This was actually a pretty random idea. Well, first of all, JK Rowling said that Harry and Ron would go to work at the Ministry after the War, while Hermione would stay to retake her seventh year and her NEWTS. Ernie Macmillan seemed a pretty obvious Head Boy choice (seriously, that boy takes everything too seriously), and every idea that followed just tumbled on.
And oh, of course Hermione would be Head Girl! She's Hermione!
Actually quite unnecessary disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters.
Her shoes made a resounding clicking noise as she walked alone in the halls of Hogwarts, trying to keep her temper under control and not strangle Ernie Macmillan. For a pompous, rule-abiding Head Boy, he actually had the audacity to be late! She suspected it was something very closely related to his new girlfriend, Susan Bones.
She smiled as she thought of the two, and decided to let him off the hook this time. After all, he was responsible with all his duties and helped her out a good deal when she was feeling overworked. She should let him have this night off for patrol duty.
Kingsley had offered them all jobs at the Ministry immediately after the war, and as Hermione reasoned, it would've been quite reasonable to skip the stress of an extra year at Hogwarts and follow after Harry and Ron's decision to go straight to the Ministry. Still, she preferred to stay for another year, if not only to complete her education, then to have just one more year here, in this wonderful castle where she had spent the majority of her childhood in.
She took a deep breath in happily, the familiar scent of the hallways penetrating her sense. She was glad they had retained that old smell even after the war, although there was an added scent of rubble. That was another reason she wanted to retake her seventh year. Many towers in the castle had been reduced to rubble and Hermione was determined to help rebuild the place as much as possible.
It was a beautiful night, she decided, walking along the corridor and keeping her eye out for students who were up late. The stars were shining brightly, and she couldn't help but miss her two boys, who were probably still working late at the Ministry. They constantly admonished her for over-stressing over her studies, but their work load at work was hectic.
She suspected that everybody needed a way to mourn for the ones lost in the war, and the three of them had decided to immerse themselves in their duties as much as possible. It wasn't very healthy, she considered, but then again, they could make an exception for this situation. After all, they corresponded by letters at least every three days, and she was content with the situation.
Even though she had retook her seventh year voluntarily, she couldn't wait for graduation, to see her two best friends again. She could still remember Harry's crooked smile, and Ron's lanky figure always looming over her; the three of them laughing in the summer air, finally glad to be rid of it all-
Her thoughts were cut short by a muffled sniffling sound, and she halted in her tracks. Who could be out so late at night? She wrinkled her nose, and hoped that it wasn't some shagging couple. Ernie and her had to pull aside two snogging students the other day by the seventh corridor, and to be honest, Hermione would rather face off with a Death Eater than go through that same experience again.
Holding her wand out cautiously (it could, after all, be a kidnapper), she slowly opened the door to a half-destroyed Potions' classroom, and almost gasped at the sight. On the floor, glaring at her with contempt, was Draco Malfoy himself, his platinum blonde hair dirty and ruffled (when was the last time he washed that?), his bloodshot eyes desperately blinking away tears.
"Malfoy?" she asked in shock, although it definitely was Malfoy, haughty demeanor, prominent chin and all.
"What do you want, Mudblood? Can't mind your own business?" he sneered, getting up from the floor and shielding his eyes as he patted away the dust on his cloak. "Can't help sticking your nose in everybody's business now, can you?"
She frowned, offended, and felt obliged to retort, but something about his cracked voice and crooked figure made her stop her line of insults. He was broken, and Hermione Granger always felt the urge to help those in need. She had heard of Lucius Malfoy's arrest, of his sentence to life in prison. Narcissa had gotten off on a lighter punishment due to her help in declaring Harry dead, but she had been sentenced to Azkaban for several years as well.
How was Draco Malfoy coping? How was their childhood nemesis, who so often covered up his insecurities with smirks and mockery, dealing with the arrest of both his parents? They weren't necessarily very parental figures, and they can't have been very good at handling affection, but as his parents, they had loved him nonetheless.
His life had crumbled. Most of his friends had not returned for their seventh year, fearing the shunning of their fellow peers, and they had been right. Draco Malfoy had been cast aside as an Ex-Death Eater, as one of the enemies in the Dark side. He was shoved out of the way in corridors, called names at in the hallways, picked on by other students and disliked by teachers. In a way, by insulting her, he was only trying to desperately cling at something that reminded him of his former life- insulting the Golden Trio, or parts of it.
"Well? I haven't got all day. Go on, take marks away from Slytherin. 10, 20, 50, I don't care. Even my housemates hate me now, so you might as well make them hate me more," he said hollowly, his bitter words biting, like a cold wind on a winter night. She sighed.
Sensing her silence and reluctance, his tone turned angry. "Isn't that what you've always wanted? I've insulted, hurt, degraded you and your friends for six years now. This is the perfect time for you to extract your revenge. So why don't you just do it, Granger?" he demanded, his already hoarse voice cracking like shattered glass. She swallowed, and did something neither would forget very soon.
Sighing, she sat down cross-legged on the floor. "Well, sit down, then," she said, sternly, raising an eyebrow. He looked like he was about to make some other snarky remark, but there was a certain mother-hen sort of look in her eyes that reminded him of McGonagall, and for some absurd reason, he found himself sitting down on the dusty floor in the ruins of the Potions classroom.
She tugged at a string around her neck, and took out a necklace with a bright blue stone attached to it. "Do you know what this is?" she asked, her voice serious and low, as if sharing a secret that was hanging on the balance of life and death. Instinct made him respond in kind.
"No," he whispered, but it sounded so neutral it made him back-step. "Why? Nobody else wants to girl-talk with you about accessories, Granger?" he asked rudely, hugging his knees to his chest. She twitched, and he felt a twinge of satisfaction at having riled her up, as well as an involuntary fear of being slapped again.
Hermione was quite ready to slap him, and her hand was just itching to do so, but her brain said otherwise. His lanky figure looked broken and hollow, his voice desperate for her to just act as she always did, to fling back a retort and beat him up, because so much of his old world was gone that he was willing to cling to a negative part of it. Looking at him made her want to cry, so she just looked at the floor instead.
"It's my mother's," she told the floor softly, fondling the necklace in her hands. "She gave it to me when I was eight because I had told her I wanted to be a fairy princess." Malfoy snorted, but she ignored him, because it was harder to stop now than it was to begin seconds ago.
"I had to Obliviate her and my Dad before the War and send them off to Australia," her smile was sad and tearful. "It was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I haven't found them yet." Horrified, she found herself shedding a few tears. Malfoy frowned. An angry Granger he could deal with, but he was clueless with a crying one, so he reverted to his default response.
"Well that was a wonderful sob story for show-and-tell, Granger, but I still don't get the point of sharing it with me," he said stubbornly, raising an eyebrow.
She twitched. She wanted to yell and kick at him, to scream that it was to comfort him, to remind him that he was not the only one who had to suffer from his parents' loss, that he was being a freaking cry-baby that was sulking about every single freaking bad thing that had happened in his life, that he was lucky to have escaped an arrest like his parents in the first place!
Hermione now had absolutely no restraints against punching him in his twitchy ferret face, but something in his cocky face made her smile. She could see the twelve-year-old Malfoy everywhere in him- the raising of his eyebrows, his stubborn facade of hating everyone, and most prominently, his avoidance of everything unfamiliar. Hermione would definitely consider striking up a friendship with a Muggle-born 'unfamiliar'.
She sighed and stood up. Malfoy looked up at her silently, not moving an inch. She sighed again, this time a much more dramatic and exaggerated sigh, and stuck her hand out. He stared at it, and she stared at him.
"Come on, Malfoy, let's get you back to the Slytherin Common Room," she said softly, smiling kindly down at him. He stared at it, and she saw that all-too-familiar hesitation, that temptation to spit her offer back in her face, to kick back and hiss at every offer of kindness or pity, and she was already regretting her decision to do this when the only response would be rejection-
He took her hand and hoisted himself up, dropping it as soon as he was firm on his two feet. Shell-shocked, Hermione watched as he walked all the way to the door before turning his head to face her, his hand on the handle.
"Well, what are you waiting for, Granger? Time waits for no man. Or girl with horrible dress taste and story-telling skills."
Despite herself, she found herself smiling.
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