Now that Rhiannon had a girlfriend of her own, she understood why Dudley and Ginny were always sneaking off to snog in secret corners. The thousand-year-old castle had countless hidden nooks where teenagers could find privacy, and both girls were so totally wrapped up in eachother that the remaining weeks until the ball seemed to fly by.

Hermione was determined to conceal her outfit from Rhiannon, so when the day finally arrived they got ready separately. Rhiannon, along with Lavender, Niniane, Parvati, Hannah, Mairi, Sally-Anne, Tracey, Eloise, Kellah, Daphne and Emilia all took over a disused Transfiguration classroom to get ready while Hermione stuck with Faye, Susan, Harry, Ginny, Luna, Padma and a handful of others whose preferences lay in more butch fashion rather than the dresses and flowers of the others and the boys got ready somewhere else again, and as six o’clock drew nearer and nearer Rhiannon could hardly sit still for Tracey to do her hair.

Thanks to the aid of the regrowth potions, Rhiannon’s hair had grown out almost to shoulder length, all of it an eye-catching dark-threaded silver just as expected, and instead of trying to tame that mane of wild steel curls, Tracey Davis had braided the sides and left the rest to curl artfully over Rhiannon’s forehead and down her neck in a sort of crest. It wasn’t a traditional style, but Rhiannon wasn’t a traditional girl and against her comparatively simple forest-hued gown, it made for a striking look in the best way possible. A creamy rose tucked into the braids over her right ear completed the look, and now Rhiannon fiddled with her skirts as she perched in a chair, waiting for the bell to toll six.

Finally the bell toll rang through the castle, and Rhiannon sprang to her feet. That was a mistake – with only four days before the full moon, every joint ached and she really ought to be walking with a cane. Someone pressed it into her hand and Rhiannon turned to see Lavender, smiling wryly. “Werewolves, so eager – slow down or you’ll be too sore to dance at all,” the pretty blonde cautioned her.

Rhiannon groaned, frustrated by the delay but she had to admit that Lavender was right – if she didn’t pace herself, she’d be worn out in an hour or less and need to come right back to bed – and that would be a sorry state of affairs for her first proper date ever. She forced herself to walk at a more ordinary pace down the hall, keeping step with her friends.

“S-ssss-sos-so, who are you all taking to the dance?” Rhiannon asked, desperate to end the silence. Her friends let out a collective breath, their nerves eased by the casual distraction of conversation.

“My parents say that I’m too young to date, and I can’t help but agree a bit – it seems like an awful lot of stress,” Kellah replied with a shrug. “Faye’s my escort and my dance partner, but I don’t like her like that and she doesn’t like anyone like that, so we figured we’d stick it out together.”

Lavender smiled wryly. “Pity – I’ll have to tell Morag Faye’s not interested, she’s been hemming and hawing about whether to ask her or not, it’s sort of cute.”

Daphne, who shared a room with Faye and Emilia in Ravenclaw, shook her head and grimaced. “And I’ll give Faye a heads’ up, she’s going to hate that – she just doesn’t like anyone that way, ever, and she gets all stressed about the idea of hurting someone because of it.”

Rhiannon grimaced – although she wasn’t aromantic as such herself, it had taken some time for her to be able to genuinely reciprocate Hermione’s feelings for her and she had spent far too much of that time worrying that she was broken, deficit somehow for needing that time, and that she was hurting Hermione with that brokenness. She could sympathise with Faye’s position.

“Well, I’m going with Matei,” Parvati announced cheerfully. Daphne whistled – clearly her twin had managed to keep that from her despite their sharing a dormitory. “What? Don’t be like that, he’s cute, and he’s not always tryna grope me like some of the boys,” Parvati retorted defensively.

“If he’s cute, does that mean you think I’m cute too?” Daphne quipped wryly – she and Matei were identical, and most compliments on his appearance would logically also apply to her.

“Stop fishing for compliments, Daff, you know I think you’re hot - though you’re not exactly proving my point right now,” Parvati grumbled. “I am bi, you know – Padma’s the straight one, at least as far as I know.”

Daphne cackled, and Emilia swatted her with the small bag she kept her wand, mirror and lipstick in. “Just because you’re not taking anyone, Daff, doesn’t mean you can hassle everyone else about their dates,” she admonished her friend. “I swear she knew Theo was going to ask me before I did. Nosy.”

“Why bother dating when I’m having so much fun watching you all stumble your way through it?” Daphne quipped mischievously. “You know, my little sister’s going with Draco Malfoy. They’ve been engaged since they were five or something disgusting.”

“Aren’t you lot related to the Malfoys?” Sally-Anne asked. Sally-Anne was Muggle-born and thus the tendency of pureblood families to inbreed so often was more foreign to her. Rhiannon had grown a little more cynical – in a small society such as theirs, all the ‘pureblood’ families were somewhat interrelated, but apparently marrying one’s cousins was preferable to marrying non-magical people, Merlin forbid. Rhiannon was rather glad that her mother had been Muggle-born – the Black family tree was more of a family wreath, or perhaps a family argument, and she’d said as much to Sirius when he’d shown her.

Daphne rolled her eyes and mimed vomiting. “Cousins or something, but that’s never stopped us,” she replied with a self-deprecating snicker. “In complete fairness the nonmagical nobility are just as bad, but there’s more of them so it sorta spreads out a bit.”

“Alright, that’s it – I’m only going to marry a Muggle, or another Muggle-born,” Sally-Anne decided with a disgusted grimace. “You purebloods are ridiculous.”

“T-t-t-tell me about it,” Rhiannon agreed wryly. “Sirius showed me the family wreath, ‘s stuck up with an unbreakable stickin’ charm, apparently I was related t’ him even before he adopted me ‘n Dudley. Purebloods, honestly.”

“Good thing Hermione’s Muggle-born then,” Nina quipped mischievously, and this time it was Rhiannon’s turn to chase her friend down the hall flailing at her with a borrowed handbag, red in the face and spluttering indignantly. Nina was much taller, and though she had a slight twist to her spine and usually preferred not to run lest it start to ache, she was a lot less affected by it than Rhiannon was by the full moon right now, so there was no chance Rhiannon would actually catch her, and eventually she was forced to slow down and lean heavily on the wall for support as her knees shrieked their protests.

“We’re just! Dating!” Rhiannon called after Nina as the redhead outpaced her down the hall. “D-d-d-d-d-dod-dodo-dammit, d-d-don’t rush things! You’ll scare ‘Mione off!”

“Who says we’re rushing?” Parvati, one of Hermione’s roommates in Slytherin house, asked innocently. “You might not be thinkin’ of that yet, but who’s to say Hermione isn’t? She’s not one to do things by halves.”

Much as it discomforted her, Rhiannon had a sneaking suspicion that Parvati was right about Hermione, who did things with her whole being or not at all. But Rhiannon had only recently begun to hope for a future again, only just begun to consider a future beyond the Triwizard Tournament. Anything else seemed premature, and too much like pushing her luck. She wanted that future more than words could tell, but to truly imagine it and reach for it – she felt as if that would only push it firmly out of reach. There was no guarantee she would live out the war that she knew to be coming, and a good chance she would not... no, she couldn’t think of a future beyond that. Not yet. It would break her heart to imagine it fully and lose it.

Luckily, the girls reached the Great Hall shortly after the grisly death of their cheerful conversation, and Rhiannon was shaken from her grim musing by the lights and colour of the decorated hall. Perhaps fire was too fresh in everyone’s memories for torches to have been appropriate, and someone had coaxed hundreds of fairies; tiny, prideful, insectlike things that they were, into the hall instead so that the hall might be lit by the globes of pale light that they conjured as easy as breathing. The light was paler, constant rather than flickering, and as they left the hallway and stepped fully into the Great Hall itself Rhiannon felt the tension she always carried in the torchlight finally melt from her thin frame, leaving her giddy and lightheaded in its wake.

“Rhiannon!”

Hermione’s voice rang clearly over the chatter and Rhiannon could not help the gasp of astonishment that escaped her lips at the sight of her. Hermione was dressed differently to most others in the room, wearing loose, dark brown calf-length trousers under a deep amber thigh-length tunic shirt patterned at the hem and neck in a fashion similar to pieces of art that Rhiannon had admired in the Ndiaye-Grangers’ family home. And as far as Rhiannon was concerned, Hermione looked as if she belonged in those pieces of art herself.

Rhiannon hardly noticed that she had broken into a run across the hall, but her knees certainly told her about it as she skidded to a halt. She could hardly think through the pain, and then as it relented her thoughts were stolen away for another reason entirely as Hermione bent down and pulled her into a gentle kiss.

“You know, I never realised just how many terrible sounds kissing makes when I could see the act,” Viktor grumbled. His complaint was good-natured, but Hermione and Rhiannon sprang apart as if they had struck an electric fence.

Someone snickered, and when Rhiannon’s head cleared she realised it was Sorcha Cho, wearing a deep navy gown that contrasted well with the pink stripes in her short hair. Her arm was linked with Cedric’s, evidently they were attending together. “You’re an international Quidditch star, surely you’ve had plenty of cause to make some of these terrible noises yourself?” Sorcha quipped mischievously. “I for one am glad they finally stopped the whole will-they-won’t-they nonsense even if they’re a bit insufferably mushy now, it’s been going on for years.”

“For what it is worth, I have never enjoyed kissing, or – the word, dating,” Viktor replied stiffly, with rather the air of an offended cat about him. “I do not think of people that way. Miss Niniane is delightful, and very beautiful as I recall, but we are friends,” he added, waving a hand in Hermione and Rhiannon’s direction.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione replied with a wince. “We’ll keep any kissing far away from you.”

Viktor shook his head hastily. “No, no, it is not that – I was merely teasing. It is the thought of doing such things myself that I find uncomfortable. Perhaps there is something wrong with me,” he added, sounding a little melancholy at the thought.

Rhiannon shook her head hurriedly, her heart twinging at the despondent tone in her friend’s voice, but before she could step in and reassure him, Nina spoke up, having made her way over to the group of Champions. “All due respect, but people used to think there was something wrong with gay people, just like that. Some still do. I thought that about myself for a while ‘cos I knew I liked boys way before I knew I wasn’t one myself. Hell, we were jus’ talkin’ about a friend of ours like you on our way here. It’s not that common I guess, but it’s not abnormal either, an’ I hate seein’ my friends feel bad about themselves.” she told him firmly.

Nina’s loyalty to her friends had never been in question, but Rhiannon knew perfectly well that her friend had nursed a terrible crush on Viktor Krum for most likely longer than she and Rhiannon had been friends, and so Rhiannon was most impressed with her friend’s maturity in defending him so quickly. It couldn’t be fun to learn that your feelings were unrequited, regardless of the reason for them – just as it was deeply miserable to think that there was something wrong with you, something causing pain to others around you. Perhaps they were good friends for eachother in that way, Rhiannon mused – Nina was perfectly positioned, and equipped with an unusually leveller head about such things than most teenagers, to reassure Viktor that her unrequited feelings were not his fault or his responsibility.

“You, Miss Ninya, are the very best friend,” Viktor replied, soundly distinctly choked up. “This Tournament is a terrible mess of a thing, but I am very glad it gave me the opportunity to meet you.”

“You deserve better friends, then,” Nina replied frankly. That set the rest of them off laughing, Viktor included, and before long their little circle of Champions was completed by the arrival of Fleur, escorted by none other than Esther Lilley. They made a striking pair, Fleur’s gown a shimmering honey-gold that matched her curious eyes while Esther’s was a deep violet, accented by gold beads at the end of each one of the myriad thin braids that kept her curly black hair under tight control.

“I thought you were straight,” Cedric greeted Esther with a raised eyebrow. “That’ll teach me to leave the thinking to those better qualified, I suppose. You look fantastic together.”

Esther grinned, her expression every bit as wry as Cedric’s. “In complete fairness, so did I,” she replied good-naturedly.

“Si- my da, did say that veela have a way of forcing people to acknowledge their own interests,” Rhiannon offered.

Fleur snorted. “Well if you humans were not so repressed,” she countered with a crooked grin and a wink to Rhiannon at the distinction of humans. “It is not as if my kind can make anyone feel anything they are not already feeling, contrary to popular opinion. There’s no forcing going on.”

Esther shrugged. “You’re not wrong,” she replied dryly. “But, in all fairness, I’d been questioning for some time – over the last couple of years Hogwarts has become a lot more accepting of queer students, but it wasn’t that way at all when I started. Until Fleur asked me to the dance, I don’t think I’d really even considered the option of going with a girl, I didn’t think it was allowed.”

Rhiannon grimaced. Dumbledore might not have forbidden same-gender dancing partners, but he certainly wouldn’t have been so welcoming, while now... well, she’d heard rumours that the Headmaster was attending the ball with Professor Sprout as her partner, it was hard to get more welcoming than that. “W-w-w-well, I’m – Cedric’s right, y’ do look nice together, I’m jus’ happy you’re safe t’ be happy too,” she stammered shyly. Esther was Head Girl and informally in charge of day to day student business in Hufflepuff House, Rhiannon admired her but rarely had cause to speak to her directly.

Esther cocked her head, suddenly quite serious. “You do realise you’re the one who made it safe, don’t you? I mean, I know there’s been queer students here as long as there’s been students, I think Ellery Lyons might’ve been my first crush... but you’re the Girl Who Lived, you’ve been everyone’s hero since the war ended. And you’re queer. I’m sure the nonmagical world isn’t perfect either, but the wizarding one... well, it’s pretty archaic, and you, you showed up and insisted it do better and people are actually listening to you.”

Rhiannon flushed and looked away, shuffling her feet in her embarrassment. Of course she was aware – she’d had the same thoughts herself. But it seemed a little self-absorbed to acknowledge that, or at least openly. “I’m just – just, glad I’m not the only one out. It kinda felt like it, at first,” she replied haltingly.

Thankfully Rhiannon was spared further embarrassment by the bright, clear tones of what sounded like a crystal bell ringing out across the hall. The musicians on the far side of the hall had been shuffling around and tuning their instruments, thankfully behind a silencing wall, but now they had fallen still. The bell must have been for the champions, to warn them that the dance was about to begin. They had rehearsed a quadrille, perfect for four champions and their partners, and Rhiannon smiled brightly at Hermione as the taller girl took her hand and all four couples arranged themselves into a diamond shape in the cleared floorspace.

Rhiannon didn’t consider herself much of a dancer most of the time, but she enjoyed this kind of dancing – it had rules and a structure to follow, she didn’t feel pressured to make things up, and she could relax into the rhythm of the dance.

Soon came the cue in the music that signalled the change of partners, and Rhiannon linked arms with Niniane for a moment before she was handed off to Viktor and Niniane joined Hermione. The strict pattern was working for Viktor too, every step rehearsed in advance so that his lack of sight was little problem. They exchanged brief conversation but the signal to change partners again came quickly and Rhiannon was back in front of Hermione. The dance carried on with a handful more partner changes, and then it was Hermione, Rhiannon, Viktor and Niniane’s turn to wait while Cedric, Sorcha, Fleur and Esther danced the same interchanging pattern.

After the champions’ display, the floor was opened up for the rest of the students and the champions decided to take a break. Four tables had been set aside from the larger rest area for their use, so they took advantage of the privacy that allowed to talk for a while.

“That must have ruffled some feathers,” Cedric commented wryly. “A partner-changing dance performed by the champions. Some might see that as a display of unity from us, when they want us to be rivals in this competition.”

Hermione grimaced. “They sold us this whole competition claiming it was for greater international unity between our schools, but they don’t seem to want that at all. The selection process alone causes rivalry, look what happened when Rhi got picked.” she grumbled.

Everyone made a face at that – the way the school had become so divided in the wake of the champion selections was a sore point for all of them. Then Cedric slapped his hands on his knees and stood, holding out his hand for Sorcha to take as the orchestral strains of a waltz started up behind them. “It’s bullshit for sure. But let’s forget that, just for tonight – it’s a dance, let’s enjoy ourselves for once,” he suggested.

Viktor and Niniane, along with Fleur and Esther, both joined Cedric and Sorcha on the dance floor, leaving Rhiannon and Hermione alone for the first time since arriving at the ball. “Do you-” Hermione began to ask, cut off as Rhiannon said roughly the same thing at the same time. They both laughed, Rhiannon’s olive skin flushing under the iridescent fairy-light while Hermione’s eyes crinkled up at the corners, and tried again.

“Do you want to-” Rhiannon began, just as Hermione spoke once again.

“Should we dance?” Hermione asked. Realising they’d done it again, both girls giggled until Hermione took Rhiannon’s hands and pulled the shorter girl to her feet. “Cedric’s right – let’s just be normal for once, forget all this and just dance,”

“Until my knees give out and we have to remember I’m a werewolf again,” Rhiannon retorted quietly, flexing her knee until it stopped clicking before she followed Hermione onto the dance floor. The waltz had finished by now and the orchestra struck up a quick reel that didn’t agree with Rhiannon’s joints at all, so they kept to the edge of the floor and delighted in just spending time together, regardless of how badly they were dancing.

Rhiannon noted other couples dancing together as they passed eachother on the floor – Dudley and Ginny looked incredible together, both wearing tuxedoes in complementing colours – Dudley’s was white with gold edges, Ginny’s black with green; Parvati and Matei looked giddily happy together, and Faye and Kellah seemed to be enjoying the ball together just as much platonically as any other romantic couples were. Everywhere she looked, her friends’ happy faces shone back at her.

“You with me, Rhi?” Hermione asked, disturbing Rhiannon from her reverie just as she noticed Minerva dancing with Professor Sprout – evidently the rumour had had some degree of truth to it.

“Y-y-yeah, just,” Rhiannon stammered lamely, overcome by a sudden wave of weariness as she realised she’d been on her feet for an hour or more.

“Tired, of course – I should’ve been paying better attention,” Hermione filled in quickly, and as the music faded to a close they slunk out of the ballroom. There were a handful of couples snogging in various nooks outside the Great Hall and through the Entrance Hall, so to get some peace and quiet they snuck outside to the courtyard and settled down on a bench that sat against the wall on the walkway that ran right around the courtyard, sheltered from the light snowfall by a roof while the centre of the courtyard was open to the sky. Sheltered or not it was still freezing outside at night in late December, but Hermione liked the cold for short periods of time and as a werewolf Rhiannon hardly felt it, so it was a good place to rest and regather their energy for the rest of the dance.

Rhiannon perched on Hermione’s lap so as to share her excess body heat with the comparatively much colder human, and for a while they were lost in kissing and touching and teasing eachother as teenagers do. It could have been hours or only a handful of moments, but eventually they were interrupted by the soft scuff of shoes on stone and an awkward cough as someone entered the courtyard.

Rhiannon was shocked back to reality, suddenly painfully aware of the stirring beneath her dress and she yelped as she scrabbled away, crossing her legs tightly as she sat back down on the side of the bench. “Uh – sorry, I’ll find somewhere else-” the newcomer stammered, clearly mortified by the interruption.

Rhiannon straightened her glasses and peered across the courtyard, eventually recognising none other than Luna, fair hair glowing as he was lit from behind by the torchlight of the hallway. He had re-sewn Nina’s maroon dress robes into an old-fashioned tuxedo, the lacing neatly removed and sewn onto the collar and cuffs of the black shirt he wore underneath. Paired with the black shirt and maroon jacket he wore a mid-length grey-violet skirt and tall heeled boots laced up the fronts, and a few violet stripes were dyed in his flaxen hair. Glowing as he was, lit by both fire and moonlight, Rhiannon thought for a reckless moment that he was one of the most beautiful people she had ever seen and immediately felt guilty at the thought.

Rhiannon was tired of feeling guilty, and tired of feeling torn. There were still two more Triwizard tasks, either of which could very well kill her, and she refused to spend whatever time she had left on this planet feeling twisted up inside for the sake of her own attraction. She knew others who had more than one partner. And while there was no guarantee either Hermione or Luna would agree to such an arrangement... she’d never know if she didn’t ask. And if either were the sort to reject her entirely for simply asking, she would never feel comfortable or safe in a relationship with them anyway.

“Hey, Luna – it’s alright, d’you – um, gimme a minute, but d-d-d-d-d’you want to join us after that? I just, I need t’ – talk to Hermione, for a sec’n’,” Rhiannon stammered.

Luna nodded silently and leaned against the wall of the courtyard a few metres away from Rhiannon and Hermione’s bench, allowing them just enough space for privacy.

“’mione, I, um – I know we just got t’gether, but I – um... part of why it took me so long to ask is, I had feelings for someone else. Have, feelings, p-p-p-p-p-present t-t-tense,” Rhiannon murmured, twisting her ring and looking down at her shoes anxiously as she tried to put words to the feelings she had tried for so long to untangle. “And it, it d-d-d-doesn’t mean I don’t like you, fully and completely, it’s like – like I feel that, for more than one person at once, an’ every time I see them I feel like I’m letting you and him down simultaneously.”

“And that person is Luna,” Hermione replied quietly. Her tone was even, giving nothing away – but that wasn’t unusual for Hermione and Rhiannon tried not to read into it too much as she nodded a wordless agreement.

Suddenly, Hermione laughed and Rhiannon froze, startled before she looked up and met her girlfriend’s eyes for a brief moment and found only genuine good humour in them. “Sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just – I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you the same thing!” she replied, mirthful tears welling up in her eyes and glinting in the moonlight. “I felt like I was a bad person or something, having feelings for Luna as well as you, but – well, other people date more than one person at once, don’t they? I mean, we know Angelina, Alicia and Katie but they can’t be the only ones.”

Rhiannon couldn’t help it, a laugh bubbled up in her throat and then she and Hermione both were cackling helplessly in the freezing cold while Luna looked on, evidently bewildered. “Er, sorry Luna,” Hermione apologised quickly and beckoned him over. “Do you wanna, or me?” she asked Rhiannon.

“’f’n’ I try, it’ll t-t-t-t-t-take all night,” Rhiannon stuttered and finished with a wry smile.

Luna fidgeted on the end of the bench. “Why do I feel like you’re planning some kind of prank? It feels like you’re planning a prank,” he grumbled, fiddling with his lapel in a vain attempt to hide his nerves.

“If you want pranks, ask Ginny, last I heard they were planning to dump frogspawn soap in the Prefects’ bath for New Year’s,” Hermione replied drily. “No, it’s just – damnit, I’m not sure how to put it. Uh. Bluntly it is. Bluntly, I like you, and Rhiannon does too. Which you probably know, ‘cos you’re not stupid and we’re not exactly subtle, it’s just...”

“I’m really, sorry – for not talking to you both to begin with!” Rhiannon burst out, wringing her hands at her sides. “I jus-s-s-s- I just, got all in my head about it, and I know we know other people like this but it took a bit to make the connection between them and my feelings and I’m sorry if I made you feel left out or snubbed at all.”

Luna blinked, sudden tears welling up iridescent behind the coloured lenses of their spectacles. “Thank-you for the apology. I did feel left out – but I’m used to that. I’m a wallflower. Even Neville... well, I know he didn’t mean it that way and I’m very happy that he’s happy now he’s finally asked Dean out, but, well... I feel like the second choice at best, most of the time, and I don’t know how to fit in with any of your friends except Neville so I’m just sort of, bouncing around on the outside.”

Rhiannon’s heart twisted in her chest. The worst thing was that she had known Luna felt that way, isolated and distant from others his own age. It had always been part of their friendship, and Rhiannon had always gone out of her way to make space for Luna at group events, always set aside time for just the two of them – until she had started dating Hermione. Luna had been a source of feelings that complicated her relationship with Hermione, and rather than address them, she had simply avoided that source – and that wasn’t fair. “I’m – I’m really sorry. I knew that and I still got in my head about things, and that must’ve hurt you. But I don’t want t’, keep, hurting you, or hiding from feelings just because they’re complicated... I’d, like to be with you. If that’s okay, if – if everyone’s okay with that,” she rambled.

Hermione nodded immediately, but Luna was a little more cautious, and he pursed his violet-painted lips anxiously. “I like you – I like you both, really, and I want t’ say yes, but – I don’t want to feel like a third wheel in my own relationship, like I’m the second choice again. Because to be clear, I like Hermione too, and hypothetically speaking I’m open to the possibility, I just – want to cover it instead of sitting with my feelings until I’m pushed out and we all end up hating eachother, because you did choose her first, and it feels a little like this is only coming up because she agreed to it – I don’t mean that to be jealous, exactly, I just... want you to choose me for my own sake,” Luna replied carefully.

Rhiannon mulled over her feelings, tapping her painted nails against eachother with a faint clacking sound. She couldn’t rely on Hermione to speak for her, she’d made this mess and she had to clear it up. “Y-y-y-y-u-yo-you’re right, I did. And that wasn’ all fair, to either of you. I buried my feelings instead ’f dealin’ with ‘em, and... and I don’t really have a way for explaining why I chose her over you without sounding terrible, which is why it took for ages because it felt terrible and wrong and – you were easy to overlook and that’s on me and I’m, I can’t – I can’t explain how sorry I am, I can only... show you that, if – if you’re okay with it. To be clear this isn’t, I dunno, adding you into my relationship with Hermione exactly, it’s, my own relationship with you equal to that one, and you with her if that’s what you want, and things can just... overlap, sort of. You were only a second choice ‘cos I was being an idiot and trying to take the easy way out not ‘cos you ever deserved that, and I don’t want to hurt you like that, ever again. Because I do want to be with you, for your own sake, you’re one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met.”

Luna cleared his throat, cutting off any further rambling, and Rhiannon felt ferns of ice begin to close over her heart before the faintest of smiles caught at the corner of Luna’s mouth. “You know, another person might slap you for saying some of those things,” he commented drily. “But I’m not going to get hung up on wording – I hear what you’re trying to say. And if you’re aware of where you, to be blunt, fucked up, and you’re consciously avoiding that moving forward, then... yes. I’d like to be with you, Rhiannon. And you, Hermione – perhaps in time, I don’t know.”

Hermione smiled a little awkwardly and shook her head, but the expression seemed to be more one of confusion than denial. “I’d like that. And I’m sorry, for being part of pushing you out like that – I’ve been that person before too and it hurts. I’m, new at all this, but... you’re easy to talk to and I’d like to see where it goes. I’m sorry for not forcing the issue sooner, I should’ve.”

Luna smiled so widely his glasses got pushed up over his eyebrows, and wiggled in his seat in a rare expression of genuine, irrepressible joy. “I feel like kissing you. Should we kiss? I’d like to. How do we do this with three people?” he rambled, fidgeting awkwardly on the end of the bench.

Hermione grinned mischievously and held a hand out, then pulled Luna out of his seat and into her lap. “I don’t know, but I think we have enough time to figure it out,” she whispered, and pulled Luna into a kiss. It was a strange feeling, watching one’s partner kiss somebody else, but it was not jealousy that stirred in Rhiannon’s belly. Still, Luna’s question had merit – how did one manage such an act with three people? But Hermione seemed to have an answer for that too, and reached out a hand to pull Rhiannon closer. When Luna pulled away for a moment Hermione turned her head and pulled Rhiannon into a kiss of their own, and then Rhiannon was kissing Luna, and back and forth it went until finally the two humans were too cold to stay outdoors any longer.

“Shall we go and give Rita Skeeter something to talk about?” Luna suggested, standing and straightening his collar, skirt and hair as he did so.

Rhiannon checked her appearance in her little pocket mirror, and fixed her hair and lipstick with a couple of spells. “I d-d-d-don’t see why not. I’m not gonna scurry around hiding this in the closet, there’s no room left in there with Nyx,” she quipped back, gesturing between the three of them to indicate that by this she meant their relationship.

But Professor, when will we ever need to know this? Rhiannon’s classmates had complained when they learned the double-partnered dance modifications. Traditionally they would have been used at dances with uneven sex ratios – far more men than women or vice versa – but here, the steps were of use to Rhiannon, Luna and Hermione so that they could all dance together, and though she could feel eyes leaving scorch trails across her skin as they re-entered the Great Hall, Rhiannon hardly cared, supported on either side by Luna and Hermione. Give them something to talk about indeed, she thought fiercely. What did it matter what Rita would inevitably write, so long as they were happy?