Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Veronica Mars
Merlin, what next? That was the only thought Hermione Granger had as she pushed through the Fat Lady into the Gryffindor common room. She surveyed the scene in front of her, thinking once again that she had left reality a year ago, that everything since then was a nightmare and frankly, she would like to wake up, please.
Harry Potter, "The Boy Who Lived," was immobilized, petrificus totalus from the looks of things, and there was a sneering group of Gryffindors around him. He was also naked, save for a well-placed tea cozy, with the word Sneeker written across his chest. His eyes begged someone, anyone, to release the spell, but the only response was silence and snickers.
"Finite Incantatum," said Hermione wearily, and Harry sprang up and ran to the boys' dormitory, holding the cozy in place and blushing furiously. He sent her a look of gratitude as he ran out of sight.
"Well, Granger, looks like the Quidditch team has a new target," Romilda Vane, a fifth year, said. "Why do you think no one else removed the spell? They told us he was to remain there all day as a lesson."
"Go, Gryffindor," she said sarcastically. Honestly, what did she care what those bullies said? The Gryffindor Quidditch team interested her about as much as Divination, and she was long past caring what anyone at Hogwarts thought of her. She had gone from the pride of Gryffindor to the school freak in one year, and the chances of her regaining her earlier status were not too great.
An hour later she sat in the Great Hall by herself, picking absently at her dinner. Her eyes wandered over to the Slytherin table. Big mistake. Draco Malfoy was opening smirking at her. He leaned over to Blaise Zabini, who also looked at her and laughed. She couldn't even fathom what sort of disgusting thing they had just said, but she was pretty sure mudblood was in there somewhere. Next to Draco sat Ron Weasley, a Gryffindor prefect and Hermione's ex-boyfriend. Two years ago this would have been unthinkable. One year ago, she would have been sitting between them, laughing with Draco and leaning in to kiss Ron. Harry would have been there, and Ginny, too. But it hurt too much to think about Ginny. She focused instead on Draco.
Asshole, she thought to herself. Money counts for a lot, even in the wizarding world, and blood counts for even more. But she had been let into that crowd, slowly being accepted by all of them, even Draco. I used to belong there. Being the girlfriend of a pureblood wizard counted for something, even among the Slytherin snobs. It didn't hurt that she was also the brightest witch in their year. She remembered the first time she had sat with them at lunch. The invisible walls separating the houses had been crumbling for some time and she sat there, both thrilled and anxious, waiting to be ridiculed. It never happened, and she reveled in her new friendships. For a while.
"Thanks," Harry said, sliding in next to her. "That was really cool."
"Did I say you could sit here?" she snapped, irritated to be caught reminiscing. Stung, Harry started to get up,
"Wait. I'm sorry. You can sit anywhere you like."
Harry sat back down and gave her a grin. They used to be friends, after all.
"So what did you do to get the Quidditch team after you? Are they still mad they can't win any games without you as seeker?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Those guys are bullshit. They-" He cut off as Dean Thomas, Cormac MacLaggen and Seamus Finnegan sidled up to them.
"My bitch," Dean said to Harry. "Didn't I tell you to wait in the common room for me?"
"Leave him alone," said Hermione.
"Granger," Dean said in mock surprise. "I didn't know you and Potter had resumed your bosom companionship. Where's the Weasel? Ahh, still over with the other purebloods? Shocker."
"Shove off, Thomas. Your terrifying impression of a badass has us underwhelmed."
"Potter looks pretty terrified. And he and I have unfinished business. Begone, Granger. The only time I'd be interested in hearing a witch's opinion is when she's riding my broomstick. Would you care for a private flying lesson?"
Before she could utter the hex on the tip of her tongue, Professor MacGonagall passed their table. She paused for a moment, looking over at her students.
"Later," said Dean. He and his friends sauntered out of the Great Hall.
"So what was it this time?" Hermione asked Harry again. He rolled his eyes.
"A complete accident," said Harry. "I left my Potions book in Snape's room, and was walking back to get it. It was pretty late, right before curfew yesterday. I saw smoke and heard screaming and I panicked - I set off an alarm with my wand and ran to see what it was. Unfortunately, it was the Gryffindor Quidditch team booby-trapping Snape's room. Well, he heard my alarm and caught them in the act. He took fifty points each and gave them a week's detention. He also banned them from the next Quidditch match, which is conveniently against Slytherin. I tried to cover, but Snape said, in front of them, that I should go see Godric Gryffindor to regain some of my courage. "
"He actually said that?" Hermione asked, blanching.
"Yeah. Who the hell even knows what that was about? But they ambushed me after lessons today. I was there for an hour before you showed up. No one was going to help; Dean warned them all against it."
"Well, congratulations," said Hermione. "You now have the Gryffindor Quidditch team and Professor Snape against you."
"Yeah, cause I didn't before."
Hermione smiled slightly at this. Harry'd had a rough year, too, she knew. It would be nice to have him on her side again. "Well, we'll get them off your back."
"You're on."
Hermione lay in bed later that night, reviewing the events of the day. It had been nice to spend time with Harry again. Hard to believe they used to be inseparable. Hermione Granger, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, the "Golden Trio," friends since age eleven. Hard to believe she and Ron used to be joined at the lips. He never even looked at her anymore, and the beautiful life she had was gone. He and Harry didn't speak anymore, either. She couldn't remember the last time she had even seen Ron in the Gryffindor common room. He was now an honorary Slytherin, trading barbs with the other purebloods, looking right through her whenever they passed. At least he never called her Mudblood. She supposed she should be grateful for that.
Hermione continued to think of Ron as sleep slowly swallowed her. She drifted into a dream - the same dream she always had.
"Draco, come on!" Ginny Weasley whined, grasping her boyfriend by the hand and dragging him over to the lake's edge where her friends were gathered. Hermione had her head in Ron's lap; he was petting her hair as Harry sat beside them, smiling fondly. Ginny pulled Draco down onto the ground; they fell in an untidy heap, laughing, Ginny's leg kicking Ron's thigh.
"Ow! Keep your girlfriend under control, Malfoy," said Ron. "She's running wild."
"She's your sister, Weaslebee," laughed Draco. "Call your mum, that'll get her."
"You wouldn't dare," shrieked Ginny." "She'd think I was channeling Fred and George."
"You are channeling Fred and George, Gin," said Hermione. "I know you set off those Dungbombs outside Snape's room. I caught a sliver of red peeking out from what was obviously Harry's invisibility cloak."
"That could have been Ron!" Ginny protested, but there was no conviction behind it. She was proud to carry on her older brothers' legacy. They would graduate that year; she had to keep the Weasley troublemakers going.
Hermione laughed, enjoying the sun and her friends. It was a beautiful day… Her pleasant dream drifted, as it always did, to that night. That night.
She couldn't move. Everything was black, and she couldn't moveFull body-bind, she thought wildly, trying to make sense of what was happening. But why? Where am I? Her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The spell was wearing off, too; she managed to turn her head slightly to the right… and stared into the unblinking corpse eyes of Ginny Weasley.
"No!" Hermione awoke with a start, her heart beating madly. "Dreamless Sleep Drought," she whispered to herself. "I'll ask Madam Pomfrey tomorrow." She lay back down, her pulse returning to normal. She should be used to the dream, after all. She'd had it every night for the past year.
Next week, she thought, drifting off to sleep again. One year ago next week.
One year since Hermione and Harry's unconscious bodies had been found next to the dead body of Ginny Weasley. Neither one of them could remember anything about the night. Veritiserum, memory charms, a pensieve - nothing unlocked the night's events. The aurors had never seen such a block before, and even Professor Dumbledore was stumped. There was more - Hermione's wand had performed the killing curse that had taken Ginny's life.
She was cleared of all charges, of course. No one really believed she did it, but no one had any other suggestions, either. The Daily Prophet, the Quibbler, and Witch Weekly wrote constantly about the tragedy. Arthur Weasley had been named the new Minister of Magic six months before his daughter's death, which added to the papers' barely concealed glee at such a story. Their position was clear: the promising young muggle-born witch just couldn't be mixed up in her best friend's death. Never mind that her pureblood boyfriend, the poor Miss Weasley's brother, had broken up with her mere days before. Surely that could have nothing to do with it. And rumors that the famous Mr. Potter had been involved with the dead girl must be so much rubbish, right?
The papers' insinuations did their damage. A cloud of guilt hung over them, especially Hermione. The fact that the Weasleys were not rushing to her defense, combined with the fact that she was, after all, just a muggle-born, effectively cut Hermione off from the rest of the school. The Slytherins, especially Draco, returned to shunning her, with a side of mocking. Draco buried his grief over Ginny's death by regaining his status as the school's obligatory psychotic jackass, and Hermione was his favorite target. Strangely, the friendship he and Ron had formed when he began dating Ginny remained intact; if anything, it grew stronger. Ron's personality remained much the same. He was, perhaps, a little closed off, a little less likely to crack jokes and grin, but he remained largely untouched by Draco's darker qualities. Of course, Draco didn't take on any of Ron's good qualities, either.
Harry likewise became something of a pariah. Although his background kept him from the worst of it, his association with Ginny's death hung on him as well. He quit the Quidditch team and distanced himself from the other Gryffindors. He and Hermione stopped their friendship as well, not wanting to draw more unwanted attention to their involvement in Ginny's death. He and Ron, once like brothers, stopped speaking. Ron also quit Quidditch; perhaps they could not bear to play the game they once shared with Ginny. Ginny's murder remained unsolved.
The next morning, Hermione arose late, still tired from her troubled sleep. She took a quick shower and threw what was left of her unruly hair into a short ponytail. She had cut it to her shoulders several months earlier. She rummaged for a clean pair of robes and sprinted down to the Great Hall. She grabbed a couple pieces of toast and made it just on time for her first lesson: Potions with the Slytherins.
"Hey, Granger," Draco whispered to her. "A couple of us are heading into the Forbidden Forest for a midnight party. Care to join us? I heard you've been known to enjoy some firewhiskey."
Hermione did her best to ignore him, sitting straight up in her chair and staring resolutely forward. She could see Ron out of the corner of her eye, however. He didn't look like he was enjoying Draco's joke.
"C'mon, Granger, you used to be fun. Ron'll be there, and he promises to take his shirt off."
"Leave her alone," Ron finally said.
Hermione looked at him, eyes narrowed. She didn't need him to defend her. "Listen, Malfoy-" she started, but Snape interrupted her.
"No talking, Miss Granger," he said silkily. "Ten points from Gryffindor." She sat back in her seat, bristling. If there was one person she hated more than Draco Malfoy, it was Professor Severus Snape. She could barely stand to look at him. Potions, while never exactly pleasant, had nonetheless been one of her best subjects. She now felt nauseous every time she walked in the room, but she was determined not the let His Greasiness get the best of her. She sat through the rest of the lesson in silence.
After class, Hermione sat at her desk a moment longer, finishing up her notes as the classroom emptied. When even Snape was gone, she gathered up her books and started out the door, but a pair of strong hands restrained her. Yanking her back into the classroom, her unseen assailant grabbed her wand and covered her mouth. Panicked, she kicked back, satisfied by the hiss of pain when her foot connected.
"Damn, Granger," Dean Thomas swore. "Ever heard of a calming draught?" Seamus Finnegan and Cormac MacLaggen supported him, grinning wolfishly at Hermione. Dean still held her wand.
"You'll hear of a Eunuch Draught if you ever touch me again." She grabbed her wand back.
"Quite the little firecracker, aren't you, Granger?" Dean said, raising his eyebrows. "Of course, it's that old Gryffindor courage. "
"Of which you seem to be lacking, flanked as you are, and three on one."
"Do you like three on one, Hermione?" Dean asked, a devilish glint in his eyes.
"What do you want, Dean? I'm on a schedule."
"Right to the point, boys," Dean said, smirking. " No sweet talk with Granger, it's straight to business. And you and I have unfinished business. I can't have you going around, releasing people from my curses and generally implying that they don't have to listen to me."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "The Quidditch team strikes fear in the heart of no one. Leave Harry alone."
"Can't do it. He's cost us the Quidditch cup. And what do you care? Are you two back to playing hide the wand?" Dean looked her up and down.
"Give me a few days," said Hermione, unconsciously covering her arms over her chest to block Dean's leer. "You leave Harry alone, and I'll get you back on the team for the Slytherin match."
"And how do you propose that?"
"I have my ways."
"So I've heard," Dean said, ogling her again. "You've got a deal, Granger. And remember, if you get bored in the meantime, Potter's not half the athlete I am." He strode past her, Seamus and Cormac behind him.
Hermione sank into one of the seat, shaking. The encounter had unnerved her more than she let on. She could stand the insults; she was used to them, after all, but Dean had scared her when he grabbed her. They had been the only four in the classroom. Anything could have happened.
Rousing herself, Hermione set off for History of Magic, ruminating once again on the turn events had taken. When she was with Ron, Hermione had been known as something of a good girl; not quite a prude, but not exactly a veela, either. Now, from the way Dean spoke, one would think Hermione was the school broom: apparently, everyone had a ride.
Wiping away the hot tears that threatened to fall from her eyes, Hermione slid into a seat in the back of Professor Binn's classroom. Lovely, Hermione thought. I'm on par with Pansy Parkinson as the school's biggest slag. It wasn't fair. If she had her choice, she would still be a virgin.
Three months after Ginny's death, Hermione made a desperate move to regain her status at the school. She attended a Slytherin party. Dressed to the nines, she arrived with her head held high, determined to let them know their insults could not break her. She had hoped for a chance to talk to Ron; she thought if she could just have a few minutes alone, everything could go back to normal. Her dreams for the night were crushed when she saw him draped over Padma Patil in a dark corner. Stung, she turned to leave, running straight into Draco.
"Leaving so soon, Granger?" he asked. "Finally realized your place, huh? Tired of trying to compete with your betters? Didn't you see the No Mudbloods sign?"
"You'll never be my better, Ferret," she spat. "In point of fact, I'm staying. The company, after all, is lovely." She did stay. She could not back down from Draco's challenge, no matter how much she now wished she was in the comfort of her bed. She tried to ignore Ron and Padma, downing the firewhiskey someone handed her. She had no idea who gave it to her, but she drank it anyway, wincing at the taste and hating herself for being there. From a corner chair, she observed the party, growing drowsier as she finished her drink. She tried to stand up but fell back into the chair. Her eyes were so heavy, surely she could rest them for a moment.
She awoke hours later in the freezing, empty common room. She was on a Slytherin green couch, facing the wall, and her whole body felt sore, felt wrong. Head still fuzzy, she looked down. The couch was blood-stained and her torn underwear were lying on the ground beside her. Knowledge and tears flooded her at the same time. Wincing, she rose to her feet and stumbled out of the room into the even colder dungeons.
She started to run, trying to distance herself from that horrible place. Rounding a corner, she came face to face with Professor Snape.
"Miss Granger!" he snapped. "Why are you out of your dorm at this hour? Explain yourself."
"P-professor. Please, I woke up in the dungeons. Someone… I don't know who, but someone," she couldn't put voice to the words. She stared at him pleadingly, willing him to understand without making her say it. Surely he could tell by her appearance what had happened.
"Yes?" he whispered. "What exactly could it be that kept you out all night, dressed as you are?"
She hated him. Even he couldn't be so horrible; he was a professor, he would have to help her. "I woke up, Professor," tears were streaming down her face now, " and someone had- someone raped me."
"Spare me the crocodile tears, girl," he said. "Do you have a name for me? A Slytherin, perhaps? Should I line them all up? Perhaps feed everyone Veritiserum?"
"I don't know who it was," she sobbed. "I was unconscious, someone must have put something in my drink."
"And what were you drinking? Firewhiskey? Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger. You might want to work on your act, before you go accusing every pureblood wizard for your every misfortune. You used to be a rather strong-willed young know-it-all. Such a pity. Go see Godric Gryffindor, Miss Granger. Get yourself some courage."
With that, he walked past the shivering, sobbing girl without a backward glance.
She shook her head, clearing her thoughts, and tried to focus on Professor Binns's sleep drawl. It didn't do to dwell. She was no longer that girl.
After History of Magic, Hermione sat through her Charms lesson, still taking in only about every other word. Fortunately, she was advanced enough in the class that she could slack, just a bit. She focused instead on the problem before her: Harry's feud with the Quidditch team. Ideally, she would like to get them off Harry's back while punishing Snape for being such a jerk in the first place. A thought struck her suddenly. She smiled to herself; this was actually going to take care of quite a few issues.
She met Harry in the common room after dinner.
"I've got it," Hermione said to him breathlessly. "And our favorite Slytherin pureblood is going to help us."
"Do tell," Harry grinned at her. As she laid down her plan for him, Harry's smile got wider and wider. "You know, you really are the cleverest witch of your age."
Hermione blushed. She hadn't hear that one in awhile.
The next day, Hermione set her plans in motion. She saw Draco heading towards their shared arithmancy class. Making sure his back was turned, she whispered "Wingarduim Leviosa" and watched as the bottle of firewhiskey she had brought with her floated towards Draco. Using her wand, she lowered it into his book bag. One slip and she would be discovered, but luck was on her side for once. He neither heard the soft clink it made against his books nor felt the added weight. She sighed her relief. Step one, complete.
She continued behind him, waiting to make her next move. Finally, Professor McGonagall approached - she always passed them on their way to arithmancy. She pointed her wand at Draco and mouthed the word Diffendo. Crash! As Draco's bag split, the bottle of firewhiskey fell to the floor, spewing glass and fiery amber liquid over Professor McGonagall's shoes.
"Mr. Malfoy," she sputtered. "What exactly is the meaning of this? Are you smuggling firewhiskey inside Hogwarts? And you, a prefect! I'm shocked!"
As was Draco. He looked dumbly at Professor McGonagall and down at the shattered remains of the alcohol. He looked around, as if for answers, and his eyes lit on Hermione. Understanding dawned on him.
"You did this, you bitch!" he snarled at her. Hermione yawned. "Oh, you think you're so cute. I'm going to get you for this. I am!"
Professor McGonagall looked scandalized. "Mr. Malfoy! How dare you speak that way to Miss Granger! The evidence in right in front of me. We are going to see your Head of House, now." She took him by the arm and led him down the hall. Draco cast one more murderous look at Hermione, and he was gone.
Word of Draco's punishment swept the castle. Fifty points from Slytherin and two weeks detention with Filch. Hogsmeade was out of the question for the next month, too. McGonagall had allowed him to play in the next Quidditch match - on the condition that Dean, Seamus and Cormac be allowed to play as well. Hermione had banked on Professor McGonagall's fierce competition with Snape over the Quidditch Cup, and she was not disappointed. Needless to say, Professor Snape had not been thrilled.
Hermione and Harry sat by the lake later that evening, basking in the setting sun and their victory.
"Not bad, Hermione," Harry congratulated her. "You've got quite a knack for these things."
"Stop, you'll make me blush," she said. Hermione leaned back on her elbows, pleased to have the whole thing behind them and to be sitting with Harry again. Her good mood was short-lived.
"Incarcerous," a voice growled behind them. Instantly Harry was bound in ropes. He let out a hoarse cry as Hermione leapt to her feet and spun around, wand raised.
"Expelliarmus!" Draco shouted. Hermione's wand flew into his outstretched hand. "Tsk, tsk, Granger. I would have thought you'd be better prepared. You and Potter both, such proud members of the D.A. Bit pathetic, really, but what else could I expect from a filthy little mudblood, huh?"
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Hermione tried to keep her voice calm. Draco was supported by Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle. She and Harry were physically no match for the four of them, especially with her wandless and Harry immobilized. Her mind raced as Harry struggled next to her.
"What I want, Granger, is to not clean cauldrons out with Filch like some sniveling house elf. What I want is to not receive Howlers from my father, threatening to take my broomstick away."
"Well, you really shouldn't have brought firewhiskey into school, then," said Hermione.
"Cheeky little mudblood, aren't you?" Draco handed his own wand to Crabbe, took Hermione's wand in both hands, and snapped it in two. She gasped. "Well, Granger, that image should hold me while I scrape dragon dung out of a hundred cauldrons."
Hermione was so mad she was shaking. She remembered picking out her wand at Ollivander's; a bushy haired, bossy little girl trembling with excitement. How proud she'd been. Malfoy had just snapped that memory in half, as cleanly as he's severed her wand. She reached behind her to take Harry's wand, unsure what her rage would cause her to do. She only knew she could not endure Malfoy's smirk for one more moment. A new voice stopped her.
"Now what do we have here?" Dean Thomas said, strolling up to them. As always, his lackeys were one step behind him. Waving his wand, Dean freed Harry, who pointed his wand at Draco, eyes narrowed. That was twice now he'd been humiliated and unable to defend himself. He was reaching his boiling point.
"Malfoy!" Dean jeered. "Such manners. Apologize to the lady."
"I don't have a problem with you, Thomas," Draco said. "Nor do I see a lady."
Quick as a lion, Dean shot out his fist and punched Draco in the face. Draco's friends raised their wands, but Seamus and Cormac already had their wands trained on the Slytherins. "Apologize, Malfoy."
Draco wiped blood from his nose and glared at Dean. Her turned to Hermione. "Kiss my ass, you mudblood bitch." Dean punched him in the stomach. Draco doubled over, gasping for breath. Harry stood back, watching. Why not let the Neanderthals duke it out? He'd be ready if necessary.
"Forget it," Hermione said quietly. "I don't need his apology. Give me my wand, Malfoy." Draco threw the pieces of her wand on the ground and stalked off, followed by his friends. Hermione could hear him swearing at them: "Nice backup, you worthless prats," before they were out of sight.
Hermione turned to Dean. "Thank you. Now you apologize to Harry." Dean rolled his eyes but muttered a quick "Sorry, Potter."
"Okay," said Harry. "We're done here, Thomas. C'mon, Hermione." They walked back to the castle, Hermione clutching the pieces of her broken wand and smiling fondly at Harry. Despite the ugly scene, she felt good for the first time in a long time. Maybe things were moving in the right direction. With Harry back in her life, maybe things would be a little easier.
I'm going to get my life back, she thought suddenly. I'm going to find out what happened to Ginny, and I'm going to get it back. Our life.