A/N: This is a work in progress, so I will occasionally update already-posted chapters for spelling, grammar, or flow. The main storyline will not change.
September 1998—
The first class of Hermione's seventh year was Charms. Professor Flitwick stood at the front of his classroom and surveyed his seventh-year students. There were only a small handful of them. Not all students from Hermione's year had returned to complete or repeat their final year, and she had overheard in the corridors that Ginny's class would not be merged with hers until second term to allow them time to catch up on what had been missed in their sixth year.
Flitwick cleared his throat and beamed at the class. "This year will be perhaps the most unexpectedly strenuous of your years at Hogwarts. True, your number of classes seems fewer than ever, but your amount of individual work and study will be greater than ever before as well. In this class, we will learn a wide variety of highly advanced charms, study the history and theory behind each, practice them in realistic settings, and finally learn how to invent simple to intermediate charms for yourself."
The door to the classroom opened abruptly, all heads turned to the latecomer in unison. Hermione spotted the top of a white-blonde head sidling in.
"Come, come, sit down!" Flitwick called without reprimand and pointed to one of the many open desks.
Draco Malfoy nodded swiftly and took the nearest open seat, directly behind Hermione. Hermione turned back around and was surprised to find herself clutching her left arm again. She sighed and willed herself to relax as she let out a deep breath. She turned her attention back to Flitwick, quill poised over her parchment for taking notes.
"Nonverbal movement charms for many witches and wizards are innate actions. These charms may be to perform repetitive actions, such as stirring cauldrons, or more complex actions, such as knitting scarves. The success and exact actions of the charms can also vary depending upon the caster. Who can give me an example?"
Hermione's hand shot into the air, and Flitwick, perhaps anticipating the action, called on her immediately.
"There are many theories regarding varying skill and complexity of charms between casters," Hermione stated. "In your examples, the most likely is due to the skill of the individual at completing the task manually as well as the intent. For example, when first casting knitting charms I could only create square patches. As I learned more knitting, I could get the fabric to curve into socks and hats and create designs in the pattern. A witch very skilled at knitting would be able to charm the needles and yarn to create almost anything."
"Excellent, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor!"
Flitwick waved his wand and the words "Aptitude" and "Intent" appeared on the blackboard behind him.
"Now, rather than working with knitting needles, we'll begin today with paper," he continued. He waved his wand again, and small stacks of square parchment flew to the desks of each of the students in the class. "Please practice folding these papers into any shape that pleases you using nonverbal charms. To begin, it might help you to practice folding your shape by hand, then practice stating your charm out loud, before attempting the nonverbal. Extra points will go to the most creative and complex creations for the day."
Flitwick then demonstrated a series of wand movements and charmed a sheet into a simple paper airplane that he sent soaring around the room. He then charmed a second sheet into a complex propeller airplane that he sent soaring in the opposite direction, its tiny paper propeller whirring rapidly.
"Begin!" he called out, and the room was immediately filled with the sounds of crumpling paper and shuffling chairs. By the end of the lesson, Hermione had charmed her paper into a stunning long stemmed rose that hovered directly in front of her desk. Neville had managed to charm his paper into a fairly convincing frog. Ernie had created a double-masted sailboat. Other shapes around the room included a small rabbit with twitching ears, a pair of scissors that, being made of paper itself, was failing to cut apart the waterlily cast by the next student, and finally an undulating Chinese dragon that was circling Malfoy's desk. Flitwick was so delighted that he gave five points to every student. Homework was thirty inches on the conflicting theories that attempted to account for same-charm variations, research and independent mastery of coloring charms, and reading for the next lesson's topic. The next lesson would also begin with a practical exam on folding and coloring papers.
Hermione checked her schedule and groaned. Charms would meet again in two-days' time, but she did have a double free period after lunch to start working on the essay and research.
Double Herbology left Hermione with even more research and preparation to do, and she hadn't even finished all of her classes for the day. She still had Ancient Runes left after her free period. A worried knot was already forming in her stomach as she made her way to the Great Hall for lunch. Ginny was there eating her sandwich with alarming speed.
Hermione sat across from her and gaped. "You know, I see it now, the resemblance between you and Ron."
Ginny scowled.
"That bad?" Hermione asked.
"I've got four essays already, more reading than I think I've ever done in my life, and no free periods until Wednesday. Plus, I've been made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain now that Angelina and Harry have both left!" Ginny grinned as she shared this last bit of news, and Hermione nearly jumped out of her seat.
"Oh, Ginny, that's wonderful!"
Ginny continued to talk about the prospects of the team, which students remained, which might be viable replacements, and her worry over ever finding a Seeker to live up to Harry's legacy. Hermione tried her very best to listen and keep up with the conversation, but sighed in relief when Seamus Finnigan came over and heartily joined in with his opinions. After a few minutes, Hermione waved her farewells and slipped off to the library with her heavy bag of books slung over her back.
Old books, fresh parchment, and a lingering undertone of book lice repellant assailed Hermione as she entered her beloved library.
"Good afternoon, Miss Granger," a sharp voice echoed over to her as she entered.
"Oh! Hello Madame Pince," Hermione said quietly and smiled at the older witch.
"You'll find everything's just as you left it," Madame Prince replied with a blatant tone of pride. "Very little damage was done to the library, though we did have to relocate part of the Restricted Section. I'll be here through the afternoon if you need any help."
"I'm sure I'll be fine—thank you!"
Hermione spent several minutes roaming up and down the aisles selecting books on nonverbal spells, motion charms, water-dwelling plants, and plant-based healing remedies to add to the books she already had in her bag. She made her way to her usual table and dropped her books with a loud thud. A few students around her jumped in their seats, including the boy seated at the end of her table. She hadn't seen that it was occupied over her stack of books.
Malfoy—of course. Hermione drew in a sharp breath and instinctively clutched her left arm under her robes. Malfoy's eyes narrowed at her quick movement, and his expression darkened.
"Don't worry, Granger," he muttered, "I was just leaving." Without another word he rose, collected his bag, parchments, and quill, and walked briskly through the library doors and out of sight. Hermione let out a sigh of relief.
Get a grip, she chided herself. She was going to be bumping into Malfoy a lot with a shared common room and at least two shared classes so far. He's not Bellatrix, and it's not his fault.
Logically, she knew that it was true, but every time she'd seen him in the past few days, her mind went reeling back to that dreadful night at his family's Manor. Her arm seared with the same fiery pain, and she felt trapped, pressed in from all directions, and helpless, which—if she had to admit it—was pleasant compared to what she experienced at night. In her dreams, her body wracked with echoes of the Cruciatus Curse until she was overcome with pain, fear, and eventual blackness. But, being a member of an evil family didn't make Malfoy the same brand of evil. After all, look at Sirius and Regulus Black, she reminded herself. Sirius had fought for the Order since the first war, and though Regulus had admittedly joined the Death Eaters, he ended up stealing a Horcrux with the intent of destroying it. It had cost him his life before the deed was done, but he was willing to make the ultimate sacrifice if it would contribute to Voldemort's downfall. Malfoy hadn't done a single thing wrong in the past two days, Hermione knew. She also knew that he and his family had suffered as much as any at the hands of the Dark Lord. If she didn't keep her compassion in this of all things, she was worried her humanity would slowly slip away until she was left with a hollow shell of her former self. No, this was her personal battle to overcome, not Malfoy's.
Enough, Hermione thought. She was wasting time, and moaning to herself over her demons would not help her finish her Charms or Herbology work. Plus, she needed to keep her head clear while studying. She closed her eyes, counted to ten, and opened the first book in her stack.
Hermione's free period, final class, and dinner rushed by. In a blink, she was back in the library reading from her same stack of books, though it was now considerably shorter as she worked her way through. The sky grew cloudy and darkened as the hours stretched on into the evening. Rain trickled lightly against the library windows, and Madame Pince began making her rounds, replacing the last of the unfiled books and dimming the lights. Hermione collected her things to return her own books to their respective shelves. She rolled her eyes as she saw a stray book across from her with the title Colors, Colors, Colors! Everything You Want to Know about Casting Color Charms on Any Fabric. Malfoy must have left it behind for someone else to put away. Typical. She gathered it with the rest of her stack, then made her way back to the Head common room.
Hermione stood in front of a seemingly innocuous span of wall in the corridor and patiently waited for the stained-glass door to appear.
"Cherry cherub," she whispered, and the door swung open. Ernie and Padma were both in the common room. Ernie was waving his wand emphatically at several pieces of paper, and a large vein in his forehead was protruding angrily at his mental strain. Padma was writing on a lengthy piece of parchment, and she looked up from her plush armchair as Hermione walked in.
"There she is!" Padma cooed. Her eyes flicked to the armchair opposite her. Hermione smiled and made her way over to join Padma.
"Working on Herbology, then?" Hermione asked as she set her bag down and collapsed into the soft armchair.
"Yeah, I've got at least thirty inches done here. Fifteen left, but this bit should only take another hour or two. I saved the whole section on transfigurative water plants for the end, and that's easily ten inches."
"Have you added in a texture comparison?" Hermione asked. "That might get you the extra five inches."
"Yes, I put that at the beginning, but now that I think of it, I haven't added too much on geography, just growth conditions. That could wrap it up!"
"Yeah, that's perfect," Hermione agreed. If she were here with Ron and Harry, they'd be giving her blank looks or making stupid joke-guesses. It was a refreshing change to be met with competent and intelligent discussion at the end of a long day. Hermione felt her mind stretching comfortably as they chatted a little about the whether the next lesson would involve mixing salves or just recognizing and cultivating plants with healing properties.
After a few minutes, a little blue sailboat floated right between their heads, and Ernie pulled an up armchair beside the two girls.
"Finally got it," he announced. "You should've seen the last ones. Nothing but a muddy greyish brown!"
"One of the books I read in the library said that darker colors are harder to cast," Hermione said and was thrilled when Ernie leaned in interested rather than laughing at her for being in the library.
"That right? Maybe I should've started off with pink or yellow then. I felt like an imbecile for two hours straight."
"At least you didn't start with dark purple!" Hermione giggled. "According to Saddius Sagestone, the most challenging colors to cast are the darkest shades of green and purple and, of course, true black."
"True black?" Padma asked.
"Oh yeah," Ernie responded. "It's a completely colorless black. A lot of black dyes and casts are actually really dark blues, purples, or sometimes browns. They're just so dark that our eyes register the color as black."
"Ahhh, got it!" said Padma. "So the color property is completely devoid of hue—"
"And doesn't refract any light whatsoever," Hermione finished for her. "You know, Muggles have invented some really fascinating machinery that can detect the precise light wavelengths to determine the true properties of any color."
Ernie screwed up his brow. "Really? You know, sometimes I regret that I dropped Muggle Studies. They have some inventions that if I didn't know better, I would swear a wizard made 'em and just passed 'em off as Muggle creations."
"Ernie Macmillan raving about Muggle ingenuity. What is this world coming to!" Padma laughed. "Muggle Studies was fine, I guess, but you have to admit that it's barely a step above Ancient Runes on the boring scale!"
"I like Ancient Runes!" Ernie and Hermione said in unison.
"You talk about boring, but aren't you the one taking History of Magic with Binns still?" Ernie said as he arched an eyebrow in Padma's direction. Hermione chortled at Padma's deep blush.
"C'mon, he's not that bad!" Padma argued.
"He made the Goblin Wars sound like a long disagreement. It was a bloody massacre, and I mean that quite literally!"
Padma glowered at Ernie, who flashed her a toothy grin back.
"Fine!" she gave in. "I really like history, but Binns is pretty insufferable. Neither of you have History of Magic as a N.E.W.T., do you?"
Hermione and Ernie shook their heads.
"I do," a cold voice answered from the corner of the room. All three heads whipped in Malfoy's direction. Hermione scrunched up her nose and caught herself just before gripping her forearm. When did he come down from his room? How long has he been standing there? she wondered.
"He's always been a bore," Malfoy drawled.
"Yeah, just like I said," Ernie responded levelly. "See, Padma?"
Padma nodded, but didn't say anything. She turned back to her Herbology essay.
"Nice boat, Ernie," Malfoy eyed the little blue sailboat that was still floating across the common room at a lazy pace. His tone was so flat that Hermione couldn't tell if he was being sincere or sarcastic.
"Er, thanks," Ernie responded.
Malfoy cleared his throat, then made his way back up to his dormitory. When they heard his door open and shut, Ernie turned back to their small group and moaned.
"I don't know how we're going to get along with that snake all year," he spat.
"I'm going to try ignoring him. 'Don't poke the sleeping dragon' and all," Padma offered.
Both turned to Hermione, and she just shook her head. They fell silent.
"I think I'll head up. See you two in Defense tomorrow?" Hermione raised the pitch in her voice making the second statement a question.
"Yeah, definitely." Ernie got up as well.
"Sure, see you then. I'll just finish this off and head up myself," Padma said.
Hermione smiled and waved as she retreated up her corner's staircase. In her room, Crookshanks was curled up on her pillow and purring softly in his sleep. He swatted at her hands when she tousled his fluffy, ginger fur. Hermione sat down beside him on the bed and pulled her paper rose from Flitwick's class out of her book bag. She waved her wand and the rose turned to a deep red. She smiled and waved her wand again, and a dark green spread evenly through the stem and leaves. Hermione had mastered color spells last year while on the run with Harry and Ron. She thought it might come in handy if they needed to quickly disguise their clothing or hair color. She waved her wand a final time, and the rose floated to her nightstand and levitated there, spinning ever so slightly in place.
Hermione got ready for bed and tucked herself in. It was a cool night, but the fire in her room was glowing comfortably. Just as she was waving her wand to turn off the light, she noticed something tiny flying circles around the rose on her nightstand. From where she was laying, it looked like an oversized black and yellow bee attempting to pollinate her paper flower. She laughed, realizing what it was, and accio'd the paper bee to her waiting hand. She figured Ernie was showing off, which really didn't surprise her. The bee rested in her palm for a moment, then unfolded itself. Inside, in a neat and angular script was written:
Why do you clutch at your arm every time you see me?
There was no signature, but there could be no doubt who the note was from. Why was he asking, and why did he even care? Hermione's brows folded together. The last thing Draco Malfoy was concerned about in the world was a muggleborn like her. She crept out of bed, wand in hand, and opened her door slowly, careful not to make any sound. The short hallway leading down to her staircase was empty, and the common room below was silent. Hermione wasn't sure what she expected. It's not like Malfoy was likely to loiter after sending her the note. She returned to her room and hopped into bed, but her mind was awake and whirling. It was going to be hours before she could fall asleep.