Hermione awoke to the sound of chickens clucking and the warm yellow light of the early morning sun streaming across her face. She sighed into her pillow; if only every day began as it did at The Burrow. It was just so peaceful and good.
It was strange to admit, but Hermione felt more at home in The Burrow than anywhere else she had ever lived. Over the past few years especially, it had become clear to her that she hadn't really felt at home in her childhood home. Yes, she'd had a lovely ten years with her parents without the magic world, but there was always that underlying sense of not-quite-fitting-in.
Hermione's earliest favourite books had been her mother's old Enid Blyton ones, such as Mallory Towers, where the characters went to huge boarding schools in the country. It had fascinated her then and when she was invited to attend Hogwarts, it was like all of her dreams had come true at once. Hogwarts itself was like a second home to her, but the constant threat of imminent danger did often put a damper on that. Like Harry, she preferred the peaceful chaos at The Burrow.
The two of them had been adopted in all but name by the Weasleys after they had returned in May. When Mr and Mrs Weasley had learned that they didn't have anywhere else to go, it had been a no brainer for them to offer their home up to the two teenagers, not that it had been any kind of inconvenience for either party.
Harry had moved into Percy's old room and Hermione was staying in Fred and George's room. She had originally felt uncomfortable about it – but George had all but shouted at her over the kitchen table, ensuring that spreading her "all encompassing rule-abiding germs" over their space was a hell of a lot better than it not being lived in at all. It was also across the hall from Harry, which had caused her to giggle when she remembered the mini wars on the landing between the three brothers.
Being so close to the reminder of the loss, Hermione often found herself wondering how Mr and Mrs Weasley did it. She could barely cope whenever someone slipped up and mentioned Fred's name as though he was right behind George. Therefore, the thought of how his parents were taking it broke Hermione's heart everyday.
Their entire lives must make them feel nostalgic about a better time for their family, and sad about how much had changed, because that was certainly how Hermione felt. It was almost as if she was constantly sighing; remembering how something was again so different. But she didn't let it get to her. She couldn't. Each morning was a new day, and every day that was wasted dwelling on the past was a day that nothing progressed and the future wouldn't become something better. That's what she told herself each morning as she dressed before leaving the strange sanctuary that being in the twins room had created.
Hermione hadn't changed much about the room, but of what she had, it had been simple and minimal. She had charmed the two beds together, creating a double and added her usual protective spells encased in a pretty pair of pale yellow curtains over the previously bare windows. She had also attempted, and failed, to rid the room of the smell of gun powder, but the lingering additional smell of fir trees and candy was rather pleasant. Hermione would never have guessed that she would see the day when she was comforted by the reminder of Fred and George Weasley's presence.
She stretched her arms above her head and sighed contentedly. Hermione lay in bed for a few moments of silence before throwing the pale blue duvet off and got up to dress. She pulled clean underwear, a pair of dark blue jeans and a lilac t-shirt out of the dresser and flicked her wand at the bed (causing it to make itself) and left to head downstairs to the bathroom.
In the previous summers Hermione had spent there, it had been almost impossible to get the bathroom in the mornings. There were three bathrooms in the house; one on the ground floor across from Mr and Mrs Weasley's room, one on the first floor next to Bill, Charlie and Ginny's rooms, and a small one on the top floor, across from Ron's room. Therefore only herself and Harry were using the one on the floor below them, as there was only the six of them in the house – Molly, Arthur, Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione.
Bill was now permanently in Shell Cottage and Charlie had stayed for a few weeks but had gone back to Romania once he knew that his parents were going to be okay as they could be. Percy had grown rather fond of his flat in London, like George, who, despite his mother's protests, had chosen to stay in his and Fred's flat above the shop in Diagon Alley. Molly and Arthur visited him twice a week. He didn't often come back to The Burrow.
Hermione showered quickly, and spent barely a moment on her appearance in the floor-length mirror in the bathroom. It wasn't as if she was going anywhere special. Mrs Weasley had taught her few handy charms since she had begun living there. One included a spell that dried her hair, and another that curled it neatly and another that fixed any blemishes on her face. Hermione didn't feel the need for any more than that.
Throwing her pyjamas and damp towel into the wash basket, she took one last glance at herself in the mirror and opened the door to leave. Hermione was instead met with a blow to the face, and was forced to stumble back over the threshold.
"Oh my god, Hermione! Are you okay? I swear I didn't mean it. I was just trying to knock to see if it was empty!"
Pressing her hand against her forehead, Hermione dazedly straightened up and found herself looking into the face of her best friend.
"Wha... No, Harry, it's okay. I'm okay. I promise," she said.
"You need ice on it or something?" he said, checking her over with a worried expression on his face.
Hermione swatted his probing hand away from her cheek. "No," she said firmly. "I am fine."
"If you say so," Harry replied. "But yeah, I'm glad I ran into you before breakfast. I wanna ask you something."
"We're basically neighbours, Harry, it's hardly difficult for us to run into one another," Hermione bit out. Her head hurt, but she wasn't going to tell him that.
"Well, yeah, but I was going to ask whether you think it's a good idea letting Ron in on everything?" he said cautiously. When Hermione blankly stared at him, he said, "Hogwarts? New prophecy? Us being magical descendents and representatives of the greatest witches and wizards that ever existed?"
"Oh, that," Hermione said emotionlessly.
"I didn't hit you that hard, did I?" Harry poked at her face again jokingly.
"Again, no." Hermione side-stepped his hand, so that she was now standing outside the door and he was inside the bathroom. "I just temporarily forgot. It's easy to forget about Hogwarts whenever we're here." She gestured to her surroundings. "But to answer your question: yes. You know how I feel about leaving Ron out of things."
"Yeah, I know, but this is different. Like, if this got out – can you imagine the press? 'The Chosen One: Defeats Heir of Slytherin without Knowing He's the Heir of Gryffindor'. And that's not even taking into consideration whether they believe it or not. The Aurors already don't take me seriously enough because they think I'm some big-shot who only got in with his name." He clenched his fists and sighed.
Hermione put her hand on his arm, which immediately calmed him. She removed it and said, "Well, you just have to prove them wrong, don't you?" She smiled. "But I understand. I've thought about all of that already, but I do think we should tell him. Imagine how he would feel if we didn't? How would we explain the past two days? Of course he has to know, Harry."
"Yeah, I know. I was going to tell him anyway, but I just wanted to hear that it was a good idea first." Harry smiled wryly.
Hermione shook her head in amusement. "I'm glad you think that my opinion is automatically a good idea."
Harry began to close the door. "Usually," he said with a sly grin and clicked it shut.
Hermione chuckled and made her way down the stairs and towards the scent of Molly Weasley's cooking. She smiled. Today was a going to be a good day, she just knew it.
...
"So we're really doing it then?" Ron asked quietly.
The trio were lounging on a patch of dry grass a few feet from the back door. After a fulfilling breakfast, Harry had motioned for Ron and Hermione to follow him out the door. Awkwardly announcing that he was going for a walk, he was oblivious to Ginny following their retreating backs with narrowed eyes. Hermione however did see the action. She sighed. That was something she would have to deal with later.
Hermione had neatly explained to Ron and his shocked expression exactly what they had been called to Hogwarts to do. He hadn't really noticed her absence since she had recently taken to staying at the school often during the renovations, but he had questioned why Harry had gone. Whenever Harry was involved, it was never really a good thing.
They hadn't really discussed it since the bust up after Hermione announced she was going back to school and Ron had been accepted into a separate part of the Auror office to Harry; but the three of them were heading in different directions when term started back in a week, and this was what the conversation had finally turned to.
"I suppose we are," Hermione said, reaching for her boyfriend's hand.
Their relationship had been going fairly well over the summer. It was sweet and comfortable and everything Hermione had imagined it to be. Sure, there were moments of awkwardness and their usual arguments happened, but something had changed after the first time they had slept together. It had been different afterwards, which Hermione had expected. Ron grasped her hand tight and smiled at her.
"I can't believe Ron and I are going to the Ministry and you're going to Hogwarts," Harry said, shaking his head at Hermione.
"I know," she said. "But I just have to do this. You get that, right?"
"Yeah, I understand. Probably more so because of what the hat said, but yeah, Auror training won't be your thing."
"Still sucks, though," Ron mumbled.
Hermione put her head on his shoulder. "We'll write and I'll be home during the holidays. It won't be too bad." She used her free hand to absentmindedly draw patterns on his leg with her finger. "But with all we have to do and term starting earlier this year, I suppose it will be harder. There's stuff that the four of us have to do apparently. And we need to make sure that Malfoy actually gets the chair."
"Are you sure that he's actually going to get it though? He's hardly reliable."
Hermione stilled her hand and lifted her head up to look at Ron. "I thought we'd quit with the 'he can't be trusted with anything because he's Malfoy' nonsense. Do you think that, too?" she said, turning to Harry, who shrugged.
"I don't know. I'm not questioning his capability... whatever it is he has to do... but this is a massive favour for us, and do you really think he's going to put all of his effort into helping us?" he said.
Hermione pursed her lips. "Fine, you have a point there. But he's not going to give up his chance to prove himself. That's his vice." When she was met with blank stares she sighed and continued. "He's a typical Slytherin. The Slytherin, apparently. Therefore, he's always going to want to be on the winning side – and at the top, it seems. This is the chance for him and his family to do exactly that."
Harry nodded in understanding then smirked. "I bet Narcissa will be throwing him into our arms as soon as she hears."
"Oh, I don't think so," Hermione said. She plucked a weary looking daisy from the grass.
"What?" Ron turned and looked at her.
"Do you two really know nothing about people?" Hermione said in an exasperated tone. "I don't think Narcissa will even find out about this."
"Why not?" Harry barked.
"Because Malfoy won't tell her," Hermione shot at him.
"Again, why not?" Harry said.
Hermione could see his temper rising, so she sighed and began to explain. "Narcissa Malfoy may be a Malfoy and a Black at that, but first and foremost she is a mother. Don't look at me like that! She was ready to betray Voldemort just to find her son, or do you like to forget that, too? Therefore, I can't see her being comfortable with Draco being in the middle of anything, really. She also made Snape take an Unbreakable Vow in order to keep him protected. It's obvious she's protective of her son. So something like this? Where he's been named a 'reincarnated Salazar Slytherin'? Most likely that would be her worst nightmare. She thought she'd saved him from the life Lucius led and being Slytherin's magical heir would definitely not be a step in the right direction. Malfoy knows this and I definitely can't see him going home to tell his mother." Hermione huffed. Sometimes she really questioned how these boys functioned without her.
"What about Lucius then? Surely his father would be proud to hear the good news," Ron spat.
"Oh goodness, no," Hermione said shaking her head. "He would gladly tell Narcissa before going to Lucius."
"Uh, why?"
"Because telling Lucius something like that would just be the catalyst to a resurgence of the kind of hateful thinking we really don't need. And that would be the best scenario. Imagine he recalled the surviving Death Eaters and sympathisers? He would immediately make Draco the new leader and a whole new bunch of ideals would be released. Another heir of Slytherin? You have got to be kidding. That attention and nonsense would be the last thing Draco would want."
Harry and Ron both stared at her for a moment. "You seem to know an awful lot about this, Hermione. How the hell do you understand Malfoy so well?" Harry appeared confused.
"I don't," she said calmly. "I simply observe and take an interest in understanding people. Remember that's what we're supposed to be doing?"
"It's not like I want to spend a whole load of time thinking about Malfoy," Harry mumbled. Hermione laughed softly.
"So... he's totally alone in this?" Ron said with a frown on his face, as though he didn't understand what he was saying.
"Yes, I suppose he is. I can't imagine him letting any of his friends in on this either."
"Why not?" Ron asked.
"Slytherins don't have friends. They have people they need and people who are considered socially appropriate around them. Look at who Malfoy hung around with at school. Crabbe and Goyle? Come on, even Malfoy needs more stimulating acquaintances than that. They were just his pureblood muscle."
"God, Hermione, you really do get him don't you?" Harry said in a shocked tone.
Hermione blinked at him. Did he really think she had some kind of connection with Malfoy? She fought off a giggle. Ludicrous. But he was kind of right. If she thought about it, she really did understand someone rather well for being enemies for years. A small voice murmured in the back of her head: but were we really enemies? The animosity was driven by the position of their parents rather than what she and Malfoy had actually done to each other, well, in the beginning. She tried imagining for a moment a world that existed where neither parents lived and they had been introduced without blood labels. Would they have gotten on?
Hermione shook her head to get rid of the traitorous thoughts and images that were running through her head. "When looked at objectively and with titles, anyone's behaviour can be predicted," she said offhandedly. "Especially Slytherins."
Ron and Harry seemed to accept her answer, but her racing heart and sudden sense of guilt told Hermione that she wasn't exactly being entirely honest with her friends, nor herself.