Chapter 3
Wednesday
7am – Alarm and journaling time
7.30am – Breakfast
8am – Morning yoga
8.30am – Planning and marking time
9am – Planning and marking time
9.30am – Tutorial Group 1
10am – Tutorial Group 1
10.30am – Tutorial Group 1
11am – Tutorial Group 1
11.30am – Tutorial Group 1
12pm – Office hours - receive homework assignments
12.30pm – Lunch
1pm – Answer letters
1.30pm – Answer letters
2pm – Tutorial Group 2
2.30pm – Tutorial Group 2
3pm – Tutorial Group 2
3.30pm – Tutorial Group 2
4pm – Mark homework
4.30pm – Mark homework
5pm – Dumbledore’s Army
5.30pm – Dumbledore’s Army
6pm – Dumbledore’s Army
6.30pm – Dumbledore’s Army
7pm – Dinner
7.30pm – Read for pleasure
8pm – Evening yoga
8.30pm – Jogging
9pm – Jogging
9.30pm – Shower
10pm – Bed
“Right, well, this could be worse. I’ve had my journaling time, and breakfast isn’t over yet. I can still get this day back on track…” Hermione continued her mumbling as she paced in her office, usual schedule clutched tightly in her hands. It was 7.24am according to the clock fixed to the wall. All was not lost. She had conjured her schedule from her quarters once she reached her office to see if she could get herself back on track.
Malfoy lounged arrogantly on one of the chairs set in front of her desk usually reserved for students, slouching back with his left ankle resting atop his right knee.
When imagining an Unspeakable assigned to be her protector, she imagined (hoped for!) a middle-aged man dedicated to the cause. Someone unassuming and professional who would melt into the background of her day. Someone she could accept through virtue of not having to notice. Perhaps strike up an understanding that she did not wish to be babysat.
No.
Malfoy's presence dominated the room. He clearly had no intention of going unnoticed by Hermione. Immediately upon entering her office, he had claimed himself a chair and looked around brashly. A few times he looked as if he was going to get up and wander around to look closer at things, but it seemed his good sense prevailed. The Malfoy scion apparently resorted to squinting vaguely at some of Hermione’s personal effects – her bookshelves, her photos, her knick-knacks and so on. Dignified, she scoffed to herself, as she watched Malfoy’s eyes wander. Nosy, too!
“Right, I’m heading to breakfast. No need to follow. I don’t suppose I shall be attacked in the Great Hall.” Hermione added fake enthusiasm to her voice as she turned to leave her office, vanishing her schedule as she spoke,
“I don’t think so.” Malfoy stood, rolling his shoulders back as he did, “I’m to follow you everywhere. Strict orders.” He smirked, and Hermione rolled her eyes,
“Well, isn’t this great? Exactly what I wanted! A shadow. Bloody brilliant,”
“I don’t think that’s accurate. ‘Shadow’ would imply that I’m going to be pressed against the wall, easily ignored. That is not how I work, Granger. I have no interest in spending the next however long being forgotten and pushed to the side. I will be an active part of your life because you are in danger. I will get to know your routine and the people in your life and I will use that information to keep you safe. I am good at my job, and I will work unencumbered by your reluctance to be near me.” Malfoy’s chest rose and fell in aggravation, and Hermione felt herself shrink back. His eyes flashed darkly before he blinked it away, tearing his eyes from hers entirely, “Am I clear?” He added, tone much more even and bored than before,
“Yes,” Hermione sighed, also fixing her eyes on a point slightly to the left of Malfoy’s head, “But this will take some getting used to. It will not come naturally to me, sharing my day with someone else.”
“I can live with that.”
Whispers rippled through the Great Hall as Hermione entered, Draco Malfoy half a pace behind her. They looked an odd pair – Hermione in her casual muggle wear and Malfoy in his all-black robes, billowing out behind him regally as he kept stride with Hermione. Of course, that’s not what struck as odd. The Golden Girl accompanied by a former Death Eater is what most people found themselves witnessing. The students were shocked to see the heir to what remains of the Malfoy fortune – Lord Malfoy in all but name – inside their safe Hogwarts walls. The younger ones had but a vague idea of who he and his family were, but the older students held real memories of the war. They were in their beginning years of Hogwarts when the final battle took place. They saw the Malfoys alongside Voldemort. That is enough to make up their minds about seeing him in front of their eyes, regardless of any trials or words of support from Harry Potter.
The staff didn’t react much better. Some remembered Draco as a boy, some had only joined since the war ended, but the general consensus of the Great Hall was that no Malfoy is welcome.
Hermione fought to breathe deeply and hold her head up; marched up to the professors’ table and took her usual seat. She wished Luna a good morning in what she hoped was a carefree way and set about having her normal breakfast,
“Good morning, Hermione. Good morning, Draco,” Luna bid in her light, airy voice, a wistful smile on her face as she nodded to each in turn, “You look a bit unsettled, Hermione. Is everything okay?” Luna probed, eyebrows raised in a kind way. Hermione nodded her head resolutely,
“Everything is fine, thank you, Luna. How is Rolf? I saw you had a letter yesterday,” Normally Hermione wouldn’t ask Luna many questions. While both women had matured, Hermione felt even presently that conversations with Luna could be… odd,
“Oh, he’s very well. I think he wants to visit me soon. But it’s a surprise. I’m not meant to know anything about it,” Hermione hummed in response, but didn’t reply, “Aren’t you going to sit, Draco? Your legs will get tired if you stand all day,” Luna continued, pointing at the chair the other side of Hermione as she turned her head to smile again at Draco in his place behind Hermione’s chair. Draco did not respond, and Hermione did not comment. She didn’t bother to offer him a seat, but Luna had never been one to make people feel like outsiders.
He sat anyway but didn’t move to grab any food. His grey eyes swept across the Great Hall, seeing how hundreds of children gaped at him none-too-subtly but not returning anyone’s eye contact. His face was fixed into an emotionless mask. Hermione wondered what it must feel like. She knew what it was to have people stare at you openly, whispering behind their hands in a voice that carries. But for those stares to be scornful, those whispers to be insults, she doesn’t experience that anymore. Hadn’t since the war. Hadn’t since she was one of those children at the tables – the outsider, the ugly duckling, the mudblood. He was only a boy. A mere child when he-
Doing her very best to tear her mind away from unfavourable avenues of thought around the man situated next to her, Hermione picked at her breakfast until it became an acceptable time to bid Luna goodbye and head back to her living quarters. She had half an hour to relax her mind with some meditative yoga before she had to start an endless pile of marking and planning.
Malfoy followed behind her. She pretended she didn’t know he was there.
“You have got to be joking me,” Hermione whispered, opening her living quarters and seeing it suspiciously different. The living area was considerably larger, the armchair by the fire now accompanied by an additional two-person sofa, the walls pushed back, the small dining set now enlarged to fit 4 chairs around it, the kitchenette now looking far more like an actual kitchen with extra cupboard space and a door where there never used to be a door. Hermione did not dare to open the door, knowing she would see an additional bedroom. Malfoy’s bedroom. She shivered at the very thought,
“I always imagined your living space to be much… tidier, I suppose Granger,” Malfoy piped up, irritating drawl ever present. She whirled around to see he was no longer behind her, but strutting about the room, peering behind books and lifting up blankets. A look of bewilderment plastered on her face, Hermione was frozen, “What on earth is this?” Malfoy mused, picking up Hermione’s laptop – something she spent months modifying to work within Hogwarts,
“Put it down!” She snapped, snatching the device from Malfoy’s hands and carefully placing it down on the table again, “This is my home, and I won’t have you rooting through my things however you please,” Hermione cast a quick tidying spell, things zooming around to their normal places, “I am going to be in my bedroom. You may not enter.” She slammed her door behind her and cast strong wards to keep him out,
“I can break those in about a minute and a half. No point.” She heard him fire back, a cruel laugh in the back of his throat. But then she heard nothing else and decided to power on with her yoga. It was such an important part of her daily routine, practicing the task of emptying her mind and stretching her body. Although today it would be much harder to do. She could not help the flames of anger that lick in her chest, directed at the Ministry, at Malfoy, at the people who threaten her research. Even at McGonagall. Did she know it would be Malfoy? Clearly, she let herself into Hermione’s quarters to enlarge them, but she couldn’t stick around? Offer words of wisdom on how not to murder the obnoxious blonde babysitter she has inherited? No! She stole in, made everything bigger and then vanished. And yes, perhaps Hermione’s anger was minorly misdirected, but that was not her business.
By the end of her yoga session, Hermione did not feel much better. But at least she felt more normal. Her routine was staying, Malfoy or not. She changed into her professor’s robes and collected her things to move over to her office. She exited her bedroom with a sigh, seeing Malfoy exit his own room (Hermione cursed the prospect that he has his own room in her home) and close the door behind him. He met Hermione’s eye with no smile, no encouraging words. Just looked at her.
Creepy.
Hermione had decided that she would simply pretend Malfoy was not there. She had too much to do, and she would simply be getting on with it. She had an hour to get on with her marking and planning for the following week before her tutorial group. At least it would be a good one – it was a remedial class for students struggling to meet the expected standards and they would be refreshing protective and defensive charms. Hermione had a real love for protective charms, having invented several herself, and enjoyed teaching them to students who were willing to learn. It was a long session, and gruelling in ways, but it would be satisfying.
The hour in her office passed quickly, although Hermione found her thought process often interrupted by Malfoy shifting in his seat, or – ugh, god forbid – breathing. How dare he.
As the clock ticked over to 9.30, Hermione stood from her desk and moved through the door into her main classroom. Her students filed in, ever the punctual lot this group, and took their seats at their desks. She felt more than heard Malfoy join her in exiting the office. He closed the door soundlessly behind him and glided over to his chosen position somewhere near the door. He did not sit this time.
Hermione saw her students shoot each other sideways glances, a few whispering so low she could not catch their words. She suspected Malfoy did not either, but he would know what they were saying. What they always said about him. One girl – the youngest of the group – struggled to tear her eyes away from Malfoy and his position at the back of the room, eyes wide and skin paling.
Hermione cleared her throat purposefully.
“You’ll have to excuse our guest. I intend it to be a temporary intrusion, but one that shall not affect our work. Now, last week we had a look at securing an existing building and you all successfully cast the charm to withstand my basic attacks,” She smiled at Nicole, a red-headed 7th year sat in the second row who had particularly struggled and made excellent progress, “So today, we will go further. Warding an existing building is challenging, but you have an area to work off of. You do not need to factor it into your casting. Today when we look at warding an indeterminate section of room or land, it will be harder. This will be our focus next week as well.”
12pm crept up quicker that Hermione realised, and before she knew it her students were collecting their belongings, stowing their notes and turning to each other to plan how they would spend their lunch period. She dismissed them with a smile and turned to clear her chalkboard and mentally made changes to the next tutorial she would lead with them. Hermione wondered about the benefits of moving the tutorial to the Quidditch pitch where there was more space to work, when she heard a timid cough,
“Loretta!” Hermione exclaimed, “Excellent work today, your wandwork has improved greatly.” The young girl nodded jerkily, throwing another look over her shoulder to the man leaned against the back wall,
“Thank you, Professor Granger. I’m so sorry, might I- I just wondered if-” The girl cleared her throat, another look thrown over her shoulder, “Might I speak with you? I’m so sorry, I promise it will not take long I just- if we could…” Loretta’s voice trailed off, her eyes shining with tears. Hermione’s face fell from a small into a well-rehearsed mask. She nodded briskly and called out,
“I will be in my office Malfoy. You are not to interrupt,” The blonde man started to shake his head,
“Granger, I will not allow-”
“You are in my classroom; you will do as I instruct. I will be meeting privately with my student and you will wait outside my office door. I will not negotiate.” She snapped, cutting Malfoy off without a further glance. Hermione herded Loretta into the office at the back of the room and left Malfoy to stare after her, jaw slack. That was something he hadn’t seen from her since their school days. He felt her cast a silencing charm on the room, and bristled internally. Not having any idea what she was doing set him on edge given his assignment. He resigned himself to simply stand outside the office door, cursing every decision he ever made that led to that moment.
Inside the office, Hermione turned to her student with kind eyes and gestured for her to take a seat across from Hermione’s desk.
“Would you like a hot drink? Biscuit?” Hermione offered, seeing how visibly uncomfortable poor Loretta was. The girl shook her head and Hermione saw her take a deep breath. Hermione settled into her own chair and leant back, giving the girl space to calm herself down and begin speaking on her own terms. Hermione knew first-hand how awful it was for someone to force you to speak before you were good and ready.
“Professor Granger, I’m sorry. I understand that there are reasons for things that I won’t always understand, and that it’s hardly my place to question things as I won’t see all of the reasons,” Loretta spoke slowly and deliberately. Hermione did not interrupt, but silently marvelled at the 15-year old’s emotional awareness, “However, I am afraid that- I feel uncomfortable with that man out there,” She sighed, shrinking into herself, “My parents are dead,” she whispered, even quieter. Hermione leant forward to hear, her heart already breaking. She suspected she knew what would come next. The horrors this girl, among thousands of others, experienced, “They died in the war. I was 10, about to turn 11. I was out with my auntie. We came back and-” The first tear fell from Loretta’s eyes and Hermione silently conjured a tissue box in front of Loretta. She took a tissue and wiped her eyes, looking up to meet the eyes of her Charms Professor, “The dark mark had been cast above our house. I watched as 2 death eaters left my house. My auntie hid us. They walked straight past us and – gods,” Her voice broke as a fresh wave of tears started, “They were laughing. Laughing. My parents were dead inside. Tortured. And they were laughing about how my mother screamed. My mother was a muggleborn, like you. They laughed and joked about how she died in pain. And then… well, one of them turned and called out and he shouted ‘hurry up Draco’ and then that man, that one out there, he came out of my house where my dead, tortured parents were.” Loretta’s voice broke for a final time and Hermione felt a tear escape her eyes too.
“Loretta,” Hermione breathed, unsure what to say.
“I can’t be in a room with him, Professor. I can’t. I’m sorry, I know there’s a reason but I can’t do it, I can’t bear to look in his face knowing what he did to my parents!” Loretta’s voice rose into a wail, laced with pain and hurt. Hermione’s heart shattered. Loretta’s hands clutched to her chest, holding her sodden tissue as her shoulders shook and the tears fell.
“You poor girl,” Hermione whispered, moving to sit next to Loretta, “I am so sorry for your pain and your loss. Nothing can compare to it and I am so sorry that you had to go through it,” Hermione soothed, a gentle hand placed on the girl’s back, “I will speak with the headmistress immediately. Would you like to remain here until you are ready, or would you like to see Madam Pomfrey? She has ways of helping you calm down,” Loretta shook her head,
“I’m okay, Professor,” She gasped, sucking air in through her nose and forcing it out through her mouth, “I don’t want to hold you up. Can I just spend 5 minutes in here? I’ll get out of your way, I swear.” Hermione smiled sadly.
“You stay here as long as you need. I will see the headmistress and you will do what you need to do. The classroom will be empty when you are ready to leave,” Hermione assured her, conjuring a bar of chocolate to leave beside the girl as her breathing evened. Loretta nodded in thanks, understanding Hermione’s meaning.
Hermione rose from her seat, jaw set and eyes fiery. She exited the room, not deigning to make eye contact with the former death eater as she pushed right through him and marched off to see McGonagall.
This was not fair.