It’s probably not surprising to hear that I’m a Harry Potter purist. I dabbled in fan fiction between books, but while my sister could go all in on, say, Harry and Draco, I could only ever make myself read or write strictly canonical pairings inside J.K. Rowling’s world. I had actually never even read a non-canon Harry Potter story until six days ago! Side-stepping the (apparently enormous) McGonagall/Hermione and Bellatrix/Hermione fandoms, I actually landed on some really, really sweet stuff. Hermione and Luna: It just makes so much sense!
So, in honor of our new column, Witch Hunt, I give you Harry Potter femslash!
Plot: During Deathly Hallows, Hermione realizes she’s got a real thing for Luna Lovegood.
The second week she spent at Shell Cottage brought her the first spell of peace she’d felt since the wedding. She made a habit of sitting out on a promontory near the cottage, feeling the sea air whip through her hair. She always snuck away, some time when Ron and Harry weren’t looking; she was tired of looking at their worry, she realized, and the questions in their eyes. Sometimes Luna came out and sat with her. She never started conversation, but sometimes she sang, Cornish songs she said her mother had taught her when she was little. “My mum came from Tinworth,” she’d said simply, proudly. “Tintagel, the Muggles call it.”
Late one afternoon, when Luna had just finished a song (Muy lowen yu’n tus ma es myghtern po’n gos ughel, she sang, and her light voice tripped over the words like a lark), Hermione turned towards her. “How do you do it, Luna?” she asked.
“Do I, really?” Luna returned.
They sat in silence for a while. The sun was beginning to set, lowering over the ocean; the waves broke salty against the promontory.
“Do the songs help?”
“Every moment that passes.”
Plot: Hermione falls for Luna during Half-Blood Prince.
In truth, Hermione was thankful for anything that interrupted Parvati and Katie’s snogfest. She wasn’t about to say that, though. It would have been mean and unfair and insensitive and a lot of other things that Hermione knew she didn’t want to be. It wasn’t their fault that she had chosen the Girls’ Lounge for her (self-imposed but mandatory) Evening Relaxation Period precisely because she didn’t want to have to sit around awkwardly watching other people kiss. Hermione wanted to be sensitive and supportive and respectful of her other peoples’ lifestyles, just like she’d learned from her parents long before she’d come to Hogwarts. But that didn’t give them free rein to be mean about Luna, who after all was only. . .well, what was she doing?
“We could always ask her,” Hermione said.
“It’s her business.” Ginny spoke with the resolve of the youngest girl from a houseful of boys, who knew that every time you could do something and just be let alone was a gift. Hermione understood that, but in the end, she decided that if you really didn’t understand why someone was doing what she was doing, there wasn’t any harm in asking.
“I’m going to ask.” Hermione put down her magazine. She stood, stretched her arms out behind her, and walked over to Luna. None of the others followed.
A few feet away from the other girl, Hermione stopped, crouched down on the balls of her feet, and said, “Luna.”
Luna turned her head slowly, fixed her eyes on Hermione, and looked at her for a long moment in silence. Across the room, Parvati giggled. Otherwise, it was quiet until Luna wrinkled her nose and made a distinctly non-human sound. It was something less than a roar, but more than a meow, and whatever it was, seemed to ask a question. Hermione jumped just a little, and since she was already crouching, went sprawling on her back on the stone floor.
Plot: 100,000 words of Luna romancing Hermione at University of Magical Studies and Theory.
It was her sophomore year at University and Hermione had been in the library studying Ancient Runes when Luna Lovegood first approached her. One moment she was reading page 1,007 of her textbook with the utmost interest and the next she heard a soft sigh and felt the warm exhale of breath on her neck and her name murmured softly. Whirling around, she was met with the sight of Luna wearing a dreamy expression, her eyes half closed, as she pulled her face away from Hermione’s curly head of hair.
“Luna!” Hermione exclaimed, instinctively grabbing her hair and pulling it over one shoulder, far from the blonde and her nose. She heard a sharp shushing noise from a fellow student and noticed several interested stares and she blushed heavily, lowering her voice significantly as she said, “What are you doing here?”
“The nose knows,” replied Luna, her voice airy. Her hand floated forward and her fingertips were able to lightly caress Hermione’s hair before the older girl hurriedly scooted backwards and away from her touch.
“The nose knows what?” questioned Hermione irritably. Honestly, it was things like this that made her dislike dealing with Luna. Those odd moments of utter and frank honesty the blonde had never applied to Hermione. Instead she got nothing but mysterious phrasings and ridiculous theories. And now, apparently, hair sniffing.
“I’m here to study, of course,” said Luna, deciding for whatever reason to answer Hermione’s first question.
For the first time since their odd conversation began, Hermione focused on the pile of books in front of Luna. They were various magical medical texts and Hermione frowned ever so slightly, looking at the girl with a bit of disbelief. “You’re a Student Healer?” Hermione did her best to keep the surprise out of her voice but it was difficult. Simply put, the Student Healer program was perhaps the most difficult to enter in the University, it had the smallest number of openings, and the heads of the program were a bit pompous in their need to keep it considered the best in the wizarding world. For some time they had tried to recruit Hermione but she refused, finding far more interest in the subject of Ancient Runes. Though, now that she thought about it, Luna had been in Ravenclaw at Hogwarts. And one didn’t exactly get into that house for having a pretty face. Intelligence mattered most there. “I never knew you wanted to be a healer.”
“You never asked,” said Luna simply.
Plot: Hermione wonders if she’s been pining after the wrong Weasley.
She probably wouldn’t have talked about it at all, if Ginny hadn’t caught her sneaking out of Ron’s room afterwards.
Hermione could feel herself blushing as soon as she caught sight of the pyjama-clad Ginny approaching with a half-full glass of water, and for a moment she nearly ducked back into Ron’s bedroom. But Ginny had seen her already. It would be childish to hide, and Hermione was definitely not a child, so she stuck out her chin and dared Ginny to make something of it.
“Morning,” was all Ginny said, smiling Ron’s easy smile.
Hermione tried to appear casual, but she was painfully conscious that she must look and smell like someone who had just spent several hours getting hot and sweaty and exchanging bodily fluids under a duvet. This was not one of her more dignified moments. “I’m just – that is – we were – I – um.” She stumbled to a halt, and gave a slightly choked laugh as her eyes met Ginny’s.
The smile broadened. “Yes, so I see. Not before time – I thought he was going to die of frustration.” She sipped at the water, then looked Hermione up and down with an amused expression. “Don’t worry, Mum and Dad won’t be up for another hour or so. See you later.” And Ginny had sauntered off to her own room and left it at that. Hermione wasn’t sure whether to be more embarrassed at the fact that Ginny knew she’d finally lost her virginity, or at the fact that she’d taken such an unfashionably long time to get around to it.
There was definitely something wrong, she reflected, when she was once more in her own neatly-made bed, about remembering Ginny’s knowing smile more clearly than Ron’s.
Plot: It takes Ginny a little while to get Hermione to agree to marry her.
Hermione faces you and you snap your mouth closed. She cocks an eyebrow curiously, but decides to let your painfully obvious gawking go. “So, Ronald’s told me all about you.”
Your heart flutters, but you need to be subtle…you can’t have another gawking incident. “None of it’s true.”
She giggles. “He tells me you’re an excellent spell caster.”
You’re a tad suspicious, but your heart swells (and so does your ego, but whatever) nonetheless and you grin. “Really? Ron said that?”
“Well,” she says, making the most adorable face you’ve ever seen. “Not in so many words. But he’s told me all of the…wonderful spells you’ve cast on your brothers.”
“It’s nothing compared to what I bet you can do.”
She smiles at you. “I’d like to see your handiwork sometime.”
You think this is a fantastic start. You have a common ground (hexing the boys) to work with, and at least she’s smiling (damn she’s gorgeous) and doesn’t hate you. You finally yawn and stretch. “Maybe tomorrow.” You’re only half joking. “Goodnight, Hermione.”
Plot: Three years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Ginny runs into Hermione for the first time.
Ginny opened the door of the private suite as quietly as she could muster. Given that she wanted to nothing more than to fling it open and rush into the room, this was a feat of willpower on her part. Her hand trembled on the doorknob, not knowing what she would find in the room beyond.
Ginny’s eyes went straight to the pale, frail figure lying unnaturally still in the bed. The white sheets and pillows seemed to engulf Hermione’s small frame, only her bushy curls pushing back against the white expanse threatening to swallow her. Hermione’s skin was sallow, and beads of fever sweat dotted her forehead. Tears flooded Ginny’s eyes at the sight. No matter how mad she’d been at Hermione, she never wanted something like this to happen. She never expected to see Hermione so vulnerable. The Hermione she remembered, the young woman who had been her best friend, had been so strong, so…so…alive.
Ginny started at the unexpected voice, and then goggled at the two people sitting beside Hermione’s bed. “Mum? Ron? What are you doing here?”
“Same thing you are, I imagine,” answered Ron. He stood to give her a hug, but his expression was pinched with worry. Molly Weasley’s face looked, if possible, even more concerned than Ron’s as she squeezed Ginny tightly in her embrace.
“Your father sent Ron for me as soon as he heard,” explained Molly, taking her seat next to Hermione again. She picked up Hermione’s limp hand in one of her own. “He’ll be here soon himself. I thought we’d need to let you know, but your father said that one of Hermione’s colleagues had gone to get you already.”
“She’s been asking for you, Gin,” said Ron softly, his expression unreadable.
“That’s what Mr. Hodges, Hermione’s coworker, said,” she answered lamely. She didn’t know what else to say. Her eyes were drawn once more to Hermione and confusion roiled her insides. Before, she couldn’t think about anything other than getting here, but now that she was here it seemed all very strange. After all, she hadn’t spoken a word to Hermione for so long. It seemed a bit odd that she’d be the one Hermione would ask for now.
Pairing: Lavender Brown/Parvati Patil
Plot: The Harry Potter series through the eyes of Lavender and Parvati. (There’s a companion Dean/Seamus piece!)
Parvati and Padma remained silent on the boat ride up to the castle. They’d happened to be in the same boat as the Irish boy who’d run from the compartment earlier, and guilt had run through Parvati at the sight of him. He’d greeted them politely, though, and then chatted animatedly to the black boy beside him the whole way up to the castle.
They remained silent as they walked up a rock passageway and were handed off to a fierce witch in green robes. They remained silent as the witch took them to a room and explained all about the houses. They remained silent as other students broke into worried whispers about how they were going to be sorted.
Someone bumped into Parvati and caused her to stumble into Padma.
“Oh, sorry,” said a high voice.
It was the girl with the pink bow who’d looked in on the compartment earlier, but she showed no sign of recognition as she gave Parvati a small, apologetic smile.
“I’m, um, I’m Lavender. Lavender Brown,” she said, nervously tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “And you?”
Parvati swallowed. “Um – ”
Padma had let go of Parvati’s hand and was now gripping her wrist very tightly, warning her not to speak, not to break the silence. But Parvati wanted to break the silence. She didn’t want ostracize themselves away from the people they were going to live with for seven years.
“I’m – ”
A few screams sounded from behind them, and Parvati was interrupted by the arrival of some ghosts gliding into the room. She scoffed to herself. It figured. She was going to try to introduce herself again but then the witch had returned and told them to get in a line.
The Sorting Ceremony was about to begin.
Plot: Ginny gets an alternative lifestyle haircut.
Ginny plopped down next to Hermione and fiddled with a blade of grass for a few moments, tugging it this way and that before finally plucking it out of the soil altogether. Without looking up from the green stems, she spoke. “I want to cut my hair really short.”
“All right. Any reason why?”
Ginny frowned and pulled up half a dozen more blades of grass before responding. “I dunno. I just – it might look nice. I always wanted short hair when I was little – it’s what happens when you have lots of brothers, I think. Now that I’m older, I figure I can do what I want.” Just a little defensively, she added, “It be really useful, too – it’d keep my hair out of the way during Quidditch.”
“Well, if you have all these reasons for it – what’s stopping you? There’re charms you can do for it. I can teach you how to use them.”
“Ron’s right,” Ginny said glumly. “Mum would kill someone. Probably first him, then me.”
Hermione gave a half-shrug. “She won’t see it until Christmas, and besides, you’re old enough that you’re right: you can do what you want. She’s learned to live with Bill’s ponytail. She’ll get over it.”
Ginny fiddled with the grass for a while. “It’s stupid,” she said, at last.
“I dunno. All of it.”
Hermione, with nothing to say in response, simply sat in silence. After a few moments, she put an arm around Ginny’s shoulder. The younger girl almost shrugged it off, but then just sighed and let it sit there.
“Careful,” Ginny said, at last. “People will talk if they see you like that with me.”
“I don’t really care.”
I hope you’ll recommend some good stories for me in the comments. I’m weirdly brand new to this whole thing. I’d love to read about a lesbian Tonks!