Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Harry Potter... (Although, like many here I would gladly take it off of Rowling's hands if need be!)
Hi there!
Thank you to everybody for all their feedback - I wasn't expecting so much response, let alone positive responses! Just to reconfirm: parts of the story in bold are directly from the book (I take no credit for that masterpiece)! Sorry if this bothers you but as I mentioned, this is my first story and I just need somewhere to start! All advice and reviews are appreciated! Hope you had Merry Christmas and have a Happy New Year! I am going to update this quite often (but not necessarily regularly), and chapters will probably slow down a tiny bit as we get into the story. I do have quite a few of the chapter's planned out, and I will try to update weekly!
Signed off,
YourDiamondAngel
PAST - Be careful, Mudblood.
3rd Year
"S'no good, Ron," said Hagrid sadly as they reached the castle steps. "That Committee's in Lucius Malfoy's pocket. I'm jus' gonna make sure the rest o' Beaky's time is the happiest he's ever had. I owe him that..."
Hagrid turned around and hurried back toward his cabin, his face buried in his handkerchief.
"Look at him blubber!"
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had been standing just inside the castle doors, listening.
"Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic?" said Malfoy. "And he's supposed to be our teacher!"
Harry and Ron both made furious moves toward Malfoy, but Hermione got there first - SMACK!
She had slapped Malfoy across the face with all the strength she could muster. Malfoy staggered. Harry, Ron, Crabbe, and Goyle stood flabbergasted as Hermione raised her hand again.
"Don't you dare call Hagrid pathetic, you foul - you evil -"
"Hermione!" said Ron weakly, and he tried to grab her hand as she swung it back.
"Get off, Ron!" Hermione pulled out her wand.
Malfoy stepped backward. Crabbe and Goyle looked at him for instructions, thoroughly bewildered.
"C'mon," Malfoy muttered, and in a moment, all three of them had disappeared into the passageway to the dungeons.
"Hermione!" Ron said again, sounding both stunned and impressed.
Hermione turned around to look at him, eyes wide. She shook her head quickly, her movements jerky, seemingly trying to clear her head. Not now. She reprimanded herself. Harry needs you now.
So she kept going. She went after Ron, and helped Harry. After that, she would think about it. So she waited.
Hours later, after discovering the truth, and going back in time Hermione thought about it. She sat in the common room with Harry, both of them silent. Ron had gone up to bed, and Hermione could almost hear his snores.
"Hermione?" Harry asked, prodding her with his finger to see if she was asleep. Hermione realised how long she'd been silent for.
"I'm awake." She confirmed. "Aren't you tired, Harry? You should head to bed."
"Ever the mother, aren't you, Hermione?" He smiled at her. He was different from Ron. His calling her mother was almost endearing, completely unlike the daggers Ron had spat at her many times before. Harry stood, then looked at her questioningly.
"You coming?"
"No. I'm going to stick around here for a while, just think..." Hermione attempted to explain but Harry waved her off.
"Don't worry. I get it. Goodnight, Mia." Hermione smiled upon hearing his nickname for her.
The fact that Harry had grown up alienated by his relatives was relatively common knowledge amongst friends, and they sympathised. But she was the only one who could empathise, except for maybe Neville. She was an only child in a big echoing house. Ever the bookworm, her knowledge intimidated her peers, and she was rarely befriended by those in her year group. Even the adults she attempted to make conversation with at her parents' dentist conventions were slightly put off by her wide range of knowledge about many topics. So much so that they avoided conversation with her, believing a child's place to be different. Her parents loved her, and whenever they had time they would debate and laugh with her. But unfortunately, the time they had for her was rare to come by.
Lack of company at home was something Ron never understood, and likely never would. He had no shortage of siblings, and if asked would claim he would happily move out if he could. He would never understand the repercussions of being alone. So Harry and Hermione, in their loneliness, agreed on one thing. They would be each other's sibling.
Hermione could sense Harry's doubt at the time, having never had someone loyal to him completely. Even her unswerving loyalty throughout the short years she'd known him was not reassurance enough. Determined to absolve her brother of any doubt, Hermione went to the library, in search of a way to bond him to her forever. She found a sibling blood-bond, and Harry asked only one question; when would they do it? And so they did. And she was his. And he was hers. Brother and Sister.
"Goodnight, Ray." He wrapped his arms around her, and she buried her face into his neck, inhaling his scent. It never failed to comfort her.
As he went upstairs, Hermione turned back and gazed into the fireplace. She was entranced, and stared unblinkingly into the dark coals, watching how chunks fell as they became too charred to stay upright. She managed to tear her glance away, and she realised the precious seconds her contemplation seemed to take were minutes. She glanced absentmindedly at the clock. 2am. She dragged herself up from the couch and felt all the blood rush up to her head. She massaged her temples with two fingers. Too fast.
Adrenaline was still pumping through her system, and she simply could not sleep. She would not let herself look at the portrait hole, afraid that the temptation to just leave, run, to be alone would win. Her Gryffindor stubbornness failed her, and she bolted for the door. She ran with no destination and no limit. She absentmindedly followed the steps to the place she'd stood seven hours previously. That is to say, four hours previously, allowing for the extra three hours. She looked at the rock she'd pushed Malfoy up against, her wand at this throat.
She sunk to the ground, not even caring about the cold or the mud, and sobbed.
She sobbed for Sirius Black, a man who was locked in Azkaban for 13 years as a punishment for avenging his best friends.
She sobbed for Remus Lupin, a man she had known for months to be a werewolf, at no fault of his own except being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
She sobbed for Harry Potter, a boy, a child, her brother, who had been cursed with every possible unlucky thing to be known.
She sobbed for Lily and James Potter, a couple who had trusted wrongly, and had paid the ultimate price.
She sobbed for Ron Weasley, knowing that no matter what happened, he would always choose Harry over her.
And she cried for herself, for the trials she herself had endured that night.
Huddled in a heap on the ground by the daunting castle, Hermione Granger let go. She sobbed piteously, knowing that, come morning, she would have to be the clear-headed, responsible friend once more. She curled up, playing with the leather bracelet around her wrist. Gradually, her breathing slowed, and her shoulders stopped heaving.
After dragging herself out of her self-pirty, Hermione picked up her wand, and twirled it in her hand. 'What power she could channel in such a small and meaningless seeming object.' she mused. She held it, her arm outstretched in front of her, remembering how powerful she felt with a neck on the other side of it. Remembering, despite her insistence that she did not take joy in being sadistic, that she had felt an overwhelming urge to 'go muggle style' and punch Malfoy instead of cursing him. How seductive that power was...
"Would you have done it? Hexed me? Or even cursed me?" A voice echoed her thoughts, and rang through the clearing from behind her. She turned around, only to see Draco Malfoy leaning against the wall behind her. He looked at her, almost intrigued by her.
"Shove off, Malfoy." She grumbled, scrambling in an attempt to get up off the ground. At the same time she furiously wiped the tears from her cheeks, praying that he would not comment on her puffy eyes, or red face. He stepped forwards and she grasped the handle of her wand instinctively, but he merely offered a hand. She glared at it, then - begrudgingly - took it. Once she was up, she looked up at his face. There was not even a ghost of the sneer or smirk she'd become accustomed to seeing, marring his handsome features. Yes. He was handsome, no doubt. And he knew it. Then she saw it, the slight red around the side of his face. It seemed she'd left a mark...
"Well?" He pressed. "Would you have?" He looked down at her, raw desperation now sparking in his eyes. After receiving no response he tried again. "Granger, your wand was at my throat. You had all the power. Would. You. Have. Cursed. Me?"
"No..." She murmured. "I wouldn't have." She frowned for a moment, realising it was the truth. Despite the seductive power, she had no desire to attack him when he was unarmed and wandless. His words, sharp as knives, were not excuse enough to justify cursing him. He stiffened for a split second, even more surprised than she was, but then his eyes darkened with suspicion.
"Why?"
"It wasn't worth it. You're not worth it." Even to her own ears she didn't sound convincing. He raised an eyebrow. "You...um...I -"
"Don't bother, Granger." He slid down the wall to the ground, and gestured to her to join him. She remained standing, but upon his exasperated gaze, she rolled her eyes, and slid down next to him, still never taking her eyes off his wand.
"You have quite a right hook there," he intoned, with begrudging respect. "Where'd you learn it?"
"Muggle self-defence class, actually."
"Mmmm..." He murmured, unimpressed.
"Why are you hear, Malfoy? To torment me? Rub it in that you knew I was 'too goody-goody to curse you' all along? What do you want from me?"
Silence.
"Malfoy?"
"Interesting question you've got there, Granger. "
"Please." She humphed.
"Granger," he patronised. "Didn't know you had such an attitude."
"Stop procrastinating, Malfoy. Answer the bloody question. And if you're to simple minded to process words longer than three syllables, procrastinating is -"
"Ooh wasn't expecting such language from the Gryffindor prude..." Malfoy chided, shaking his head and tutting as if she was a young child. Suddenly his voice became icy. "And Granger, don't treat me like I'm stupid. I happen to be top of the year."
"No, I'm top of the year." Hermione's pride bristled at the insinuation that she was not the top of the year. They both knew she outranked him, in theory and in practical. "And," she continued, "I'm not insinuating you're stupid, Malfoy. I'm merely suggesting you tend to have bad luck when it comes to thinking." Malfoy ground his teeth, eyes flashing, bordering on fury.
"I don't have time for this, Granger." Hermione smiled inwardly, as he conceded, knowing she'd won this round, and he knew it.
"Then tell me what you're here for. You came to me if you recall."
"Merely came to warn you not to pull another stunt like today again."
"Or else what? You'll 'tell your father'? I'm shaking in my boots."
"You'd be surprised. I'm sure you'll see what we Malfoys are capable of soon enough. On that note, I would...ah...watch out, this summer."
"Is that a threat, Malfoy."
"No of course not" His sarcasm rung through. "I'm just reminding you to be careful this summer. I mean, the World Cup is a big event. Lots of people. Who knows what could happen to a lone mudblood as she enters a crowd of real witches and wizards?" Hermione rose, drawing her wand.
"I might have let it go in the past, at least to subdue Harry and Ron, but I swear, if you even think about calling me mudblood again, you will find out the hard way exactly what else I learnt in my muggle self-defence class. Understood?" There was a biting edge to her voice, and Malfoy recognised the challenge. He rose, looking down at her. He was not towering above her, but was tall enough to begin to look intimidating.
"I'd say have a good night, Granger, but I really don't want you to." He swaggered off, then stopped. He turned. "And don't pull that crap with me, Granger, we both know for a fact that you're completely different when you're confronted alone. Just try to reign it in a little...you're almost glowing with anger"
Hermione looked at her hands as a reflex. They were normal, she scrunched her eyebrows up, then it dawned on her. She froze. He knew. He must know. How else would he...who did he...why did he...how did he know?
He continued, without missing a beat. "I was serious though. Be careful, mudblood." And he was gone. There was something else there. Not just pompous arrogance, but a touch of...concern.
Be careful, Mudblood. Concern wrapped in an insult. Ever the perfect Slytherin. The World Cup? He had to be bluffing - why would he tell her? Hermione stalked back to Gryffindor tower, his words still echoing in her mind. Be careful, Mudblood.
Hello lovelies!
That's that then...hope you enjoyed. Just to reiterate, I do have a clear plan of where this story is going, just need to add details. All feedback is appreciated - just nice to know that someone is reading my sporadic bursts of creativity! Again, not going to push for a review number, but even if you're not posting under an official account it's definitely valued! Let me know what you think is going to happen next!
Hope you enjoy and Happy New Year!
Signed off,
YourDiamondAngel
