The Course of True Love

Hermione stood beneath the towering pillars of Hogwarts looking out over the courtyard that, only just months ago, had housed piles of rubble littered with the lifeless bodies of her friends and classmates. Mid-June, she had been sure she would never return, determined not to face the horrors of her past, no matter what. Unfortunately for Hermione, her obsessive nature would betray her, haunting her mind with the idea that if she didn't do this, she would never be respected. 

Students would be arriving soon. She could hear the faint whistle of the train as it neared Hogsmeade Station and sighed, jealous of the fresh new first years who would come upon the castle for the first time. They had their whole lives ahead of them, and would be able to live it fully–without fear. She ran her hand along the stone as she walked back inside to find McGonagall. She had requested the arrival of the 8th years to be a week earlier than the start of term in hopes of settling them into their new co-house dorm in the Room of Requirement. It had been a smart idea and Hermione suggested that the following year she should implement a new policy where 7th year students would merge houses in hopes of preparing them for the outside world where houses didn't matter.

But it does matter. It shouldn't. But it does. It's like a horrible university fraternity that you can't escape. Why should it matter if I was in Gryffindor or Slytherin, if I have the qualifications and am the best, it should matter not what colors adorned my robes.

Distracted by her thoughts, Hermione didn't notice the tall figure rounding the corner at precisely the same time as her, until their bodies collided, crashing them both to the floor. 

“Bloody hell, Granger! Watch where you're going!” A sharp familiar voice snapped.

“I'm so sorry! I–I was lost in thought!” she stuttered, scrambling to pick up her belongings. She reached for the splayed out book that was laying face down, crimping the pages, her fingers brushing against long alabaster ones that reached the book first. A spark surged through her at the touch and she swore she could make out the faint scent of new parchment; exactly as she had back in 6th year’s Amortentia. She jerked her hand back quickly and stood, her gaze rising. Her heart screeched to a halt as she came face to face with the figure of Draco Malfoy. Her mouth dropped open, little sputters of air escaping as she tried to form words unsuccessfully–all the vocabulary of her life escaping her. He looked down at the book, observing its cover. A smirk softly crossed his lips as he pulled out his wand, casting a charm to mend the pages before offering the book with an outstretched arm. Her eyes locked on it for a moment, her heart thundering in her chest as she tried to find the strength to reach out. 

“Granger?” He asked, softly.

Run. 

He stepped towards her, the book still outstretched between them. Another step. Her head began to spin, her body screaming that danger was near. 

“Granger?” He called out, more forcefully this time, startling her.

Run!

She turned quickly on her heel and burst through the door, ignoring shouts of her name from behind her. Her feet carried her as fast as they could through the corridors of the castle, her steps echoing loudly off the wall. He was following her, she was sure of it. She tried to think of where to hide, where she could go that was safe. 

Gryffindor Tower? No. Don't know the password. Library? No. That's the first place he would look. 

Up and up and up she ran, her legs carrying her to the only place that felt safe.

“Sugar Quills!” she called, taking the stairs to the Headmaster’s–Headmistress’s in this case–office. Her heart pounded in her chest as panic began to overtake her senses. She hasn't felt an attack this bad in weeks, not since the trials had ended. Even when she had seen Malfoy at orientation to introduce the 8th years to their new dorm, she had been fine. What was wrong now? Hermione pounded on the door, not allowing the matron time to open the door before tearing it open herself and locking them both inside.

“Hermione!” McGonagall shouted, rushing to her side. “My dear, are you alright?”

She shook her head vigorously, still unable to form words. “Come. Sit down. I'll get you some water.” The headmistress said, gently taking hold of her shoulders and guiding her towards a chair. Tears were forming in her eyes, out of anger, sadness or embarrassment, Hermione didn't know. She took the offered glass of water and took a shaky sip. McGonagall sat across from her and calmly waited as the minutes passed before she could calm herself enough to speak.

“I'm sorry, Headmistress. I didn't mean to barge in.” she finally said, hanging her head.

“Hermione, please don't apologize, we both know that trauma is not something that we can overcome in a few weeks. And, please, call me Minerva when we're not on school time, we've been through too much for you to be so formal with me.”

“I don't even understand what happened. Or why.” She took another sip of water, her hands more steady. “ I mean, I'd seen Malfoy many times before today. I don't understand why this one triggered such an extreme physical reaction.”

"Well, why don't you tell me what happened? Maybe a pair of unbias eyes can see it.”

Hermione relayed the story of bumping into Malfoy and his oddly civil behavior. Unable to meet her eye, Hermione swept her gaze around the room, taking in the sight of all the sleeping former Headmaster's, including the swallow skinned former Potions Master whom Hermione had severely misjudged. 

“Well, Hermione, if I had to guess which part of the interaction triggered your upset, I would put my galleons on the physical contact you shared when you went to retrieve your book.” she stated rather matter-of-factly. 

Hermione scrunched her face up, almost instinctively, in disgust. For what reason, she didn't know. In her heart she forgave him long ago–understanding too well what if meant to do anything for one's parents' safety. “I've had tons of physical contact since the war, none of them ever caused me to have an attack.”

“Hermione… Oh, nevermind dear. I'm just an old crow, what do I know?” she played off, laughing, clearly hiding something. 

Sighing, she stood, Minerva doing the same. “I’m sorry. We should go. The other students should be here any moment.”

She nodded, gesturing towards the door. “Let's not keep them waiting then.” 

The Great Hall had undergone some of the most extensive renovating compared to most of the castle. The final fight between Harry and Voldemort had leveled the room, reducing it to rubble. The restored Hall looked nearly identical, barring one major glaring difference. The four house tables were gone and in their place were dozens of smaller ones scattered throughout the room. It was Minerva's first policy change in favor of house unity, hoping it would encourage a more positive mingling.

“Hermione!” Harry called from a table on the left near the fireplace. He waved his hand vigorously, a childish grin spreading across his features. 

She returned his smile, crossing the room to sit beside him. He stood abruptly, wrapping her up in a hug which she appreciated fully. Ever since the battle had ended, Harry had been so open and affectionate with everyone he cared for. He didn't shy away from expressing any feelings that he had and Hermione respected that–envied it really. He seemed to have blossomed from his trauma where she seemed to have withered. She suspected he knew that.

“Where have you been?” Ron asked curiously, his eyes raking up and down her person.

She dropped her belongings on the table and took her place between the two boys like she always did. 

“I was with McGonagall.” She answered before turning her attention to Harry. “I had another episode in the corridor.” She added as a whisper to Harry.

He turned to look at her, concern flooding his face. She waved her hand, silently informing him that she was alright. He studied her face a moment, clearly looking for any sign she might be lying. 

“Good Evening students!” Minerva called from the podium, pulling their attention. “I want to express how delighted I am to see all the familiar faces that chose to return to school this year. I know it must be draining to come back here after all you've been through and I want you all to know how proud I am of each and every one of you.” She paused, and Hermione could swear she saw a tear drop from her former professor's eye. “To all new students–welcome. Today is the start of a new chapter in your lives. Whether your parents were magical or muggle, rich or poor, an only child or one of twenty, from now on your house will be like your family. That being said, any animosity towards another house will not be tolerated. Your house may be your family but this school is your community and we must all work together to grow and flourish. Now, when I call your name, please step forth and I shall place the Sorting Hat atop your head.”

“Do you think the sorting will be different than before?” Harry asked as the first name was called.

“How do you mean?” 

“I mean, do you think the hat might be a little–”

“Hufflepuff!” The hat shouted, forcing out a frightened squeak from the poor girl.

“Nevermind.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “The hat is just fine, Harry. It's a hat, a charmed hat, but still a hat all the same.”

“It… feels things, Hermione. It gets offended.” he argued, craning his neck to see a small, copper headed, freckle faced boy take his seat.

“Of course it gets offended mate.” Ron chimed, “It was created by the founders of Hogwarts and their big egos.”

“Gryffindor!” 

“Oh come on, aren't there enough gingers in Gryffindor already!” a 4th year boy, Hermione couldn't remember the name of, shouted from behind them.

“Oh shut your mouth Thomas, you're just mad because you got turned down by my sister!” 

Hermione smacked his shoulder, shushing him. Harry turned away from her, shaking, clearly hiding his laughter. She shrugged her shoulders and sighed.

Boys. They'll never grow up.

Her eyes scanned the room, taking in all her fellow students. She noticed the younger years kept close to their houses while the eldest students were quite blended–due to the war–she assumed, knowing that in times of crisis, what color your house was did not matter.

Her own table consisted of three Gryffindors, two Ravenclaws and a Hufflepuff. The table behind her had one Gryffindor, two Slytherins, a Ravenclaw and two Hufflepuffs. Her eyes flicked to another table, where a head of platinum hair caught her attention. Her cheeks flushed pink again thinking about their last encounter. 

Their eyes met for a moment, her heart taking off at a run in her chest. His gaze squinted ever so slightly, looking her over curiously. She wanted to look away–need to–but every muscle in her body held its ground. There was a light touch against her mind, an almost friendly graze that made gooseflesh erupt across her body. 

Is he…. is Malfoy…

“Slytherin!” The hat shouted, breaking the trance. 

Hermione sucked in a gulp of air, realizing she had been holding her breath. She stood, suddenly feeling as if the room was collapsing in on her. Harry looked up at her, his brow furrowing.

“Hermione, you okay?” He asked, worriedly, reaching for her arm. 

Hermione pulled back instinctively, smiling as she tried to play off her rising panic.”Yes!” She nearly shouted, “I just need some air.”

“I'll come with you.” Ron offered, moving to stand.

“No! Stay, finish watching the sorting. I'll be back before dinner is served.” She forced a smile, hoping to cover up the blatant lie. Ron slowly sat back in his chair, and Hermione felt her pulse relax a beat. 

Once she was sure the boys wouldn't follow her she turned to leave, holding her head up high. Through the doors and out into the courtyard, desperately seeking a safe haven. Somewhere untouched by the war. She had to, classes hadn't even begun and she wanted nothing more than to cut and run. She violently raked her fingers through her hair, feeling suffocated by the strands. Her breaths came quickly and she knew if she couldn't find relief soon, she would faint.

“Granger.” that maddening voice said, causing her to startle, letting out a shout. “Wait!” He added, noting her body shift as if she would run. “Please. I can help you.” 

He held his hands up in front of him, like a white flag of surrender. Hermione eyed him cautiously as he stepped towards her. Her heart still pounded in her chest, but her feet remained firmly planted to the cobblestone beneath her. Once he was in arms reach, he stopped, and allowed her a moment to accept his presence.

“How?” She finally asked, her trembling voice barely above a whisper.

“Not here.” He answered, offering his hand. When she didn't immediately take it, his shoulders dropped. “I'm not going to hurt you, Granger.” 

Another minute ticked by, neither moving a muscle. The sounds of cheers as the food was delivered to the tables could be heard gently echoing through the corridors. Draco turned his head towards the source, knowing time was ticking by. Soon, hundreds of students would be heading towards their dorms. 

Her small warm hand grasped ahold of his snapping his gaze back to hers. All the air lept from her lungs at the suddenness. She expected a cold stare, but found hidden warmth around the eyes that she hadn't noticed before in her panic. He pulled her along the corridor at a decent pace, moving her through parts of the castle she had either never been to or possibly didn't recognize due to the rebuild. 

“Malfoy…”she tried, breathlessly. “My… legs… are… short.”

He came to an abrupt halt and she collapsed against the wall. It was clear to her that she had become lazy since the end of the war. She couldn't remember the last time she was this out of shape.

“Sorry.” He offered, dropping down onto the floor beside her.

She took a moment to catch her breath, trying to decipher her surroundings and figure out what part of the castle this was. The corridor seemed to end randomly with this alcove they were in, like it used to have a door or some stairs but didn't any longer. 

“Where are we?” She finally asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

“The old back entrance of the Astronomy Tower. They sealed it off after… well, after that night. You likely would have never been down this way before. No need to.”

She nodded her head, knowing she wouldn't find the right words to say. What could you say to someone who had been forced to do something so horrible? She offered him a glance, a look she hoped would convey the sorrow that she did feel for his troubled life. The panic attack earlier probably didn't scream pity, but she had testified strongly on his behalf during the Death Eater trials over the summer.

“Can you tell me now?” She asked, lolling her head back against the stone. She felt silly–she usually did after one of her episodes. She’d always tell herself, ‘nobody else is having meltdowns in public’. It was true, her attacks seemed to come on most often in a crowd of people, if you don't count her nightmares.

“I can't guarantee anything.” Her stomach dropped, the disappointment she was expecting bubbling to the surface. “I've only done this with people who fully trust me.”

“I trust you.” 

Why did I say that?

It had burst forth from her without hesitation–without thought. She froze, afraid to move, afraid to pass from this moment and into the next that existed around this bizarrely admitted truth. There was also the fear of what Malfoy might do. She had seen first hand what self-proclaimed-men think they can do when they learn that they are trusted in your eyes. She held her breath as she waited for his response. When none came she turned her head to look at him. Their eyes met and she felt that presence tapping at her mind again. 

It was him I felt earlier.

“Eyes on me, Granger.” He whispered in her mind when her focus began to shift.

She inhaled deeply, trying to concentrate. The scent of his cologne filled her nose, sandalwood she noted, and a hint of something fruity. It was divine.

Gods he smells good. 

A smirk played on his lips and chill ran down her spine. Had he heard her thoughts? 

Oh, fuck! He can hear my thoughts!

He burst into laughter, their eye contact breaking. He fell back onto the floor and held his stomach as wave after wave of amusement rolled through him. Hermione sat perplexed at the sight. Had she ever seen Draco Malfoy smile? She wanted to be angry at him for laughing at her, maybe even yell at him, but instead a chuckle escaped and she found herself laughing and enjoying the company of one Draco sodding Malfoy. 

The sounds of students could be heard making their way to their dorms. Their little bubble of happiness suddenly burst, leaving a strange calm acceptance behind. They stood simultaneously, gathering their belongings. 

“Let me know if the barriers help. I can adjust them if need be.”

She hadn't even realized he'd done anything. She placed her hands against her chest, guarding herself instinctively. Out of habit really. 

“Thank you.” She said, unable to voice any other remark. 

Just as he was about to leave, he paused, retrieving something from his bag and handing it to her. “Will you please take it this time?” He asked. “While I do enjoy a good round of Shakespeare, I don't fancy myself a Midsummer kind of guy.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You read Shakespeare?” 

He rolled his eyes and stepped towards her. “When I don't find him sentimental and dull.” 

Her skin tingled with fire, and fury filled her veins at the disrespect to one of the world's greatest writers. “Sentimental and dull?!” She shouted. “Sentimental? And Dull?”

“That is what I said Granger.” He stated simply, as if she had no reason to be upset.

“For your information, Malfoy, Shakespeare is one of the most highly regarded writers in the Muggle world, and as someone who was not graced with the unique experience of growing up out there, I must argue against your statement!” He was smiling, which fueled her fire. “The works of Shakespeare has been beloved for centuries, thousands of writers owe their entire careers to him and his works. He set the bar in terms of romance, something I know for a fact you could never seem to understand!”

Somehow he had backed her against the wall. His towering frame loomed over her in what should be a threatening presence, however, all Hermione felt was power. His eye twinkled mischievously as he leaned down, his mouth brushing against her ear. 

“The course of true love never did run smooth.” 

She sucked in a breath and her eyes pinched shut. His scent enveloped her nose again, fogging her mind. 

He probably just saw that in the book earlier. Doesn't mean he's read it. Gods why does he have to smell so good!

She pried her eyes open and found herself standing alone. Sheepishly, she grabbed her things and made her way up to her dorm. Her mind was reeling with the chaotic events of the day. She needed a bath, she needed a drink, and she needed Ginny. Hopefully one of the three would make her forget the tantalizing encounter in the corridor.

Not bloody likely.