Hermione Granger was a good person.
No one needed to validate such a fact, as it was clear to anyone who bothered to actually be friends with her. Despite her workmanlike, diligent visage (which some quite rudely referred to as "bitchy"), she could not conceivably think of anyone else she knew who would visit the fathoms that she had over the course of her short but remarkably eventful life.
She had suffered under arguably one of the most painful scenarios that anyone had ever been faced with, that of wiping her image completely away from her parents and Muggle friends. She had been struck with the Cruciatus curse, which was tantamount to having every goddamned nerve on your body set on fire. She had seen countless friends die in front of her during the most important Wizarding revolution since Merlin had ordered the troops to engage in-
But suddenly, the importance of the events seemed microscopic to Hermione after the aftershocks that had taken place. Around a year after Voldemort was killed, a new leader ascended to the throne and, in a fit of rage and brutality that would have filled his predecessor with innumerable pride, ordered the murder or capture of every Muggle-born, half-blood, or sympathizer in the United Kingdom, continuing just what Voldemort had started under his regime. The count of the dead was shocking, both in its sheer volume as well as its emotional impact; Neville, Luna, Seamus, Arthur and Molly Weasley... her children.
Hermione had shed her share of tears after the rubble had settled (even now, the thought of the lost struck chords almost two years after its occurrence), but the grieving period was cut after Harry and Ron were captured by the Death-Eaters (thank God that they were being saved to be "made examples of" as the Death-Eater controlled Daily Prophet proclaimed) just a week after the death. Hermione could only afford to be but a shell at this point. Intangible attachments only got in the way of the peak achievement, and diverting ones attention during this time was completely unacceptable.
She tersely looked at her watch and saw that time, at its already glacier-like pace, had begun to slow even more. The "8:48" (along with the small "a.m" tucked away to the right of it) had taken on almost a mocking slowness. She was considering going to a cafe somewhere to burn some time off of the clock, but finally, her partner in this whole mess finally came striding amidst the slew of businesspeople from the north stairwell.
Dressed in a lime-green three piece suit, Draco Malfoy strode over to the bench with an unmistakably cocky aura surrounding him.
"You're late." Hermione said, standing up without making eye contact to Malfoy.
"Good morning to you as well." Malfoy said, casting a glance at the Muggles walking past him with subdued disdain. "You do realize that this plan is a load of bullocks, right?"
Hermione didn't respond, instead casting an angry scowl at Malfoy. "Well, come on." Malfoy said, then he smirked. "Didn't your parents ever teach you that two wrongs don't make a right?"
Hermione dropped her bag and stared at Malfoy again. His well-groomed visage and overt confidence struck an unpleasant chord with her. Being detatched from what they were about to do was one thing, but treating this like a joke or an everyday occurence was, as Malfoy said, the real "load of bullocks".
"You know what's at stake here just as much as I do." Hermione said with a ferociousness that made commuters nearby glance over with concern. "I asked for your help, and you said yes, so don't give me the cool preppy boy shit that you did in school, alright?"
Malfoy stared at her in disbelief before cutting another smirk. "Y'know, when you talk like that, you really turn me on." he said, his mouth breaking open and showing what must've been an extensive set of orthodontic work. Hermione rolled her eyes. Clearly, trying to get through to Malfoy like this would be like hammering a nail on a cat.
"Forget it." Hermione said tersely, taking a deep breath. "Shall we just... do it?"
"Thought you'd never ask." Malfoy said. At this point, as many eyewitnesses would later state to various Muggle policemen, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy both raised what looked a lot like wands and pointed them at a nearby commuter train. Then, without even the slightest of warnings, a flash of neon green light rose above the crowd and the commuter train exploded in a hailstorm of fire and debris. Commuters abandoned their briefcases and luggage and dashed towards the various openings and exits. Many furiously pounded 999 in an effort to contact the police; in a matter of minutes, the phone lines were so jammed that the emergency services would shut out. However, none of this meant a thing to Hermione and Draco, as before so much as one Muggle constable rushed into the wreckage, the two were wrenched by aurors and quickly taken to the Ministry of Magic.
Draco's calm, cocky demeanor never wavered. However, by the time they were found, Hermione's face was streaked in a thick stream of tears.
To be continued...