Chapter 36
Hermione pulled her trunk into the hallway, nearly running into Harry as he passed her room doing the same. Ron was right behind him, urging him to go faster.
“We have to hurry, mum’s going ballistic, says we’re going to miss the train…”
A great commotion was coming from downstairs, Mrs. Weasley hollering at the top of her lungs.
“COULD HAVE DONE HER A SERIOUS INJURY, YOU IDIOTS!” Echoed up the stairs. The three friends exchanged a dark look and hurried down, as fast as they could with three trunks, two owls and an angry Kneasle.
Remus and Arthur tried to de-escalate the situation, everyone gathered at the base of the grand staircase.
“Molly, Ginny is fine, it was an accident…” Arthur was saying, rubbing his wife’s arm as the faced off with the twins, both looking red-faced and mutinous.
“WHICH WOULDN’T HAPPEN IF THEY USED THEIR BRAINS FOR ONCE IN THEIR LIVES!” She shouted in response.
“Mum, I’m OK!” Ginny cried.
“What happened?” Harry whispered to Sirius.
“The twins sent their trunks down with a locomotor charm and bumped Ginny, she fell down the steps.” He whispered back, filling in the latecomers on the latest drama. He stood with his arms crossed, glaring at Molly.
“IRRESPONSIBLE, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING,-”
Mad-eye Moody emerged from the kitchen. “We can’t leave until the rest of the guard is here. Sturgus is late again, can’t count on anyone these days.” He grumbled, his magical eye twirling sickeningly in it’s socket. He checked his pocket watch and sighed.
“We have enough. Remus will come with instead.” Sirius suggested.
“We have to go; we’ll be late and miss the train.” Molly fussed, abandoning her scolding of the twins, who scowled at her back.
They stepped out into the weak September sunlight, Mrs. Weasley fussing over Harry and the trunks, insisting Arthur would handle them before hurrying off, leading the way to the train station. Hermione caught the tail end of her complaints about muggle transport and having to walk before dropping back from Harry and Ron to keep pace with the twins.
“Are you alright?” She asked the both of them.
George scowled and looked away. “Yeah.” He grunted.
Fred grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
“We’re ok. Just…” He looked down as well, his forehead creasing.
“She shouldn’t speak to you like that.” Hermione said fiercely, glaring at Mrs. Weasley’s back. “Accidents happen. That’s no reason to call you names and say such horrible things.”
“She’s just…” George began, but seemed unable to articulate what she “just” was.
“Forget it.” Fred said brightly. “Sit with us on the train?”
“You’ll want to catch up with Lee, right? I’ll come over halfway.” Hermione suggested, earning a smile from them both.
Twenty minutes later they reached the station, Mad-eye still grumbling about reporting Sturgis to Dumbledore.
“That’s the second time he’s not turned up in a week. Getting as unreliable as Mundungus!” He growled.
“Look after yourselves!” Lupin said, shaking hands with the Weasley children and pulling Hermione and Harry into tight hugs. He passed them off to Sirius who embraced them tightly together.
“Especially you two.” He said softly. “Look after each other, stay safe, stay together. Write me, often.” He pulled back and looked down at them, smiling broadly.
“Keep your heads down and your eyes peeled.” Said Moody, clapping Harry on the shoulder. “All of you- careful what you put in writing. When in doubt, don’t put it in a letter. Constant vigilance!”
A shrill whistle sounded from the train, warning them of its imminent departure. Mrs. Weasley started hugging her children quickly, sidestepping Hermione and managing to catch George in a quick, one arm squeeze as Fred avoided her.
“Write, be good…get on the train now…” She fussed, hurrying the group along.
On the train, the group started to break apart, the twins hurrying off to find Lee, and Ginny to meet her friends. Ron shuffled awkwardly for a moment.
“Shall we find a compartment?” Harry said brightly.
“Well, er…” Ron began. “I have to…” He shuffled again, his neck turning red.
“The prefect carriage?” Hermione said tartly. “Go on then, Harry and I will find a car.”
“Oh, right.” Harry said.
“It’s a pain, right? I’d rather…but I have to…I mean…”
“It’s fine Ron, go on then.” Harry said, smiling at Ron. “Come on, Hermione.”
The pair made their way through the corridor, peeking through the glass paneled windows into compartments as they went, finding all of them already full. Hermione saw Harry was getting flushed and stiff, as more of more of the students they passed behaved oddly to them, nudging each other and whispering. Hermione didn’t know which of them was more notorious at the moment, Harry, who the prophet had labeled a lying attention-seeker, or herself, making headlines about the trial, the house-elf foundation, and a resurgence of articles speculating her “ongoing love affair with Viktor Krum”. Rita, out of self-preservation had kept her word and would not publish an unflattering word about Hermione; however, Hermione still found her name popping up in the paper over and over. She imagined how much worse it would have been had they actually been allowed to leave the house this summer, considering even without public appearances the two of them kept making headlines.
Near the end of the corridor they found Neville, red faced and sweating, clutching Trever the toad in one hand and dragging his trunk with the other.
“Hey, Neville!” Harry exclaimed, “Join us in this one it’s empty!” He gestured to the compartment Neville had just passed.
“No it’s…” He huffed.
Hermione cast a featherweight charm on Neville’s trunk and he grinned at her gratefully, following them inside. The compartment was not, in fact empty. The girl inside was tucked up next to the window, wearing large radishes on her ears that stood out sharply against her nearly white hair, reading a magazine upside down. Hermione recognized her as a Ravenclaw from Ginny’s year.
“Hello, mind if we join?” She asked kindly.
The girl looked up slowly from her magazine, her eyes enlarged by huge pink glasses with hazy glass. She blinked once and gave them a dreamy smile.
“Not at all. I’m Luna.” Her eyes slid back to her book, and they were dismissed. Harry rolled his eyes at Neville with a grin.
As the countryside rolled by, they passed the time by sharing what they had done over the summer; Harry and Hermione’s version heavily redacted due to Order secrecy. Neville produced an odd-looking plant, excitedly regaling them with its rarity and many properties; before it exploded and covered the entire car and its occupants in sticky black ooze that reeked of manure. Neville apologized profusely, as Hermione helped clean it up; the scourify charm was basically second nature after a summer in Grimmauld Place.
They gave Neville an abridged version of their adoption story, making it sound as though Sirius had chosen to adopt Hermione due to her work for his freedom.
“So, You’re Hermione…Black now? But your parents, I thought…” Neville said slowly knitting his brows together.
“My parents…didn’t understand magic.” Hermione said carefully. “They thought it would be best for me to continue in a magical household…so, yes. I’m Hermione Black now.”
“Was it anything due to the Death Eaters raiding your house?” Luna asked in a sing-song voice, looking up from her magazine.
“What did you say?” Hermione asked in disbelief.
“They’ve been spotted all over. My dad even did a story on it, even though I much preferred the piece he wrote on the purple-spotted hippogriph sighting near Baneswick.”
“The what?” Harry asked.
“Who’s your dad?” Neville asked.
“Xenophillius Lovegood, Editor of the Quibbler.”
“The Quibbler? Isn’t that some trash tabloid?” Hermione asked, regretting the harsh choice of words instantly as hurt bloomed on Luna’s face.
“Independent Publication.” Luna said shortly, burying her face in it once more.
“Sorry.” Hermione said in a softer tone. “I meant, they do satire, right?”
“No.” Luna mumbled shortly.
Ron interrupted the tension by bursting in, and collapsing heavily in the seat next to Hermione. He grabbed a chocolate frog off the table and tore into it, taking an enormous bite before speaking.
“That absolute Wanker Malfoy got a badge. And his cow, Parkinson.” He said thickly, loosening his tie. “Terrible, spending the afternoon in a car with those two.”
“Who’s the other Gryffindor?” Harry asked.
“Lavender Brown.” Ron said, his mouth again full of chocolate.
“Ron, could you attempt to swallow before speaking?” Hermione said, exasperated. How he had the table manners of a troll with such an overbearing and critical mother she had no idea. Finding out Lavender Brown, her dim-witted roommate had made prefect over her was a low blow. It should have at least gone to Pavarti…at least she had two braincells to rub together.
“What?” He asked, spraying chocolate-coated spit in her direction.
“Well, that’s enough for me.” She said wearily, standing and scooping up Crookshanks. “I’m off to find the twins.”
“Why?” Ron asked, cocking his head at her. “School’s started, it’s not like they’ll want to keep hanging around you now that they are back with their real friends.”
He had said it so matter of fact; as if there was no doubt in his mind that she was not, in fact a real friend to them. She realized this was exactly how Ron thought, of them and her. Every insecurity she’d ever had tried to claw it’s way to the surface; old hurts and rejections piling up to whisper lies about how unlikable she was. “She’s a nightmare, honestly”, “Don’t sit next to her, she’s weird.” “Get out, and never come back.” She forced it down, and painted a smile on her face.
“I guess we’ll see.” She said waspishly, reaching for the door handle. The door banged open before she touched it, bringing her face-to-face with Draco Malfoy, his face frozen in his token sneer, flanked on either side by his henchmen, Crabb and Goyle. A sneer played on his lips as his eyes landed on Hermione. “Well, well, Granger,” he drawled, his voice dripping with venom. “Fancy finding you back on the train. Did you sneak on?”
“Black.” She said shortly. “Get out of my way.”
“Black what?” Crabb asked stupidly.
“Hermione Black. Not Granger.”
“What?” Draco snapped.
“It’s called adoption, cousin. You do know what adoption is, don’t you? Should we expect you round for Christmas? I’ll make sure to put out an extra cracker.” She said sweetly, her smile as sharp as a wolf’s.
“You’re not…” Draco stepped back in horror as she fluttered her fingers at him, displaying her signet ring.
“Me too.” Harry said, holding up his own with a smirk.
“Charming.” Draco recovered with a sneer. “The degenerate murderer adopted you two. Was it because no one else could stand the smell of him, he had to buy some unloved orphans?”
“I’ll make sure to tell my father, Lord Sirius Black, of the Ancient and Nobel House Black, about your warm welcome, Cousin. Now move, you’re blocking the door.” Hermione hissed through her teeth.
Draco threw his hands up in a mock gesture of submission and backed away. “Temper, temper, mudblood. You wouldn’t want me to give you detention.” He drawled.
She smiled at him. “Try it. See what happens.”
Harry stood, coming to stand beside Hermione.
"You'd best watch your tongue, Malfoy," Harry said, his voice low and dangerous. He didn't raise his wand or his first, but the threat hung in the air, thick and palpable. For the first time, Harry stood eye-to eye with Malfoy, matched in height and build with his bully. “You walk around convinced your better than everyone around you…but all you are is a sniveling, cowardly git whose only talent is inheriting money."
Harry smirked at Malfoy, and toyed with the signet ring on his right hand, as the bully’s face turned a nasty shade of puce with rage.
“Watch your manners, Potter, or you’ll be in detention too. I, unlike you was made Prefect, so I, unlike you,-”
“Are a nasty Git.” Harry shoved Malfoy in the shoulder, his hand darting out before he could react, sending him tumbling back into Crabb and Goyle. “A sad, pathetic loser. Stay the hell away from my sister.”
“My father...” Malfoy snarled, pointing at the siblings.
“Is a death eater.” Hermione said in a hushed voice. “He probably has bigger concerns than schoolyard squabbles, but trust me, our father will hear about this.”
Malfoy, his usual swagger completely gone, backed away from the compartment, his two cronies trailing behind him, looking decidedly less confident. They stomped off, muttering and hissing to each other.
The compartment reverberated with their laughter as they recounted Malfoy's hasty escape and Harry and Hermione’s verbal takedown of their foe. Hermione couldn’t help but stay a moment longer and join in, her heart full to bursting from Harry’s defense of her. This was more than standing up to Malfoy; his public declaration of their family and shifted relationship would echo through the halls. She threw her arms around Harry, giving him a brief, tight hug. He ducked out of her embrace, blushing.
“Thank you.” She said.
“It was nothing.” Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know, your ‘angry smile’ is pretty scary. You look just like Sirius.”
Fred
Lee Jordan leaned in; his eyes wide. "So, you actually *did* it? Courted Hermione *together*? And she said yes?" Fred grinned, a flash of mischief in his eyes. "Yes, Lee, old boy. Three's company, as they say.”
“Think of it this way– double the dates, triple the trouble!" George added
Fred and George practically vibrated with excitement as they recounted their summer escapades to Lee Jordan. The three friends lounged in a compartment. "So, picture this, Lee," Fred began, leaning in conspiratorially. "We spirited Hermione away to a seaside carnival – she’d never been! Three hours of candy floss, rides, games, a ludicrously oversized teddy bear, and hours on the beach under the stars.”
George added, "Then there was the late-night potion brewing, and we taught her to fly! Imagine, Hermione Granger, soaring through the air on a vintage Nimbus ‘67 – quite the spectacle."
The story unfolded with chaotic energy – a whirlwind of stolen moments, shared laughter, carefully worded to omit the where and how.
"But the best part," George declared, producing a prototype trick deck of cards and shuffling them,
“She’s absolutely fit.” Fred interrupted.
"Is she's absolutely brilliant at inventing.” George finished, rolling his eyes. “Look at this – trick cards, they do a different trick each hand!" George spread the cards, demonstrating them jumping away from his reach, twisting themselves together to flutter away like moths, flipping themselves over. "The key is the subtle delay," he said, "Different each draw, so you have to stay on your toes to finish a game."
The train rattled onward. Their laughter filled the compartment as they finalized plans for upcoming revenge. Several people had made their list already and term hadn’t even started. Fred found his mind wandering as he stared out the window, slipping out of the conversation with his brother and their friend. He couldn’t stop thinking about their outing yesterday. Not just his girlfriend’s acceptance of their business but her wholehearted support. She had even insisted that she not be credited for any inventions or ideas, saying this was theirs and she only wanted to support from the background. He smirked when he thought of the patents already submitted in her name; as if they would take credit for her ideas. No, she deserved to be recognized. As for her muggle housewarming plan…that was forever burned into his mind. He wasn’t inexperienced, but he’d never been as aroused, as captivated by a girl before.
Though he and George had of course talked about how things would work moving forward, he hadn’t expected Hermione to be so open and willing with the two of them together. He’d rather thought that was something they would work up to, and anything more intimate than snogging would be one-on-one. But getting to hold her, caress her, watch her as George kneeled before her, his hands gentle, his expression utterly devoted. Fred hadn’t been a voyeur; he’d been a part, a silent, supportive participant in their shared girlfriend’s pleasure. The way she’d clutched George’s shoulders, the soft moans that escaped her lips… it had been intensely intimate, and Fred had held her close, feeling the tremor of her body against his own.
He loved Hermione fiercely; there was no jealousy, but there was a competitive spark; ignited by the realization that George had claimed a significant “first.” He yearned to be the one to explore the uncharted territory of her first time, not out of any need to dominate, but from a deeply personal desire to connect with her on that profound level.
Hermione was tucked away in a compartment a few carriages down. He imagined her now, lost in a book, perhaps a slight blush staining her cheeks as she replayed the events of the previous night. The thought sparked a warmth low in his stomach, and his mind drifted further, imagining finding her alone in the compartment…drawing the blinds down...
George
George was considering all the ways he could kill Marcus Flint. They had been having a fine time catching up with Lee, going over plans for the shop and the upcoming school year, when Flint and Maxwell Greengrass had burst into their car to make some very pointed jokes about their hovel being “condemned” forcing them to abandon it and leave it empty. Since jokes about their poverty were as old as their school career with these two Slytherins; normally such things wouldn’t bother him. He and Fred would do something to make them miserable at a later time, after all, so their words were as empty as their shallow hearts. Today he couldn’t get it out of his head, worrying over their words like a dog with a bone. What made it unable to slide, for George, was the knowing glint in their eyes. Somehow, they were sure George and Fred had not been in home all summer. Fucking baby death eaters. He thought bitterly.
Fred punched him in the knee and caught his eye. Shit, must be feeling too murderous. He thought wryly, as his twin gave him the ‘calm the fuck down’ look. It was ludicrous, however. How could he just go to class with kids whose parents were death eaters? Why did they live in a world where bigotry and classism were so rampant even the teachers allowed it to continue? As far as he was concerned people like Flint or Greengrass, who’s parents were dark as they come, spouting nonsense about wealth or blood purity should be grounds for expulsion. Albus Dumbledore, who claimed to be a champion for muggle borns, instead let them run the school. They openly insulted and mocked students in front of teachers, hexed kids in the halls and ran amok, but he’d never seen one get more than a slap on the wrist or a detention. Now, these same teens were in line to carry the Dark Mark…Or perhaps they already do. He thought, anger morphing into a bitter sadness. We are the same age, and most likely already signing away their souls. Now he was expected to go to class, like everything was normal…when the threat of Voldemort was not just coming from outside the castle walls but inside too. George couldn’t wait to retrieve the bug and find out what Dumbledore was hiding; he found the old bastard to be as two faced as they come, and once they could prove it…
He saw that Malfoy prat in front of Harry and Hermione’s car at the same time as Fred. Scowling, he slid open the compartment door, hoping to hear what was being said. The train was too loud, and the hall too long to make it out, but they could see by the faces Malfoy and his friends were making it wasn’t going their way.
Malfoy was saying something-undoubtably rude, and brandishing his chest.
“Looks like the ferret got a badge.” George muttered.
“Sure did.” Fred agreed, as he too watched the scene with interest. George was ready to intervene; if he were honest, he was looking for a fight, aching to punch someone in the face (and Malfoy certainly fit the bill for punchable), but he wanted to see Hermione in action. She leaned forward and fluttered her fingers, saying something that made Malfoy’s face turn purple. A few moments later Malfoy and friends were stomping away, looking furious. George grinned. He couldn’t wait to hear what she had said to make the ferret clam up and stomp off like that.