NOTE: Written for the Dramione+ 50K Challenge on Facebook! The challenge is now complete, and I'll be posting the chapters here whenever I think about it. HA. MANY, many thanks to my writing team, my Alpha, TakingFlight48 and my Beta, Bionically.
Rose Granger-Weasley sighed, her eyes misty and a sappy smile on her face.
Hermione chuckled at her daughter as she turned the volume on the telly down. "Did you like that one?"
Rose's eyes lit up like fireworks. "Did I like it? OH, Mummy, it was my favorite ever!" She hopped off the sofa and stood, spreading her arms wide. As she spun in a slow circle, she shut her eyes. "Just imagine it! Someone to love incandescently! That's such a beautiful word, Mummy." Rose froze, a completely different expression on her face. It was one Hermione knew too well. "Incandescent. What does it mean?"
Without a word, Hermione merely pointed to a large book on the bookshelf beside the television.
"I know, I know. To the dictionary!" Rose skipped over to the book and opened it, flipping through large chunks as she neared the "I" section. "In… Incan… Incandes… Incandescent. Adjective. First definition: white, glowing, or luminous with intense heat." She hummed and looked at her mother. "That wasn't it. Second definition: strikingly bright, radiant, or clear. Hm. I don't think that's quite it, either, though she did seem to be glowing."
Hermione laughed. "Glowing? Where did you hear that expression?"
"Gramma, of course. She always says women in love are glowing. She once said it about Aunt Pansy when she started coming round. I observed that Aunt Pansy never actually emitted light, so I figured it must have been metaphorical."
"An excellent observation." Hermione smiled warmly at her daughter. "Do go on."
Rose nodded and looked back at the dictionary. "Third definition: full of strong emotion; passionate." She paused, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "Well, this certainly seems to fit the best. The fourth definition is masterly, extraordinarily lucid. That doesn't fit." Rose shut the dictionary and returned to her mother's side. "Mummy, Elizabeth meant that she was full of strong emotion for Mr. Darcy, didn't she?"
"Yes, that's precisely what she meant." Hermione's eyes drifted to where the book belonging to the movie was sitting on the shelf. It was one of her favorite books of all time and after watching the movie with Rose, she decided it was time to reread it. She stood and retrieved it, hugging it to herself as she turned around. "Bedtime, Rose, dear."
Rose groaned. "Aw, Mum! Do I have to?"
"Yes, of course. All good things must end, including movie night. Now go, brush your teeth, and get ready. I'll be along in a few minutes to read to you."
Rose didn't move yet. This was nothing new; every night, despite being ten years old, she acted as though the whole bedtime routine was completely new. Hermione shut her eyes, praying for patience. Just as she was about to repeat her instructions, Rose spoke.
"Mummy? Have you ever felt incandescently happy? Like Elizabeth Bennet?"
The question startled Hermione, and she quickly looked away from the piercing gaze of her daughter. "I don't… What do you mean, dear?"
Rose pulled her legs up under her, crossing them on the cushion. "Well, it's only this. I've never heard Gramma say that you were glowing. Not in all my life." Her expression turned serious. "And you and Daddy are getting divorced. Does that mean he never made you happy? Like Mr. Darcy made Elizabeth?"
"Oh darling, real life isn't like books and movies. It's… it's messy and complicated, and sometimes things happen that we don't expect." Hermione sighed. "Sometimes people don't get happy endings."
"I know that already, Mum." Rose waved her hand dismissively. "I've seen loads of people whose parents didn't stay together."
Hermione quirked an eyebrow. "You have, have you?"
Rose nodded contemplatively and held up her hand. "There's Gemma's parents, and Elliot's, plus David's parents are separated, like you and Dad right now."
"All right. So love isn't a fairytale. You're absolutely right. It's hard work. But Rosie, I did love your father. Very much. And he did make me happy—for a time." Hermione smiled sadly. "But for us, it wasn't enough."
For a moment, Rose said nothing, only peered at her. "I think you should tell me the story of how you met and fell in love. You're getting divorced after all, and I want to understand what went wrong." Hermione started to speak but Rose held up a hand. "And tell me the real story, please. Not some silly thing, like, 'oh, we met, and fell in love, and when two people love each other very much, they take all that love together to make a baby! And that's how you were born.'" Rose rolled her eyes. "No thank you."
Hermione hesitated. Was her daughter old enough to hear the story, knowing how it would end? Knowing that, as of the next day, the divorce would be final? But before she could reply, Rose was talking again.
"What was Dad like when you first met? Was he so handsome that he swept you off your feet at first sight? Or was he your best friend for years, and then suddenly, you looked at him, and he was looking at you in a way you'd never noticed before, and then bam! You realized he was the one for you?" Rose's eyes sparkled. "Did you have another boyfriend before you met Daddy? Tell me the truth."
Hermione was at a loss for words but she couldn't help smiling. She tried to think of something to say that would pacify her inquisitive child before finally settling on the truth. "Your father and I… have a complicated history, Rose. I had two serious boyfriends before your father, and I dated some others here and there."
"What's so complicated? You fell in love, you got married, you had me. Best story ever." The expression on Rose's face belied the levity in her words. "Only I want more details than that."
"I wish it were that simple, dear. But it's definitely complicated, and far too long to tell tonight. So I'd like you to go ahead and get busy on what I've asked you to do." Hermione strode through the room on her way to the kitchen, hoping that her response left no room for discussion. She set the book on the counter, far from the sink, and began washing the dishes.
On many nights, Hermione did this monotonous household chore by magic, but on nights like tonight, when she felt unsettled, she liked to wash them by hand. Rose's question had completely thrown her, and not for the first time, she wondered just how much her daughter truly saw despite the happy face she put on for Rose's benefit.
Hermione should know better; children were far more perceptive than most adults credited them. Still, things with Ron had been rocky for a long time. Rose had become used to the idea that her parents weren't going to reconcile; in fact, the divorce papers were in Hermione's bag, waiting for her to sign. It was hard to believe that after almost eleven years of marriage, she was about to be single again. Merlin, that would be strange. Even though she'd been living on her own for almost a year, while she and Ron had tried to salvage their relationship if at all possible, it would still be very final. She'd no longer be part of an "us."
Hermione heard the sound of the electric toothbrush draw closer to the kitchen and smiled to herself. Then, schooling her features, she faced her daughter. "Where do we brush our teeth?"
"The bathroom." Rose spoke around the moving brush head, so her words didn't come out as clearly as usual.
Hermione made shooing motions, and Rose huffed and left. Forty seconds later she was back sans toothbrush.
"Mummy? Will you please tell me the story of how you and Daddy met? Look, I'm wide awake, not even tired!" As though the fact that she wasn't yawning at that moment was enough proof.
"Oh, Rose, that's such a long story. And you know a lot of it already."
Rose leaned against the doorframe, a dreamy look in her eyes. "Yes, but I want to hear how you fell in love!"
"I fell in love with him because he was kind and funny and made me feel safe."
Rose made a face. "So what, now he's mean and boring and scary?"
"Of course not! I still care about him, very much—he's your father, after all, and he will always be an important part of my life. But…"
"It's not incandescent." Rose's face fell briefly, then she rallied and smiled again. "I still really want to hear the story, Mum. The love story. All I know is that you met him at school, but everybody goes to Hogwarts so that doesn't tell me anything!
A pang of pain struck Hermione at the wistful expression on Rose's face. "Are you absolutely sure? You know how the story ends." Her gaze flitted to the bag on the kitchen table. "I told you already that it's very complicated."
"I know. But maybe there's something you missed. Maybe there was just a big misunderstanding, and you and Daddy just need to figure it out so that you can be together again." The dreamy, far-off look faded, leaving behind only the sad eyes of a child who wanted nothing more than for her family to be whole again. "Maybe, if you tell me, you'll realize it's not complicated and that, deep down, you really do love him. Incandescently!"
Hermione set down the rag she'd been using on the dishes, dried her hands, and went to Rose. She knelt down so that she could look her in the eye. "Rosie, darling. There wasn't one, major problem between your father and me. It was… a lot of little things, some of which became big things. We were better off as friends, and we should have stayed that way. But life was funny with us, and we reached a point in our lives where we thought it might work."
Rose stuck out her bottom lip. "Can't I just know? All you ever do is talk in big, fancy terms but you don't ever actually say anything. I want to hear the story."
"I hear you, darling." The main reason she was hesitant was because she didn't want Rose to get her hopes up. There was no future for her and Ron together, but hearing the story of their romance—tangled though it was—might be difficult. "Are you completely sure?"
She nodded emphatically.
"The whole story?" Another nod. "Even if there are people in it who aren't your father?"
Rose paused mid-nod. "What do you mean, exactly?"
Hermione sighed and stood, rolling her neck to relieve some tension. "I mean, that the story is complicated, and as we discussed earlier, there were other men before I married your father.
"Did you kiss them?" Rose made a face.
"Yes." Hermione laughed.
"Did you… love them?" Her voice was a little unsure.
That question was a bit trickier. "At the time I did. Love changes, it grows and expands and does all kinds of bizarre things. Sometimes… we don't even see it for what it is. But the truth is, the other men in this story were, in many ways, part of my story with your father."
Rose frowned and went back to the sofa, her expression deeply thoughtful. Hermione followed and leaned against the door frame, waiting to hear what Rose would say. After a few minutes, she nodded decisively. "I want to hear it. Even the other men you dated."
Hermione glanced at the clock on the wall. It was time for Rose to be getting to bed, but Hermione knew her daughter. There would be no peace and no rest until Rose was ready. "All right. But we're going to need popcorn for this. And hot chocolate."
Rose beamed and bounced up. "I'll make the popcorn!"
Ten minutes later, they sat back down on the sofa, a large bowl of buttery popcorn between them and steaming mugs of hot chocolate. Well, Hermione's was hot, but she'd added enough milk to Rose's so that she could drink it without burning her tongue.
"I'm ready."
"I hope that's true. But here's how this is going to go. I'm going to tell you the story, but I'm not going to tell you which character is your father. Because this will be a story. I'm going to change all the names and any details that might give away who I'm talking about."
"That's okay. I'm sure I'll be able to tell who my father is."
"Oh, you think so, huh?" Hermione grinned. Rose was so very much like her; solving puzzles was one of her favorite things. "I look forward to seeing if you can figure out which character is your father."
Rose's eyes sparkled. "This sounds fun. I just know I'll be able to figure it out. But first, I'll need parchment plus a quill and ink."
"Go ahead."
Rose ran to her room and returned with the items. "Alright. You may begin now."
Hermione thought quickly about how to tell this story. Rose knew almost everyone involved, so it would be tricky keeping the identities of everyone secret. She'd just have to take it slowly and be careful.
"This story starts as any good love story starts: with me. I was considered quite good at magic in school, and I had plans for my life—big plans. My ultimate goal was to be Minister of Magic, but before I could get to that point, there were some major things I wanted to accomplish along the way."
"Like what?"
"Oh, I was once passionate about Magical Creatures and the mistreatments they'd suffered at the hands of wizards and the Ministry."
Rose tilted her head. "But you still are, Mum. You give money to all kinds of causes for helping people."
Hermione sighed. "That's true, Rose. I do. But my ambitions went far beyond simply giving my money. I wanted to fight for magical creatures by changing laws and writing new ones that would improve their lives. And in order to do that, I wanted to finish school. So after the war, after the school was rebuilt I returned to Hogwarts for my eighth year. Most, but not all of the students my age returned, as well."
"Why didn't they all go back?" Rose asked.
"Because of the war. Some… weren't able to return. Others had been presented with opportunities that didn't require it. But as I said, most students returned. Those who'd attended Hogwarts the year of the war didn't get a very good education, and those who couldn't attend had had none. They made a new class designed to help bridge the gaps between people that were revealed during Voldemort's reign of terror."
Rose nodded. "I see. Go on."
"I was excited to get back and take all the new classes, as well as see what the teachers had for us to do. But first, I had to say goodbye to someone. My first boyfriend was one of those who'd been given a rare opportunity to start work without completing his education."
"Let's call him Mark."
"Mark?" Hermione looked at her amusedly.
Rose nodded. "Did you love him?"
Hermione sighed, smiling wryly. "I absolutely did."
"I still don't see why you have to go, Hermione."
She turned and gave Ron a sympathetic look. "I know. We've talked about this at least a dozen times."
He reached for her wrist to stop her from continuing to frantically pace around her room, looking for anything she might have missed. Hermione let herself be caught, falling easily into his arms. "I know that, Hermione, but you've just never convinced me that it's necessary."
She shut her eyes, leaning into his warm embrace. No matter what, she always felt safe with him. "I don't need to convince you about this. I would much prefer your full support, obviously." She pulled back enough to look up at him. "This is what I want to do. It's part of my plan, remember?" She kissed him quickly, then slipped out of his grasp and continued packing her things. She'd been staying with Harry at Grimmauld Place, since she no longer had a home to go to. Harry wasn't home at the moment.
Ron bounced up on his toes, shoving his hands into his pockets with a frown. "Right. Your plan."
"Yes. My plan to someday be Minister of Magic. It starts tomorrow, remember? I return to Hogwarts, finish my education, take my N.E.W.T.s, score thirteen O's, then enter a lifetime of public service, making sweeping changes and reforming the way the wizarding world operates in England, bringing justice and equity for all magical beings." She beamed at him as she added a few more books to her trunk. "But I have to finish school."
"No, you don't." Ron huffed and leaned against the wall. "You can join the Ministry now. You're Hermione Granger; you can do practically anything you want! Like Harry and me. I know under normal conditions you'd need certain N.E.W.T. scores to get into Auror training, but Kingsley let us in, no problem."
"I know that. He made me the same offer. Remember, this isn't our first time talking about this. But I'll say it again since it's apparently not sinking in yet: this is what I want to do. Even if I don't have to. Are we clear?" She closed the lid of her trunk, locking it with a wave of her hand.
"I just don't see why you need to go and waste your time, is all." He wouldn't meet her eye.
Hermione bristled slightly. "Unlike you, I don't think it's a waste of my time. Otherwise I wouldn't be doing it. I'm going back for more than just test scores, Ron." She hesitated to tell him more. She wasn't quite sure just why she wanted to return to the school, but deep inside she knew that healing was part of it, and that she believed she'd find some kind of closure there. But he would probably dismiss that and keep arguing for her to stay. And she was tired, tired of repeating to him why she needed this. She understood where his sadness came from, but he also knew who she was; there was never any doubt that Hermione Granger would return to Hogwarts if it was permitted.
He frowned at the ground. "All I hear is that you want to be away from me for the next ten months."
Hermione paused, then went to him, sliding her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest. "Of course I don't. But we're both doing what we want, and right now, that takes us down separate paths. They'll join up again after this year. I promise."
Ron put his arms around her and rested his head on hers. "I'm just afraid you'll go away and… I don't know—forget about me."
"Ron! I could never forget about you." She looked at him, fiercely determined to convince him that everything would turn out fine. "I've fancied you for years, now. Remember? I'm not going to go off to school and forget you!"
"I suppose not." He grinned then and kissed her gently. "And we know everybody who's going to be there. It's not like I need to worry about someone else snagging your attention."
She laughed lightly, though his words made her slightly uncomfortable. "Don't be silly. Are you worried I'll meet someone and fall for him?"
He shrugged, not wanting to meet her eye. "I won't lie and say it hasn't crossed my mind."
"Please don't worry about that. I'm committed to you, and I want to make us work. After all these years, do you think I'd just throw that away?" She touched his face, bringing his gaze back to her. "Tell me you know better than that. Tell me you trust me."
"I do, I trust you, it's just… What if there's someone there who catches your eye?"
Hermione covered her eyes with her hands, turning her head wildly about in an attempt to make him laugh. "I won't look. See? I'll walk around like this all the time."
Ron chuckled and pulled her hands down. "I'll miss you."
"You won't. You'll be so busy in training you won't have time. And we'll see each other on weekends when we can—eighth years have much more freedom than we did—not to mention regular owls."
"Daily owls." He grinned, his eyes warm and friendly.
"Daily then. Besides, you'll be the one meeting new people." She gave him a knowing look. "What if there's a really attractive, young instructor that has to show you the proper ways to hold your wand? Has to wrap her arms around you, get really close?"
Ron turned bright red. "Hermione, that won't happen! Besides, you know any single woman is going to look at Harry first. You don't have to worry about me."
"I'm not. I'm only teasing." She kissed him, lightly at first, then heavier as it sank in that it would be their last night together before she left for Hogwarts. They hadn't been together but the one time, and it had been awkward and a little clumsy, but she thought it would be the perfect way to end their last night together, since there wouldn't be any opportunities for it in the near future.
With just a few waves of her hand, she shut the door and locked it, then cleared off her bed. She took Ron's hand and tugged him toward it, biting her lip self-consciously. Ron caught her meaning and grinned, releasing her to pull off his shirt as he followed Hermione relaxed in his enthusiasm as she backed into the bed; she wound her arms around his neck and his lips met hers as she pulled him down with her.
"Well, Mark's out."
Hermione stopped abruptly. "What do you mean, he's out?"
Rose sighed dramatically. "The boyfriend at the beginning? There's no way he makes it to the end. Otherwise this would be a very short story. I met him at school, and after school, we got married. The end. Sorry, Mum, but that's not very complicated."
"You're absolutely right about that." She smiled. "Shall I continue?"
"Yes, please."
"I mentioned that I was looking forward to returning to school. However, I had no idea what was in store for me. Not only was the whole eighth year concept brand new, but the teachers had come up with something that would seriously test everyone who'd returned. The biggest problem, as so many of my classmates saw it, were the group assignments."
Hermione gaped at the Headmistress, who was peering at the group of eighth year students with pursed lips. Surely she had heard wrong.
Seamus Finnigan raised his hand. "Professor. Do you mean to tell us that we're going to be put into groups that we'll be with the entire year? What if we don't get on?"
McGonagall nodded curtly. "That's precisely what I mean, Mr. Finnigan. You'll be put in groups of eight, two from each of your former houses." A chorus of groans went up around the room, with nearly everyone bursting immediately into chatter. "I will call out your names shortly. If there are any concerns, of course, you may come to me. But you're all of age, and for Merlin's sake, you've been through quite a lot. I should hope by now you be able to put aside your differences in the interest of your schooling."
The room quieted almost instantly, a sober feeling pressing on everyone. McGonagall continued. "I trust that you will all be able to work together as befits your age and experience. There are some in this room you may have difficulty with, but I expect you to overcome your reservations for the good of your group." Her eyes landed on the group of former Slytherin students, all huddled together and visibly separate from the rest of them.
Though she wasn't surprised to see the Slytherins, she was most interested in what Draco Malfoy was doing. Out of all of them, she was most curious about him. He was the only one of the group who'd taken the Dark Mark; Voldemort had lived in his home; he'd been tried as an adult and attending Hogwarts was a requirement, part of his punishment—it had been in his home, in his presence, that she had been tortured by his aunt. What would it be like being around him again? She knew he hadn't exactly enjoyed himself over the last year; what would he be like? As if sensing her gaze, he looked at her, their eyes meeting for an instant before she turned away.
"The first group will be as follows." Minerva began to call out names.
"This is barmy." Seamus muttered under his breath for those around him to hear. "She expects us to work with Slytherins?"
Hermione shrugged. "I suppose so. Hopefully we won't be stuck with anyone too unpleasant."
He scoffed. "I can't think of any of them who are pleasant."
"Daphne." She smiled up at him. "She's never sneered at me, not even once."
Seamus started to speak, but McGonagall called his name. "What?"
Everyone laughed; McGonagall frowned. "Please join your group, Mr. Finnigan." She pointed to one corner of the room where a group had formed.
Seamus picked up his bag, shrugged to Hermione and the rest of the Gryffindors, and walked across the room to where the two Hufflepuffs and two Ravenclaws already waited. He was soon joined by Parvati, then Daphne and Zabini from Slytherin.
Hermione sighed. So much for possibly being with the only pleasant Slytherin.
"The next group, please gather in a new corner. Ernie Macmillan, Megan Jones, Michael Corner, Lisa Turpin, Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger. Millicent Bulstrode, Draco Malfoy."
Most of the room went silent. Hermione stared at McGonagall, sure she hadn't heard right. The Headmistress raised her eyebrows expectantly as the others gathered to one side.
Neville stood up, eyes fixed on Malfoy, who had slung his bag over his shoulder and was shuffling toward their group's corner. Neville waited for Hermione to gather her things, then protectively escorted her across the room. He kept himself between Hermione and Malfoy, but as far as Hermione could see, there was no point; Malfoy hadn't once glanced her direction, nor did he seem to care.
Millicent looked Hermione up and down once, then rolled her eyes dismissively. She didn't, however, speak to Malfoy or join him. He remained slightly apart, his eyes downcast. Hermione was glad that nobody had said anything or made a big deal about her being grouped with Malfoy. Surely they were all adult enough to move forward and do what needed to be done.
While McGonagall finished grouping everyone else, Megan Jones introduced herself.
Millicent yawned loudly in the middle of her sentence, then sneered at Megan. "We know who you are, Jones. We've been going to school together for years. Why waste our time like that?"
Megan went slightly pink and stopped talking.
Hermione frowned. She wasn't about to let Millicent Bulstrode set the tone for the group; not if she was going to be so unpleasant about it.
"Megan, how are your parents doing?" She remembered Megan from Herbology and had always found the girl to be quiet. That she had been the first to try and establish a connection was surprising.
She gave Hermione a grateful smile. "They're doing well, thank you. They're both out of hospital now, though Mum is getting help to relearn to walk at the house a few times a week."
Millicent glared at Hermione, then rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Is that really how this is going to be, Granger? We're just going to prance around like we're all the best of friends, like we didn't just go through the worst year of our lives?"
"Would you prefer being nasty to everyone instead?" Hermione had no interest in petty school fights. She wanted to finish her education so that she could get on with her life. She'd faced actual Death Eaters multiple times and wasn't about to let a spoiled brat ruin her last year. If she was to be stuck with the girl for the entire year, she wasn't going to let her make the whole group miserable.
"I don't care about any of this." Millicent flapped her hand at the group, the disdain evident on her face. "I just want to get through this stupid year so I can do what I want."
"And do you want to spend the year fighting and clawing your way through? Or perhaps you could be civil, since we're stuck with each other?" Hermione crossed her arms as well, her expression defiant.
The rest of the group was gazing back and forth between them. Hermione knew that the success or failure of their joint projects—and thus their entire school year—was contingent on the outcome of this little showdown. She refused to back down, not only because her grades depended on it but because she didn't want to despise her last year at Hogwarts. The war had taken enough from them, and she wanted to leave Hogwarts with a whole slew of good, new memories.
Millicent narrowed her eyes and started to speak.
To everyone's surprise, Malfoy beat her to it. "Leave it, Mills. I for one don't want to listen to squabbling all year, so either learn to play nice or shut up."
Hermione whipped her head around to look at Draco Malfoy.
Millicent opened her mouth like she was about to argue, but when Malfoy shot her a look, she scowled and huffed and slumped into a corner. Then Malfoy gave Hermione a single nod before returning to staring at the floor.
Neville, who'd been warily eyeing the interaction between the two Slytherins, looked surprised.
Hermione was taken aback as well. Not only had Malfoy inserted himself into the tense moment, but he'd helped to diffuse the situation by shutting down his fellow housemate. It was completely unexpected. She didn't know the dynamics of Slytherin house, but from her observations before, he seemed to command a certain respect. But she'd missed all of the previous year and frankly, from what Harry had told her, she'd have thought Malfoy would have been knocked down a peg or two under Snape's tenure.
She studied him now in a different way, looking for some outward sign. He'd grown his hair long since she'd seen him last; it hung down to his chin, shiny, as white-blond as ever, and incredibly soft-looking. She had always thought so, despite how terrible he'd been as a child.
By this point, the rest of the groups were sorted, and McGonagall addressed them all once more. "Now that you're sorted, I'll show you to your rooms. We've redone an old section of the castle for your use, and since you are all of age, we've decided to give you more freedom than the younger students." Her jaw clenched, and it was obvious that this hadn't been her favorite idea. "Remember that you'll be doing large projects together with your groups, projects which will account for a significant percentage of your final marks. We've had some of the best educational minds work on the curriculum for you this year; most of your group assignment will involve multiple subjects. I expect nothing but the absolute best from you, as you are all of age and, for better or worse, hopefully wise beyond your years." She pursed her lips. "I expect you all to set an example of good behavior and cooperation to the other students. The consequences for failure in this will be swift and harsh. Please follow me."
Millicent stalked off ahead of everyone as though she couldn't wait to be away from them all. Malfoy was taking his time rising, and Hermione suspected it was so that he could lag in the back.
She wanted to say something to him but didn't know what. "Thanks for your help" sounded lame in her head. There'd been too much bad blood between them; she chuckled at her thought about blood, since he'd always been so quick to disparage her for her Muggle-born birth.
"What's funny?" Neville seemed to have made it his personal mission to guard her.
"Nothing. Let's go." She and Neville were the last to leave except for Malfoy, who followed once they were gone.
McGonagall led them to a previously unused portion of the castle, stopping in front of a portrait of King Arthur and his knights sitting at a round table. "The password is Lemon Drop." The portrait swung open, and she motioned for them to enter, following once everyone was through.
Their living quarters were incredible, a testament to the respect the Ministry and Hogwarts staff had for this group of students. They'd taken care to make the decorations neutral, not favoring any of the houses. The layout was similar to the arrangement of Gryffindor tower and, she had to assume, the other houses as well: a large common room full of tables, chairs, and sofas were centered around a large fireplace. The dormitories were split in half, with the boys relegated to one wing and the girls to the other.
"You may go to your rooms now. Miss Granger, I'd like a word, please." As the others dispersed to explore, McGonagall, who had remained by the entrance, motioned for her to follow. They went back into the hallway, which was quiet. "We have chosen our Head Boy and Head Girl, as you know, from the seventh year students, as is tradition. However, we felt that your class needed leaders of a different sort. You'll lead your class in quiet, subtle ways, in part because I know you are a natural leader."
Hermione's eyes went wide. "Oh! Thank you, professor! I'm honored, truly!"
McGonagall nodded once in acknowledgement. "I've already spoken to your counterpart. It was necessary to impress upon him that I expect unimpeachable behavior this year, but... It's what Professor Dumbledore would have wanted. I believe it was always his intention to give the position of Head Boy to him, should circumstances have been normal. I'm sure of it. I only hope you'll be able to see past your... well, your past in order to work with him."
"Who is it?" Though she had a feeling she already knew.
"Mr. Malfoy. Now before you object, let me explain."
"I wasn't going to object. It makes sense, really."
McGonagall arched an eyebrow. "You think so, do you? I learned after the war that Dumbledore had high hopes for that boy. He'd known about Mr. Malfoy's assignment from… You-Know-Who and had tasked Snape with guiding the boy. Unfortunately, Mr. Malfoy didn't take any of his help, and well. We know what happened next. But the last time Dumbledore mentioned him in his writings, he expressed a strong desire that he hoped for a second chance for Mr. Malfoy. I hope I'm doing the right thing."
Hermione tried not to nod too enthusiastically. "I'm sure you are. Putting him and me together is risky, but if we can learn to work together, it will show everyone else in our year that it's possible. I mean, if Malfoy and I can put everything behind us, it'd be a good example to the others." Of course, actually putting their history behind them would be a feat in and of itself, to say nothing of forming some kind of functioning partnership.
"You don't mind then?" McGonagall peered at her over her spectacles.
"No. It's not like we're Head Boy and Girl. They have a lot of responsibilities and have to work closely together." She wondered how that might have gone. Never in his life had Draco Malfoy said anything kind to her; the best she'd had from him was apathy in sixth year. Though, if their interaction moments before was any indication, there might be hope yet; he'd seemed willing to work with her just a few minutes before, even against his own housemate. Surely, after everything they'd been through, they could manage to be civil.
McGonagall relaxed slightly. "I'm glad to hear it. He wasn't the least bit shocked to hear that I'd chosen you as well. And, I'm pleased to say, he made no objections to working with you. I'm not sure how much will be required of you both since this is all very new. But thank you for accepting so willingly. I've got to go; dozens of other tasks to complete. Good night, Miss Granger."
Hermione returned to the common room. It was mostly quiet, with groups of students talking in small clumps. Unsurprisingly, most of the groupings comprised former housemates.
Her fellow Gryffindors noticed her entrance and waved her over. Hermione smiled and joined them. In the back of her mind though, she knew this was only a short reprieve—she would need to make an effort to mingle with all the other eighth years sooner or later.
"What do you think of the groups?" Dean asked immediately.
They were all watching her expectantly. She smiled lightly. "I think it's a fascinating idea, and I can't wait to see what our first assignment is.'
"Yeah, but matching us up with the other houses?" Seamus was frowning. "I don't know if I can get through a day without wanting to punch Zabini in his smug face."
"At least you're not in a group with Parkinson." Parvati made a face. "She's already complaining, and we haven't been given a single assignment."
"Hermione and I have Malfoy." Neville shuddered. "I know I killed that snake, but he still terrifies me."
Parvati looked across the room, her eyes seeking him out. "If we manage to get through the week—to say nothing of the whole year—without getting into a fight with them, it's going to be a miracle."
"Wait a minute, wait a minute." Rose was waving her hands to get Hermione's attention. "How is this about your love story with my dad? I don't want to hear every detail about your last year at school." Then her eyes went wide. She made a face. "I know you said you met him at school, but you've mentioned…" She started ticking off her fingers. "Seven men so far. Are any of them my father?"
Hermione gave her a mysterious smile. "I told you to see if you could figure it out. Any guesses yet?"
Rose pulled her parchment over to look at. "I've written down Robert, Mark, Steven, Derek, Hunter, Watson, and Adam. That's… a lot, Mum. So far, Robert seems promising."
Hermione checked the notes she'd taken for herself to keep everybody straight. Ron was Mark, and Luke Watson was Draco. Those were the two most prominent characters so far, but Neville's story name was Robert, Harry's was Steven, Blaise was Adam, Dean was Hunter. For the women, so far Millicent was Tina, Pansy was Iris, Ginny was Chloe, Parvati was Shital, and Luna was Mary. Careful not to give any hints, Hermione nodded. "There's nothing I can do about that, dear. I had a lot of friends. You wanted the story. This is the story."
"Alright. I'm ready for you to continue."
Hermione took a big gulp of her hot chocolate and ate a handful of popcorn. "Well, Shital turned out to be quite right in her prediction. We didn't make it through the week without a squabble."
After getting their first group assignment—a potions and herbology combination from Slughorn and Sprout—the first task was to think about what they would do and how.
Millicent tried to steer the group, giving everyone but herself the hardest work. She barely looked at Hermione and wouldn't give Malfoy the time of day. Hermione found this dynamic interesting. Millicent had done what he'd said the day before, so there was some kind of deference she was paying him, but it didn't seem that she enjoyed doing so. In fact, she did her best to complain about everything.
When Lisa pointed out that Millicent's plan was horrible, she flew into a rage, then sulked in a corner.
Nobody spoke for a few minutes, everyone unsure what to say or how to proceed.
Finally, Malfoy heaved a great sigh, as though what he was about to do came at great personal cost. "Granger, we all know you have an idea, so let's hear it." He turned in his seat so that he was facing her, giving her his full attention.
The instant their eyes locked, she felt a swoop of something alarmingly pleasant and familiar, and she had to look away. Her notes were suddenly very interesting, and she spent a few seconds collecting herself. When she spoke, she could feel his eyes on her. "There are two primary aspects of this task. One is the potion itself, the other is the ingredients. I know Malfoy is adept at Potions, so I suggest he lead that portion. I'm sure some others of you are, as well; I'm only speaking from the experience of going through six years of Potions lessons with him." She cleared her throat. "Research is something I'm rather familiar with, and since we have to research every ingredient we'll be using in the potion, I'd be happy leading that effort. If you're agreeable, then the rest of you can choose which part you'd prefer to work on-though we should keep the teams even."
She chanced a glance at Malfoy to see what he might think about her suggestion, and he had the barest hint of a smirk on his face. It disappeared as soon as she looked his way, though.
The others looked at her, then at Malfoy, then at each other.
"I'd like to help with the ingredients." Neville smiled at her. "If that's alright with you."
Megan nodded vigorously. "You were the best in Herbology in our year, Neville."
Michael spoke up next. "I'd like to help with the potion."
Hermione beamed at her and turned to Malfoy. "Any objections?"
"None." He tossed his head slightly in an attempt to get his hair out of his face. "Jones, Mills, Corner, what do you say to helping with the potion part?"
Millicent rolled her eyes but didn't object. Michael looked as though he wished he could say no, but he didn't.
"Lovely. Lisa, Ernie, you're with us then." Hermione grinned.
They spent the next fifteen minutes working out how they wanted to proceed, and by the time they were done, Hermione felt really good, not only about the project, but about her group. She wasn't naïve enough to think they'd never have any problems, but they'd managed to start their first assignment without any issues.
Hermione said goodbye to everyone as they left the room. McGonagall had given each group a small room off the hallway leading to their dormitories where they could meet anytime they needed to. With a start, she noticed that Malfoy was hanging back, and she wondered why. Feeling suddenly anxious at the thought of being alone with him, she hurriedly threw everything into her bag and started to leave.
"Granger, wait."
She shut her eyes, counted to five, then spun around, trying not to appear too much like she was on the verge of panicking. Yes, she'd said that working with him this year would be fine, but now that they'd come to it, she couldn't help some of the residual knee-jerk reactions she had to him.
He merely smirked, his bag slung across his body and his hands shoved into his pockets. His hair hung limply into his eyes, which were looking at her with an intensity and—could that be vulnerability?
"I thought your plan was really good. Dividing us by our strengths is smart."
"Thanks. I was surprised you wanted to hear my ideas."
He shrugged. "It would be unwise to ignore the fact that you're generally recognized as brilliant."
Unwittingly, the corner of her lips tilted up in something approximating the start of a smile. "Careful, Malfoy. That was almost nice."
"Noted." He leaned back against the table, regarding her thoughtfully. "McGonagall told me she spoke to you about our new positions."
She nodded.
"I don't know what that will entail this year, but with that and this group, it would appear we'll be spending a good bit of time together. So I thought I ought to apologize. For... you know. Everything." He looked extremely uncomfortable now, and she could tell his first instinct was to flee. His fist was clenched inside his pocket. "I was a right arse to you growing up, and for no good reason. The truth is, I had always been told I would be top of the class, and then you came along with your perfection, and it made me angry."
Hermione crossed her arms. "Don't lie to yourself, Malfoy. You hated me long before I bested you in every subject."
His jaw clenched and his gaze flitted to the door. "I know what you mean. But that was just me being stupid. I didn't even know you. I couldn't really hate you." He let out a sigh. "And even once I did know you—sort of, anyway—I was jealous. It doesn't excuse anything. I'm...just apologizing. I'm sorry. Okay?"
It was tempting to drag this out, to poke him and make him even more uncomfortable, but that would only be cruel. They would be spending significant time together, so it was best to put the past behind them as soon as possible.
"Thank you for saying so, Malfoy. I appreciate it." She looked at the floor. "I know you were just a kid—"
"Don't do that." His tone was sharp. "Don't make excuses for me."
She met his determined gaze, surprised by him. It would appear that he wanted to take responsibility for his actions, something that was very different from how he'd been before. "I was only going to say that you were a kid, repeating things you didn't understand. I knew that. And when you were older—"
"I made the best decision I could." He was defensive, readying for a fight.
"I know." She pursed her lips, trying not to be annoyed. "I can't imagine what you went through, what you saw..."
He deflated a bit then, kicking at something on the floor before finally letting out a long breath. "And... at my house..."
She flinched slightly, phantom pain lacing her nerves once more, a regular occurrence whenever she thought about that day.
"I'm so... I can't... There are no words to adequately express how sorry I am." His voice cracked at the end, and she looked at him, shocked. His eyes, once hesitant, were wide and open, shiny and rimmed in red. "I've relived that day over and over, desperate to find some way I could have done something differently..."
"Besides just watching, you mean?" There was a bite to her voice, sharper than she'd intended, but it was hard to hear him speak of the worst day of her life as though it has been him there on the floor, writhing, waiting to die.
He glanced towards a window, his shoulders tense despite his seemingly casual stance. "That's just it, though. I... I'd been there, right there, that same… bloody spot. On the floor. Under my aunt's wand." He looked at her then, a strength she had never imagined he could possess radiating from him. "Begging for death. And I wouldn't wish that on anybody. Especially not someone who'd done nothing more than best me at every subject in school."
Tears filled her eyes and she swiped then away. Maybe he did understand, just a little. "There was nothing you could have done. I never blamed you."
"I did enough of that for both of us, then." He rubbed his left arm absently through his long sleeve shirt.
She wondered if the Dark Mark was still there, cold black ink against his marble pale skin.
"Do you still? Blame yourself, I mean."
"Granger, I will probably blame myself for the rest of my life." He shifted and stood up, readjusting his bag.
"Don't. Please." For some reason she didn't understand, she stepped toward him, though she had no idea what to do next. "Don't blame yourself. The only person who deserves it is Bellatrix."
He shut his eyes, clenching his jaw. "I'm grateful every day that she's dead."
She didn't know what made her do it, but before she realized what was happening, she was speaking. "Listen, Malfoy. You said yourself that we're going to be spending a lot of time together this year. Do you think maybe we could... I don't know, start over? We may never be friends, but I think we could manage not being enemies."
He looked up at her through the hair falling in his face, those intense eyes searching her own. "Yeah. I'd like that. Not enemies."
"Good." She held out her hand. "Hi, I'm Hermione Granger. I like books and strawberry ice cream and long walks down library aisles."
Malfoy laughed—actually laughed—and shook her hand. "Draco Malfoy. Quidditch, sweets, and also books."
"It's nice to meet you, Mal—er, Draco. That'll take some getting used to."
He arched an eyebrow. "Don't expect me to call you by anything but Granger."
"I would never." She smiled wryly. "Draco."
As the weeks went by, Hermione's group fell into an easy routine. Whenever they got a new assignment, they'd divide into two small teams to focus on different aspects of the project. Hermione set up a chalkboard in their meeting room with everyone's assignments to help minimize confusion and keep people on task.
One month after school started, they got their first group project back. Hermione took the paper from Slughorn and shoved it into her bag without looking at it. She met Draco's eye across the room, and he nodded ever so slightly. After class, their entire group hurried to their meeting room. With shaking hands, Hermione pulled the report out with her eyes closed. Then she flipped it around so everyone could see it.
There were instant squeals, so she opened her eyes to see for herself. They'd scored an O, written in red ink across the top of the paper by all of their names. A long note followed, and Hermione hesitated before reading aloud. Draco peered over her shoulder, then banged a book on the table, shocking everyone into silence.
"Let Granger read this."
She nodded her thanks. "Here's what Slughorn said. 'Congratulations on writing the most thorough, comprehensive report on the Veritaserum I have ever had the pleasure to read. Professor Sprout raved about the detailed descriptions of all the plants, and she loved the drawings. Well done, everyone. I look forward to more from you.'"
The paper then got passed around, with everyone oohing and aahing over the abundance of glowing comments throughout. Hermione felt insanely pleased with her group. Only Millicent still felt like an outsider. She was in the corner, rolling her eyes and generally trying to act like she hated everything. She'd taken to glaring daggers at Draco whenever she saw him, which Hermione found odd.
Of course, she hadn't worked up the courage to ask him about her, but maybe she would soon.
"We need some food in here!" Ernie called out.
"Ooh, what I wouldn't give for a Butterbeer and a lemon custard!" Michael added.
Hermione banged the table as Draco had done to call for quiet. "If you really want to celebrate, I'll take care of it." Everyone heartily agreed except Millicent, who shook her head, grabbed her bag, and walked out. "Alright, I'll be back in just a few minutes!"
She hurried out and started toward the entrance hall.
"Granger."
Hermione stopped at the sound of Draco calling her name, only to have him run into her hard enough to knock her down. Thankfully, he caught her before she fell, but it caused him to stumble as he tried to keep her from falling while also not tumbling over himself. They ended up pressed against a wall, Hermione squashed awkwardly between it and Draco, one of his arms around her waist and the other flat against the wall.
She started laughing, and he carefully extricated himself, chuckling as he did so.
"Sorry." Hermione peered up at him, surprised at how close he was—close enough to see the laughter in his eyes mixed with something she couldn't place. "I didn't know you were right behind me."
"It's alright. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." Her smile faltered as he didn't move, staying right there in front of her in her personal space.
He cleared his throat and stepped back. "I, um, was wondering where you were headed. And I thought I'd try to find Mills, too."
"Oh, yes. I think you should talk to her." Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, feeling flustered in his presence for the first time all year.
"Honestly, I'm not sure she'll open up to me. I'm sure you've noticed that most of my fellow Slytherins don't want to have much to do with me." He quirked his lips and turned away from her, as though considering his options. "I think I'll let her be tonight."
Hermione shut her eyes and forced herself to calm down. "I'm headed to the kitchen, if you want to join me."
His eyes widened. "The kitchen? You know how to get in?"
"I happen to, yes. Come on, I'll show you."
Nodding, he fell into step beside her.
Ten minutes later, they were back in their group meeting room, hailed as heroes for procuring so much food and drink. When everyone had taken what they wanted, they all sat and talked and joked. Hermione was thrilled at how everyone was treating Draco well. She'd taken the lead on that after they'd decided to start over, and after he'd proved himself over and over to be a reliable teammate and an excellent leader, the rest of the group had warmed up to him.
Hermione just needed to figure out how to bring Millicent around.