AN: Damn. This chapter is short as hell, but go with it. Next chapter will probably be longer. I've been in a bit of a mood. My best friend snapped at me yesterday, but I think he was in a mood and I don't blame him. That isn't why I'm in a mood. I'm in a mood because I cannot imagine what the hell a Gulping Plimpy is supposed to look like. Fandom told me nothing, and Pottermore is even more useless. I am also debating on what color to make Hermione's graduation dress. Here are the options: periwinkle, lilac, sea foam green, cobalt, or light pink. Help me out?
U_U
~~AlicornEagle11
She looked at Harry. He was gaping at her.
She looked at Ron. He was gaping at her:
"Alright, what's wrong with what I said?"
"Hermione…" Harry began tentatively. "You just said that you didn't care about N.E.W.T.s."
"N.E.W.T.s, Hermione, N.E.W.T.s!" Ron added (un)helpfully.
"…and?"
"Yes, Potter, please elaborate."
Draco slid onto the bench beside her. The three boys had done a better job tolerating each other over the last month, accepting the fact that the other wasn't going away.
Harry seemed to realize that this wasn't going to end well.
"Nevermind. How many are you guys taking?"
"All twelve," Hermione informed him with a wicked grin. Harry gaped again.
"How — why?"
"Because why not? Might as well give it a shot."
"But you just said you didn't care about N.E.W.T.s," Ron said, frowning.
"I did. I do not care about how I score on them, but I've got nothing else going on in my life. Might as well, hmm?"
"Sure…"
"What about you, Malfoy?"
"Oh, I'm only taking seven. No need to go all out on things that won't benefit me."
"Seven is not an only, Malfoy."
"Seven is all the important and required classes for most of the good career options."
"We're taking four each," Harry told them. "D.A.D.A., transfiguration, charms, and potions. What are your other three?"
"Arithmancy, Runes, and Herbology."
"Ah."
As they finished up breakfast, Hermione found herself annoyed at her own actions. Why did she always do this? Act nonchalant, as if she was completely carefree and unbothered and like nothing mattered, when everything, everything, mattered. She didn't act like herself anymore. Fuck it, she barely even knew who herself was. She knew that she really lov— liked Draco — and that she had some real friends now but beyond that she was a stewing identity crisis that didn't have any answers. So she was faking. She felt like a fraud sometimes, like an imposter in her own body.
That was the problem with living. She wasn't sure she was even doing anything beyond existing. She wasn't sure if the rare bursts of happiness were even real happiness or just an attempt to feel something beyond the sad and irritated part of the spectrum of her emotions. It was like she was jumping up a pole, but would eventually fall back down. Not exactly a roller coaster.
Not to mention how the N.E.W.T.s were sure to weigh down on her. Still, she felt like she had no energy to do anything or interact with anyone. She felt like everything that might've improved was falling downhill, and she didn't know what to do.
At least there was only a month left of the school year.
— || — || — || — || — || — || — || — || — || —
"Miss Granger, please turn this duck into a blue pig with purple polka dots and a bright green tail."
"Oddly specific."
"You're taking the Transfiguration N.E.W.T. What did you expect? Me asking you to turn a sponge into a snuff box?"
Hermione didn't bother to argue and waved her wand at the mallard sitting in front of her.
That evening, she collapsed into bed. Now she knew why they were called 'Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests.'
— || — || — || — || — || — || — || — || — || —
Hermione got deja vu when she walked into the Eighth Year Common Room to see everyone murmuring amongst themselves, nerves and excitement in their every movement.
"What the actual fuck?" she muttered to herself, her eyes shooting to the bulletin board. A notice just like the one five months ago was on it, and she glared in its direction before marching.
Please don't be another ball. Please don't be another ball.
GRADUATION CEREMONY
All seventh and eighth year students are required to attend the Graduation Ceremony.
When: June 28th, beginning at 10:00 A.M.
Where: The Great Hall
Attire: Dress Robes Required
The schedule can be found in the flyers below.
Hermione grabbed a flyer and glanced back over it. Fuck.
A ball. There would be the formal ceremony, lunch, and then an actual fucking ball. And she had a feeling Pansy and Daphne would drag her to buy new dress robes. Of all the things she had to deal with, it was this. This was not how she wanted to end the school year.
Pansy found her far too quickly and far too easily.
"I assume you've seen the bulletin board?" she asked with a sly smile, noticing her annoyed expression.
"Clearly."
"Well, we're going shopping. Tomorrow's the Hogsmeade weekend."
"Ah, I can't."
"And… why not?"
"It's Draco's birthday tomorrow," she replied smugly. "So no, I'm not going dress shopping with you tomorrow."
"Fine. You win. I'm assuming you and Draco are going to have the day to yourself?"
"Oh, no, I can't tell you my secrets."
— || — || — || — || — || — || — || — || — || —
"Hermione, where are we and what are we doing here?"
"Welcome to New York City, Draco."
He stared at her.
"We have the entire day to ourselves, and I even ran this by McGonagall. I've been to NYC twice before, and you need to experience it. We're going to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, see the Statue of Liberty, watch a Broadway musical, and of course, try some of their pizza. It's delicious."
"What's this for?"
"Don't tell me you forgot your own birthday."
He winced. "It's my birthday today?"
"Yes, Draco, your birthday is today." She grabbed his arm and led him toward a staircase descending to the subway station. "C'mon, the museum first. I promise you'll love it."
"Aye, aye, captain."
"We're going to make this the best birthday for you."
"Hermione, it already is."
She smiled and kissed him on the cheek.
"Well, I intend to make it much, much better. What do you think?"
He shrugged. "I'm all for it."
"Lovely."