Chapter 5
Hermione
Hermione awoke on Saturday with a pounding head and a vague feeling of embarrassment, although she couldn’t remember why. She had joined her friends for a few rounds of Truth or Drink last night, something she rarely did. She didn’t regret that part though, although she wished she hadn’t had so much to drink. Hermione had surprised herself by actually enjoying the game, and she’d felt something loosen in her as she laughed and chatted with her friends, some of whom she hadn’t seen in quite a few months.
She couldn’t remember saying or doing anything particularly embarrassing, so she was about to chalk it up to hangover-induced anxiety until she remembered her notebook and froze. Hermione had been uncharacteristically flirtatious with her pen pal last night. And not only had she figured out that he was a boy, but that he was also a Slytherin. Shit. She wasn’t sure what had caused her to be so bold, and she really wasn’t sure what she had gotten herself into. However, the more Hermione pondered it as she lay in bed nursing her hangover, the more she realized she actually didn’t regret their conversation last night. If anything, she felt a strange excitement at the shift in their relationship– if it could even be called that. She found herself looking forward to the prompt for today and the playful, flirtatious banter that might ensue as a result.
After finally rousing herself from bed, relishing in her ability to take her time, Hermione dressed for the day. She always took advantage of the fact that she didn’t need to wear her uniform on weekends, often dressing in her favourite Muggle clothing. She pulled on her favourite denims and a chocolate brown cardigan. After lacing up her trainers, she headed to the loo to begin her skincare routine. With a fresh face, Hermione donned her small gold hoops and pulled her hair into a plait at the back of her head, although knowing her untamable curls would slowly make their way out of it as the day wore on. She grabbed her notebook and a Muggle pen on her way down to breakfast after glancing at the clock and realizing Harry and Ron were more than likely still sleeping.
Pouring herself a cup of coffee (which she’d always preferred to tea) and grabbing a pastry and half a grapefruit, Hermione found a seat at the Gryffindor table. There were a few students scattered about, but at 8:30 in the morning most students were still sleeping. Hermione never minded eating alone anymore, in fact, she enjoyed the solitude. Opening up her notebook, she flushed as she read Mystery’s response to her flirtatious goodnight.
I am certainly interested in the fact that you happen to be a girl. Thanks for keeping an open mind to me. I’m feeling quite lucky that I still have the chance to get to know you, despite my serpentine nature; even a Slytherin knows the value of meaningful connections. Looking forward to talking tomorrow as well, more than you know.
Goodnight, Wildcard– enjoy your evening.
Hermione nearly swooned. What was wrong with her? She’d never been one to fall for pretty words, especially not from the mouth of a Slytherin. But there was something special about this Mystery man. There was no way it could be Malfoy, right? She felt slightly sick at the idea of engaging in flirty back-and-forth with him. Hermione wouldn’t say she knew him particularly well, but she felt she knew him enough to discern his mannerisms and personality, even if only through writing. Besides, there was no way Malfoy would describe himself as “inquisitive,” and although she knew he got fairly good marks, she was sure he didn’t love school as much as she did. Malfoy certainly would never be described as self-deprecating; the man had an ego twice the size of him. No, she was sure it wasn’t Malfoy.
Ruling him out only left a handful of options. There was Blaise Zabini, whom she didn’t know at all but seemed a bit too… vapid to pour his heart out to an anonymous pen pal the way Mystery had. Zabini probably spent more time preening in the mirror than Hermione did, for Merlin’s sake. There was Gregory Goyle, but everyone knew he was dumb as rocks– there was no way it was him. That left three boys: Finley Shaw (who Hermione knew for a fact was dating Tracey Davis which made him extremely unlikely), Theo Nott, and Cameron Huxley. She pondered the last two. Huxley was more of a jock-type, Hermione knew. He had played as Slytherin’s Beater for the last few years, and she hadn’t ever had a conversation with him. Hermione supposed it was possible for him to be brilliant underneath all that muscle, but she would be surprised. He was certainly handsome, and she really didn’t know much about him. Him and Finley were more of a duo, and he didn’t seem to hang around with Malfoy and his posse. Huxley wouldn’t be the worst of the lot, she decided.
However, she paused when she thought of Nott. Hermione had been secretly competing with Theo for years now, as they were always neck-and-neck with their marks. He took nearly as many N.E.W.T. level classes as she did, and she saw plenty of him in the library. Nott was definitely clever and studious. She tried to remember anything else she knew of him, and remembered that his father was Theodore Nott Sr., one of Voldemort’s most loyal followers. Nott Sr. had been one of the Death Eaters to attack them that night at the Ministry during Fifth year. Hermione remembered with a jolt that she had cast a stunner at Nott Sr. and watched him fall to the ground before they escaped. She thought of Mystery’s insinuation that his childhood had been hard, and she wondered what his relationship with his father was like. If Theo shared his beliefs or not. Nott was certainly very quiet and reserved, and she wouldn’t necessarily be surprised to learn he didn’t have a great deal of self-confidence.
She didn’t understand why exactly he would doubt himself– he was clearly quite intelligent and ambitious, and to be perfectly honest, Hermione found him extremely attractive. She knew Malfoy and Nott were close– when Nott wasn’t in the library by himself, he and Malfoy were attached at the hip. However, it was true that Nott had never participated in any of the taunting or general nastiness that his friends had engaged in for their first six years of school. He did seem to have quite a bit in common with her Mystery friend, but she didn’t want to jump to conclusions just yet.
After mulling this over for a few minutes, Hermione turned the page to find today’s prompt, and found it to be quite fortuitous.
What is something your friends might not know about you?
Good morning, Mystery.
How are you today? I hope I didn’t scare you off last night.
This question certainly calls for some self-reflection, yeah? What a way to start the weekend. I think my friends might be surprised to learn how insecure I can be at times. I get a lot of (mainly friendly) grief from them about being swotty and a know-it-all, so I don’t think it would ever occur to them that I often am very afraid of mucking things up or failing. I think that’s part of why I push myself so hard and the reason I sometimes tend to overextend myself. I think I have always been terrified of being ordinary. I’ve never been particularly pretty or funny (and I’m not fishing for compliments, I swear, it’s just genuinely how I feel) so I suppose I’ve always tried to compensate for that by being brilliant and/or excelling in school. It can be exhausting though, I won’t lie.
I’m quite curious to hear what your friends may not know about you.
Hermione sipped her coffee as she awaited a response. Just like she had the previous morning, she wondered curiously if Mystery was in this room right now. Her gaze flitted over the Slytherin table, but she quickly noticed that only a handful of younger students were there along with Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass. Perhaps Mystery wasn’t a morning person. Just as the thought occurred to her, her notebook began to glow as she watched his response appear.
Good morning, Wildcard.
You most definitely did not scare me off last night. I was actually feeling a bit anxious that you’d regret our conversation and not want to talk to me this morning. It made me really happy to see you had written me already. How’s your Saturday going so far? You’re up rather early, although I suppose I’m one to talk. I’ve been up since 7, unfortunately, a habit I can’t seem to break.
Ah, the fear of failure! I know that one fairly well, too. Not that you’re asking for my advice, but I do think we are our own harshest critics, and everyone deserves to rest sometimes. I know how challenging that can be, though. I hope you aren’t too hard on yourself– although it sounds like you are. I have a hunch that you are as humble as you are brilliant, funny, and beautiful. I have a sense for these things, you see.
Something my friends may not know about me is that I quite frankly have never cared a thing about blood-status. They certainly have picked up on the fact that I’ve never felt passionately about it and we’ve gotten into plenty of heated debates, but I still don’t think they truly know how I feel. I really hope this doesn’t put you off, but I was raised to believe Muggles and Muggle-borns were inferior. Even when I was small, though, I didn’t think the argument had any merit. One of the many reasons my father and I have never gotten on. I’ve always been really interested in Muggle culture– Muggle Studies was actually one of my favourite courses. I know this is a touchy subject for many, especially after everything that happened, but I think it’s important for people like me to be more accepting and open to change.
Hermione was shocked. A Slytherin openly proclaiming that he’s never cared about blood status? It challenged every notion she had about their type– were there others who secretly shared Mystery’s sentiment? She doubted it, but it was certainly possible. She tried to put herself in Mystery’s shoes for a moment– imagining what it would be like to be force-fed lies about Muggles and their inferiority from the time she was an infant. She shuddered at the thought. It was indoctrination, she thought, and presumably many pure-blood families were guilty of it. But Mystery clearly had some kind of moral compass that told him it was wrong to believe these things, even as a child. She was so busy contemplating this that she almost missed the compliments he’d bestowed on her, and she felt the blush creeping onto her face as she re-read it.
So you’re a morning person as well! None of my other friends are, so it’s nice to finally have someone in my life who is. You are very sweet, albeit misguided– you don’t even know what I look like! I could resemble a troll and here you are, calling me beautiful. I will admit, you got me to blush, though.
I will also admit that I was caught off-guard by your confession about blood-status. I think that may fall into the category of my preconceived notions about Slytherins, although I’m glad you’re proving me wrong. And as I said last night, I knew you’d keep surprising me. I think it speaks a lot to the content of your character that despite being taught to dislike Muggles, you were able to form your own opinions. Many people don’t have the inner strength to do that; you should be proud of yourself. You’re quite the , Mystery, and you certainly have me curious.
Hermione closed her notebook and headed upstairs to meet up with Harry and Ron. Since they were in year Eight, they were able to go to Hogsmeade the first weekend of the school year, and they had planned to head over to the Three Broomsticks for a couple hours. She found the two of them in the common room, Harry writing a letter to Andromeda and Ron splayed out on the couch.
“Morning, you two!” she said as she sat down beside them.
Ron looked slightly disgruntled. “You’re far too peppy for the morning after drinking, wouldn’t you say?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Unlike some people, I know when to stop drinking. And besides, I’m allowed to be in a good mood!”
“Sure you are, ‘Mione. Just ignore him,” Harry shot Ron a look. “It’s nice to see you so happy.”
Hermione almost blushed. She was in a particularly good mood, and she was sure it had much to do with her Mystery friend. However, she wasn’t about to share that with her best friends. She wasn’t sure how they would react to learning she was crushing on a Slytherin– a fact which she had just admitted to herself as she left breakfast. Knowing Ron, he would probably interrogate every male Slytherin until he found out which one was Mystery, and who knows what he would do once he found out. He tended to be a bit overprotective when it came to Hermione. Harry would likely be suspicious, and rightly so, but she didn’t feel like being talked out of these feelings.
She smiled at Harry. “Thanks. It’s nice to be happy again, too. So, shall we?”
Ron grumbled as he pulled himself off the sofa and the trio began the walk to Hogsmeade. Strolling next to her best friends, Hermione was struck by how strange it felt to be enjoying a carefree walk to their favorite pub, the excitement of a new school year palpable in the air. If someone had told her a year ago that she’d be doing this, she wouldn’t have believed it. She smiled as she bumped shoulders with Harry and Ron, looking forward to a day of chatting with her friends over some warm butterbeers.
The Three Broomsticks wasn’t as busy as usual since only the upperclassmen were able to come into town this weekend. They found their favorite table and Harry headed to the bar to order some drinks. Hermione had opted for some mulled Mead today, and she breathed in the comforting aroma as inhaled. They split a large plate of chips, licking the salt off their fingers as they chatted about this and that, Hermione pressing the boys about their first week of classes.
Harry sighed. “My classes are fine, mostly, I’m just not sure how I’ll manage to stay awake during History of Magic.”
Ron nodded in agreement. “Honestly, it’s a wonder Binns doesn’t put himself to sleep with that mindless droning on. I can’t believe we’re stuck taking it with a bunch of sixth years.”
Hermione shook her head. “Oh stop it. Binns might be a bit…dry, but he’s not the worst professor we’ve ever had. Besides, you wouldn’t have to retake the class in the first place it if you’d actually taken it seriously during your sixth year,” she pointed out.
Ron and Harry shared a look. “Whatever you say, Hermione. All I know is if I hear one more lecture on Goblin Rebellions, I’ll start staging my own rebellion—against Binns, preferably."
Hermione and Harry both chuckled at that. “How’s the pen pal thing going for you two, by the way? Mine is going surprisingly well,” Harry said.
“Well that makes one of us. I’m fairly certain my pen pal is a Ravenclaw– all they do is try to one-up me and show off how clever they are. I swear, every entry is like a bloody encyclopedia of random rubbish,” Ron grumbled.
“Perhaps you could learn something from them,” Hermione said teasingly. “What’s going so well about yours, Harry?”
“I dunno. I still can’t tell if it’s a girl or a bloke, but we’re getting on quite well. We seem to have some things in common. Seems like someone I wouldn’t mind being friends with,” Harry shrugged as he wiped off a butterbeer moustache.
“That’s great, Harry!” Hermione exclaimed. “That’s the whole point of the whole program, right? Forming connections we normally wouldn’t have gotten the chance to. I’m happy for you. Anyways, were both of you planning on trying out for the Quidditch team this year?”
Ron narrowed his eyes. “Nice try, ‘Mione, but since when have you been interested in Quidditch? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding telling us about your pen pal.”
Harry eyed her curiously. “That’s true, actually. You can’t deny that you spend an awful lot of time writing them. And yes, I've noticed it. Something you’d like to share?”
Hermione felt her face heat. “No! Er, I don’t have much to share. Things are going well for me too,” she said quickly, hoping they’d drop it. No such luck, she thought as her friends looked her with scrutiny.
“If it wasn’t obvious before, we can certainly tell you’re hiding something now. You’re a terrible liar, you know,” Ron said.
Hermione sighed. She supposed she couldn't keep this secret from her friends for long. She should've realized they knew her too well not to pick up on something like this. “Fine. If you must know, my pen pal and I are getting on very well. He’s actually a–”
“He? How do you know he’s a bloke?” Harry asked, eyebrows raised.
“Because I asked him,” she said quickly before continuing. “As I was saying, he’s actually a Slytherin.”
“Oh bloody hell, Hermione. Don’t tell me you’re starting to fancy a Slytherin,” Ron looked at her sternly.
Hermione blushed again. Why does that keep happening? She asked herself in frustration. “Look, I’m not asking for your approval. He’s not what I expected. He’s kind, clever, and thoughtful. He loves books just as much as I do. And he doesn’t agree with most of his classmates when it comes to blood politics.”
Harry looked genuinely interested. “He told you that?”
She nodded. “He did. He said he’d been taught that Muggles were inferior, but he never bought into it, even as a child. I’m telling you, he’s not like most of the other Slytherins we know.”
“That’s all well and good, but how can you be sure he’s not just saying that to get in your pa–” Ron started before Harry shot him a seething look. “...good graces?” Ron finished lamely.
Hermione glared at him. “Nice one, Ronald. He doesn’t strike me as the type. Besides, I never told him how I felt about blood politics. He brought it up of his own volition.”
“Who could it possibly be, though? Obviously not Malfoy,” Ron said.
“I’m not sure yet. I have a couple theories, but I’m going to keep them to myself for now. I just want to enjoy the whole pen pal thing for now and then go from there,” Hermione said confidently.
Just then, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan waved to them from the next room.
“Let’s go pop by for a while,” Harry said, standing to head over to the other Gryffindors. Ron stood to follow, but Hermione shook her head.
“You two go ahead. I think I’ll sit and read for a while,” she said. They both raised their eyebrows but nodded as they left. Once they were gone, Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out her journal, now glowing faintly.
You’re kind to say all that, Wildcard. I don’t know if it’s fair to say I should be proud of myself, though. Not hating people simply because they’re not “pureblood” is setting the bar pretty low, wouldn’t you say? Unfortunately, I’m not as brave as I’d like to be (certainly not as brave as you Gryffindors). If I had more courage, I would have actually done something, maybe stood up to my father more, fought on your side. You all are the ones who should be proud of yourself– we wouldn’t all be back at school enjoying a peaceful weekend if it weren’t for you lot. Please don’t give me too much credit– I truly don’t deserve it. I won’t deny that it feels good to hear you say nice things about me, though.
Hermione frowned as she pondered his message and began replying. She felt a slight buzz as she nursed her second drink, and began to feel a bit of the boldness from last night.
You’re very hard on yourself, sir. I don’t think you’re being entirely fair– have you thought about what would have happened if you stood up to your father and joined our side? I imagine it wouldn’t have been pretty. I can find plenty of nice things to say about you, if you’ll let me.
His response appeared almost immediately.
Is that so? I wouldn’t mind hearing them. I also could find quite a few nice things to say about you, by the way.
Hermione was feeling quite bold now, and even a bit flirty. She took a deep breath before reaching for her pen again.
Suit yourself, Mystery. Granted this is all based on what I’ve learned about you from being your pen pal– although I wouldn’t mind if we got to know each other outside of this notebook. First off, I think you’re very clever and witty, and I’ve enjoyed our back and forth quite a bit. I also think you’re intelligent beyond just being book smart– I appreciate that you have a desire to learn about unfamiliar things and that you’re so intrigued by Muggle culture. You seem kind and thoughtful, and you’ve already helped change my perspective on a number of things.
As I said, you are also much too hard on yourself, but your humility does make you even more adorable. Talking to you these last few days has made me genuinely happy– even my friends have noticed that I’ve been in a particularly good mood. I keep smiling at my notebook. Is that weird?
Sipping her drink and gazing out the window for a minute, she smiled as his response suddenly appeared.
It’s not weird, I’ve been doing the same thing . And to my own mortification, my friends have noticed too. Honestly, you have no idea how much that means to me. I’m trying really hard to believe those things about myself too, but it can be challenging. I want to know you in real life too, I really do. I’m afraid I won’t be what you imagined, though. Like I said before, I’m a lot more confident on paper than I am in person. I just don’t want you to be disappointed. And by the way, I think you’re incredibly smart, brave, kind, and generous. I know you keep saying I shouldn’t call you beautiful, but you are. Just trust me, I know.
Hermione’s heart was racing. Did he know who she was? She had a strange feeling that he did. She tried to imagine what it would be like meeting Mystery in person. He had made it very clear to her that he didn’t have a great deal of self-confidence, so would it be up to her to initiate things? Would he avoid her or pretend he didn’t know who she was? Part of her was giddy with anticipation of meeting him face-to-face, but the other part was incredibly anxious about what she’d be walking into. After all, she didn’t actually know who he was. Hermione had theories, of course, but what if they were wrong? What if it was someone she didn’t want a relationship with? Someone she didn’t find physically attractive?
Unlikely, as she actually found nearly all the Slytherin boys to be objectively attractive. Not to say she was attracted to all of them by any means. Just as she was about to respond, she heard someone clear their throat and realized there was a person standing over her table. Looking up, she was shocked to find none other than Draco Malfoy.
“Malfoy?” She asked, knowing her tone was not exactly friendly.
He looked almost embarrassed as he began to speak. “Granger. How’ve you been?”
What in Merlin’s name? Hermione looked around in confusion as she responded. “Erm… fine? Is there something you need or-”
“Look, Granger. I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m talking to you, so I won’t draw this out. I came over here to apologize,” he said, eyes darting around nervously.
“Apologize?” Hermione repeated dumbly.
Malfoy sighed. “Yes, Granger. Apologize. I know I’ve probably accumulated quite the list of various ways I’ve wronged you over the past seven years, but I’d like to say I’m sorry for all of it. I’m sorry for calling you– that word, I’m sorry for mistreating you. I was an absolute git, and it was wrong. I’m also sorry for what happened at the Manor, and that I didn’t try to help–”
Hermione cut him off. “It’s fine, Malfoy. I mean, it’s not fine, but I don’t blame you for anything that happened that night.” She saw surprise and maybe a bit of something else– maybe guilt flash in his eyes. She continued. “There was nothing you could do without probably being killed yourself. As for the other things… erm, thank you? I appreciate the apology, but can I ask where this is coming from? It’s just all a bit strange to me.” She felt suddenly very awkward, realizing she couldn’t ever remember having a conversation with Malfoy one-on-one like this.
“I can understand why it would feel strange, but I honestly just want to make amends. I’m not proud of who I was, and I’m not proud of the role I played in everything that happened last year. I’m not trying to pretend none of it happened, I don’t expect us to become friends or anything, but I just thought you should know– er… I don’t think that way anymore. And I’m trying to be a better person,” he finished.
Hermione almost felt bad for him. She could see how anxious he was– his voice was shaking a little and his face was flushing. “Okay. I’m really glad to hear that, Malfoy. I don’t think I’d be able to pretend nothing happened either, but I have to say I do feel relieved that I don’t have to worry about you hurling insults at me or coming after my friends and I. By the way, do you plan to apologize to them, too? Harry and Ron?” She asked, cocking a brow.
Malfoy looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. “Erm… yes, I suppose I certainly owe Potter an apology,” he muttered.
“And Ron?” Hermione asked, her arms crossed.
He physically cringed. “Merlin, you Gryffindors are an interesting bunch. Yes, I’ll add your Weasel to the list too.”
Without thinking, Hermione blurted out “He’s not my weasel,” before her face reddened. “I mean, he’s not a weasel at all. And not that it’s any of your business, but we’re just friends.”
Malfoy looked mildly interested in this fact. “Oh? But the papers said–”
“The papers are wrong,” she interjected. “Honestly, Malfoy, since when was Rita Skeeter a beacon of truth? Didn’t she report that you were betrothed to your cousin this summer? Are you going to tell me that's accurate?”
He turned scarlet. “Obviously that’s not true. Although I wouldn’t put it past the Malfoys. Some of those pureblood traditions are a bit dodgy,” he joked.
Hermione surprised herself by letting out a genuine laugh. They both froze and looked at each other in confusion for a moment before she broke the silence. “Erm, anyways, thank you for the apology, Malfoy. I will admit it was rather odd, but if you really are turning over a new leaf, I’m happy to hear it. I suppose I’ll see you around then?”
Malfoy nodded curtly. “Yes, I suppose so,” he said as he turned and walked away.
Almost as soon as he disappeared from view, Harry and Ron were rushing over, confusion and concern on their faces.
“What the hell was that? What did that slimy little ferret want with you?!” Ron demanded, towering over her.
Hermione sighed. “Sit down, you oaf. You too, Harry. You’re causing a scene.”
“We’re causing a scene? You were just having a friendly chat with Draco bloody Malfoy, and you think it’s us that’s causing a scene?” Ron demanded.
Hermione attempted to shush him, to no avail. “It wasn’t a friendly chat– well, I suppose it was more friendly than unfriendly. I don’t know what compelled him to, but he was actually apologizing to me,” she said, biting her lip nervously.
Ron let out a snort and Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “Apologize?” Harry asked.
Hermione laughed dryly. “That’s exactly what I said. But yes, he said he was sorry for the way he treated me and that he was trying to be a better person.”
Her friends gawked at her. “Hermione. You sure he wasn’t just having a laugh?” Harry asked nervously.
“Yes, I’m sure! I mean, I guess I’m not one hundred percent sure, but he seemed pretty serious. It was rather… vulnerable,” Hermione admitted.
Ron looked slightly disturbed. Confused, Hermione turned to Harry, whose expression mirrored Ron’s. “I know he’s been awful! It’s not like we’re going to be friends or anything, but I thought it was nice that he wanted to, you know…” she trailed off as their faces remained frozen in horror. “Am I missing something?” She asked.
Harry broke the silence. “I hate to ask, but ‘Mione, you don’t think he’s… could Malfoy be your pen pal?”
Hermione’s jaw dropped. “Absolutely not! That’s absurd, Harry.”
“Is it though?” Harry seemed to wince as he spoke. “It’s a bit of a strange coincidence, him coming to apologize after all the conversations you and your pen have been having. And you said your pen pal told you he’s a Slytherin– did you possibly tell him you’re a Gryffindor?”
Hermione nodded mutely, refusing to accept the possibility that she could have been flirting with Draco Malfoy.
“Right, so what if he… put the pieces together and realized it was you? And decided to come talk to you in person?” Harry asked.
“It just doesn’t seem like Malfoy, Harry. Myster– my pen pal and Malfoy just seem like totally different people. There’s no way,” she said, but her stomach had already sunk at his words.
She was not interested in Malfoy in the slightest bit. Surely, if Malfoy were Mystery, she might have felt some of the spark just now that she got from writing back and forth to him, right? Some things certainly added up, though. The way he talked about his father, for example. She tried to push the thoughts aside. She had a gut feeling that her pen pal was not Draco Malfoy, and she had to try and trust it.