H
Hermione was tired.
She was immensely, extremely, painfully exhausted.
The effort of putting on her Hogwarts uniform seemed equivalent to running a marathon. The skirt, and the socks. The shirt and the jacket. The final touch to her mask that was Hermione Granger was the Head Girl pin that she put near the Hogwarts crest on her jacket.
She studied herself in the train compartment window reflection.
Lapels perfectly laid, skirt with not a wrinkle present. Jacket buttoned to her collar. Her hair was enormous, as always, but what could be done about that? Her large eyes were empty, and the eye bags that had marked her face consistently in the past year had certainly not faded over the mess that was her summer. And yet, any desperation, any tiredness, still could not be seen. Because that was Hermione Granger staring at her, Brightest Witch of the Age.
This Hermione Granger had parents and a home. This Hermione had best friends, and who smiled.
She felt as if she was merely a piece of shed skin to what she was before.
A new start. A new start. A new start.
One more year, and then she could rest. Hang up the mask, and escape from the world that had named her a “War Hero”, a “Golden Girl.”
She hated that name. That stupid name that shouted at her from the top of Reeta’s daft articles.
Hermione looked into her own eyes, as the Scottish countryside flew by, and clicked that mask in place.
*****
The quietness was something that she did not anticipate.
When she walked down the train’s walkway, silence fell from the students she was passing through. Whispers passed around her like wind, and she could feel their eyes following her as she took her calm strides toward the front of the train. They didn’t speak to her, but they spoke of her. It made her skin itch.
Is this what Harry had endured for years? Since he was eleven? No wonder he preferred quiet company.
She smiled at anyone who accidentally caught her eye, and the nervous squeaks and polite panic that was returned made her feel as if something was in her teeth, or on her face.
It made her pick up her pace to pass through the crowds to the Head student compartment near the front of the train, where her fellow Head was likely waiting. Hermione had good suspicion it was Neville, which would be the best case. Dean Thomas or Seamus were also acceptable. Anyone from Ravenclaw wouldn’t be bad either. She had remembered Percy Weasley knowing once he got his letter and pin delivered, but since McGonagall was Headmaster now, some things were ought to be different. Truth be told, as long as it was someone bearable, it didn’t come as any importance to her.
Hermione came to a stop in front of the frosted window that looked into the compartment. The label on the door read: “Head Girl & Head Boy Quarters”
She had read in Hogwarts: A History that this door was keyed to their magic once they were selected so that no one could invade the plush space.
After letting out a breath, Hermione opened the door.
And froze with merely one foot across the door frame. Because Draco bloody Malfoy was sitting on one of the benches, sprawled out as if he belonged there, with a smirk on his face as he said, “Hello, Granger.”
*****
“I sympathize with your reservations, Ms. Granger. But there is a larger play in motion here, and I encourage you to realize that” McGonagall stated as she poured some tea into a rather pretty teacup, “Tea, Ms. Granger?”
Hermione sat across from the woman who had protected her for nearly eight years. And tried very hard to not, for lack of a better phrase, lose her shit.
She took a breath. Another. “No thank you, Headmaster. I understand, truly, what you have on your plate to restart Hogwarts and restore the cracks in unity that the War created. But putting such a violate pairing such as Malfoy and I in the limelight is a path I highly do not suggest.” McGonagall took a sip of her tea, not a drop going out of place. Then she set the cup down and settled into the chair across from Hermione. That chair reminded her of a throne, and she suddenly felt rather small as the woman’s kind, and yet severe gaze met hers.
The Headmaster slid a picture across the table to Hermione, and she leaned forward to view it.
Upon closer inspection, she realized it was a cut-out of a newspaper article, dated back to one month after the War.
It was a front piece, that included a large picture of Ron, Hermione, and Harry. They were all showing their most professional smiles and clothes as they stood in the trial room. That was right before they began the process of testifying their stories to help with the sentencing of the remaining Death Eaters.
The headline read: “Gryffindor Golden Trio takes down the remaining Snakes!”
Hermione lifted her eyes, and McGonagall was stirring her tea idly. “This article, and several others that could be considered even more biased, showcase exactly what I am trying to demolish by using Mr. Malfoy and yourself. How do you think, Ms. Granger, Voldemort got so many sympathizers?”
The slightly scolding tone flayed Hermione’s confidence with ease. Minerva continued. “It is because of how violate, indeed, things have been allowed to become between Houses. Particularly Slytherin and the others. By “othering” them out of social circles, and events, everyone has enabled their destruction. That is why, Ms. Granger, I have paired you and Mr. Malfoy together.” The Headmaster stood, and came around the table to lay a comforting hand on Hermione’s shoulder as she said, “I did it to show that if the most famous Pureblood Slytherin and the world’s greatest Muggleborn can put their differences aside, then everyone can. We, as a school, and as a society, can not survive without that hope.”
Minerva McGonagall could give Molly Weasley a run for guilt trips, that was for sure. But the Headmaster had a point that even she could see logic in. Even if she didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Hermione stood, and gave a dip of her head, “I will try my best, Headmaster. Thank you for your time.”
McGonagall smiled, “Anytime, Ms. Granger. Now please, get some rest before your round schedule commences. You have a busy year ahead of you.” Hermione gave one more polite smile before seeing herself out of the office.
Once that door closed, that smile disappeared. She put her head in her hands and slowly ran her hands over her hair to try and flatten it. This was bad. This was very, very bad. She couldn’t live with Draco Malfoy! He’d probably suffocate her in her sleep or something. What if he invited Pansy to their dorm? Oh Merlin, what if he was messy?
“Coming up with ways to murder me, Granger? I have a few resources if you need.” She whirled towards the other side of the hallway, and there he stood. That infuriating smirk was still on his face. He looked her up and down and rolled his eyes. She tried and failed to find any words that weren’t curses to say.
“Cat got your tongue, Granger?”
She scoffed and crossed her arms. “No, Malfoy. I just don’t waste my time talking to unintelligent people.”
He raised a brow, “And yet you went out with Weasel. That doesn’t support that statement."
She huffed and turned on her heel. No point in wasting time talking to him. She wanted at least an hour to herself before their 10 o’clock rounds tonight, where it’d be an hour with no one but him. There would be plenty of time for his snide comments then. Her heart sank as she heard unhurried footsteps catching up to her.
Damn him and those stupid long legs. And damn her short ones. He had filled out this past summer like he needed one more reason to look down on her, now he could, from at least a foot higher at all times. Not to mention it seemed some muscle was gained as well, which didn’t help her relax. If he tried anything, she’d be relying strictly on wand work.
Her shoulders remained tense, almost as taut as the air between them as they walked.
She didn’t even understand why he was waiting for her outside of the Headmaster’s office. After his ambush on the train, she had turned tail so fast she’d given herself whiplash, and vanished down the train. At dinner and the sorting, she had ignored every look he threw her way. After she was done passing out the passwords to the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor prefects, she came straight here. And he had followed her.
That dumb, pretentious twat. She tried to send him a sly glare, but he was already looking down at her coldly.
He spoke in that deep, icy voice of his, “I didn’t see you eat anything at the feast. Don’t tell me you’re still boycotting the bloody House Elves?” She opened her mouth to tell him that it was none of his business when he spoke again, “Or did you just get spoiled this summer on whatever food they had at those galas and parties thrown in your honor, and decided this common food wasn’t good enough for you? Parties for Harry Potter’s little pets.”
She turned, spitting mad, to find him looking down at her in distaste. “You know,” She seethed, “Absolutely nothing about me. So mind your own business, Malfoy, and I’ll mind mine.”
"But where is the fun in that?” He drawled out, nothing more than a spoiled rich prick, bored with the hand he held.
Little did he know she had only attended one of those parties and had spent half of the night locked in the bathroom, puking and hyperventilating. One of the guests had made a joke about Bellatrix meeting her end, and just the sound of her name had sent Hermione sprinting for the ladies’ room. Ginny had come to try and check on her, but she had given her friend a shaky plea to leave her be.
That night was the last time she had seen any of them before she had fled.
She shook herself out of her thoughts to realize Malfoy was still staring coldly at her. She glared at him right back. How she hated him, with his arrogance and his spite. This would be a long year.
They had reached the statue that led to the Head student tower. Centrally located to each of the four Houses, it looked out towards the Dark Forest. She whispered the password and tapped her wand against the statue’s wand point. An arched doorway appeared to the left of the statue, and she and Malfoy filed through it. The thought of having her own bedroom did provide the smallest silver lining to this situation.
As she walked up the staircase into their common room, that silver lining grew. Just a little bit.
There was a roaring fire on the left and right, and two large couches facing a coffee table with a Wizards chest set and multiple books already piled on. There were armchairs placed about, and two windows on the far wall that presumably held the view she had heard about. Along with the fires, there were two staircases on either side of the room that wound up to the open second story, which had two doors right across from each other. The lower level had two doors as well, which led to their own private bathing rooms.
Hermione couldn’t help but examine the room with nothing but admiration for the beautiful decoration and architecture. To Malfoy, she probably looked like a craning fool. He was probably used to much grander in his private Manor, but she didn’t care.
Indeed, he stood by the door, judging her with raised brows, and a condescending grin.
She stopped her viewing and sent him one more glare before stomping up the stairs and closing the door behind her with a thud.
When she turned from the door, however, she couldn’t stop the gasp that came from her.
There was a large bay window straight ahead, perfect for reading, with various red and gold cushions placed within. To her right, a large canopy bed was stationed. It was king-sized, had to be because it was even larger than her bed that had been back in the muggle world. There was a large armoire, and a vanity as well. But the thing that made her give a small grin, was the bookshelves. Against the opposite wall, was a bookshelf stretching the entire width, and as tall as the high ceilings. And a latter. There was a rolling ladder because those bookshelves held hundreds of books.
Only for her.
Hermione smiled, for the first time in 5 months.
She had read somewhere, presumably in one of the Hogwarts guides or Hogwarts: A History, that the castle itself possessed an extreme amount of magic. To protect itself, to guide its Headmaster, but also to create the space for its occupants. The Head rooms changed every year, and the castle used its “data” on the students to arrange a place of relaxation and belonging.
It was meant to be a bit of a bargaining chip for students to accept the position, Hermione believed.
The duties were not to be taken lightly. There were the weekly meetings with the Prefects of all the houses, and the daily rounds, at 10:00 o’clock, so an hour after curfew. After those two, once October hit, they were expected to monitor all student’s comings and goings to Hogsmeade. Not to mention, they were at liberty to do any other assignments the Prefect’s, or the Headmaster required.
This, packed with her NEWTs, and her ten-course schedule, gave her absolutely no time to think for herself. Which is precisely why she said yes. She almost didn’t, because she didn’t want anybody looking up to her like she was Merlin’s legacy in the flesh, but she realized that without Harry and Ron besides her, and with all her previous friends pushed to arms-length, she would have nothing to do except for spiral.
And she had had quite enough of that.
So, she took on Head Girl, Advanced Arithmancy studies, Ancient Runes, and Alchemy. She took Elevated Potions and Astronomy and Advanced Transfiguration. History of Magic, Herbology, and Charms. Defense Against the Dark Arts, however, she had been excused from. Which gave her just the right space to put Magical Theory there instead.
Because she was going to drown herself in work, so that when she put her head on a pillow, there was no nightmares to follow.