, staring Atlas dead in the eye as if she was genuinely considering it for a moment, her hands cupped her face, tracing the strong curve of her nose, across her cheekbones and down to her jaw. Hermione licked her lips and for one blissful moment, Atlas thought she might say yes, might agree to slip into some abandoned classroom somewhere because Merlin knew Filch’s closets were riddled with disease.

She smiled, tilted her head to the side and pinched Atlas’s cheeks hard, “No.”

“Ouch,” Atlas winced and frowned when Hermione pulled away, the heat under Atlas’s collar unattended to and neglected. She very nearly pouted as Hermione tucked her shirt back into her skirt. “Hermione…”

“No.”

They slipped out of the dead-end, and Atlas jogged to catch up, “Hermione!” 

Over the next few weeks, Atlas listened to every fart of a thought Harry had pertaining to how to get that memory from Slughorn. It hadn’t been very fruitful. Partly due to Harry’s smarts and Atlas’s overall desire to aid in any task given by Dumbledore. Her brain simply would not help. She suggested buttering him up with pineapple clusters or even suggested that Harry put his name next to Slughorn’s in the local paper. She didn’t offer herself as a bargaining chip, she didn’t really talk to Slughorn all that much, and his bias towards Harry was clear. 

She didn’t understand why Dumbledore had assigned her to this task with Harry in the first place. Perhaps simply because he could.

Instead, Atlas’s mind had its own troubles and mysteries; she had visited the Room of Requirement several times, mostly to stare at the unchanging walls. Sometimes, she didn’t stay long, especially when the halls were occupied. She’d bumped into several pairs of girls just lingering around in the corridor and felt too uncomfortable to stay. They stared at her all of the time, often seeming to sweat.

Now, however, she was free to stand as long as she liked, that was until she felt as if she were being watched. She swivelled around and met the eyes of Daphne, who stared at her with suspicion.

“Daphne?” Daphne approached and crossed her arms, staring up at Atlas with a frown. “Uhm…hi?”

“Crabbe. Goyle. Whatever you are, seriously? Black? How thick can you get? Taking the face of her, of all people?” Daphne said, and Atlas blinked owlishly at her, sputtering and at a loss for words. It was then that Daphne seemed to notice something and sighed. “Oh, it’s actually you.”

“‘Actually you’? Daphne, what are you talking about?” Atlas said, her expression bewildered. “And what about Crabbe and Goyle?”

“Ok, so…remember how you wanted me to keep an eye on Draco?” Daphne said and Atlas nodded. “Well, he’s been coming here, like, a lot, and it’s always with two different girls who like to stand around outside. Which…I mean, good for him is what I originally thought, but then I realised Crabbe and Goyle would be unaccounted for at the same time, so that, plus the extra hours Draco spends in potions, I figured Crabbe and Goyle had been taking Polyjuice to stand around out here and look innocent, keep watch.”

“What’s Draco want with the Room of Requirement?” Atlas frowned as she glanced at the wall again. Could he have been the figure she had seen that day Visha had appeared? No, surely not, it was too small to be Draco, and what did a sod like Draco want with a vivarium that housed injured creatures? Then a coincidence? A coincidence that Draco was messing around in the Room of Requirement, alongside some other person in the Vivarium, and Visha just happened to be in the area? Lines were linking but tangling in knots rather than sorting themselves out in Atlas’s mind.

“No idea, but Harry’s right, Atlas…Crabbe and Goyle are loyal, but willingly dressing up as girls? Two burly, macho lads like them? Even for Malfoy, I’d doubt they’d do so without something hanging over their heads,” Daphne said and reached out to grab Atlas’s wrist, squeezing it tightly, “be careful…I feel like this is all going to blow up soon. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I feel the same about you, all right?” Atlas said and squeezed Daphne’s shoulder, “Stay out of it now, don’t follow Draco anymore, you’ve done more than enough with this. If this is as serious as Harry thinks…Merlin, you can’t get found out.”

“Got it,” Daphne nodded. At least she knew when to quit. “I won’t snoop, but if something is said to me, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks, Daph,” Atlas said, and Daphne nodded, turning to leave. “Hey, Daphne,” she stopped and looked at Atlas with a questioning smile, “you’re all right, I’m…I’m glad we’re friends, you know?”

“Careful. I might forget you’ve got a girlfriend,” Daphne winked, and Atlas rolled her eyes with a huff as Daphne walked away, an extra sway in her hips, intent on teasing Atlas. But Atlas only looked away with an amused huff, glancing one more time at the blank wall before turning to leave as well.

Atlas told Hermione first, and then they brought it up to Harry and Ron after the boys had finished their homework. Harry had been annoyed at first; he’d disliked the idea of Daphne getting involved from the get-go, but was immediately deterred from his irritation when he heard what Daphne had seen. He perked up, his eyes alight with vindication, followed quickly by malice.

“I knew it! This confirms it, doesn’t it? Visha was outside the Room of Requirement, where Draco had been sighted multiple times; she’s probably here to guard him!” He blurted, luckily, the common room was empty save for them and the portraits, so nobody had heard. But still, Hermione stomped on his foot.

“A greasy little weasel like Draco, though?” Ron said, disbelieving as he sipped on a bottle of juice. They had been in the middle of tucking away their essays and finishing their snacks when Atlas had dropped this on them.

“I doubt Voldemort sent one of his strongest to guard Draco Malfoy,” Hermione said with a huff as she reached out and took Atlas’s hand.

“Fine, but it’s still fishy, isn’t it?” Harry said, looking around for validation, and everyone remained silent; no one could really fault the suspicion. Draco might not be a Death Eater, but he was surely up to no good regardless. Harry seemed to grin triumphantly, ready to spout something about the three of them never trusting his gut when Hermione interjected.

“Forget about Malfoy for a moment, have you any idea how to talk to Slughorn?” She said, and Harry sputtered, glancing at Atlas, who held her hands up and shook her head. Harry deflated, gritting his teeth in frustration.

“No. I haven’t.”

“Well then, it’s probably best if you focus on that instead,” Hermione said as she gathered her books. Atlas stood with her and took her bag for her, earning herself a little kiss on the cheek that the boys gawked at. It had been second nature, habitual, so Hermione didn’t bat a lash as Atlas shot Harry a look.

But Harry wasn’t having it. Apparently quite vexed, both with Hermione’s nagging and Atlas’s uselessness when it came to buttering up old Slughorn, he sought to turn the tables on them. It was his turn to question the two women. “Actually, how about we focus on the giant elephant in the room?”

“Harry –” Atlas said, ready to stop him as a flush rose to her cheeks, and Hermione stared at him quizzically.

“No, Atlas, we made a deal and I am following through,” Harry huffed as he crossed his arms, “tell Hermione right here, right now. God, I am so sick of seeing you two act like this as if it’s just a girly friendship.”

“Atlas?” Hermione said, raising a brow, but Atlas caught the flicker of amusement in her gaze.

“Merlin…” Atlas sighed and then turned to Hermione. “Hermione, I have feelings for you.”

Ron choked on his juice, the liquid expelling from his nose and onto his notes, whilst Harry’s own eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing. He clearly hadn’t expected such a blasé confession and turned to Hermione, watching as a flicker of emotions passed over her face. Hermione coughed, cleared her throat, cleaned Ron’s notes with a flick of her wand and then turned back to Atlas, who felt suddenly stupidly nervous.

“I preferred your first confession.” Hermione settled on as she leaned in and kissed Atlas quickly.

“What?” Harry blurted, staring between them both as Ron flushed to the roots of his hair at the casual show of affection between the two women.

“What was this about?” Hermione asked casually as Atlas and Harry stared at each other like two creatures at a crossroads. Caught. Trapped. Atlas broke it, grabbing Hermione’s school jumper as well, slinging it over her shoulder as her hand settled on the small of her girlfriend’s back.

“Harry and I made a deal last year, he said I had until Christmas to confess otherwise he’d do it for me,” Atlas admitted as Harry stared at Ron, the two boys both frozen.

“It’s been a very long while since Christmas,” Hermione said, amused. “All right, well, we’re turning in for the night. Harry, think long and hard on how you’re going to butter up Slughorn, all right?”

“Hold on!” Ron sputtered, “How long have you been dating?”

“Since November,” Atlas said, and the boys baulked.

“Who knows?” Harry asked this time.

“My parents, Professor McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey and Ginny,” Hermione listed, choosing not to mention that Daphne had known before their two best friends. Ron sputtered all the same, frowning.

“Ginny knew before me?” He said, outraged as Atlas smiled awkwardly, Harry looked just as upset, crossing his arms.

“How could you?” Harry huffed and sighed. He couldn’t help his smile as he approached and pulled Atlas into a hug, “I’m happy for you both, congratulations,” he said and then pulled away. Ron hugged her next and patted her back.

“I’m annoyed Ginny knew before me; she’ll never let me live it down.” Ron murmured before squeezing Atlas’s shoulder, “But I’m happy too, I guess.”

“Come on,” Hermione tugged on Atlas’s wrist, and Atlas obliged, waving goodbye to the boys, who turned away with awkward smiles. “Figure out your Slughorn problem, Harry!” Hermione shouted backwards as they disappeared upstairs.

Smut chapter on ao3 btw…