Chapter Text
“Hermione! You’re a girl!”
Hermione glanced up with a glare at her best friend.
“Well spotted.”
“Well—What I mean is. You could—You know—”
Hermione slammed her book shut. Idiot. She took a deep breath, trying to let her warmth back in.
“I already have a date, Ron, and even if I didn’t—if you think I would go with you after—after asking like that. Ugh. You always wait until the last minute!”
Suddenly the small, comforting walls of the library felt stifling. She couldn’t breathe. She stuffed her books into her bag and ran. She ignored Madam Pince’s hiss of rebuke; she felt a scream bubbling up and had to get out.
The second the frigid blast of winter air hit her, she felt her body relax. The world seemed to right itself. She leaned against the cold stone wall.
“Just breathe, Hermione.”
Snowflakes fell, and she watched them sadly, longing to feel the sun on her face. They were beautiful, but they were cold.
Cold.
Like her.
She had always been cold; a permanent chill that grew from her heart and spread down to her toes. The sunshine helped, but it never truly went away. When she was three, she had tried to climb into the fireplace, sobbing that she was too cold. She remembered the pain of the burns, but even those did not soothe the frigid ache within. Some days it was worse, and some days it bordered on comforting. She had asked every professor who would listen to her about possible causes, but she had been dismissed every time. It was anxiety; it was just in her head. Put on a sweater, Granger. Just like the muggle doctors. She had given up quickly and realized it was something she was going to have to live with.
She took another breath of fresh, frozen air and stood tall. Cold or not, she was not going to let it ruin her night.
Hermione felt giddy as Viktor twirled her on the dance floor. Her periwinkle dress shimmering in the candlelight. A snowstorm; beautiful and soft. She grinned at Viktor, who smiled back, almost shyly. She let herself bathe in the glow and glamor of the party, letting her inhibitions go, if only for a night. She was having so much fun, and Viktor was so mature, he held her hand and she took his arm. At the end of the night, he offered to walk her back to her dormitory, and she thought she would swoon. The whole night was perfect.
As they were walking up the stairs, Viktor slowed to a stop. Hermione turned to look at him, now a step below her. She was almost eye-level with him now.
“I would never presume…” he started slowly, then seemed to grow confidant, “may I kiss you, Hermione?”
She grinned and instead of answering, she planted her lips on his, wrapping her arms around his neck.
And in that moment, when everything was perfect, it all shattered.
The cold inside her snapped. A blast of purple and blue magic lashed out from her and hit Viktor squarely in the chest. He collapsed.
Hermione screamed.
“Viktor!? HELP!”
She heard teachers’ running footsteps, but it was not enough to quench her terror. Viktor’s eyes were open and unfocused.
“Miss Granger, what—Move aside, girl,” Professor McGonagall swooped in and knelt next to the prone teenager.
“Oh god! Professor McGonagall! Is he alive??”
“Envenerate,” she said, pointing her wand at him.
He began to stir.
Hermione let out a relieved cry.
“Miss Granger, what happened?”
“I don’t know—he— I kissed him.”
“That is all?” McGonagall looked completely unconvinced.
“I mean, it was like when I was little and I would have little accidental magic spurts, but it was so strong. I didn’t mean to, Professor. I haven’t even had accidents since I was nine!”
More teachers arrived. Madame Pomfrey chief among them. She examined Viktor quickly, and promptly levitated him.
“Come along, Granger,” she said, her voice clipped, but not unkind.
She followed along, rubbing her arms, suddenly freezing, but she knew it was not from the temperature.
Professor McGonagall followed, her hand on Hermione’s shoulder. It was supposed to be comforting, but Hermione could not help but feel as though she was in huge trouble. She had never hurt anyone before. Well, not by accident. McGonagall led her to the bed beside Viktor’s.
“Wait here, Granger.”
She watched Viktor grimace in what must have been pain as McGonagall swept off, presumably to gather the other teachers.
“Is he going to be alright?” she asked Madam Pomfrey.
“He’ll be fine. A bit sore, perhaps,” the nurse replied, removing tendrils of purple and blue magic from her date.
Hermione opened her mouth, but before she could ask her question, Madam Pomfrey sighed and gave her a knowing smirk.
“I am removing the excess magic; you gave him quite a wallop, Miss Granger.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“I know, and we’ll get to the bottom of that as well, but first, let’s get Mr. Krum upright.”
Hermione nodded, her feet dangling off the hospital bed. She felt very small, a feeling that was only exacerbated by what felt like a flood of adults careening into the Hospital Wing.
Igor Karkaroff was first, running to Viktor’s side. He turned to Hermione with fury in his eyes, but before he could say anything, Snape pulled him to the side, hissing something in his ear, pointing to the tendrils of magic Madam Pomfrey was still removing from Viktor’s body. Karkaroff glared, and stalked off, pacing around the wing with speed.
Viktor was beginning to stir as McGonagall led Dumbledore in, rapidly catching him up on the situation.
Hermione watched Victor blink in confusion. He sat up and the adults crowded in.
“Hermione,” he said slowly.
“Viktor! You’re okay!”
“Hermione, why didn’t you tell me?”
She looked at him, utterly confused. The adults looked at her, also looking baffled. All except Snape.
“Tell you what? Do you know what happened? I don’t understand.”
Viktor frowned, as though he had not considered needing to explain it.
“Why did you not tell me you were betrothed?”