Pensive

In terms of a rollercoaster, this upcoming war was at the top of the hill approaching even ground painfully slowly before a sudden drop that would leave people screaming in terror. Hogwarts was divided, but not evenly so. Slytherins rebelled against everyone and everything, feeling the tension and mistrust directed towards them. They knew what Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor whispered about them when they were away.

They were so far gone that not even Snape, for all this terror, could not keep them from lashing out and hissing hateful things. In truth, only half of them – if that – were affiliated with the Dark Lord. And even less than a quarter of them were actually actively involved with his plans. But such misconceptions of their "kind" only caused the other houses to ignore them; which almost ironically pushed the rest towards Voldemort's awaiting arms.

Hermione sat in the common room of the Heads living quarters. In a high-backed royal blue chair next to her, Justin had his knees brought up to his chin and he sat in deep contemplation.

She frowned as she began to drift off as well.

Justin, the kindhearted Hufflepuff former prefect, had been somewhat struggling since they had first come back for Seventh Year. She knew that Dumbledore's original intention had been to place her "enemy" beside her in the seat of power, but with his involvement in the war, was unable to do so. Despite his egotistical, more-satanic-than-thou actions, Draco Malfoy had been born a natural leader. The tasks set before her and Justin would have been much more easily accomplished with the coldhearted Slytherin, because he easily delegated, and he was brilliant – evil, most undoubtedly – but brilliant.

She could not deny it must have been hard for Draco to hear the news, and she just knew on gut instinct that he had stormed around his dark manor, cursing Hufflepuff and Gryffindor alike. The platinum blonde boy had probably muttered angrily to himself about how "so like the batty codger" it was to keep a Slytherin away from something so sacred in the entire school. Hermione knew that he probably had visited his father in Azkaban, angrily relaying the news, and even more angrily thinking how if "Harry-bloody-Potter" hadn't ruined things, his father could complain to the Ministry and set things right. It was simply the way his spoiled brat persona functioned.

But she also knew it must have been even more difficult for Dumbledore to have sent the letter of rejection to the Malfoy boy and send the congratulatory letter to Justin instead. Justin was intelligent and talented, and for the most part, had Hufflepuff in his "control", so to speak. But without Draco, there was just no keeping Slytherin in line; something Dumbledore must have agonized over. In the end, however, it must have won out that Draco would most likely find ways to abuse his position. On the sly, Hermione had been told that with Lucius gone, Draco was now on the right-hand side of the Dark Lord. There was no telling how he would have used his Head Boy position to help out the vast majority of the wizarding world's enemy.

Even Draco must have known that. Even he must've seen it for what it was; not for the injustice he painted it to be. It had nothing to do with his house association or his lack of talents and ability to manage the school alongside her. Simply put, it was just that he couldn't be completely trusted with all the valuable information about the school and its events when with a flick of a hand and a magical pop, Voldemort could know about it and plan attacks and Harry assaults accordingly.

Sometimes Hermione wished it wasn't so complicated, and that there was no such thing as good and evil so she wouldn't have to deal with any of it.

But she knew that such a world could never truly exist.

With all of her vast knowledge, she also knew that thinking of her official enemy did more harm than good, and so she stood up and announced to Justin that she would take patrolling duty tonight. With a stroll around the school, perhaps she would be able to clear her head and stop thinking of Draco.

It was just… there was one thought she couldn't stop thinking and mulling over; an irony almost too delicious for words.

…It simply figured that his initials were synonymous to the Dark Mark.