Thanks for reading, here's chapter 2!
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The ride up to the castle from the train station was largely uneventful. Hermione managed to slip into a carriage with a couple of 5th years from Ravenclaw, giving them a polite nod and then continuing to stare out the window as the looming castle walls grew closer. So far she had successfully avoided directly running into anyone from her house, but she knew the respite was brief. In just a few short minutes they would all be gathered in the Great Hall for the start of term Welcome Feast, and as Head Girl this year she would be required to take on an even more active and visible roll amongst the student body.
Reaching down, she ran her thumb over the shiny badge, fiddling idly with the clasp. She thought back to a few months ago, when she had received her Hogwarts letter and been so thrilled to see the Head Girl badge fall out onto the table. While it wasn't much of a surprise —she had been top of her class for six years now—it was still an honor and gave her satisfaction to know that all of her hard work was recognized. Harry and Ron had been happy for her when she told them, flooing over from her parents' house with the news. They had celebrated with a day spent at the lake with the entire Weasley clan, enjoying Mrs. Weasley's delicious picnic fixings, splashing in the water, and basking in the sun. It had been a good day, she recalled. Back before the fainting had begun, and back before The Afternoon, as she had begun thinking about it.
The carriages came to a halt and she stepped out, sparing a small glance for the eerie Thestrals, then followed her fellow students through the castle and making her way towards the Great Hall.
"Ms. Granger!" She heard her name ring out over the babble of chattering students. Looking around, she saw Professor McGonagall beckoning to her from across the throng of black robes. Making her way over to her head of house, Hermione prepared herself to meet her fellow Head Boy and receive her first instructions for her new post.
Upon reaching the professor, Hermione's curiosity as to who had received Head Boy was immediately satisfied. Standing next to Professor McGonagall was none other than Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prince extraordinaire. He had grown some over the summer, she noted, reaching a good 6 feet at least and dwarfing her modest 5'3 frame. His hair had darkened some over the years, becoming faintly more honeyed, and recently he had ditched his signature hair gel routine, allowing his textured locks to fall more naturally around his ears and into his eyes. Sparing him only a brief glance, Hermione quickly turned to Professor McGonagall, giving her hand a warm shake and feeling her face break out into her first genuine smile in weeks. The Deputy Headmistress had always been her favorite professor at Hogwarts, and Hermione had the brief sensation of returning home upon taking in McGonagall's classic dark robes and severely pointed hat.
"Congratulations Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy, on being selected as Head students this year," McGonagall began, giving them a tight but warm smile. "You are both exceptionally bright students as well as leaders in the Hogwarts community, and I speak for all the professors when I say that we are very proud to have the two of you representing the school this year."
McGonagall continued on, describing their new responsibilities involving management of the student Prefects and planning of school events, but Hermione found her attention quickly wandering to the blonde Slytherin at her side. Giving him a surreptitious glance, she saw that his hands were in his pockets while his stony grey eyes focused on McGonagall with an unreadable air.
Draco Malfoy, she thought. Figures it would be him that she was stuck with this year. While in her head she had hoped that one of the Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw boys would get the job knowing that neither Ron nor Harry had been selected, in her gut she knew that Malfoy had always been the most likely candidate. His grades had always been just slightly below her own, and as the captain of both the Quidditch and swim teams for Slytherin, it was no question he held a position of leadership in the school. If only he wasn't such an arse, she thought dejectedly with an internal eye roll. Malfoy may have fought on the right side of the war, working with Snape to bring down Voldemort's supporters from the inside, but it was never quite clear to what extent he was rejecting the principles espoused by his father, versus a simple desire for self-preservation. True to form, he had never entirely lost his penchant for tormenting his fellow Gryffindor war-heroes. After Harry and him nearly hexed each other backstage before a Ministry Awards ceremony following the war this past summer, it was clear that there existed in England no parcel of common ground large enough to hold both boys' egos. Perhaps we should start a new club - 'The Ron Weasley and Harry Potter Hate Me Club', she mused with bitter irony.
Focusing back on her professor, Hermione made a mental note of the location of her new dorm and password, and muttered a quick spell to add a reminder for scheduling the first Prefects meeting to her magically-controlled planner.
"Thank you professor, we won't let you down," she enthused with a quick nod.
"Granger," to her shock, Malfoy had extended his hand in a seeming gesture of goodwill. "Looking forward to working with you this year."
"S-same here, Malfoy, I'll see you after the feast," she stumbled. With a brief thanks to McGonagall, he turned and headed into the dining hall, leaving Hermione to wonder at the boy's surprisingly cordial attitude.
As she made to turn and follow him, McGonagall's voice again held her back. "Ms. Granger, a quick word if I might."
Oh no, she cringed internally, can't we just skip this part?
"As I'm sure you're aware, your parents wrote a letter to myself and Professor Dumbledore over the summer…" she began awkwardly. "We were very sorry to hear the news, but I personally am very glad that you have decided to come back to school this year. If you need any accommodations with your Head Girl duties we are more than willing to find a workable solution."
Staring at her shoes, Hermione simply nodded, not trusting herself to speak over the lump that had become suddenly lodged in her throat. She'd almost prefer to go back to thinking about Ron and Harry over the prospect of continuing this conversation. With a sympathetic grimace, McGonagall continued.
"Madam Pomfrey has been alerted to the situation, as have all of your professors, and she'll be expecting you this evening after the feast to make arrangements." Still unable to make eye contact, Hermione managed to squeak out a small "Thank you, professor," before quickly shuffling past and into the dining hall.
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A wave of noise welcomed her into the dining hall, as friends continued to catch up while waiting for the annual first year sorting to begin. Shuffling quickly to an empty seat near the rear of the Gryffindor bench, Hermione tucked herself in and looked surreptitiously around at the other tables, taking in the many familiar faces.
Despite her subtly, a few of her classmates had noticed her quiet appearance and began whispering in earnest. Good old Hogwarts rumor mill she mumbled under her breath. In an attempt to block out the murmurs building around her, Hermione focused instead on the line of nervous first years now making their way to the front of the hall and waiting to be sorted. She didn't need to hear the whispers in order to know what they were saying - Hermione Granger - dangerous witch and wielder of Dark Magic.
She could see by the looks on their faces that the rumor of her dark spell casting had thoroughly circulated, judging from the mix of curiosity and fear she caught from the corner of her eye. In spite of her resolution not to seek him out, she found her eyes wandering down the table and catching on the shock of unruly red hair rising above the other students. The immediate heat that crept across her cheeks reminded her that her anger was still very much on the surface and unbidden memories from four weeks prior flooded her brain.
FLASHBACK
It was the beginning of August, and what had started as a relaxing and fun-filled summer had quickly taken a turn for Hermione Granger. She had distanced herself from her friends over the past week, remaining semi-isolated in her parents' home in an attempt to sort through the shock they had just received and figure out what it meant for the young witch's future plans. Having exhausted her ability to process the news on her own, Hermione had flooed to the Burrow in search of her boyfriend of the past 5 months.
The nervous tension between she and Ron had reached a pinnacle shortly before the final battle with Voldemort and the two had happily embarked on a tentative relationship near the end of their 6th year. It had been awkward at first going from friendship to a relationship, but after Harry had finally succumbed to his long-held feelings for Ginny after the final battle, the foursome had quickly settled into a happy unit of couples. Harry was away at a Quidditch camp, but Hermione knew that Ron would more than likely be sleeping in on this Thursday morning, enjoying his lack of responsibilities for the summer.
Dusting herself off from the fireplace, Hermione glanced around at the familiar trappings of the Weasley living room, noting Mrs. Weasley through the window directing the laundry to hang itself up and dry on the line near the back of the Burrow's garden. Taking a deep breath to harden her resolve at the news she needed to share, she turned and headed up the magically supported stairs on her way to Ron's attic room. Hearing some shuffling movement from within, Hermione gave a quick knock and a small "Hey Ron, it's me," before swinging open the door and walking into his room.
As usual, the first thing she was hit with was the overwhelmingly orange decor plastered across every available surface of the room and the fierce, moving faces of her boyfriend's favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons. The second thing that registered, however, was the horrified look on Ron's face as he scrambled to right himself in the bed, a small pale face trying to hide from behind his arm.
"'Mione, what are you doing here?" He managed to sputter out, a red bloom spreading from the tips of his ears and down his chest as the repercussion of her unexpected visit began to register.
In the back of her mind, Hermione was able to register a few details of the scene, such as the embarrassed face of her classmate Lavender Brown as she continued her attempts to hide, the obvious lack of clothing worn by both of the bed's occupants, and the two bottles of beer precariously placed on the bedside table. In her shock, it was the relatively unimportant presence of the alcohol that finally jolted her out of her shock and she hardened her mouth into a stiff line to keep from shouting out as she wanted to.
"You're drinking at 11 in the morning?" She ground out, knowing it was the only response her brain was currently able to process in the given situation.
"Errr no, I mean -" he began to mumble, giving a small, confused glance to the girl still attempting to make herself disappear in the sheet behind him.
That one look was enough to snap her out of it, and Hermione clenched her fists as the tight, hot tears began rolling without check down her pale cheeks. "How could you?" She managed to choke out, feeling herself crumple. She had come here with a very important matter to discuss with him, desperate to seek out the comfort of her long-time friend and boyfriend, and instead she catches him naked in bed with her fellow Gryffindor roommate. Suddenly, she thought back to the many times over the summer when Ron had claimed he was hanging out with Fred and George at their joke shop in Diagon Alley, now wondering who exactly it was he had actually been spending his time with.
With a cry, she spun back around to face a now panicking Ron, struggling to pull on his boxers without getting trapped in the rumpled sheets. "I trusted you!" she screamed, and without warning she felt a great wave of energy build inside her and come pouring out at the fumbling red head. In shock for the second time in the span of a few seconds, Hermione watched as the powerful ball pulsed out of her and struck Ron square in the chest, immediately causing him to scream out in pain as angry black boils began appearing on his chest and arms. Horrified, she could do nothing more but turn and run down the stairs, barely managing to pronounce her parents' address as the fireplace swept her back to safety.
END FLASHBACK
She had told her parents that she and Ron had had a simple fight, and knowing the doctors' orders that she remain as stress-free as possible they didn't press her on it. She received a vitriolic letter from Ginny later that day informing her that Ron had gone to St. Mungo's for treatment, and although there were no lasting effects from the curse it was clear that her best female friend found it absolutely unforgivable that Hermione had used dark magic on her brother. Whether it had been dark magic or just a regular old curse she wasn't exactly sure, but Hermione found herself not caring overly much what kind of hex her heartbroken mind had unconsciously fired at her cheating ex.
It was clear that Ron had offered up his own version of events, claiming that Hermione had been emotionally deranged all summer and had attacked him out of the blue when she caught him drinking and relaxing in bed that morning. Ginny was well known for her temper, and it would seem that family loyalty ran quite deep as she refused to receive any letters or other correspondence from her former, bushy-haired friend. Harry, albeit in a more rational tone, had seconded Ginny's condemnation upon his return from training, noting his disappointment in her actions and urging her to immediately find a better outlet for her stress.
So far they had ignored all of her attempts at communication and while Hermione was desperate to share her side of the story and make her friends understand, the pounding headache that she got every time she thought about the situation was enough to have her resentfully acknowledge that for the time being, her body was not physically capable of waging that battle.
Glancing quickly around the hall once more, it was clear that the rumors had spread beyond the Gryffindor house, with several Hufflepuffs and even a few Ravenclaws sneaking nervous glances at her as well. Lovely, she thought.
The sorting ceremony concluded quickly, with Hermione mechanically applauding for the ten new Gryffindors joining the house ranks. Looking at the small eleven year olds, it was hard not to bitterly wish that her life could return to the relative simplicity of her first year.
Dumbledore's opening remarks were short and sweet, and before she knew it the feast was drawing to a close without her really registering the delicious cooking of the Hogwarts house elves. After a quick check to make sure that the Prefects were assisting the new first years to find their dorms, she rapidly headed off along the deserted hallways on her way up to the Hospital Wing.
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By this point, Hermione was feeling decidedly exhausted from the events of the day. Her visit to Madam Pomfrey had been blessedly short, though it was still hard to ignore the pitying looks that the medi-witch had utterly failed to hide. After accepting the hefty box of medicinal potions and agreeing to come back for an evaluation every week, she quickly fled back down the halls intent on escaping her increasing desire to cry.
The perk of having her own dorm this year could not have been any more appreciated under the circumstances, regardless of whether she would be sharing it with Malfoy. Upon reaching the unfamiliar portrait on the fourth floor she muttered the password McGonagall had given her earlier and slipped silently inside.
The common room was small but cozy, decorated in a representative blend of the four houses that somehow managed to look good despite the eclectic mix of colors. There was a large fireplace, two couches and several comfortable looking armchairs, as well as a large table and two handsome desks placed near the windows of the far wall, underneath the stairs. Malfoy was nowhere in sight, but following her intuition Hermione chose the right-hand staircase that led up to a landing with three doors. The furthest door was what she assumed (based on the Gryffindor dorm layout) was the Head Boy's room, so with a small knock she pushed open the door on the right to correctly reveal her own accommodations.
In tastefully done Gryffindor colors, her room had the standard four-poster bed, a chest of drawers and small closet. Her trunk and other belongings were resting against the end of the bed on top of a delightfully plush rug, and Hermione smiled to see that Crookshanks had made himself at home in the middle of her bed. Quickly unpacking a few of the more essential items she grabbed her toiletries and returned to the landing, pleased to find that Malfoy was not currently occupying their shared bathroom located between the two rooms. Glancing around enough to take in the beautiful and well-sized shower, bathtub, and other facilities, she finished brushing her teeth and washing her face before trundling back to her room.
The large window offered up a gorgeous view of the Hogwarts grounds, causing her to feel a brief moment of smugness at how posh her new rooms were. Changing quickly into a pair of small boxer shorts and an over-sized t-shirt, she remembered to lay out her potions from Madam Pomfrey before she turned in. She created a neat row out of the seven vials, and with a grimace she grabbed the one marked September 1st and quickly downed it before the bitter liquid had a chance to linger in her mouth. Giving her head a quick shake and sticking out her tongue in disgust, she replaced the vial on her dresser and without another thought crawled into bed and curled around Crookshanks.
She was lucky, and that night Hermione Granger fell asleep after only a few deep breaths.