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 so much to everybody who has favourited/followed/reviewed! I had no idea so many people would read my story, and thank you especially to those who reviewed! Just to reconfirm: parts of the story in bold are directly from the book (I still 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 a fabulous New Year! I am going to try to do weekly updates, but will let you know in advance if it's longer. I will try to keep updates regular, but they will potentially slow down a tiny bit as we get deeper into the story. I have a clear plan of where the story is going for quite a while, but any ideas is still appreciated! Without further ado...
Signed off,
YourDiamondAngel
PAST - You have a choice.
The Slytherins howled with laughter. Each of them pressed their badges too, until the message POTTER STINKS was shining brightly all around Harry. He felt the heat rise in his face and neck.
"Oh very funny," Hermione said sarcastically to Pansy Parkinson and her gang of Slytherin girls, who were laughing harder than anyone, "really witty."
Ron was standing against the wall with Dean and Seamus. He wasn't laughing, but he wasn't sticking up for Harry either.
"Want one, Granger?" said Malfoy, holding out a badge to Hermione. "I've got loads. But don't touch my hand, now. I've just washed it, you see; don't want a Mudblood sliming it up."
Some of the anger Harry had been feeling for days and days seemed to burst through a dam in his chest. He had reached for his wand before he'd thought what he was doing. People all around them scrambled out of the way, backing down the corridor.
"Harry!" Hermione said warningly.
"Go on, then, Potter," Malfoy said quietly, drawing out his own wand. "Moody's not here to look after you now — do it, if you've got the guts —" For a split second, they looked into each other's eyes, then, at exactly the same time, both acted.
"Furnunculus!" Harry yelled.
"Densaugeo!" screamed Malfoy.
Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in midair, and ricocheted off at angles — Harry's hit Goyle in the face, and Malfoy's hit Hermione. Goyle bellowed and put his hands to his nose, where great ugly boils were springing up — Hermione, whimpering in panic, was clutching her mouth.
"Hermione!"
Ron had hurried forward to see what was wrong with her; Harry turned and saw Ron dragging Hermione's hand away from her face. It wasn't a pretty sight. Hermione's front teeth — already larger than average — were now growing at an alarming rate; she was looking more and more like a beaver as her teeth elongated, past her bottom lip, toward her chin — panic-stricken, she felt them and let out a terrified cry
Tears poured down Hermione's face as Snape arrived. She glared at Malfoy, even though, deep down she knew Harry had been partially at fault. But she was all Harry had right now, and there was no way in hell she would abandon her brother. Her brother, she flung her head around and glared at Ron as he tried to come to her defence. No way was she going to let this slide after how he'd treated Harry.
"I'm surprised you believe me, Ronald." She spat. "Even though you saw me get hexed, and have seen this happen in the past, I thought you'd assume I tried to bring harm to myself. You know, for attention." Ron did not miss her thinly veiled attack on his treatment of his so-called 'best friend'. Then she registered Snape's reaction. Snape. Her Professor. A teacher. Unbiased...or at least he should be.
I see no difference. Those four words had cut her to the core. To see such pure, unadulterated hatred from a teacher, it just didn't add up. It was a simple situation, but Professor Snape made it anything but.
Hermione Granger loved learning. She read ahead. She was a perfectionist. She respected her teachers. She asked intelligent, well thought out questions, each of which showed a deep understanding of the topic. She was not just a textbook student; she thought. Her deductive reasoning, and her logic was second to none in her year. As a result, teachers loved teaching Hermione Granger. Her depth of knowledge and understanding impressed her. They appreciated the effort she put in. And they respected her, and did their utmost to answer her in depth questioning. In short, Hermione Granger liked teachers, and teachers liked Hermione Granger.
She looked up at Snape, her eyes wide, her gaze pleading for him to - just once - treat her like a student. Treat her the same as every other student. Not as a mudblood. Not as Harry's best friend. Not as his godson's rival. As a student who comes to him, eager to learn, prepared for the lesson, and striving for perfection. He looked through her, eyes empty and unfeeling. Little did she know, that there was a softness lurking there. But at that moment, she had no idea, so she did the natural thing. She fled. Harry reached for her, but she whirled around, bushy hair flying and sprinted down the corridor to Madam Pomfrey.
As she ran, she could hear Harry's shouts and Ron's protests, words bitterly thrown at the greasy professor in her defence. She heard his voice slice over theirs, and she could feel Pansy Parkinson's smirking gaze on her back as she fled. She could sense Malfoy's sneer in her direction. She'd hoped he'd changed. After the events of the Quidditch World Cup, she'd remembered his warning. She'd hoped his warning showed that he did care, that his words were sincere and caring, that he'd looked past blood prejudice and seen a classmate who was in danger, and whom he could help.
But hope is dangerous. Hope takes the place of all other emotions, and leaves you trapped, unable to escape, and unwilling to see the bad. Hope separates you from all else, but leaves you as soon as you open yourself to other things. Why else do you think Hope was left in Pandora's box? Alone? Only to leave when it opened up?
She does not even register once she reaches Madame Pomfrey's. She reaches for the handle, and enters the Hospital Wing.
"Merlin, dear, what happened? No matter, no matter, sit down." Poppy Pomfrey was an excellent nurse. Rather, an excellent school nurse. Students and teachers alike came to her, knowing they'd be treated no matter what. That's the thing about Madame Pomfrey, she knew when to ask questions. She ushered Hermione onto a bed, and drew the curtains around her.
"Just give me a minute, I can have those shrinking in no time." she assured the trembling girl, sensing her fear and anger.
Pomfrey picked up a mirror, and held it up to Hermione's face. Hermione flinched at the image, and shifted to stop her teeth digging into her stomach.
"Now dear, I'm going to start shrinking them, and you just let me know when to stop. When their back to...to the size you want them." Pomfrey then did something Hermione never expected. Wand outstretched in preparation, she looked right at Hermione. Shooting a conspiratorial grin at the distraught girl, Madame Pomfrey very deliberately winked at her. Hermione blinked, eyes wide in shock, then relaxed at the realisation. She would show Malfoy, and teach him not to mess with her.
Once her teeth were fixed, Madame Pomfrey smiled.
"You can stay here for a bit, Miss Granger, or if you prefer, you can go back to class to show your, friends, you're alright."
"I'd like to go back please." Hermione asked, politely.
"Of course," Pomfrey intoned. "But before you go, would you like to brush your teeth, dear?"
Hermione smiled and nodded. The nurse handed her a toothbrush, and, patient treated, she waved Hermione off.
Hermione left the bathroom and set off for Potions. As she headed towards the door to the hospital wing, she paused.
"Madame Pomfrey?" Hermione asked. The kind woman turned, eyes shining, waiting for Hermione to speak. "Thank you."
Poppy Pomfrey merely smiled.
"You can often find friends in the most unlikely of places, Miss Granger."
Friends in the most unlikely of places indeed!
Draco Malfoy was confused, to say the least. First, he'd been punched in the face by his biggest rival, then he'd almost ruined all the plans his father had spoken of last year by warning mudblood Granger, after which he'd good as revealed that he knew her secret and finally, to cap it all off, he'd ruined the clear inner turmoil about his character - that he had quite ingeniously catalysed - by confirming he was evil and hexing her in the face.
As he sat in the back of the dungeons, he found his glance flickering to the empty chair in the front and middle, where Granger, despite Snape's clear hatred, insisted on sitting every lesson.
He could still recall her distraught features, marred with betrayal as she realised a teacher was throwing her to the wolves. There was a look in her eyes of utter humiliation, and whilst it should have satisfied Draco, it stirred something else inside of him. He still hated her, yes. But there was something else. Something engulfing his entire body. Not rage, or satisfaction, or joy.
Guilt. Deep, deep down, he felt completely guilty. To know he was responsible for the look on her face. Sure, both him and Potter had sent a spell, but his had hit her. 'I see no difference.' Snape had said. Even by Draco's standards that was harsh. It almost seemed as if Snape had a vendetta for her beyond Draco's rivalry and - obviously - her disgusting Gryffindor tendencies. Thank Merlin Potter had been called away. Draco didn't think he could handle more of his furious glares without boxing him across the face.
As Draco continued to get lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed that the whole class had stopped working, until he heard her speak.
"Sorry for the delay, Professor." She spat, her voice a stark contrast to the normal reverent tone she used to address her teachers. Draco's head flew up. It was her alright. Her eyes were alight with ill-disguised disgust, and her head was held high. Gryffindor stubbornness until the end... She continued, seemingly not noticing that all eyes in the room were staring at her. "I have a note from, Madame Pomfrey excusing my lateness."
'Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed...' Draco thought. He immediately reprimanded the voice in his head. She had every right-
'She's a mudblood. She has no rights.' The voice cut him off, reciting his old mantra in his head.
"Sit." Professor Snape spat, not even glancing up. He was uncaring or unfazed by her boldness.
Draco watched her eyes narrow, and she stood up straight, stalking towards her seat. She was both graceful and predatory at once.
'She would have made a good Slytherin,' Draco mused, "if not for..." That train of thought was immediately cut off.
He did not take his eyes off the back of her head, even when those around him went back to work, copying more mindless Potions' Formulas. Almost as if she could sense his eyes on the back of her head, she stiffened, then slowly, with all the grace and pride of a lioness, she turned and looked straight at him. Then she smiled. It should have eased his guilt, goaded his anger and pride, but it didn't. It was...strange.
It wasn't quite a feral grin, but it was sly, satisfied, and undeniably...sexy? But something was different. What was different?
Then it clicked. His rival. His most stubborn victim. The bane of his existence. The mudblood. She was staring at Draco, showing off her perfectly straight and perfectly sized front teeth.
It had felt good. Walking back in with her head held high. But turning, and staring her bully right in the eye, and showing off the results of his spiteful curse. That had felt great.
She'd turned back around, and simply continued copying. She'd flicked her wand under the desk, and her spare quill began copying down all she'd missed from Dean Thomas, sitting next to her. The dark-haired boy looked up at her in shock as he heard the sound of two quills scratching next to him. He looked up at her, a mixture of fear and awe in his eyes, as he watched her copy from the blackboard, not sparing an ounce of focus on the intricate and complicated charm she was maintaining to copy up from the bored. She sensed his stare, and glanced up, raising an eyebrow. For Merlin's sake, they don't call her the 'brightest witch of her age' for nothing...
As the tall, dark professor was habitually surveying the classroom, his eyes widened at the quill. Hermione saw out of the corner of her eye as he considered saying something before his eyes widened when he saw who was next to it. He merely scowled, glared, and resumed his paperwork. Hermione smiled knowingly, aware that he'd ignore it due to his worry that she'd report him for his previous comment. She wouldn't, of course. It simply wasn't worth it, but Snape knew that if there was any complaint Professor McGonagall would listen to, it'd be hers.
A note appeared on her desk, and she looked up at Dean in question. He gestured subtly to Neville, who stared at her. She skimmed the note as quickly as she could, then smiled back in gratitude.
Hermione,
I hope you're okay - your teeth look great!
In case you were worried, Harry's gone for an interview. Some tournament thing...Snape wasn't thrilled. Harry and Ron tried to defend you, but he took points to shut them up.
I would offer my notes, but it seems you've got that covered - you might need to teach that to Harry with all the classes he'll be missing!
Neville
She felt bad she hadn't checked on Harry as soon as she'd gotten back, but scolded herself immediately.
'You're his sister, not his mother! He'll be fine. He's a big boy now.' Deep down this did nothing to comfort her. She didn't trust Ray not to lash out at a nosey reporter, and he clearly hadn't been in a great mood beforehand. As the bell rung, she quickly flicked her wand, completing the notes on her own paper, before addressing the charmed quill. Her hands worked on autopilot, quickly performing the same charm on it, before the Professor cleaned off the blackboard. As she could tell from Dean's work, it was highly unlikely many of her other housemates had finished. She would a copy up in the Gryffindor common room later.
By the time Hermione had reached the common room, Harry was already back. He appeared calm, but she could sense his agitation through the bond. She quirked her eyebrows at him in question.
'Want to talk?' Her eyes conveyed. He shook his head, and gestured vaguely with his hands.
'Later.' It seemed to say. She smiled, and settled down on the couch next to him. She brought the copy of the blackboard from her bag, and with a flick of her wand and a muttered spell it was enlarged and projected towards the centre of the group of Gryffindor fourth years.
"Thank you!"
"You're a lifesaver, 'Mione!"
"What would we do without you?"
Her classmates voices echoed back. She leaned into Harry's shoulder, smiling contentedly. Despite the rocky start it had been a good day.
She had been reminiscing for a full five minutes before she felt the shoulder under her stiffen. Harry grabbed her shoulders, spun her around and looked at her.
"Your teeth?" He questioned.
"Yes?" She pressed.
"They look fantastic, Mia." She grinned at him.
"Thanks, Ray." She settled back down on his shoulder as he relaxed. Her gaze flickered towards the clock. She leaped up, and Harry started at her abrupt action.
"Hermione Jean Granger! Why in god's name would you scare me like that?" Harry exclaimed, one hand over his heart, dramatically, and one placed over his brow. He looked like an over-dramatic, old-time Southern Belle. Hermione rolled her eyes at his antics, before explaining.
"Look at the time! I have so much work to do." She waved her wand the projection of the blackboard vanished, much to the distress of the fourth years around them. Even Harry stared at her quizzically. She sighed, shaking her head in disappointment.
"I can't keep it up from that long a distance yet. At least not while I'm trying to focus completely on something else." She explained briefly. Harry could hear what she was trying to say. She wasn't powerful enough...yet. But her brother had only witnessed a smidgen of her power. Even with his temper, Harry had nothing on her. She was, however, telling the truth. She couldn't keep it up whilst she was trying to focus on something else. Her friends merely assumed she meant homework, as opposed to exploring and perfecting branches of magic they didn't even dream of. She massaged her temples, trying to drown out their high-pitched whining, but to no avail.
Hermione rolled her eyes at their complaints, and with a flick of her hand a perfect copy of the notes, with extra references from various textbooks and Hermione's own knowledge appeared on their laps. She may have been showing off, but it didn't hurt to remind them she was doing them a favour. She almost flew up the stairs to the girls dorms, her bushy hair flying out behind her, as she tried to evade her peers' incessant questioning.
When she arrived, she knew something was wrong. The first thing she noticed, was that it was unnaturally cold. Sure, the tower was high up, but the toasty fireplace always kept the Gryffindor Tower quite warm. The second tip, was the blown open window. She approached it, intending to close it, but she then saw a figure on a broom with their back to her, not out of hearing range, but too far to identify. And finally, she saw the note. It was laying on her bed, placed with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop. Her eyes scanned the words. Then again. And again. Nope, she wasn't crazy.
I'm sorry. Don't mention to anybody I said so. ~ D.M.
The initials were in ornate gold ink, and the end of the 'M' was in looped. The whole note looked like it was written in perfect calligraphy. As she picked it up, it grew hot. She dropped it in surprise, wiping her hands on her skirt. Shit! She should have checked it for curses, as she usually does. She had no shortage of enemies in this school. She looked up at the figure once more, and could just about make out a flash of platinum hair in the moonlight.
She nodded in acceptance, and stared sharply at the innocent piece of paper that looked like it was steaming. Almost as if it detected the change, the note burst into flames. They lasted barely 4 seconds, and charred no area of the wooden floor it had burned on. She squinted quizzically at the boy, now hovering further away.
Suddenly the figure turns, and Malfoy gave her a two fingered salute, before flying off across the lake.
She shut the window, and turned around. She leaned against it, trying to gather her thoughts. Will wonders never cease?
Little did she know, she would wake up tomorrow, wondering if it was all a dream.
Draco landed on a slither of grass in front of the lake, and watched surreptitiously over his shoulder, as she shut her window.
"I'm an idiot." He spoke out loud. And it was the truth. He'd risked the reputation he'd worked for years to build for a mudblood.
"I appreciate your apparent candor, Mr Malfoy, but I do believe you are incorrect." A raspy voice said from next to him.
Draco jumped, then froze. He was a Malfoy and a Slytherin, the best one at that, and he would behave as such.
"Headmaster." He greeted, his voice completely controlled, refusing to break his composure.
"Mr Malfoy...Draco...what do you think is the definition of the word right?" Dumbledore asked, never direct in the slightest.
"Headmaster?" Draco was filled with unease, but he barely showed it. "Aren't you going to take points"
"You see, Draco." The old wizard continued, barely pausing. "I do not believe that would be right given the circumstances. But we all face the dilemma when those around us believe differently. If they believe your view of wrong is wrong but their view of right isn't right, so to say."
"What are you trying to say?" Draco asked, his frustration growing at the man's cryptic tendencies. "Sir?" He amended.
"That's up to you, Draco. I'm giving you the choice to see this as you wish. You may choose to believe it is a wild hallucination, or you may take some inspiration. But know, choosing whether or not to forget this is not the only choice you have, despite what you may think." And he was gone. Wordlessly, and silent.
Draco shook his head, trying to remove all the crazy conspiracies that he had somehow cooked up in the past 24 hours. He had a choice?
So that was that.
I had a lot of fun writing Dumbledore and Pomfrey. Whilst I'm not sure how accurate I was with the former, it's entertaining imagining Draco's reaction to such cryptic advice, whilst his belief's as a Malfoy and as an individual are warring. As for the latter, I'd like to imagine she had a bigger role in the books than we saw. I hope you all enjoyed, and had a fantastic New Year.
Please press that big button saying Review! Even if you don't have an account feel free to post Anonymously/as a Guest. Literally only so I can get some feedback as to my writing style and where to go!
Thank you!
Signed off,
YourDiamondAngel
