Chapter Text
~ 2024 ~
Hermione turned off the light in the bathroom and padded her way to her side of the bed. It wasn’t even ten o’clock yet but her wife Fleur was already under the covers and lying on her side with her back to her, seemingly asleep, though she had her doubts. Since she probably wouldn’t like where a conversation might lead if she confronted her and discovered Fleur really was pretending, she let it be and slipped into bed as softly as she could.
Propping herself up on her pillows, she put on her reading glasses and got ready to do what she typically did before going to sleep: read a muggle newspaper. As Minister for Magic, Hermione was aware of most world affairs, she had to be, but it was in a muggle newspaper that she could learn about local news, shows at the theatre she would never get around to seeing, and so forth. Not only did it reinforce those ties to the world she came from, it had also been a way to connect her daughter Aurelie to that part of her heritage. Tucked away in a photo album were several adorable pictures of a young Aurelie with her little arms spread wide to hold up the arts & entertainment section. Those early efforts paid off. The girl made sure to get both magical and muggle periodicals delivered to her at Hogwarts. Which was where the thirteen-year-old was now, having left on the Hogwarts Express earlier today.
It might be odd to read the newspaper at night, and she did read the front-page articles and do the crossword in the morning, but the familiarity helped to relax her before bed. Tonight, however, she felt restless.
Flipping through the pages, she sighed. It was all the same old routine by this point, she couldn’t even be bothered to fool herself into thinking she’d buy tickets to the theatre. Hadn’t she made those types of plans in the past only to disappoint Fleur time and time again when her duties got in the way? Better to avoid that disappointment altogether and not get either of their hopes up.
The last section she usually glanced through, mostly as a lark, was the classified section. Fleur used to tease her about it in the early years of their marriage. Her reading through the mundanity of people trying to sell their old cars and furniture, and the ones reaching out for personal connection (those sorts of adverts had petered out with the advent of online dating and dating apps, though). Nevertheless, at forty-four years of age, soon to be forty-five, she was a creature of habit. For good or ill.
On this particular evening, she almost decided to skip that section when a block of text caught her eye. A cryptogram. Hermione almost laughed at the mix of letters and Rosicrucian cipher symbols. Who would put a cipher in an advert? Smiling at whoever that code-loving individual was, she was about to fold the paper up for the night when she saw the ehwaz rune symbol in the third row from the bottom.
To any Elder Futhark-knowledgeable muggle it meant ‘horse’, but in the magical world it meant ‘partnership’. She would never forget how she confused that meaning with the one for eihwaz, which meant ‘defence’, in her Study of Ancient Runes O.W.L. The symbol itself looked like an oddly formed ‘M’, especially when compared to the few normal ones in the rest of the text, so only those familiar with runes would notice it.
Hermione almost woke Fleur to show her discovery but in the end she kept it to herself. If this was a Vigenère cipher like she was beginning to think it was, then she had an idea for what the key could be to decrypt the message. Resolving to see if her hunch was correct tomorrow, she laid the folded-up paper on her nightstand followed by her reading glasses, and turned off the lamp.
~ 2002 ~
“Hermione, when are you going to get back out there?”
“Hmm?” Hermione, in the middle of sipping her glass of wine, turned towards Ginny.
Ginny groaned and rolled her eyes, plopping down in the space next to Hermione on the couch. They were in the drawing room at 12 Grimmauld Place where Harry was throwing a rather boisterous party. Ron was over at one end of the room laughing at whatever his latest girlfriend was saying. He went through them so quickly that she wasn’t sure he would ever settle down. Nearby George was showing off some of his latest prototypes for the store. The party had lots of people, lots of talking and laughter, and lots of drinking.
Sometimes she forgot they were still young enough to do youthful things like this. Hermione hadn’t felt young in a long time. Although she was only twenty-two, she had a full-time job in the Ministry and she had ambitious ideas for the future of the magical world. These sorts of raucous gatherings made her feel out of place. She much preferred the more humdrum ones at the Burrow. She hadn’t even wanted to come tonight but Ginny was very insistent.
Narrowing her eyes suspiciously at her friend, Hermione scolded, “Stop trying to set me up. Didn’t the last time teach you anything?”
“Obviously not,” retorted Ginny.
Hermione shook her head good-naturedly and took another sip of wine, willing her patience to hold. Now that the war recovery was over and everyone was moving on with their lives, Ginny became more like her mother every day, wanting people to pair off and settle down. But just because Ginny and Harry had found their happily-ever-after didn’t mean that Hermione was in any hurry to do so. While she’d had plenty of dates since ending things with Ron two years ago, realizing she was attracted to women as well as men along the way, she was hesitant to start anything serious.
Well, maybe ‘hesitant’ wasn’t the right word. More like ‘cautious’. Given her war record, and her friendship with Harry Potter, and the expectations the wizarding public seemed to place on her, it was hard to meet someone who wasn’t lured in by that or didn’t have all these preconceived notions about her. Add that onto the fact that it was also hard for her to open herself up and let them see the real her, it was a miracle she was still willing to date at all.
“Okay, look. I’ll admit I didn’t vet Margaret all that well.”
“She’s a professional Quidditch player, Gin.”
Ginny laughed. Hermione had nothing against Quidditch players as friends. But as a romantic partner, they would want her to go to all their games as well as enjoy talking about it. Once every now and then to support Ginny’s career was enough.
“Fine. No more Quidditch players. But that was five months ago, ‘Mione. I’ve left you to your own devices all this time. And what have you got to show for it, hm?” asked Ginny pointedly.
“I do alright.” She winced at how unconvincing she sounded. So what if she hadn’t had a date since Margaret. Hermione was a busy woman.
“Sure you do.”
Hermione huffed at her knowing tone, looking around the party, realizing why Ginny was bringing this up again.
“No. Whoever it is, no.”
“It’s not anyone here,” said Ginny, nudging her shoulder.
“Oh,” replied Hermione, taken aback, her shoulders slumping slightly. Interesting. Was that a twinge of disappointment? Maybe it was time to get back out there.
Seeming to pick up on the hint of interest, her friend continued with more eagerness, “I ran into her the other day. She’s intelligent. Beautiful. And she doesn’t know it’s you, so you’ll both go in blind this time.”
Hermione bit her lip, that lingering twinge leading her to think it over this time rather than dismiss it out of hand. Another blind date wasn’t ideal. Especially with the prospect of seeing someone’s honest response when they first saw her. “I don’t know, Ginny.”
“Too late, I’ve already set it up,” she responded flippantly. “Next Friday night at seven o’clock at the Hooked Nose.”
Snorting, Hermione turned away. The Hooked Nose Café was in Diagon Alley. It was a nice café, had good food, and was the type of place to have an actual conversation instead of trying to be heard over the noise of a crowded pub. But would they get along? Ginny appeared to think so. She’d called her ‘intelligent’ and ‘beautiful’. That sounded promising, she just didn’t want to get her hopes up.
Again, Ginny knew what she was thinking. “I mean it this time, ‘Mione. You won’t regret it.”