Exceptional
God save Paris. RIP to the many innocent women, men and children killed or injured, and my condolences to your families and friends. Forever in our hearts.
"Surely you can't still be that upset about it? I mean, it's been a month hasn't it?" Ron asked incredulously as he eyed off the last piece of pumpkin pie on the table.
His longing gaze was diverted, however, by Harry nudging him harshly in the ribs. Looking back and forth from Hermione to Harry, he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, not understanding what was so bad about his question.
"Don't be such a prat, Ron. How would you feel if you found out Mum and Dad weren't your real parents?" Ginny asked, scowling at him.
"Didn't they tell you? He isn't really our brother."
"They found wee Wonny in the garden out back-"
"-rolling around with the garden gnomes."
"Oh wrack off you two," Ron hissed at Fred and George who had come to sit at the table, "You know what I meant." Turning back to Hermione, he tried again, "Yeah, but it must be good knowing you're a Pureblood, right? Not that being a Muggleborn was bad or anything, 'course, but now even Malfoy can't use it against you."
Beside him, Harry heaved a deep sigh as Ginny shook her head exasperatedly. "Trust you to think of that, Ronald. I think finding out that the people who have raised you aren't your real parents and that everything you knew about yourself has changed is a little more important than new blood status."
Hermione shook her head quickly. "No, it's not that. I mean, Mum and Da- Emmeline and Roger, have always treated me like an adult anyway. I know they love me just as much as my real parents probably did, so I don't feel too much of a sense of loss there. Our relationship is still more or less the same; maybe with fewer secrets." Hermione let out a small sigh, her voice growing strained as she continued, "It's just- oh, you wouldn't understand."
"But still, there's perks to it…"
"Try us," Ginny prompted loudly, ignoring Ron's protest that his idea was still relevant.
"Well, that's just it, isn't it? I'm a Pureblood. I'm not a Muggleborn anymore."
The group looked at her, heads tilted slightly.
Sighing again, Hermione shook her head. "See? You wouldn't understand." Standing up, she began to hastily gather her books back into her bag. "Never mind, I suppose I am just being silly."
"No, wait, we'll try to understand. Won't we, Ronald?" Ginny asked the boys, her glare focused on Ron in particular.
Ron glared in return, not sure why he was being singled out by his sister. He was being sensitive, right? He was trying to understand why Hermione was so upset. It wasn't like Ginny knew what was wrong either. Turning back to his friend, he nodded reassuringly.
The twins, for their part, became tactfully interested in Lee Jordan's latest story of prank-pulling and left the table. As soon as they did, Hermione searched Ron's, Harry's and Ginny's eyes to see if she could trust them with her worries before reluctantly trying to explain again.
"It's not the same; I'm not the same. I'm not as… special."
Ron looked to Harry, who lifted his shoulders up and down quickly before focusing back on Hermione.
"Everyone thinks I'm the smart one – the bookworm, top of the class. I didn't mind that I was at the top – I revelled in it, because as a Muggleborn I could prove I was great. I had a, well, disadvantage of sorts to break through," her cheeks turned slightly pink as she said this, struggling to remain modest. "But now, as a Pureblood, it's sort of expected that I knew those things- that I was great at magic. Not because I am talented, but because it's in my blood. I'm no exception to any other student."
Harry started nodding slowly, almost as though he understood what Hermione was saying. Ginny was doing the same as she listened to her friend, though Ron could see the confusion swirling within her eyes. He couldn't fathom why they were even bothering to pretend to understand. It was ludicrous! Hermione worked hard to achieve all that she had; she was talented, exceptional – Muggleborn or Pureblood. Everyone knew that.
"Look at Theodore Nott. He has been getting brilliant results the last few years, particularly in Charms and Transfiguration. No one praises him though because he's a Pureblood; it's assumed he will do well," Hermione continued, looking sympathetically at the lanky Slytherin sitting across the hall.
"His father probably demands he does well, that's all," Ginny offered.
"Forget about that git. You know you're smart; blood status doesn't change that," Harry added.
"Yeah, maybe," Hermione said after a while. Then, as the bell echoed through the castle, signalling the end of lunch and effectively the end of their conversation, she resumed gathering her belongings. "Come on, we'd better go before Professor Snape finds another excuse to deduct house points."
Ron copied the others as they stood up hesitantly, clearly not satisfied with Hermione's answer. However, knowing that Snape would love to more than simply deduct house points for tardiness, it seemed he had no choice but to follow them.
"Where is she?" Ron whispered quickly, looking around the class room as Professor McGonagall entered.
Immediately, the noise in the room dissipated. Harry could only raise his shoulders as he, too, looked at the empty seat directly in front of him, wondering where Hermione could possibly be. Never in her entire six years at Hogwarts had she ever been late. In fact, Ron was positive she had been the first child to enter that Muggle kindly school – or whatever it was called – every day.
As if she could hear his thoughts, the large oak classroom door creaked open and Hermione entered the room, ignoring McGonagall's disapproving glance. Her shoes dragged across the floorboards, drawing the attention of the other students who were not already whispering about her unusual demeanour. Her normally bushy hair stuck out in places, almost as though she had just rolled out of bed, whilst her red and gold tie hung loosely around her neck.
Taking a seat in front of them, she took her time taking out her belongings, not caring that her ink almost toppled over onto her textbook. She didn't turn to meet their worried looks, focussing instead on slumping in her chair and looking around the room disinterestedly.
McGonagall cleared her throat loudly, drawing everyone's attention back to the front of the room. Tapping the large blackboard with her wand, she instructed the class to copy out the wand movements to the vanishing spell.
"It seems some of you may need to revise the basic principles of Transfiguration before we move on to the more difficult conjurations you will find in your NEWTS next year. Now, who can tell me why this type of transformation may be useful?" her green eyes swept the room, travelling over the students who sheepishly ducked their heads in the hope of avoiding being called upon.
Ron wracked his brain, trying to think back over the last few years. To be honest, with his worries over the upcoming Quidditch try-outs and finding the money to order a new Potions textbook, he hadn't had the time to concentrate on previous years.
Apparently, he was not the only one whose memory was failing him. As he looked up, hoping for something – anything – to prompt him, he noticed many of his peers were gazing around with blank expressions. Seamus' forehead had turned a delicate shade of pink as he hastily flicked through his textbook, hoping for an answer.
"Anybody? Miss Granger?" McGonagall directed her gaze on Hermione who was fidgeting in her chair.
"Not sure," Hermione mumbled.
The whispers instantly resumed as everyone looked around at Hermione, mouths dropping open in shock. McGonagall's nostrils flared as she demanded silence, rapping her wand against her desk.
"Silence please. Miss Granger, I expected more of you. Perhaps you could instead inform the class as to the correct wand movements involved in Evanesco?" McGonagall asked, eyebrows raised.
Hermione remained quiet, save for a rough shake of her head. She must've felt everyone's stare upon her, for she began to shift uncomfortably in her seat. Ron wasn't sure how she managed to resist the temptation to deliver a perfect answer that could have been included in the textbook, let alone why she was acting so defiant.
"Well then. I must say, I'm very disappointed in you Miss Granger. Don't you snigger, Mr Zabini, either, I expected you to have the answer prepared as well. In fact, I'd like you all to take out your parchment and copy the following twenty times – or at least until it sinks into your heads. Really, you've just completed your OWLS, the hard work is only just beginning."
With a wave of her wand, the neat, sloping writing on the chalkboard was replaced with a long passage from their first-year textbooks on the fine art of Transfiguration. Groans could be heard from various desks, soon silenced as McGonagall's eyes turned in their direction.
It was only an hour later when the bell signalled the transition for classes that Ron and Harry left the room, clutching cramped hands. They had no time to feel sorry for themselves, however, as they dashed through the crowds of students milling around trying to keep up with Hermione. The brunette had left the classroom as soon as they were dismissed, dumping her books and quill unceremoniously into her satchel.
"Hermione, wait up will you," Harry called above the noise.
Hermione didn't stop though and continued surging forward. It was only when they reached the Charms classroom on the fourth floor that she finally stopped to take a breath, leaning against the cold stone wall. Breathing deeply, she slid down to the floor, dropping her bag.
"What the bloody hell was all that about?" Ron asked as they reached her, puffing from the exertion of running from the seventh floor corridor.
Looking up, Hermione rolled her eyes. "What was what about?"
"That, just then. You usually have all the answers." Turning to Harry for confirmation, who nodded in agreement, he turned back to Hermione. "McGonagall was furious."
"Oh well. I just don't see the point of trying all that hard anymore, that's all. Oh, don't give me that look. I'm allowed to do as I please, really."
"But-"
"Everyone please, in we go, in we go. Lots of work to complete," Professor Flitwick interrupted squeakily, opening the door to his classroom.
Students began filing into the classroom, pushing past the trio with their shoulders. Ron did not want to follow, and stood beside Harry as he tried to convince Hermione once again that she was being ridiculous.
"Hermione, c'mon, you know you don't mean that. Let's go in and forget this whole business, show them how great you still are."
"You go in; I think I'll stay here a little longer," Hermione replied lazily, crossing her legs.
Both Harry and Ron wavered on the spot as they could hear Flitwick begin the lesson. They didn't want to leave her sitting there in such a strange mood, yet knew she could be stubborn. Deciding perhaps it was best to give her some space – after all, it may have been one of those female issues girls seemed prone to go through – the boys grudgingly entered the room.
"Do you think it's just a phase?" Ron whispered anxiously as the door closed behind him.
Harry looked back at the door, furrowing his brow. "I certainly hope so," he replied.
Ron tugged at a tuft of orange hair as he looked at his Charms textbook. He had been staring at the same page for nearly an hour and yet he still could not seem to pronounce the spell correctly.
Slamming his book shut, he turned to Harry. "Any chance you've mastered that water spell yet?"
Harry shook his head glumly, pointing to the mounds of parchment lying on the table. Among the papers, several essays were strewn about with large P's glinting on the corners in silver. They very much resembled Ron's own essays, which had seen fewer E's and A's in the last few weeks and more D's.
Ron looked across the common room longingly, his blue eyes fixed upon Hermione. The brunette was sitting with Lavender and Parvati, giggling over glossy magazines featuring witches modelling the newest robes. Ron knew her grades were currently much worse than his, knowing that she hadn't even attempted to pick up a quill let alone visit the library.
"Maybe we could…" he began, trying to think of a way to snap her out of her current unenthusiastic state.
He, Harry and Ginny had spent considerable time coming up with various plans to get the old Hermione back – the Hermione who actually cared about her academic career. So far, they had tried getting the younger students to ask her for tutoring, as well as pointing out that Malfoy seemed to be coming first in all his classes. Unfortunately, all Hermione seemed capable of doing was raise an eyebrow and reply with something like, "Good for him."
"It wouldn't work," Harry cut Ron off, shaking his head again. "She's just not interested anymore."
"I guess."
Casting Hermione one last wistful look, Ron turned back to his work, flipping through the pages in his notebook in the hope he had written down something useful. In the afternoon, Flitwick was presenting them with a 'surprise' test on the latest spell they were supposed to have mastered. Everyone knew they had a test however as the tiny wizard could never manage to keep a secret about class quizzes. Unfortunately, it didn't mean Ron or Harry would be prepared for it.
Taking out his wand, he decided it best to give the spell another go.
"Aguamenti."
Instead of a stream of water, violet sparks shot out of the tip of his wand, yet the candle in front of him remained burning brightly.
Shifting in his seat, Ron pushed up the sleeves of his robes. He could feel several sets of eyes watching him attempt the spell, sure that their owners were laughing at his incompetence. With the tips of his ears burning, he jabbed his wand in the candle's direction again and muttered the incantation.
"Agua-menti!"
This time, the candle glowed a bright blue as it flew into the air, before spinning off in the direction of where Lavender, Parvati and Hermione sat. Parvati looked up and scowled at Ron as the flames caught onto the corner of her magazine, whilst Lavender let out a small, nervous laugh and waved at him. It was drowned out by the laughter of other Gryffindors, who found his failure highly amusing. Ron's ears grew redder with fresh humiliation, but as he looked towards Hermione, who looked at him sympathetically before hastily turning back to her magazine, an idea formed in his head.
Clearing his voice, he commanded the candle to return to him so he could try again. This time, however, he didn't bother to look at his notes as he said, "Aquamente," and gave his wand a sharp flick.
The candle rose into the air and shot towards the nearest lounge. A few students laughed again, but Ron's gaze was focused on Hermione. Hermione had sat up in her chair, eyes focused unblinkingly upon her magazine. He knew she wasn't reading the content, and, sure enough, could see her eyes flicker towards him.
It was working.
Raising his wand again and ignoring the confused look Harry gave him, he repeated, "Aqua mental".
Again and again he attempted to put out the candle, his movements becoming purposefully jerkier and clumsy. Quite a few times, his pronunciation was completely off, where he was chanting an entire new word. Still, he did not stop, knowing that Hermione was watching him, no longer pretending to read her magazine as she clasped her hands tightly in her lap.
Finally, it seemed that his plan worked. As he raised his wand again and cleared his throat, he felt a soft hand grip his wrist.
"Stop, stop, stop! Its Aquamenti, not Aquamental. You have to flick down then wave your wand upwards smoothly. See, like this," Hermione commanded bossily, guiding his wrist in a small circle. Instantly, his wand shot azure sparks towards the candle before it was engulfed in a steady stream of water.
Ron smiled up at her, ignoring the candle. "Thanks, Hermione. I would never have gotten that. I told you that you were special, didn't I? No one could have helped me perform it."
Hermione looked at him, her own cheeks growing red, making Ron sense the oncoming storm from her mouth. He had tricked her into completing a difficult spell with ease, despite her earlier objections. He was thus relieved when she paused and, much to his surprise, had a smile playing upon her lips. "Yes,I suppose I am special… for being able to put up with you."
Just another basic, uninspired short story from me this time I'm afraid. As Chaser One, I was given Pureblood!Hermione as my character prompt, which had to be an original take. I sort of struggled with it as I can never imagine Pureblood!Hermione as being anything other than a snobby Slytherin so I hope this take is somewhat original and different. Or, at least not a Troll standard.
My prompts for this round were:
(colour) Azure
(word) Temptation
(word) Choice
P.S. Sorry if the end sucks, I hope the idea is there somewhere.