Chapter 1
Author's Note: Hey guys! This is my first fic ever! Sound the horns!
I'm really in need of a reliable beta because I can't really edit my own papers or stories that well. A "resume" would be great, but i'll still consider you if you don't have one.
Also, if anyone would like to do cover art for this story, feel free to give me submissions and things! I'd really appreciate it :)
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Uploaded on: 6-13-16
(My prayers go out to the family, friends, and victims of the Pulse Nightclub. Please don't use your religion or hate as an excuse for violence. Love you all)
After the Second Great Wizarding War had ended, questions were asked of the position of the Ministry, the rest of the Wizarding world, and Hogwarts. The Ministry would need to be essentially rebuilt from the dirt up, having been a large tool for the Dark Lord. The rest of the magical world seemed largely unaffected by, though grateful for, the victory. Meanwhile, many of the older students remained behind at Hogwarts to redo their year. Hoping to minimize confusion, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall added an 8th year into the school curriculum for 7 years. Thus, the process would end with the previous year's First Years. This, of course, rose the discussion of classes, houses, and, of course, head Girl and Boy.
The classes would, essentially, pick up from where they had left off before the war had started. The 8th years would study 7th year curriculum, the 7th years would study 6th, the 6th year would study 5th, and so on. By this rule, the current 1st and 2nd years would need to take the same classes, as the 1st years were not there a year prior, nor did they have a class below them.
House membership, of course remained largely unaffected, much to the relief of the returning 8th year Gryffindors and Slytherins. However, much to the chagrin of those same 8th year Gryffindors and Slytherins, all the Houses had to share a "Year Hall." This, essentially, was a temporary area, magically attached to the west side of the castle, near the Great Hall. It was like a large common room for all of the houses, filled with an odd mismatch of yellow, green, red, and blue. It branched off into four different areas, the individual house common rooms. Each common room was designed to be a replica of each of the house's own common room, complete with decor, furniture, and even the odd bits and stains that had built up over the years. These then, of course, branched of into the girls' and boys' dormitories, as well as the bathrooms for each respective gender.
Now the problem of head girl and boy was brought to light when the mother of a 3rd year Ravenclaw wrote a very angry letter, filled with expletives and insults aimed at the staff members, to the Headmistress about how her daughter should not have to risk the possibility of failing to become Head Girl just because some "filthy-no-good-skin-headed monster" had tried to exterminate an entire population of the Wizarding World. And so, with a quick flick of her wand, and a couple of "Whizzbang's Exploding Envelopes," Minerva McGonogall sent her enlightening reply and created the new HG/HB policy.
"For the next 7 years at Hogwarts, Senior and Junior Head Girls and Head Boys will be appointed. Senior Heads have been, and will be, chosen forthright, until the end of the "8th Year Program," from the 8th year class. Thusly, Junior Heads have been, and will be, chosen forthright, until the end of the "8th Year Program," from the 7th year class. If you are chosen for Senior/Junior Head Girl/Boy, an additional letter will be arriving within the coming days."
"Is McGonagall being serious? Two Head Girls and Head Boys?" asked Ron as he lazily twirled Hermione's hair.
She was nestled into the crook of his arm, sitting on a loveseat near the large fireplace in the Burrow.
"Yes, Ron. She's being serious. Signed her name and everything," replied Hermione as she raised the letter towards his face so that he could see that Minerva McGonagall had, in fact, signed it and everything. He replied with a small "hmpf," and proceeded to pull his girlfriend closer towards him.
"You know, love, it's getting late and we could use the rest after working outside all day," whispered Ron into her ear as he nuzzled into her hair and breathed in her rose-petal scent.
A soft snore from the dark haired boy in glasses sitting on the opposite seat reinforced his point further.
"Yeah, okay."
Ron grasped Hermione's hand as they made their way towards the stairs, taking care not to trip on the foot of the red headed girl wrapped around their best friend's torso.
"Would you maybe, er, want to come up to my room? I'm thinking that Harry won't wake up to come to the room and if I was to guess, Gin probably won't be coming up to your room, either."
Hermione paused for a moment, feeling a slight bit cautious. It would be entirely innocent, right? She looked to him, his blue eyes hopeful and his hand twitching in anticipation.
"Maybe not tonight, Ron. I'm quite tired and I'd rather not have to walk up 3 flights to grab my clothes and then walk down another flight to reach your room," or worry about anything that could happen that i'm not ready for.
"Oh," he replied dejectedly. A sudden smile overcame him, "Well, you could borrow one of my shirts to use!" he said as he gently squeezed her hand with renewed vigor. "I've got loads of those. Even one with a little Chudley Cannons logo that flies around and glows," he stated matter-of-factly, as if it would convince her so much more to stay the night with him.
"Well...Alright then."
"Brilliant!" yelled Ron as they resumed their ascension to the 3rd floor.
"Sorry, I couldn't find the Chudley Cannons shirt. I did find my Weasley sweater from last year, though. Might have shrunk last time I washed it."
"Thanks," muttered Hermione as she made her way towards his bathroom.
She began to shower, using only the warmest water possible, and then shampooed, conditioned, and towelled her hair and body.
She stepped out of the shower to reach for her clean underwear when she realized she didn't have any. No matter. I'll just use my wand to Scourgify it.
Unfortunately for Ms. Granger, she didn't have her wand either. Frantically, she began to search around the bathroom for a good 15 minutes for anything that could help her situation.
Finally! A clean sock! Maybe I could transfigure it...oh, blast it! I'd need my wand for that!
She resigned herself to slipping on the sweater which, thankfully, was still long enough to cover her well past her uncovered bum and thick enough that it would be impossible to tell that she wasn't wearing a bra.
After twirling around in front of the mirror for 5 minutes, meticulously adjusting and stretching the maroon sweater, Hermione sighed and made her way towards the bedroom.
She moved slowly towards Ron's bed, taking care not to cause the sweater to rise up. He was sitting on it, Quidditch Weekly in hand, and a lazy smile on his face as he raised his head to look at her.
She smiled back hoping that he wouldn't notice her odd behavior. She gingerly sat down at the edge of the bed, all too aware that there was absolutely nothing between her center and his bed. He pulled up the corner of he sheet and placed his book on top of his table beside the bed.
"You know, 'Mione, you left your wand out here," he said as he pointed to it next to his own. "I would have given it to you, but I figured you didn't have much use for it in the bathroom."
"Er, yeah. Right." She grabbed her wand and dried her hair before fashioning it into a high ponytail. Should I just scourgify my underwear now? Maybe not. If I draw attention to it, Ron might get uncomfortable. I'll just leave it be.
He moved aside so that she could slip in next to him, then wrapped his arm around her waist before pulling up the covers.
The action made the bottom of the sweater rise up and Hermione made an audible "eek!" Ron looked at her inquisitively, but she just shook her head and denied anything happened.
Great. Just great. I can't even adjust this shirt without being suspicious. I'll just leave it be...again. But what if he moves his arm lower? Do I fix it?
And, as if all the Gods in every religion had teamed up to sabotage her, Ron moved his hand lower, presumably to fix the gap in the sheets where cool air was passing through. Before he could do so however, he stopped, as he heard her gasp softly, right at the apex of her thighs.
"'Mione? Is something wrong?" he asked, worry on his face. They sat still for a second before Ron decided to lean forward to inspect her to make sure she was alright. This motion caused him to put his weight on the hand that had been hovering above her core.
He stopped. This, whatever this smooth surface was, was definitely not his sweater. Maybe, maybe it was her leg. And with this presumption, he made the mistake of trying to calm her by stroking down what he believed to be her leg. Only, it dipped down. This is definitely not her leg.
Ron took an audible gulp. "Her...Hermione? Are you...are you not wearing underwear?
I apologize for any bad writing! Trash me or compliment me in the comments. I'll use them to try to make my writing better. Seriously, if anyone wants to be my beta, just go ahead and ask!