Hermione
Seated at a small table in the corner of the common room, Hermione took in the ambient noise of the rain against the large windows across from her. It had been raining nonstop for weeks, as was typical in northern Scotland, and whilst Hermione had been known to quite enjoy a cozy autumn afternoon spent reading inside, she found that now the sullen weather only fed her simmering agitation.
She had received a letter from Ron that morning detailing the successful grand reopening of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes in Diagon Alley. He had spent the last couple of months working with George to rebuild and restock. Apparently, they had had quite the turnout. Harry had attended the event to support them and had spent several days trying to convince Hermione to go along with him, but she simply hadn’t been in the mood to see so many people happily moving on. She feared that if she returned to London she wouldn’t be able to convince herself to come back to school. If they had just allowed her to take the bloody exams, she could be training and working already. The envy she felt left a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Instead, she had to spend each day trying her best to avoid most of the other students in her year, only accepting the occasional company of Harry or Neville. Both of whom were playing wizards chess on the opposite side of the room.
Attention turned back to the books stacked before her, she continued her reading on ancient cursed objects. If there was one reason to be glad to be back at Hogwarts, it was that Minerva had given her unlimited access to the restricted section of the library.
There was an ominous energy to the Great Hall the next morning, particularly among the seventh and eighth year students. She watched as groups of familiar witches and wizards crowded together whispering to one another in small circles, eyeing others from across the room. She rolled her eyes. Of course, everyone would be in a right state. It was the first day that two of them would have awoken to a bottle of polyjuice waiting for them on their bedside table. Per the assignment’s rules, no one but those consuming the potion were allowed to know and there was no advanced notice of who each individual had been partnered with. It didn’t take a genius to discern that they wouldn’t be partnering friends and she knew that they were combining the seventh and eighth years for the project most likely because she had been the only muggleborn to return with her year. The project would do no good to pair pureblood with pureblood in the eyes of the Ministry. Given their investment in the push for unity and Kingsley’s occasional visits to their lectures, Hermione knew she’d be paired with someone strategic and she was likely to hate each second of it. She had let out a long sigh of relief when she had woken up to an empty table that morning. She wanted to see how this went before participating herself.
She didn’t see Harry anywhere in the hall, so she took a seat beside Ginny and Luna before filling a mug to the brim with a dark roast coffee.
“Well good morning, Hermione. Your aura is a most stunning shade of violet today. Shame that it’s disrupted by that infestation of wrackspurts,” the blonde girl stated in her familiar singsong tone. “If you’d like to be rid of them, I’m happy to meet you at the lake on the next full moon.”
How someone else was supposed to convince everyone else that they were Luna for an entire day, she wasn’t sure. She doubted anyone else could emulate her particular quirks authentically enough to make it believable. It was a comfort at least to know that her friend was actually herself. That ruled out at least one person today.
“Thanks, Luna, but I think I’m alright. I’ll let you know should I change my mind,” she replied before turning to Ginny. “Morning Gin, got a letter from Ron yesterday. Said the opening went well. Did you enjoy yourself?”
Ginny polished off the last of her sausage before responding. “It was fine. Mum seemed in good spirits for the first time in months. It was nice to see George smiling even if it was just for the cameras. I’m just glad that McGonagall gave me permission to attend. Us seventh years didn’t get as lucky as you all with your unlimited travel privileges. Dad said he was sad not to see you there with us though. Said to remind you that you’re expected to visit over the Christmas hols and he wouldn’t accept any sort of excuses,” she laughed.
Hermione rolled her eyes, “We’ll see. I’m working on a bit of a side project at the moment and I’m not sure if I’ll be going anywhere over the break. Might just be easier for me to stay here.” She shrugged and stared down into her plate.
She ate and listened while Ginny raved on about the results of the most recent Quidditch match after reading the results in the Daily Prophet that had landed on the table before them. She had been quite frustrated that the Tornadoes had taken a lead over the Holyhead Harpies. Ginny was in the middle of ranting about their poor selection of Chasers this season when she was abruptly interrupted.
“Well hello ladies,” she looked up to see Blaise Zabini nodding his head in greeting at herself and Luna. “Ginevra,” he nodded at her with a clear hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips that Hermione couldn’t stop herself from making note of. “I was just telling some of my mates how lovely a season it's been for the Tornadoes so far. Don’t you agree?”
The smirk had shifted into a full grin that Hermione wasn’t sure she entirely understood. She watched as he filled his plate whilst somehow never once taking his eyes off of her redheaded friend.
Ginny growled. “Zabini. Just what exactly is it that you think you’re doing? You were not invited to join us for breakfast. It’s quite rude to insert yourself into other people’s conversations, or did your private tutors forget to teach you that bit?”
“Now now, put those beautiful claws away, Red. I do believe that we have open seating this year therefore I am allowed to sit anywhere in this hall that I’d like. I simply saw an opportunity to have a bit of a chat about the Quidditch season thus far with a fellow fan.” He made no attempt to conceal the cocky teasing in his tone. He was intentionally riling her friend up and Hermione wasn’t sure she wanted to be present when Gin snapped at the snake.
She shifted her gaze between the two as they continued to argue. There was an undeniable tension forming and Hermione wasn’t sure what to make of it. She quickly finished her toast and silently excused herself.
She wandered the corridors eyeing the other students with suspicion. Any one of them could be someone else under polyjuice and the odds of her realizing were quite small. Her safest option would be to minimize contact with anyone she wasn’t extremely familiar with. Not that she really got on with the other students well enough to casually chat with them in the halls anyhow, but continuing her relative isolation felt the most secure.
She entered the potions lab, intentionally quite early for her first class. She was shocked to note that she wasn’t the first person there. Stood at a steaming cauldron in the far corner of the room was none other than Draco Malfoy, of bloody course. She truly couldn’t catch a break from the git.
Determined to ignore him and continue on with the reason she had come down so early, she went about removing her supplies from her bag and arranging them all neatly at her station. She had selected the seat to intentionally be as far from him as possible. Her eyes seemed to be waging a war against her will as she kept finding her gaze drifting over to the wizard against her own judgment. The cuffs of his pressed white oxford shirt were rolled to his elbow giving her a clear visual of the fading skull and snake tattooed upon his forearm. The flex of the muscle as he crushed a mix of herbs together had her mesmerized. What the fuck was she doing ogling Draco Malfoy’s forearms? She must be going completely batty. After their weird confrontation in the library weeks ago, she had tried her best to avoid him at all costs. It had been going decently well up until this point. The day was off to an odd start. First, Zabini’s intrusion at breakfast, and now this. She wasn’t sure what to make of it.
Returning her focus to the task at hand, she began finely slicing the leaves of dittany she had received in the owl post that morning. Draco Malfoy would distract her no longer.
She had caught herself staring as a stray piece of his fringe seemed to become wavier the longer he spent bent over the humidity of his cauldron. She had chastised herself at least four more times before the rest of their classmates had arrived.