MAGIANIMA // Hermione Granger

My Dear Sister

Something tickled against Atlas's finger, something soft, gentle, faint, it spurred her awake, pulling her from her sleep as she cracked open an eye, vision blurry and unfocused. The fire flickered across from her, those logs pushed to the sides, crumbling to dust, while newer, fresher ones burned brightly in the centre. She yawned and breathed in deeply, looking upon Crookshanks as he stared up at her, motionless and wide-eyed, she stared back a moment, disoriented until something shifted atop her.

They had fallen asleep, her and Hermione, sat in the Common Room, alone, with Crookshanks to watch over them. Atlas flushed, gaze ensnared by the girl atop her whose face had since scrunched to form something akin to mild annoyance, so Atlas tried not to move, afraid any of her movements might wake the girl but remembered, after many nights of carrying the girl to their tower, that she was not easily woken. It must have been something to do with whatever dream she might be having.

So Atlas made to get up, carefully peeling the arms wrapped tightly around her only to redden and twitch oddly when Hermione's fingers grazed across the unobstructed skin left bare by her crinkled shirt. She stopped again, put herself to rights and stood, gently laying Hermione upon the cushion. She admired her a moment, let her eyes roam across the girl's face, brightened by the burning fire before she sighed and turned away, looking over the girl's work, mismatched and incomplete. 

"What's the time Crook? I can't seem to find my watch..." Atlas whispered, organizing each sheet and tucking them carefully inside Hermione's bag. The cat pounced upon the table, the chain of Atlas's pocket watch between his teeth as he dropped the accessory before her, tail flicking behind him and unmoving face suspiciously proud. "Clever Crookshanks."

The compliment seemed to bloat his pride, as the kneazle grew taller somehow, chest fluffy and puffed. Atlas smiled absentmindedly, looking upon the time to see it was past midnight, way past midnight, approaching the early hours of the morning. She frowned and hooked the bag over her shoulder, hovering over Hermione for a moment before bending to loop her arms beneath the girl. It was with well-practised ease she picked the girl up, adjusting her carefully and holding her close, so that the girl's hair fell against her neck, her breaths fanning across the dip of her throat.

Crookshanks followed dutifully behind as Atlas walked, not rushing ahead or swerving between her legs as he usually did but remaining at her heel, eyes up, trained on the two of them, observing, watching. Atlas silently wished the cat was not gathering gossip for her father, she was well aware of the fact the cat was good friends with Sirius and knew most of Sirius's information concerning her hopeless crush on her best friend came directly from the cat sleuth. It would only spell her mortification.

Their dorm room was dark but Atlas couldn't reach the light switch with Hermione in her arms, so she entered blind, eyes flashing gold to see, two little torchlights through the pitch black. Her bed was messy, Hermione's in order, they were opposites in that regard but everything else was similar, from the way they lay out their nightclothes to their reading material for the night. Atlas chuckled to herself at that and placed Hermione atop her bed, trapped a moment by the arms around her neck and her own unwillingness to fall away.

It was different to see Hermione through eyes turned golden, different from how she saw her as an Animagus and different from how she saw her with regular eyes, she hadn't noticed it till now but now that she had, she was paralysed, arms locked and head bowing, inching closer to the girl wrapped in a golden aura, something apparently unseen to normal eyes. She was near now, near enough to smell the girl's peach perfume, see the faint freckles of her cheeks, feel the heat of her face, her breath upon her lips. She was so close, so close she could kiss her if she just --