Get Away

1. Chapter 1

Her anger was eating her alive. She had the ability to remain collected under most circumstances, that’s what is been keeping her -and both her friends- alive since ,at least, third year. After her outburst with that awful troll and being petrified for a good part of second year, she had to. It was an ability Hermione knew would be essential since Harry’s first encounter with the Dark Lord, then, on third year, after that mess whit Sirius (and the almost-tragedy with Buckbeak) Hermione realized it would be a trait that would inevitably fall on her shoulders. She had accepted it, and she would be lying if she said it didn’t come quite easily -naturally, even- to her. Even if that meant she was not the fun friend anymore. Even if she was not the one with the heroic anecdotes lingering behind her back. It was okay, because it was necessary for her way too impulsive friends to have some grounding. It was very necessary that someone could keep their sense.

Now, that meant that after they fled the Death Eaters on Bill’s wedding, after they spent the night on Grimmauld Place, even after Harry and Ron left to hunt Horrocruxes, Hermione stayed behind. It was out of that necessity that she decided to put the excitement to the side and go back to the Order, explain that the boys were on a mission that would be of extraordinary importance to the cause (details ignored) but she would not be joining them. She was sent to Hogwarts, where she would be needed the most. Because, in everybody’s eyes apparently, she was far more helpful in theory than in practice. Of course. What a joke. Still, she could see the logic in it, so it was alright.

This circumstances, although slightly infuriating, did not disturb her hard-grown patience. But then, she was presented with something that she really didn’t know how to respond to calmly: Sitting in front of her was Headmistress McGonagall, sitting next to her was Draco Death Eater Bully Blood Elitist Almost-Murderer Malfoy.

The ride on the Hogwarts Express was shit and dinner and sorting was dreadful and took way too long. She was not surprised when Minerva called her to her office, but when she saw that blonde-platinum head she knew there wasn’t much she could do to remain serene, so she sat and waited to hear what would send her over the edge. McGonagall seemed to sense the fragility of the situation, because she waited until Hermione took some deep breaths before speaking.

“I hope Hogwarts finds you well, Miss Granger”

“What is he doing here?” Hermione looked directly at Malfoy when she said it, the bastard didn’t even flinch.

“That’s the reason I called you. You see, after what happened last year, the Dark Lord has decided to put a price on mister Malfoy’s head, but unfortunately his hiding place is no longer safe. Snape-“

“Snape.” Hermione’s words were as cold as the anger that filled her veins since she got on that sodding train, “Snape wants to hide him here, and you agree.”

“Yes. I know it is hard but it’s necessary. Albus trusted Snape, and I trust Albus. He told me his judgment was not blinded when it came to Severus, and, when a war rises, there are many things people have to do-“

“Yes, in wars there are many things people have to do, most of them things they don’t want to do, I know that.” She was incredulous. Her tone was even, but it had become harsh, the anger that had been hiding and growing for the past weeks was hissing in her ears. “But Snape killed Dumbledore, and Draco Malfoy would have done it if he wasn’t a coward.”

He did flinch to that. “Shut up Mudblood”.

That made her icy ire boil in an instant.

“So what?!” Hermione raised her voice a little, even though it wasn’t even close to a scream she realized she hadn’t really exploded in what seemed like ages. “Am I expected to serve as babysitter to him?!” Hermione tried to see through her anger, she did not want to loose it in front of Minerva, and certainly not in front of Malfoy. She looked away from the Headmistress, to her left, where she found the Sorting Hat lazily lying on the top shelf of the library. Breath. Breath. Breath. Now it’s NOT the time to loose composure.

“I know it’s too much to ask, but you are the only one in this castle I trust enough to give this task. I can’t really keep an eye on him since when I’m not on duty as Headmistress, I’m out on duty with the Order, and the other professors are not part of the Inner Circle of the Order, so I cannot ask them. You must do this-“

“I’ll do it. But do not try to sugarcoat this ‘task’, or any other. If it’s not a grand and important mission, do not speak of it like it”.

Everyone remained silent. Hermione knew McGonagall was trying to come up with an explanation on why it was so honoring to take care of the ferret, and she knew she wouldn’t find it. So she got up.

“I’ll be unpacking on my room, were I suppose he’s going to stay in. I’ll assume you already told the elves to put an extra bed, so I shall revise the wards I also be assuming you already put up”. Hermione didn’t try to hide the offense in her voice. The next bit he directed to a very thoughtful looking Malfoy. “I’ll see you, I guess”.

She left.

On her way up to Gryffindor Tower she contemplated how she might have been rude, also how she probably should’ve stayed to listen to McGonagall’s instructions. The truth was, she didn’t think she could go through that without breaking something. It was humiliating enough that Malfoy knew her bigger contribution to the Order of the Fenix would be to take care of him.

Back in her room, she sat on her bed and stared at the floor. The truth was that she was not remotely as mad at Malfoy as she thought she was, sure he was an asshole but, if she was honest, she felt nothing but maybe a bit of pity towards him. Her hole life she believed that he was an awfully misguided kid, and every time he did something mean it had felt so performative she doubted it even meant anything more than an effort to live up to his family’s history to him. She had not forgiven him, since he never apologized, but she’d been willing to. Even his attempt at Death Eater failed to impress her, and she did think for some time that he would of accepted Dumbledore’s offer of refuge, she thought this situation was not far from that one maybe. But, she would direct the anger that she had been cultivating towards him. She couldn’t put it on anything -or anyone else, it was not the time for it to rise to its true instigator, so Malfoy would have to do.

She was upset at the fact that the boys left her behind so easily. More upset she was at the fact that everyone agreed that was the best decision. Of course it was. Hermione always knew the boys were friends with each other first, and friends with her second. But she also always knew that they needed her, except now they didn’t. So she was left behind and sent to the one place she never thought she would resent, where people would pretend she was on an important task, when in reality it was just a silly research on something there was almost no information on, and she suspected a school library -even one as vast as the one in Hogwarts- would not be home of it. Even though she was the one to suggest that, she had hoped they didn’t discarded her so easily, and a part of her was screaming that they were glad they got rid of her.

Hermione got up and started unpacking her things the muggle way, if only to have something to do. All seventh year students were given their own chambers, except her, since the bed on the other side of the room confirmed she would be hosting for the ferret. She supposed that the fact that Malfoy was not even near being the person she hated most, or that he wasn’t the one to awake a resentment that sometimes brought her to tears, didn’t mean he wouldn’t be insufferable. So she could get away with using him as a sort of punching bag, if only verbally.

However, as he strode into the room and looked around, he didn’t seem too prone to do -or say- something insufferable.

“Will this be my bed?”. Hermione nodded. She waited as he inspected it, already ready to hear some snarky remark about the red and gold curtains and sheets, or the nearness to her own bed. Instead, he only mumbled an awkward “Okay” and proceeded to sit.

Surly his diplomatic approach would not last much.