Potions
Hermione nearly growled as she watched her potion bubble to the upper lip of her cauldron, and let out a soft breath as it smoothed over, turning into a dark purple shade. Her eyes flicked upwards to watch Ernie's potion bubble over and spill over onto his parchment. Blaise's began to vaporize on itself, turning into puffy purple smoke that was quickly engulfing the classroom.
"Mr. Zabini!" Shouted Professor Morlen. "The procedure for smoke removal is?"
"Evanesco motrium." Muttered Blaise. The purple smoke began to turn green.
Serves him right. Hermione thought smugly, her eyes drifting back to her own stable potion.
"EVANESCO MOTRIUM!" Shouted Draco, his wand pointed at the smoke that instantly vanished.
Morlen rolled her eyes. "If we were at Hogwarts, I'd have to take points. Blaise, honestly." She shook her head. Her eyes skimmed over Hermione's cauldron and she made no comment—she never did. It was practically expected that Hermione wouldn't fuck up her potion. A 5th-year review potion. "That's enough for today, everyone."
Hermione huffed and waved her hand over the potion – if brewed correctly, a simple vanishing spell would get rid of it. She didn't bother to remain in the classroom to watch the potion simmer into nothing and instead strode out into the English rain; she had to get home. A few others strode out alongside her, none of them speaking to each other either. That's how it was now, the graduating class of 1999 Hogwarts was as silent as they could come. Not a single mention of the war amongst them, and many of them had moved on top of it all.
Ron, for instance, Hermione thought sourly, had an entire family running through Diagon Alley with Lavender proudly strutting behind her three children. Harry had Ginny, Theo had Astoria ... or maybe it was Dean that was with Astoria? She couldn't remember. Not that it mattered; Hermione had the Leaky. The fucking Leaky.
Thinking of her room in the back of it made her feel a little bit of warmth in her heart. Despite it being fairly plain, her stacks of books on her dining table, tall soy candles, and various quilts knitted by Molly kept her contempt.
Hermione lifted her hood past her forehead and shivered slightly as she stepped into Knockturn Ally. No one that walked this part of Wizarding London would stop her for an autograph or photo. The door to Lost Things jingled as she stepped through it, nearly recoiling at the smell. "Miss Granger." Stefen cooed at her, his head bowed beneath the counter.
"Stefen." Hermione said pleasantly. Stefen had a head full of light brown curls with eyes that resembled a forest—hazel was too dull of a word to describe them.
"The usual?"
"I'd like to step it up a little."
"Please, sit." Hermione shook off her raincoat and hung it on a spare coat hanger. She sat down on the stool that was creaking under her weight. Stefen walked over from the counter and stood before her. "Ready?"
Hermione gripped the stool with her shaking hands. "Go." Occlude.
Stefen's magic coursed through her, his hands feeling as if they were physically trying to pry her brain open. Her walls held strong. Hermione gritted her teeth as an image flashed before her—a skirt, a grey uniform skirt. One that she had worn years ago. A discarded tie, and a sweater. There was dirt everywhere, dirt and dirt and—Hermione felt her heart rise to her throat and the image disappeared. She gasped, toppling over the stool whose leg had decided to break. "Fuck." She whispered; her voice hoarse.
Stefen looked at her grimly. "I mean, you're better at... it's better."
She was shaking as she sat up and took the potion Stefen was extending, as well as the bag that held more. Gulping it back as if it was water, Hermione's hands stopped shaking. Her lungs burned, but it was nothing she couldn't fix later, when she didn't need anymore of it. "Next week, I suppose." All Hermione could do was wait for the potion to kick in; she sat with her chin tilted back and her eyes closed. "How's that potions class of yours?" He asked.
"It's just started so... it's just review, for now. The teacher mentioned that only a few of us would remain in the next coming months so there's always the chance it gets harder."
He hummed. "You know there are rumors you're going to run for Minister next year."
Hermione laughed, her eyes opening to look at Stefen. "Do I look like Minister potential?"
He frowned. "You just... have to get occluding down. Afterwards, perhaps seeing a Mind Healer outside of the country would help. If you were going to run, I wouldn't recommend seeing one here. All the brains you need for the position are ready to go."
"Because all my secrets would be spilt, you mean." She said.
"I suppose you'd need the discretion."
"Let's just see how the potions mastery goes."
"That you will pass, and it will promote you to Head of the DMLE." He scoffed. "And from there, with your previous experience running legislation and now security? You already smell like the Minister. Merlin knows Scrudge needs to retire."
"I just got back on track—I'm barely on track." She whispered hoarsely. "What would happen when I stepped up to become Minister? During election season? They'd tear me apart."
"I think you could handle the Sacred House of Twenty-Eight. You just need a team."
"I don't have a team."
He sighed deeply. "I think you need to see the damn Mind Healer Hermione, and after that, doing what makes you the Brightest Witch of Her Age, will set you back on track. It'll keep you on track."
"Let me just do the potions mastery first, hmm?" She replied, her eyes dropping to the floor.
Stefen nodded. "I'd like you to drop off your updated notes, Hermione. Whenever you can before your next class." Her notes on how biologically fucked her head was.
She nodded. "I'll try to drop it off. Thank you again." She draped her coat over her shoulders, not bothering to button it—the potion Stefen had given her made her feel warm and her head fuzzy. "I'll see you soon Stefen." He nodded politely, watching her exit his store.
Hermione walked back up Knockturn Alley, her pace slower than what she had entered with. Stupid occlumency. She had nearly had it, but having those images flash past her eyes had shaken her and her focus had dropped. She let out a breath—she had work in the morning. She needed to get home, make dinner, and get to bed. The exhaustion from today would be enough to help her find immediate sleep once her head the hit the pillow. Hermione let out a yawn as she saw the Leaky up ahead; the creaky old sign swinging against the pattering rain.
She brought up a hand to cover her mouth for another yawn when her shoulder crashed into another's, her feet slipped out from under her and Hermione's attention turned into hyper focus and she swiveled to meet her assaulter on the ground.
"Malfoy!" She yelled, struggling to get up against the wet cobblestones.
"Granger, I—" His eyes moved to the paper bag that had been containing the vials Stefen had given her. It appeared the vials had been smashed; the blue potion was seeping through the bag and into the ground. His gaze moved to her furious one. "... Let me help you up." He grabbed one of her arms and hauled her up against him.
"Unbelievable." Hermione muttered regaining her footing and picking up the paper bag and looking at the smashed glass inside. With a newfound focus, her eye's found Draco's.
He winced. "I'm sorry about that."
She counted to three in her head before answering. "It's fine; I'll pick up more later. I'll see you next week, Malfoy." She effectively stepped around him, noticing the mud she had splashed over his shoes and trousers. Mud that she was covered in as well. How ironic.
"Granger, let me—"
She held up a hand. "Really, it's fine. Good day, Malfoy." She walked past him and trudged towards the Leaky Cauldron, her coat half balled up and half strung over her arm. His family would be the first to drag her back through the dirt and mud if she publicly decided to run for Minister of Magic. A brilliant day today was indeed.