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Platfrom 9 ¾. It was to be the final time they would arrive at the discreet platform. Others weren't as fortunate to have the opportunity to see the platform at last time, but the ones who actually were given the chance to visit, didn't exactly perceive it as fortunate. Not exactly the precise word to describe it.
The war was inevitable. They all knew it. Though, what they didn't understand was every intricate, defining detail of the foreboding war.
They were completely oblivious whether if they were the one to be lying motionless on a murky mat next or whether their companions were to be recruited as Death Eaters and they were the ones to deliver their imminent deaths. There were a variety of latent possibilities that only a mere fool would consist of the haughtiness to be able to prosecute these perilous schemes. It was frightening, but nowhere near impossible.
Those schemes were applied literally everywhere due to the amount of blunt idiots who thought they would profit out of it. The schemes granted power whilst the majority of people to be unwillingly persuaded to your side, and basically, change. Complexity of adaptations grew rather fond of rummaging for new wiles to incorporate in their disorderly catastrophe. Though, that was only a minority.
Wizards and witches were being struck at the heart. Their homes were gone.
Hogwarts wasn't perceived as welcoming anymore. It wasn't a place to welcome you home. It just wasn't.
Hermione knew it. Everyone knew it. Though, the groups that bred in order to contribute in defeating You-Know-Who understood that it was only Harry Potter that could finalize their futures.
She only wished that she was able to help her fellow friend, but her attention was directed elsewhere.
It was her duty to recover the school to its reining glory. She was going to try, that's what she was going to do. Try.
She had swallowed thickly, though nevertheless had held her head high. The thoughts inflicted heavy impact, but it was thoroughly valued for it hid her insecurities about returning to prestigious Hogwarts.
Her lean, cold fingers seized the hem of her dark, faded sweater that Mrs. Weasley had wholeheartedly presented her the previous Christmas. It was one of Hermione's most favorite articles of clothing she had owned for she grasped the sweet value disguised within it. Every centimeter of the clothing was more than adequately woven with the deepest care attended to it. Mrs. Weasley's determination on creating numerous sweaters was endearing for every single sweater consisted of Mrs. Weasley's love. Hermione was certain of it. It was a mighty damn fine present. She would never understand Ron's mild distaste for the gift. The sweater was the closest object that she would deem as a reminder of home. Oh, how she fondly missed her home.
Hermione missed the heavy, unmistakably known scent of her mother's crispy omelette, finding herself awaken with a pleasurable growl emitting from her stomach. She could recall her father calling out softly for her to come down for breakfast and of course, Hermione would merrily oblige to her father's wishes. When she arrived, her mother would plant a wet kiss on either side of her forehead and she would listen to her father's hearty chuckle whilst he commenced with a tasteful dream he had the previous night. Then, Hermione was granted permission to initiate the first bite of the day and nothing would depart from her mouth with the exception of genuine compliments to the cook.
She remembered their laughs. Their voice. Their appearance. Their smiles. Everything. Though, Hermione was to have none of it until she was given confirmation of their safety to know their own child again.
Her lips twisted as if she had tasted a wretched lemon, her eyes darting in a restive manner as she stepped forward. Ginny and her had just arrived at King's Cross with few minutes to spare much to Hermione's chagrin.
Ginny's hand had leaped for hers, dragging her shamelessly behind her. The bushy haired girl silently thanked the youngest Weasley for her minimal lack of concern towards others. They were nearly there. She was also appreciative of the fact that it was only the two of them whilst the others busied themselves with Order related activities.
"Hermione, come on!" Ginny uttered impatiently, yanking her slightly harder through the boisterous crowd. Though, Hermione's curiosity was simply not budging.
It wasn't her fault. Curiosity was the one fatal quality that Hermione held and could not get rid off. Her other qualities knew their limits, but curiosity merely didn't falter, jostling the boundary elsewhere.
Who was to be here? Who dared come to Hogwarts? There were a million thoughts running through her head, but it seemed that those two were the only ones able to stir a reaction out of Hermione.
Her eyes shifted from several stirring bodies, but she never once turned her head to face another direction. Her peripheral vision were the one exerting itself to fulfill her curiosity and to avoid angering Ginny.
Seamus Finnigan, Cho Chang, Blaise Zabini, and Luna were there among themselves. None of them bided a wave, though she had seen a flicker of modest delight in Luna's crystal blue eyes. She had spotted a few restless fifth and sixth years with few others to the years below them.
Her brows furrowed as the younger ones were drew close towards their parents. She could fondly recall when she was a first year, nearly bouncing from exhilaration, simply waiting to escape from her parents' tendier clutches. Seems as if the altercations in their surroundings were affecting them. Hermione couldn't blame them, though she felt a large twinge of sympathy for the little ones.
She sighed and resumed her search. Hermione had detected numerous brunettes, one redhead who wasn't a Weasley surprisingly, and a flash of pallid, blond hair.
Malfoy? Draco Malfoy was here?
The thought of the haughty ferret at Hogwarts shocked her to no end. She had presumed from Harry's words that he had already was recruiting others to be fellow Death Eaters or he were lying six feet under the ground. And, if he were, he probably demanded for the highest, meritorious coffin there was available.
"Prat," she muttered under her breath.
Though, the mention of Draco Malfoy made her unwillingly turn her head.
She very well did herself a gracious favor by doing so.
Malfoy presented himself quite casually without a hint of a single flaw notable. His sleek white-blond hair was slicked back without excessive effort. He wore another one of his costly, black suits which fit his entire body quite firmly. Draco's doleful eyes struck a peculiar resemblance to the aggressive skies as of late and were directed towards the others before him, tapping his foot restlessly. The ferret's cheeks were slimmed due to his decrease of weight, highlighting his lofty cheekbones. Though, despite his sharp, defined appearance would be deemed as incredibly fair, you couldn't exclude the eerie, grayish color that tainted the edges of his face. A stubborn, crease line laid firmly between his eyebrows as he displayed dark, prominent circles underneath his eyes; all had indicated which level of stress he was placed in. His pinkish lips were thinned crossly, his arms brought up, folded haughtily against his puffed chest. Hermione would categorize him as one of the handsome, suitable ones if she didn't know him already as an insufferable git. But, unfortunately she knew him. Boy, did it hurt her so.
The Slytherin caught her stare, blindly returning her gaze. It was as if they couldn't move nor speak. The redhead nuisance and the shoving elbows were vanished as both stared mindlessly, leaving a dark impression on either side.
It was just the two of them. Odd.
King's Cross grew unknowingly barren. Just the daunting Slytherin and the wise Gryffindor. Despite their distance, she could spot his stormy, wild pupils thicken as his eyes stated his befuddlement. She had no doubt, her eyes read confusion as well. His jaw clenched in distaste.
He was the first to shatter the increasing tension by pursuing a very Malfoy-like action.
"You lot are wasting my valuable time over a petty argument. For fuck's sakes, move!" Malfoy growled, shoving two stunned fourth years aside, so that he was able to enter the train.
Draco Malfoy was still the arrogant bastard from the previous years. Not much has changed for him, so it seems.
She felt another impatient tug on her wrist, causing her to flinch reflexively. "Ginny!" She warned, her tone entirely disapproving.
Ginny threw her a frown. "You're the one who was irritated at me for having the both of us nearly late!"
"Right," Hermione replied, her eyes fazed. She shook her head, following Ginny shortly afterwards. The both of them ventured towards the right of the hall, tiredly finding one compartment filled and then was revealed that the next seven filled.
The redhead sighed in relief spotting two available seats beside Neville and Seamus. The two older boys sported small, grim smiles which the both of them had returned jadedly.
"Hello," Neville piped. He didn't altercate in the physical category at all. His dark brown eyebrows raised at the both of them. Neville's eyes pooled with clear distress, his stance lean as he curved to rest his forearms onto the table. He was already dressed in his robes, striking Hermione as odd.
Seamus offered a weak wave. Whilst Neville had not changed, Seamus had grown incredibly distinct from his features in sixth year. He had grown exceptionally defined in his arms, the muscles peeking out from his white shirt. Though despite his muscular enhancement, he had still consisted of a lean, tilted posture. His facial disposition mimicked Neville's, almost frighteningly so. His gaze was casted downwards towards his fiddling thumbs. His light, hazel eyes were sad. Simply sad. Seamus wasn't the only one.
"Hello," Ginny and Hermione replied in a unison.
"How've you two been?" Seamus asked, almost genuinely. Either way, the both of them had appreciated the concern.
The two girl's eyes flickered towards each other for a sheer second. "Horrid as usual," Hermione said, shrugging awkwardly.
Neville silently watched the tedious conversation between the three. "We should..." he commenced.
"Hell, we might as well shift the awkwardness elsewhere this conversation so we're able to enjoy it," the redhead had finished for him.
Neville and Seamus broke out into amused simpers, leaving Hermione behind to sulk.
Deep, discreet in her mind, she was analyzing the oddities of her dream which had left her pondering. Pondering and pondering.
The dark figure interested her. Occupied her curiosity for the majority of the time being. And, her curiosity was a laborious task to accomplish. Hermione simply wanted to know what or who the figure was.
The others divulged themselves into talk about Quidditch, Neville piping in every other sentence or so with facts he did know. Hermione had remained silent, though adding thoughts that crossed her mind every now and then into the conversation.
"Where's Ron and Harry?" Finnigan had inquired outlandishly, grinding his teeth together in anticipation.
Ginny swallowed dryly. Hermione's attention averted towards the Irish Chaser, tight lipped. Neville stared.
She had opened and closed her mouth. Then, opened and closed her mouth. Then had opened a final time. "They left," Hermione retorted simply.
Seamus blinked. "Oh."
The awkward tension recurred, only the subtle sound of the passengers breathing. The four of them continued to gaze blankly at the window.
The bushy brunette was the first to cut the silence. "Why do you think Malfoy's here? Would of presumed he was reigning alongside his father."
Ginny froze slightly, then resumed her gaze towards the window. "Don't know."
"Odd, isn't it?" Neville added.
"I suppose he was exhausted from having given the position to be You-Know-Who's bitch and returned to school."
"Seamus!" Hermione scolded wholeheartedly, a smile tugging at her lips, waiting to be broken free.
"Come off it, 'Mione. I agree with Seamus," Ginny smirked subtlety, though never turned from the window. Her posture was stiff.
Seamus puffed his chest. "He speaks his mind," Neville pointed out, rolling his eyes at his friend's choice of words.
"Glad to know you haven't changed, Finnigan." The brunette arched a brow.
The four of them smiled.
HOGWARTS
"We're here," Hermione breathed.
Ginny glanced at her, perturbed at her distressed frown. Of course, Hermione would be worried. It was one of the several traits Hermione possessed. Though, others didn't technically perceive all her traits as fortunate ones.
The redhead did not respond to her. Both girls simply dragged themselves towards the entrance of the Great Hall.
The Head Girl had already been introduced to the Head Boy and Hermione wasn't surprised at who was bestowed the position. Blaise Zabini. A pureblood, Slytherin in 7th year who was now going to be partners with a muggleborn.
Honestly, Hermione expected a curt remark concerning her blood status from Zabini when she met him officially as a Head Boy, though it appeared as everyone has varied in their beliefs over the summer. He was a kind enough bloke despite his choice of friends.
She observed carefully at the Slytherin end before resuming the regular seats she had sat in before with Harry and Ron. Though, it was only Neville, Seamus, and Ginny who sat alongside her now.
Merlin's beard, she missed the two of them.
Everyone wished the two to come back well and healthy, though none of them wished for their return as much as Ginny and Hermione. In spite of Ginny's lack of sentiment displayed when Harry and Ron were brought as the center of anyone's discussion, Hermione was the one that was reining in undiscovered information. Hermione was one of the scarce few who were allowed to unfold the incessant complexities that were Ginny Weasley.
Harry and Ron sent them one, brief parchment with few words scrawled untidily. Though it were few words, it was concise and was enough to last them for a few minutes.
We're safe. We'll be back soon. Don't reply.
Love you and miss you both.
Ron & Harry
Ginny kept the note for the sake of salvaging what was left of her sanity despite Hermione's yearning for the note herself. Hedwig had left promptly as soon as he delivered the note, leaving Hermione and Ginny no time to properly thank and plead the owl to deliver a note of their own in spite of what Ron had written.
Hermione had sighed again for what seemed like the fifth time since they arrived.
Neville sighed as well. Sighing had higher demand than a highly, infectious disease, so it seemed. "When do you think-"
Interrupted by Professor Snape himself. Though, you couldn't exactly call him a 'professor' anymore.
"Good evening," he said, his lip curling as his cold eyes swept across the crowd. "It comes to my knowledge that I have recently been awarded the position of Headmaster of Hogwarts."
What? Hermione blanched.
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