Archive of Our Own ^beta

Hermione stared daggers at the letter that had just landed on her overflowing office desk.

Godric… 

Actually. No. Fuck Godric. 

Fuck Godric, because I’m sure he believed in this patriarchal rubbish. Fuck him. 

Fuck Merlin too while we’re at it. He probably laid some of the groundwork that somehow led to this shite. 

Fuck Godric, fuck Merlin, fuck Dumbledore because why not, definitely fuck Salazar, and, with the utmost disrespect, fuck Kingsley. 

Hermione experienced her first slight flicker of joy of the week as the offending parchment incendio’ed into a neat pile of ash. 

How quickly things burn…how relatable. 

Just as Hermione took a deep breath to cry or scream, she was interrupted. 

“Ooh, are we burning things at work again?” Luna’s melodic voice carried in, “This is perfect timing! I’m sure I have some recent nasty letters-to-the-editor for the Quibbler, and I’d love to burn this morning’s memo from Cormac McLaggen asking about something something Magical Sportsballs needs for the upcoming World Cup…let me just dig around a bit...”

The (slightly scary, but also not entirely unusual) sounds of papers rustling, drawers slamming, glass breaking, and off-key singing could be heard through the thin wall between their offices. 

Hermione started working in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures (gods, she has to get that name changed…add it to the depressingly long list…) immediately following graduation, two years ago (unbelievable it’s been that long…what even does she have to show for the time…). A few months into the job, Luna just appeared. 

Nobody had any recollection of Luna interviewing. There wasn’t even a job open - the DRCMC was woefully underfunded.

Nevertheless, Luna showed up and continued to come to work week after week. Did Hermione know exactly what they did all day? Absolutely not. 

Hermione had enough to worry about with her own case load and looming pile of ‘Urgent!’ memos on her desk, and the stack of missives from Harry and Ron inquiring about when can she see them, and her weekly planner she hadn’t updated in three months, and the upcoming string of anniversaries she’d rather forget, and the Mind Healer appointment she had yet to make, and the visit to Gringotts she was putting off because they always treat her like a criminal, and, and, and -

A tinkling laugh from the dreamy eccentric enigma that is Luna Lovegood snapped Hermione out of her rumination. 

“Alright, H”, Luna chirped, “catch and burn!” 

Hermione could barely blink before Luna flicked her wand and a dozen papers flew her way and started spinning around her. 

Unconscious laughter was pulled out of Hermione as she grabbed paper after paper and watched them ignite in her hands. It made her remember the giddy childlike wonder she felt watching the first episode of The Crystal Maze with her father. 

My father…another good thing I’ll never - 

Another paper flew towards her and Hermione threw her hand up quickly so it didn’t hit her face. She blinked as she watched the moving photograph burn. 

“Wait! Luna, did I just incinerate the picture of you and Rolf from your desk?”

Luna cocked her head, “Yes.”

“Well - actually, never-mind.” Hermione shook her head, looking around at her soot-covered office, “What an absolute mess.” She closed her eyes to avoid the chaos but Kingley’s response was seared into her vision, as if mocking her. “Godric - NO. Fuck Godric. Fuck men.”

Hermione slumped back in her chair, the hopeless feelings hitting harder than before after the high of unexpected play. 

“What about Rowena?” Luna inquired.

A noncommittal shrug was all that Hermione could offer.

“Circe? Hecate?” 

Another shrug and a sigh this time.

A sly smile crossed Luna’s face, “Hermione Granger?”

Hermione’s face fell even further as she disassociated, staring into the ash to avoid thinking about how she was supposed to have been destined to do great things…fuck. She scrunched her eyes shut and chastised herself, yet again, for never learning how to occlude

Maybe in a different universe she could have been compared those other incredibly powerful women -

The soft floaty feeling of Luna’s magic washing over her and the sudden smell of toasted cardamom, tea, and warmed milk made Hermione lick her lips. “Luna, you marvelous creature.”

Hermione opened her eyes to see a full tea service set up on her desk, her clothes and hands free of soot, and Luna finishing evanesco’ing the remaining evidence of their workday fire play. She took a second to study Luna, while they were distracted. 

Luna lounged sideways in Hermione’s visitor chair, flicking their wand left and right with a giddy grin, looking right at home. Their long white blonde hair, freshly shaved on one side, was plaited with mistletoe, tiny American candy canes, and red ribbon, even though Christmas was four months ago. Luna paired this look with a cozy black oversized men's muggle cardigan and a shiny sequined long skirt, their chunky black boots with yellow stitching dangling over the armrest, tapping in the air to an invisible tune. 

“Tea for your trouble?” asked Luna.

 At Hermione’s nod, they started to prepare the tea and continued, “I assume Kingsley said no?” 

“He said he couldn’t help because ‘laws are laws, Hermione’, as if he isn’t the bloody Minister for Magic…” Hermione paused to accept the offered tea. 

She took a sip and noted it was just shy of scalding, the perfect temperature. “Wait a minute, how did you know I wrote Kingsley?” 

 “Oh, I read your mail.” 

“You read my - ”

“What exactly did he say?” Luna quickly asked, unfazed. 

Hermione shook her head, trying to recall the information from the deep pit in her mind. “Um…he said I am mandated to attend the upcoming Ministry Gala for the Anniversary, which I think is so bloody stupid, to be holding a bloody gala of all things for this bloody awful ‘holiday’, another one of Kingsley’s brilliant decisions, I’m sure. Anyways. If I want to keep my job, I must attend the Anniversary Gala…”

“That’s not all though…” Luna prompted. 

“No. No, that’s just the start. I have to give a speech. I hate public speaking; it absolutely terrifies me. I’ll do it in front of the Wizengamot for creatures who aren’t allowed to represent themselves, but I can’t do it for the Ministry, not for this bloody backwards Ministry. You want to know the worst part, Luna? I HAVE to have a date. Patriarchal nonsense. Kingsley directed me towards The Wizard’s Employment Handbook, Article 43, Section 12, Subsection 2, Paragraph 4, Clause 10: Unaccompanied witches are not allowed at Ministry Functions.” 

Luna sat in serene silence as Hermione took a moment, fumed, finished her tea, and continued, “How absurd is this? Who wrote this gendered nonsense? And how is it I’m expected to abide by the rules in the ‘Wizard’s’ handbook? How does that make sense? How is that fair?” 

Luna enigmatically hummed. Hermione liked to think she was starting to categorize these hums, but was too presently distracted to play the usual game. How did Luna do it? 

“Hey, Luna?”

“Yes?”

“How does none of this”, Hermione waves her hand around glumly, “affect you?”

Luna softly smiled and hummed again, “Does it not?”

Hermione took a beat. 

In a world that often felt numb and distant, Luna so often caught her off guard, easily snapping her back to the present moment. One would think she’d be used to it by now, but she wasn’t. 

People often wrote off Luna, didn’t listen to a single word, cracked jokes - honestly, Hermione once had too. Another thing to add to the list of things she was ashamed about; put it next to the indignity of having to ask a man to escort her to the gala. 

“Well, we’ll go together.” Luna said, matter-of-fact.

“The Wizard’s Employment Handbook, Article 43, Section 12, Subsection 2, Paragraph 4, Clause 11: Witches are not allowed to be accompanied by other witches. Regardless, you’re dating Rolf.” 

“Ah, yes, that.” Kicking their Doc’s over to the ground, Luna leaned forward in the chair, “Well, I’m not a witch. I’m not a wizard either, for that matter. And Rolf wasn’t interested in accepting that fact.”

The tips of Hermione’s curls sparked as she simmered with rage over the awful treatment of her dear friend. 

Fuck Godric. Fuck Merlin. Fuck Dumbledore. Fuck Salazar. Fuck Kingsley. And fuck Rolf Scamander. 

“Yes, he’s perfect to add to the ever expanding list of useless men.” Luna’s pale blue eyes glowed with shared injustice, “Rolf made my coming out all about him and then started spouting binary nonsense. Which is absolutely ridiculous and outdated. Everyone knows Dementors are neither male nor female.” 

Hermione blinked. “Luna, did you just compare your gender to a Dementor?”

“Romantic, isn’t it? It opened up a whole new world of possibilities for me! I wonder if anyone has ever had a Dementor as a patronus.” 

Hermione would never understand what it was like to be inside Luna’s mind, what a wildly different construct to hers. 

Though…anyone who relates to a Dementor might actually be more similar than not…

She unsuccessfully tried to stifle a huge yawn. Hermione couldn’t remember the last time she got a good night’s sleep.

“More tea?” Luna asked gently. 

“Oh, yes, sure. Thank you.” Hermione put her empty cup back on the saucer and pushed it towards Luna, who stood up to pour the kettle. Hermione liked the things Luna did the muggle way, even though they grew up with magic. “Oh! And thank you for coming out to me, for trusting me, Luna, truly. I think this makes so much sense and suits you very well. You’re so strong and cool. I’m proud of you.”

Luna sweetly hummed. They twisted their head around to stare at the tea leaves, smiled, and then poured.

“Ooh a sun! That’s very good for you, Hermione. Anyways, I was thinking, I have these marvelous outfits from a muggle designer I found while strolling around Brick Lane the other week. They’re men's suits but almost entirely cut up and reworked, lots of added zippers and buckles and cinches. So many ways to wear them, very adaptable. We’ll look good together. Matching, but not matching, you know? Very high fashion. You’ll look incredibly cool and androgynous, Hermione. I know how much you hate wearing dresses and dress robes. Plus, you always want to be more sustainable, but it’s been difficult with everything weighing on your mind.”

Hermione blinked. She supposed she never really felt comfortable in dresses or dress robes. It was just what she felt she had to do. And she had been beating herself up about not doing more for the environment. Was she that obvious? Also, wait. Since when did Luna wander around muggle London? 

Hermione sipped her tea, perfect temperature still. Luna must have charmed it.

Every time I think I could know Luna, they surprise me…

She slowly swirled the cup in her hands, pondering the thought of how attending the gala with Luna would go. It felt like her mind was shifting, something was expanding. The Luna effect. Hermione couldn’t remember the last time she actually looked forward to something…especially something so surprising, unknowable, unplannable. 

Hermione hummed. Luna smiled.

“That’s a happy hum. It sounds just like mine,” Luna said. “I don’t often hear it from you, though.”

Luna hummed back, as if in reply, a pitch-perfect replica. 

Hermione smiled.