requirement | dramione

0.23

november, 1996

In the following week of early November, Hermione returned to the Room of Requirement twice. On both occasions, she sat in the room alone for hours. She practiced nonverbal charms to busy herself, but spent most of her hours wondering where Draco was. 

This afternoon, Hermione did not accompany Harry and Ron to Hogsmead. Instead, she waited until the seventh floor of the Hogwarts Castle was emptied before she ventured to the Room. As the brilliant metal doors formed before, Hermione desperately hoped that she would find him inside. With anticipation, she pushed against the great doors, welcoming herself into the yellow torch light of the Room. 

"Draco?" She asked, listening to the doors seal themselves behind her. The cavern was silent, the only exception being the soft and constant hum of the lost objects. She was alone. 

She hadn't truly expected him to be here, she even brought a book,  but the bitter taste of disappointment was still strong. She bit her cheek trying to get rid of it. She considered leaving, but knew that anywhere she went she would be alone and the steady hum of the Room was almost comforting. 

She let her back rest against the stone wall, then slowly lowered herself to the floor. Once she was seated she palmed the book in her hands, pressing each cover against slender fingers as she contemplated what laid inside. The book folded open, revealing exactly what Hermione had been dreading for weeks. 

A crisp white envelope, addressed to her, postmarked from her small home in Hampstead. A letter from her parents. 

She glanced out onto the endless rows of hidden things, knowing that she had postponed opening the letter for far too long and could not wait another day. When she returned her gaze to the blue ink cursive, she missed her mother already. She pictured her mother sitting neatly at the dinning room table, sipping tea and discussing a client with her father as she effortlessly scrawled across the envelope. The ache of desire to be there, sitting between her parents, was shifting in her chest. The letter had to be read, she was sure of it. With a final sigh, she pulled the envelope open to reveal its contents. 

Our dearest Hermione,

We miss you so greatly and hope that you are enjoying your fall at Hogwarts. Is it snowing there? You'll have to write to us about each of your lessons and explain each course. We'd love to know every detail.

The Minister of Magic reached out to all non-magical parents this last week. He wrote to us addressing turmoil in the wizarding world. There is a collection of wizards threatening to disturb the balance between the magical and non-magical worlds. The Minister of Magic has suggested that you do not return home over the holiday. He said that it would be safer for you to remain at Hogwarts, where you can be better protected. 

Should we be worried? You have never had to stay away. We want you home, love, but understand that is not possible right now. Our top priority is keeping you safe and healthy, as Hogwarts always has. 

Tell us all about your adventures with your friends. We can't wait to hear from you.

Missing you, 

Mum & DAD 

Hermione bit her cheek as she studied her father's messy, quick, all capitalized script. She couldn't stop herself from staring and wondering how many more letters she would see with that handwriting. How many she wouldn't see. 

She held her breath. 

Wondered how many more times she would hear their voices or see their smiles, if there would be any. The things her anxiety could do to her was cruel and pointed. It aimed straight for the parts of her that were meticulous and thrived on patterns, planning, and rules. Obsessively.