A/N: So, this is technically a sequel to The Art of Divination. It can stand alone, but I would go suggest you go back and read The Art of Divination so that you can be fully up to speed on where Hermione's mindset is. It's a really short prequel story—right under 15K words.
This story, in its entirety is beta'ed by the lovely sunshinekatz. I am forever grateful (especially considering she began betaing when I was already 25 chapters in...)
"I wanna love somebody,
But I don't know how.
I've been so long lonely
And it's getting me down…"
'Sucker's Prayer' by the Decemberists
Chapter 1:
Hermione Granger sat alone in a cabin on the Hogwarts Express, heading to her delayed seventh year. The War had been won four months prior, but there was certainly turmoil raging within the young woman. So much had happened in the months since the Final Battle. She had gone to Australia with Arthur Weasley, hoping to restore her parents' memories, but they were too far gone, her Memory Charm too powerful. She'd attended more funerals than she hoped to ever attend again, most directly affected by the funeral pyre ceremony of Fred Weasley. She'd held Ron throughout the funeral as he openly wept into her shoulder.
But that was where her easy friendship with Ron had ended. She held no hard feelings toward him—he'd lost a brother to the War and he was lost on how to grieve properly. The stress of the year prior, the fact that he'd left the hunt for Horcruxes—it all took a toll on their friendship. They had spent the rest of the summer bickering and engaging in all-out rows that sent Harry and Ginny outside to escape the ferocious screaming.
When they had all received the offer from the Ministry to begin training as Aurors, he and Harry had immediately accepted, not giving it a second thought. Hermione, instead, reread the offer from Headmistress McGonagall, asking that she return to school to study for her NEWTs. She handed the letter of offer back to Kingsley Shacklebolt and shook her head. "I don't think so, Minister. I'd like to go back to Hogwarts."
"Back to Hogwarts?" Ron asked incredulously. "Our friends and my brother all died there, Hermione."
She bristled at his tone. "I'm well aware. I just think it might be therapeutic and help bring me some closure, Ronald."
The Minister and Harry excused themselves, sensing the coming danger. He studied her for a minute. "You just want to go back because he is! Incredible!"
"What are you going on about now?" she asked, irritation ringing in her ears and making her hands vibrate.
"Malfoy! You're going back to the school because you found out he is!" he accused.
"You're being ridiculous," she told him, though she knew he was, in part, right.
As Hermione sat on the train, staring out of the window, she tried to focus on her upcoming year. She had politely declined the position of Head Girl, telling the Headmistress that she wanted to focus on her studies with as few extraneous responsibilities as possible. There hadn't been a simple year yet, but with Voldemort gone, she had confidence that this would be the year.
She had arrived an hour early for the train and had snuck on without turning too many heads, and she hoped that the sobering and hallowed environment of the castle would tamp down the attention. The Trio had given one interview as a collective unit, but both Harry and Ron had continued to talk to the press. Harry wanted to show the world that he had been telling the truth all along, wanted his side of the story known. Ron relished the attention being showered upon him for the first time in his life, his one happiness in the face of his grief. Hermione had been reclusive after their group interview.
The compartment door slid open and the blond head she'd longed to see all summer peeked in. Hermione hadn't seen Draco Malfoy since his trial at the beginning of July. She and Harry both had testified on his behalf, and Harry on Narcissa's behalf as well. Malfoy had gotten off conditionally—two years of probation and he had to donate his time doing community service twice a month. His mother had been placed on closely monitored probation. And Lucius Malfoy had been sentenced to one year in Azkaban. All light sentences, but they had defected. As she so oft tried to drill into Ron's head.
She had tried her hand at scrying multiple times over the summer—in regular mirrors, in the surface of her cauldron, in the rippling waves of the pond by the Burrow. But she could never get as immersed as she once had. Every time she attempted, she'd see a faint flicker of a picture before it fizzled out. Her original mirror had cracked in the skirmish back at Malfoy Manor in the spring, and she'd spent her nights trying time and again to reach out to the blond. "Oh…Sorry. Come on Theo, we'll find somewhere else," he said, sliding the door closed.
"Malfoy, wait!" she called and he turned back.
She cleared her throat. "You're both more than welcome to sit here. I was just getting ready to start reading our new History of Magic text."
"How enthralling," Malfoy said, rolling his eyes as he and Theodore Nott sat across from her.
Hermione pulled the book from her bag. "So, you didn't want me to read it aloud, then?" she teased and Theo laughed.
"Actually," Malfoy said, leaning back into his seat and putting his hands behind his head. "That might be beneficial. I fancy a nap."
She nudged his outstretched foot with the toe of her trainer. "So hilarious," she quipped, burying her face in her textbook.
He opened one eye and looked her over once. "What are you wearing, Granger?" he asked, his tone inquisitive rather than biting.
Hermione looked down at her clothing. All summer, she'd felt more at home in her skirts, flannels, thigh-high stockings and high-top Converse shoes. Her entire wizarding life, she'd tried to convey a clean-cut image, only expressing her personality when she was home with her parents or at the Burrow. There had always been so much to prove to everyone as a Muggle-born in the Wizarding World. No more. She was done hiding who she was. Life was too short to care what others thought of her.
"What's wrong with my clothing?" she asked with a shrug.
"It's…" Malfoy didn't seem to have a word.
"Most unusual seeing you in a short plaid skirt and black thigh-highs? And in Slytherin colors, no less," Theo supplied, breaking the tension in the room.
Hermione laughed just as Ginny opened the door and plopped down next to her. She nodded once at each of their serpentine compartment buddies, knowing that the lean blond was the one Hermione wished to pursue—she'd play nice for her friend. Hermione suspected Theo was doing just the same. "This Head Girl business is for the birds," Ginny said, clearly exhausted of her duties despite the train only just jolting to a start.
"What's the matter, Weasley? Can't handle a few first years?" Theo asked, settling further into his seat as they gently swayed with the rocking of the train.
"They're bloodthirsty little demons! And all they want to do is talk about you, Ron and Harry," she replied, giving Hermione a pointed look.
Malfoy lifted his head from the headrest to look at Hermione, an eyebrow raised. Hermione blushed and burrowed herself even further behind her book. "Tell them to sod off," she mumbled and Theo snorted.
"They're calling you the Golden Trio's Princess," Ginny said with a groan.
That caused Malfoy to scoff and laugh. "My, my. Gryffindor's little know-it-all grew into the Princess the wizarding world always needed…I'm still not calling the Weasel a prince."
"If you remember correctly," Hermione lowered her book slightly to look at Malfoy, who was wearing a smug look on his face, "Weasley is our King."
Theo laughed heartily at Hermione's quip and nudged Malfoy's arm. "Feisty. Touché, Granger."
A smile played on Malfoy's lips but he turned his attention to stare out of the window. Theo engaged Ginny in talk of Quidditch tryouts and she slowly let her guard down, seeing the genuineness in Theo's features. Hermione couldn't remember a time when she'd ever spoken to Theodore Nott, but she remembered how prominently he'd been featured in Malfoy's life while she scryed. "What of Granger? She will never accept you with a Mark on your arm and Dumbledore's blood on your hands." Theo had questioned Malfoy about her.
Hermione dared to glance over the top of her book, a few seconds at a time, to take in the sight of Malfoy across from her. He was as lean and fit as ever, his features angular and jaw sharp. His cheeks were still gaunt, cast in shadows beneath prominent cheekbones. He had rings of violet around his eyes and looked as though he hadn't slept in months. His chin rested in his cupped hand and he had his other arm draped across his chest, his legs extended and right ankle crossed over left. Though he looked relaxed, she noticed the set of his shoulders was tense.
She peered over her book for the fifth or sixth time and he was eyeing her in his peripheral. She gave him a small smile and he turned his eyes back to look out over the Scottish countryside. When the treat trolley came around, Malfoy purchased enough for the four of them. "I don't know what you all like, but take your pick," he said, dropping armfuls onto the empty seat beside Ginny.
"Malfoy…are you being…kind?" Ginny asked, retrieving a treacle tart from the pile.
The blond gave her a mock glare and mumbled, "Don't get used to it," as he crossed his arms over his chest once more.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Ginny replied, flipping through a Quibbler absentmindedly.
Hermione leaned over Ginny and scooped up a chocolate frog. "I suspect you'll be getting your own card soon?" Theo surmised, nodding toward the purple box.
She looked down at the box and then tossed it in the window sill, no longer hungry. "They took the pictures for them a while ago…so it might already be in here…"
"What a terrible life, to be a beloved War heroine," Theo quipped, popping some Bertie Bott's into his mouth and wincing as he bit into a vomit bean.
Hermione shrugged. "I never asked for this. I just wanted to defeat Voldemort."
"Forgive me if I can't relate to your unfortunate situation. See, we are the sons of Death Eaters," Theo moved a finger between himself and Malfoy, "and he's a former Death Eater. The attention we are bound to receive will be significantly less complimentary."
"Nott," Malfoy's tone was a warning.
Theo shot him a sideways glance and looked through the window and into the corridor outside, watching a few first years mosey past. Ginny was fully glaring at the burly man, no longer feigning pleasantness. Malfoy gave Hermione an apologetic shrug of one shoulder and she nodded once in response.
After that awkward exchange, the mood in the cabin had been brought down significantly. The four remained quiet until Ginny announced that she was going to meet the Head Boy, Zacharias Smith from Hufflepuff, to brief the first years on their arrival to the school. Hermione excused herself to go and change into her robes in a restroom, avoiding two Ravenclaw second years asking for her picture.
Neville was in the corridor when she headed back to her cabin, tinkering with his trunk, his own fan club staring from afar. He was the one that killed the snake, after all. "I was hoping you'd come back, Hermione!" he said with a warm smile and a warmer hug.
"It's good to see you, Nev. A fellow Gryffindor returnee," Hermione smiled warmly.
"Professor Sprout wrote to me and insisted I come back to achieve my NEWTs. She said she can get me an apprenticeship after school lets out with Scyforre Greenhouses—largest supplier of healing herbs and plants in Europe!" he gushed excitedly.
"That's wonderful!" she said, turning to enter the cabin.
Neville grabbed her arm. "'Mione, I think you've got the wrong cabin—Malfoy's in that one," he said, pointing at the door.
"I know. I sat with him this trip," Hermione smiled kindly, her patience beginning to wear thin.
"Hermione…I know we're supposed to be intermingling and creating inter-house unity and all that jazz…but it's Malfoy."
"Yes. And as I recall, it is thanks to him that I am here today. So, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to pack my belongings before we stop," she replied, her tone clipped.
Neville shrank a little under her fiery gaze. "Sure. Sorry."
Hermione entered the cabin and both Slytherin boys were already changed and packing their books and magazines into their bags. Malfoy grabbed the chocolate frog from the window sill and stowed it away. She raised an eyebrow—he hadn't eaten a bite of what he'd bought.
As they slowed, Theo went to the door. "I'm going to go see if I can find Blaise and Daphne. Want to come and see if Astoria is still as hot for you as ever?"
She watched him carefully, trying to mask the burning curiosity at his answer. He shook his head and she nearly sighed with relief. "No. That's okay, you go ahead. I'll see you at dinner."
The dark-haired wizard looked between the two remaining cabin occupants and gave his friend a knowing smirk. "Dinner, then."
When he left, Malfoy pulled on his robes over his uniform and glanced her way as he clasped it. "How have you been?" he asked casually.
She shrugged. "Fine, I guess. You?"
He mirrored her shrug. "Same. I guess."
They both knew they were lying—both of them were anything but fine. But neither knew how to interact with the other just yet. Malfoy crossed and watched as everyone filtered off the train. "I am not looking forward to this."
Hermione came to stand next to him and she watched as well, a few younger students pointing as they passed. "Neither am I."
"The Princess," Malfoy smirked.
"The Pariah," she shot back, a small smile playing at her lips.
"Have you always been this sassy, or is this a new development as well, along with your wardrobe?" he asked, eyeing her for a moment.
"I think you'll find I can match you toe-to-tip on most everything, including your snarkiness," she replied as the last few stragglers strode past.
"You think so, huh?" he chuckled.
"Except, of course, in every class we take—I wipe the floor with you in high marks," she grinned, opening the door.
"Oh, and Malfoy? Welcome back to Hogwarts," she said, turning on her heel and striding off the train with a grin on her face.
Malfoy watched her walk away with barely-masked interest and then began making his way to the carriages.
o-o-o
Any playfulness Hermione had felt on the train when she was alone with Malfoy had been extinguished the moment they entered the Great Hall. Sorting was well underway, but she hadn't heard any of it. All she could see was the night of the Final Battle. Fred Weasley, Tonks, Lupin, little Colin Creevey, Lavender Brown…
She stared toward the corner where they'd all lain. Lavender Brown? Lavender was killed during the Battle. But the image that came to Hermione's mind was of the last cheerful vision she'd seen in the scrying mirror—the wedding. Lavender was a bridesmaid in the vision.
Hermione felt her eyes wander to the blond head at the end of the Slytherin table. He was sitting alone, staring at the knotty wood grain in the tabletop. Theo was sitting with his arm around Daphne Greengrass, seemingly oblivious to his friend's silent anguish. There was a sinking feeling in her chest. The visions weren't always accurate. What if they never were? What if she was never to have that talk in the grass as they watched the clouds roll past, never to wed him if they were never to have a sweet baby?
Malfoy seemed to sense her stare and his eyes flicked up to meet hers. Hermione wished she was skilled at Legilimency so she could get a glimpse into his mind. His eyes, now that he was put into an uncomfortable circumstance, were haunted and he looked years older than eighteen. She broke the stare and turned her attention to Headmistress McGonagall, who was holding up a hardbound book. "…if this interests you, I urge you to come forth as you go to your dorms and take a journal. You can enter your name into the pen-pal pool first thing tomorrow morning. We will match you, Gryffindor with Slytherin and Hufflepuff with Ravenclaw, Sunday morning at breakfast…"
Pen-pals? Were they going to get paired up to be pen-pals with someone? She glanced over at Malfoy once more and he was running one finger over the rim of his goblet. All throughout dinner she thought of potential spells she could use to ensure they were matched, hardly listening to Ginny and Neville as they spoke aloud to her. She pushed the food around on her plate and sighed. Her visions were inaccurate…the memory of those visions was the only thing that kept her going most days, the only thing that soothed her heart after every row with Ron over the summer, the only true hope she held for the future.
When dinner ended, the Headmistress dismissed everyone except the returning seventh years, "eighth years" she'd called them. Hermione glanced around to see who in her class had returned: herself, Neville Longbottom, Draco Malfoy, Theo Nott, Daphne Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson, Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, and Terry Boot.
"As you all are adults now, I thought perhaps you would want some privacy? Away from the younger students in your respective Houses?" the Headmistress said, handing each student a small slip of parchment.
"These are the locations and passwords of each of your new dorms. I think you will find the accommodations more than sufficient," she told them with a small smile.
Hermione looked down at her slip. "Third Floor, adjacent to the library. 'Ferox.'"
She smiled to herself—Professor McGonagall knew her too well. She flashed the elderly witch a smile of gratitude, to which she received a nod in return. Hermione rose to follow the others out, falling a pace behind Malfoy and Theo. "Sixth floor, next to Professor Slughorn's office. Where are you?" Theo asked, peeking at the piece of parchment in his friend's hand.
"Third floor, down the armory corridor," Malfoy replied.
"That's too bad. Guess we won't be sneaking out after curfew too much anymore then. Are you going to do this pen-pal thing? McGonagall thinks it'll help to find someone we can talk to, to relate to," Theo asked, grabbing a journal as he walked out.
Malfoy stopped, and Hermione slowed her steps so as to not look like she was eavesdropping. "Who would want to write to a Death Eater? Anyone I got matched with would withdraw from the program immediately," he said, opening the cover of one of the books curiously.
Hermione reached around him to grab a journal from the adjacent stack. She flipped it open and looked within. Nothing but crisp fresh parchment. "Are you going to do this?" she asked, feigning disinterest.
Theo rapped his knuckles on the cover of his. "I am. But he's too chicken shit."
Malfoy glared at him but shook his head slowly in response to her question. She sighed. "Yeah…I'm not looking forward to getting paired with someone who just wants to ask questions about the War and Harry."
He looked at her and raised an eyebrow, clearing his throat. "What do you say we just pair ourselves up then?" he asked, his voice barely above a mumbling whisper.
It was clear Malfoy expected rejection and she felt a morose sadness fill her heart as she thought about how many more times he was sure to be rejected in this life. The Pariah. "If I promise to get you Harry's autograph, can we keep the War talk to a minimum?" she teased and he gave her a look of grateful incredulity.
A smile spread across his face. "I think I can do without the autograph, thanks."
Hermione laughed and hugged the journal to herself. "I'm on the third floor by the library. What do you say we conjure up some baskets to hang just outside of our doors? When we have something to share with the other, we'll drop the journal into the basket. We can disillusion them so that only you and I can see them."
Malfoy began walking and she fell into step with him, Theo bidding them goodnight as he headed to a separate staircase. "I think that would work. I'm the third floor, in the armory corridor. McGonagall said she'd give us daily prompts as ideas…shall we start with those?" he questioned, the journal tapping against his thigh as he walked.
"I think that would be a safe place…to start," she answered as they reached the landing of the third floor.
He hesitated on the landing for a brief moment before he pointed down the corridor. "This is my stop."
He nodded once to her, his silent way of saying good night. She bobbed her head once in response and continued on until she saw a new heavy oak door with her initials carved into the wood. Hermione put her head against it and took a deep breath, waving her wand absently beside her to conjure a basket on the wall next to the door.
Hermione knew she was now going to have to try everything in her power to make those visions of the future a reality.
o-o-o
A/N: I cannot believe I'm starting another eighth-year story. I must be crazy. Don't expect this to be too canon. The characters are going to be somewhat OOC, obviously—Hermione is the aggressor in trying to win his affections. Also…I see her style in this story as being a mix of feminine grunge and Zoe Benson from American Horror Story: Coven. Quirkier than her usual cardigan and plain skirts and loafers. But I just want to have a little fun with this.
I made an aesthetic board for this. You can find it on my tumblr at themourningmadam
Please review! The Art of Divination was written solely from Hermione's perspective. This will have some Draco sprinkled throughout.