Chapter 2
Millicent couldn’t have been more wrong.
A week before Christmas, it was long established that Hermione was the best student of their year, all houses included. Granted, closely followed by Draco Malfoy, who, however, only surpassed her in Potions and Flying. She had won more house points than any other, especially since Draco had stupidly challenged Harry Potter during their first Flying lesson while their teacher, Madam Hooch, had brought Neville Longbottom, who had broken his arm, to the hospital wing and everyone else had been told to stay on the ground. This had ended with Professor McGonagall spotting them and Potter getting to be part of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and Draco losing 30 house points.
Hermione was mad at Draco for losing so many points for such a stupid reason, but she was even madder about the unfairness of it all. How was it that Potter got rewarded and Draco got punished? And why was there suddenly an exception to the rule that first years were not supposed to get to play Quidditch? Hermione didn’t know much about flying on a broom and she didn’t enjoy it, in fact it terrified her, but Draco had clearly been the superior flyer, which didn’t come as a surprise considering he likely hadn’t been on a broom for the first time in his entire life.
She had later found out that James Potter, Harry’s martyr of a father, had also been a Quidditch player. Which didn’t explain anything, of course. There had been many decent Quidditch players at Hogwarts over the years, some of which had become professionals after school. What that had to do with the rules not counting for James Potter’s son was beyond Hermione.
Since their little flying incident, Draco couldn’t stand Potter. Hermione could understand the general sentiment, although she had to concede that it wasn’t the boy’s fault that Professor McGonagall had chosen to treat the two offenders so vastly different.
Unfortunately, it turned out that her housemates didn’t seem to like Herimone much either.
There was no bullying, they were generally polite and even took her side when people, like Ronald Weasley, made snide comments about a Muggle-born being in Slytherin, which seemed to be more against her house than against her personally. In the case of Daphne Greengrass, Tracy Davis and even Pansy Parkinson there were the occasional conversations when they all went to their dorm at night, but if Hermione participated, Millicent closed the curtains around her bed and distanced herself. Honestly, the nicest thing about Millicent was her cat, Daisy. It was all bearable, but she certainly hadn’t made the friends she had been hoping for when she had first found out she was a witch and was going to a school full of people like her.
All in all, Hermione still felt very lonely most of the time, which she compensated by focusing on school work and books, like she had always done. On 19 September, no one had even known it about her birthday, so she had ignored the fact as best as she had been able to. Of course, no gifts arrived from home. Not that her parents would have been able to send gifts or maybe a letter, even if they had wanted to, as they refused to use owls for communication.
The last few days, all she seemed to hear the other students talk about was going home for the Christmas holidays, especially her fellow first-years. It was understandable, of course. She guessed that if you had a family that actually cared about you, you would miss them after months of being away from home, no matter how great the school was. Not that she could relate. Her parents had made it very clear that they didn’t want her to home for Christmas or Easter holidays when they had dropped her off at King’s Cross Station and that was fine with her. Still, when she heard the others talk about going home, she couldn’t help but wish for something she had never had.
Maybe that was why it hurt much more than it should have when she heard Draco and his friends make fun of her after a Charms lesson. Gregory Goyle had had trouble with the correct emphasis of the Wingardium Leviosa spell and Hermione had helped. At least that had been her intention, and Greg had indeed performed the spell properly after her correction.
Obviously, it hadn’t come across that way. “It’s LeviOsa, not LeviosA,” Draco imitated her in a mocking tone on their way to the Great Hall, making his friends laugh. “She’s such a swot.” They didn’t know she was right behind them.
For the past months she had done her very best not to show her feelings, as she had done for years at her old Muggle school, but for some reason it was too much this time. Draco and his friends had never been particularly friendly towards her, but they had also never teased her before. At least not that she had heard. With the exception of Daphne and sometimes Pansy, they just ignored her completely unless circumstances didn’t allow it. But even Daphne and Pansy joined in with the laughter.
She couldn’t quite supress the sob that rose up in her throat. Mortified about herself, she bowed her head and quickened her steps to walk past the other Slytherins. She didn’t go to the Great Hall, where she would only sit alone at the Slytherin table anyway, but quickly made her way into the next best girls’ toilet, where she sat down on one of the closed lids and allowed herself to cry.
She didn’t know how much time passed, but at some point the door opened and she heard Daphne’s hesitant voice. “Hermione, are you there?”
Hermione tried to not to make a noise as she looked at the closed cubicle door, hoping the other girl would just go away. She didn’t.
A gentle knock on the cubicle door and then, a quiet “Alohomora” and the door opened.
Mortified, Hermione rubbed her face, trying to get rid of the tears, but of course it was no use. There were charms which could do that, get rid of all evidence of crying, but she didn’t know them yet.
Daphne didn’t laugh, though, as she crouched down in front of Hermione. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed. Draco … he’s great, we’ve been friends for as long as I can think, but he can be a prick sometimes. But I know that he feels bad. He took three sandwiches from lunch, which he intends to give to you because you weren’t there. I told him that this is a bit over the top, but if you can’t eat them all, you can always give some to Greg or Vince.”
At that Hermione gave a watery smile before sobering up. “I didn’t mean to sound condescending. I was just trying to help.”
“I know. Draco shouldn’t have said that and we shouldn’t have laughed. Greg didn’t by the way.” She truly looked guilty.
Hermione sighed. “It’s alright.”
“No, it really isn’t.” Daphne tried for a small smile. “There’s still half an hour before Potions starts. The others are waiting outside and Draco is still holding onto those sandwiches. Do you want to come?”
She hesitated; she really didn’t want their pity. “I’m fine. I’ll see you in Potions.”
Daphne shook her head and pulled her to her feet. “Sorry, not acceptable. You won’t make it through Potions on an empty stomach. I heard Snape is in a foul mood today because somebody made a cauldron explode and the whole classroom was covered in the slimy remains of his potion. Come.”
Sighing, she relented and went to the washbasins and quickly washed her face. Her eyes were still red and puffy, but that couldn’t be helped, she guessed.
Daphne linked their arms and led her out of the toilet, where indeed Draco and his other friends were standing with guilty looks on their faces. Draco stepped forward. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” In stark contrast to his usual self-confidence, he awkwardly held out a wrapped package with, according to Daphne, three sandwiches. For the first time he looked to Hermione like the young boy he really still was. “I saved you some sandwiches. Sorry you missed lunch because of me.”
She took the package. “Thanks.”
To her surprise, Greg stepped forward. “Sorry, I should have said something. You really helped me out in Charms. Thanks.”
She nodded and after another awkward silence, Pansy rolled her eyes and took it upon herself to navigate them all to a quiet corner where Hermione could eat in peace while they chatted about the awfully long essay they had had to write for Defence Against the Dark Arts.
“Quirrel probably won’t be able to sleep for a month after reading them,” Blaise, who had been quiet so far, chimed in with an exaggerated eyeroll. Everyone grinned.
“I wonder how he ended up teaching Defence of all things anyway.” It was the first time Hermione had spoken and she half expected to be ignored or scoffed at, but Draco just shrugged.
“My father, he’s Head of the Board of Governors, said that he wanted to be History of Magic teacher, but Dumbledore made him Defence teacher because his predecessor was fired the year before for excessive drinking. And they’ll always have old Binns for History anyway.” He smirked. “Dumbledore isn’t really good at choosing Defence teachers, they never stay longer than a year. I bet Quirrel will quit on his own before the year is over.”
They all agreed to that.
After eating two sandwiches and unable to have another one, Hermione offered the third to Greg, who took it with a broad smile and practically inhaled it.
Then, for the first time, she didn’t walk on her own as they all headed for the Potions classroom.
Things changed then.
At first, Hermione had feared that it was out of guilt or pity, but that probably wouldn’t have lasted longer than a day or two. For the entire week Hermione was part of their group and she got to know them better.
Gregory and Vincent were protective of their friends, loyal, but insecure about their school performance. They often had trouble following classes and Hermione noticed more than once that Draco sat down with them to explain or practise the content of the day’s lessons, which was why their marks weren’t that bad at all. People just assumed that they were stupid because they hardly ever did well in the initial lesson. Once, while Draco had practiced a Transfiguration spell with Greg, Vincent had sat nearby, patiently waiting for his turn with Charms, and when Hermione had joined him and offered her help, he had given her the sweetest smile. The next day, Vincent had punched Ron Weasley in the face for asking how someone like her had managed to get cuddly with the snakes. When Professor McGonagall had confronted him, Hermione had looked at her with well-faked surprise. “That’s not possible, Professor. Vincent was with me the entire time and we didn’t see Ronald Weasley all morning.” Interestingly, Potter hadn’t backed his friend up.
Blaise and Theo were smart and funny and therefore great company. Hermione had heard that Blaise’s mother was some kind of ‘black widow’ whose husbands died like flies. She hadn’t dared to ask, if this was true quite yet.
Daphne was, as Hermione had already known, kind and chatty. She knew everything that was going on in high society and loved to talk about it for hours. In that regard, she was very different from Hermione, but surprisingly, it was easy to get carried away with her, as she had a way of making a story that would usually have been boring funny and engaging. It would have been wrong to underestimate her, though. She was intelligent and especially talented in Transfiguration and Charms.
Pansy’s humour was sharp and she tended to be a little bossy, but when in doubt, she was the one who managed to get Hermione out of the shell she had been quite comfortable in for years. What she really hadn’t expected was Pansy’s comment about her Muggle clothes, which Hermione wore when she wasn’t in her school robes. She actually liked them! While Hermione’s parents didn’t much care for her, they did care about outer appearance and so she always had nice clothes and Pansy was quite impressed by the different styles and cuts.
Surprisingly, though, she best got along with Draco. He was incredibly smart and as ambitious and competitive as herself. She now also knew why even older students respected him: He was the heir of the most influential family of Wizarding Britain, which was obviously why he could be quite arrogant at times.
Two days before the Christmas holidays, Hermione sat on the sofa of the common room, a book in her lap. She was more comfortable out here now. Some of her housemates, like Marcus Flint or Millicent, didn’t make it a secret what they thought of her, but since she was seemingly part of the group around Draco now, they didn’t dare say anything anymore, even when they were all out of earshot. The risk that she would tell them was probably too high and since Vincent’s little demonstration with Ronald Weasley, no one was willing to try their luck.
Today especially, since it was one of the days Professor Snape was in the common room. He was sitting in an armchair by the fire, looking at a rat a teary-eyed second year student held under his nose. The rat had a rash all over its body and its owner was convinced it was dying. Snape looked like he envied the critter.
Draco came out of his dorm, where he had packed for the ride home tomorrow, and sat down next to her, following her gaze, and they shared an amused look.
It did not go unnoticed. “Miss Lambert, it seems like Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger just volunteered to prepare a Dittany Lotion for your pet. If they work together, they will manage before the departure of the train tomorrow morning.”
Draco snorted, but nodded. “Sure, Sir.” Since the first day, he had called his godfather Sir, even when they were not in class, and there was always a lot emphasis on the word Sir.
Hermione barely supressed a grin.
“I hope you’re all packed up, Granger, we’ll be busy tomorrow.”
She smiled, but it probably ended up a little sadly. “I’m not going home.”
Draco looked surprised. Apparently, this was a foreign concept for him. Unsurprisingly so, considering the way he talked about his parents. “Why not? It’s Christmas.”
For a moment, she hesitated, but Draco looked genuinely taken aback and she had never talked to anyone about her situation at home. So she told him just a little, barely scratching the surface. “My parents don’t particularly like having me around. They’ve been scared of me ever since I had my first incident of accidental magic when I was very young.”
Draco looked at her for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was thoughtful. “I was also pretty young when I first did magic. I think I had a tantrum and burst a priceless vase or something.” Hermione smiled a little. “Father was so proud of me that he took me out for ice cream.” She could easily see that Draco couldn’t imagine a world in which a parent didn’t know what was going on when their child showed first signs of magic and weren’t happy about it. And why would he? He was a wizard of the umptieth generation of wizards and witches, a child doing magic early on was a good reason to be happy and proud, not to be afraid, at least in the world he had grown up in.
She shrugged and smiled. “I heard Christmas at Hogwarts is rather nice.”
Draco was quick to nod. “Yes, it is. They’ll have the whole castle decorated and everything. I’d like to see it, but …”
“I understand. You haven’t seen your parents in months, of course you’d rather go home.”
“Yeah.”
When she turned her head, she saw that Snape was looking at them.
The next day they quickly gobbled down some breakfast, much to the amusement of the others.
“One would think that Draco of all people would know Snape better,” Theo mocked his friend and Draco just glared at him before turning to Hermione.
“Ready?”
“Yes.” She emptied her tea and got up.
Blaise slowly and deliberately bit into a croissant. “Taking your time to have a nice long breakfast is the best feeling in the world.”
“It really is,” Pansy agreed, holding her cup of hot chocolate in both hands, taking a sip and closing her eyes in bliss.
“Pricks,” Draco commented and together they left the Great Hall and went down to the dungeons.
The Potions classroom had been left open for them and the recipe was lying on Snape’s desk.
They quickly gathered the necessary ingredients. The lotion was relatively quick to make and they had just finished when Snape came in. He wordlessly approached, dipped his finger into the lotion and sniffed on it. “Very good, five points to Slytherin for each of you.” He filled some of the lotion into a small tin and handed it to Draco. “Run along now, before you miss the train and your mother will have my head. Give this to Miss Lambert and tell her to apply it twice a day until the rash is completely gone.”
“I will. I’ll see you on Christmas Eve. Mother will also have your head, if you’re late. Sir,” he added with a grin.
“Get out of my sight, you insolent brat.” But there was a smirk on his face.
“Sure, Sir. See you after the holidays, Granger.”
“Yes, have fun!”
Draco grabbed the tin and hurried out.
“Miss Granger, a word.”
Surprised, she turned back around and looked at her teacher expectantly. “Yes, Professor?”
“I couldn’t help overhear your conversation with Draco yesterday.”
Of course not, he had sat quite closely to them. She blushed a little.
Snape didn’t seem to expect an answer. Yet. “Are there any … problems at home?” When he saw her questioning gaze, he became a bit more concrete. “Are your parents treating you well? At least as well as can be expected of parents who don’t want their daughter home for Christmas.”
Hermione hesitated. No one had ever asked her that. She respected him, he was a good teacher, at least if you paid attention and followed instructions. Admittedly, he was a tad biased to his own house, and for some reason he particularly disliked Harry Potter. But then again, most teachers were a bit biased against Slytherin, even if it was subtle. It was, however, an undisputable fact that Severus Snape took care of his house. Of course he acted like he was annoyed by all the little problems or pointless conversations his students came to him with the days he spent in the common room, but they still always came because they knew they could. He fooled no one. Slytherin students respected him, but they knew he was there when they needed an adult to talk to. From what Hermione had heard, the other house teacher never spent time in the common room and barely knew what was going on in their own house.
For a moment she wanted to tell him everything. All the times she had been locked up in her room, even taking her simple meals there. All the times she had preferred to stay in her room and not draw any attention to herself, even if the door hadn’t been locked. All the times her father had … punished her for even suspecting she had done something ‘unnatural’ and her mother had just stood by as if this was exactly what she deserved. All the times she was blamed for her treatment at school. All the times she was yelled at for something she hadn’t been able to control.
But what then? What could he do? She was only home for summer now and she would just try to avoid them as best she could.
“I appreciate your concern, Sir.” She truly did. “But I’m fine. They take good care of me, they just don’t enjoy my company.” She took a deep breath and willed her eyes not to water up as they met Snape’s.
He didn’t look convinced. “If you say so. In case you haven’t noticed in the past few months, I was not completely serious that first day. My door is not only open to my students in a life or death scenario.”
Hermione allowed herself a small smile. “I have noticed. Thank you, Sir.”
Hermione went back to the common room, where only four other students were sitting in front of the fireplace, all of them at least fifth year or older. They nodded in greeting as she entered, but none of them was inclined to invite her to sit with them, which was, to be fair, most likely due to her age and not her blood status.
She returned the greeting and went into her dorm to read.
~tbc~