Beta'd by Maddiechu
"I can't believe it's the first." She moaned, organising her desk in the living space she shared with Draco. She'd only managed to read half of her course textbooks, and as far as she was concerned, she was far behind the course material. Pushing rolls of parchment into the cubbyholes Draco had installed, she heard him chuckle lowly.
"I'm sure we'll survive," he said, a dark muttering to his tone, the concern for the year ahead evident. The school had been fixed, and the colours were brighter, far more vivid than Hermione had ever seen it before. The weather of the enchanted ceiling seemed to be more realistic, and the air was fresher, sweeter. The stone walls were solid, and everything; everything shone. It was the rifts between the people that proved to be the harder fix. Harry and Draco had settled at their apology in Diagon Alley and seemed unwilling to go further, both plastering disgruntled and slightly repulsed expressions on to their faces when Hermione asked about it. Ginny would look at her with a knowing grin that began to infuriate her, so she'd drop the subject pretending she wouldn't bring it up again.
"We have no choice," she agreed placing ink bottles in a corner, and filling a vase with quills as Draco placed a framed picture of himself and his mother on one of his desks shelves.
"A couple of hours, then we need to be on the train." He reminded her, flicking his eyes to an enchanted clock he'd affixed to the wall between their desks. Hermione stacked her school books up on a shelf, eyeing the top one as if she were to take it for the journey.
"I ought to get changed, and then have breakfast. It seems a bit strange that I'm going to head to London to get the train, to come to the school, when I'm already at the school." She mused as Draco laughed.
"We are the Heads; we do need to be there." He reminded her, throwing a new blanket onto their window seat. It now officially looked as though they were completely unpacked and ready to live together; an agreement neither of them had decided on.
"I know, I know, but…" She sighed looking around at the room with a slight smile on her face, "It's just…it'll be the last time getting the train."
"Oh don't tell me you're all nostalgic and sad for it?" He mocked; grinning as he held the door to his room open; green furnishings beyond.
"Well, yeah. It has been a huge part of my life…I don't want it to be the last time." She explained throwing an annoyed look to Draco who shrugged.
"Life goes on." He vanished into his room and Hermione sighed once more, doing the same to get changed into her school robes. She didn't know what she was thinking by expecting some kind of sympathy from him. Of course she wouldn't get any. He could be just like Harry and Ron. She tugged on some jeans, tucking a pale pink blouse into the top of it, before pulling on her robes. Her head girl badge that had taken pride of place on her bedside table was now picked up lovingly, and pinned on to her robes. She quickly brushed and braided her hair, anything simple to keep it out of her face when she needed to guide the first years on to the train. A knock at the door made her jump, and she opened it to see Draco looking at her questioningly.
"If you take any longer in there it'll be the evening." He drawled, stepping back as he realised Hermione was ready to leave; his own uniform neat and pressed, a suit on underneath as usual and his Head Boy badge pride of place on his chest. He'd combed his hair so it seemed even smoother than usual, and gave Hermione a smirk as he noted her eyes appraise him.
"Oh don't be dramatic, let's get breakfast and apparate out of here." She said briskly, heading towards their stairs as Draco caught her arm, his expression suddenly serious.
"Hermione, promise me something." He almost demanded, his silver eyes narrowing a little as if he were hoping to intimidate her into agreement.
"…maybe…" She breathed warily, catching his gaze and finding herself wondering what he wanted to say.
"This room. It's ours. No one else comes up here. No one. Our…secret." He growled, as Hermione gasped, his expression was fierce, and borderline threatening; the lethal beauty his features almost enchanting as he looked at her.
"You don't want me to tell anyone about this room?" She asked him quietly, making sure she understood his request.
"No one, not even Ginny." He growled. Hermione gasped, caught off guard by his easy use of her best friend's name.
"Ok, I promise." She conceded, and he let her go, relief dripping into his features. The lethal beauty slinking away and becoming softened; he looked approachable.
"Thank you. I just…I think I'll need a space for just me to relax and get away from everyone. I know that here there will be no need to be ready for unexpected visitors; and confined to my room…I couldn't do that." He explained and Hermione nodded slowly.
"Let's just get breakfast," Hermione said, heading towards the door.
:: :: ::
He should have realised that apparating to Kings Cross with a war-hero would cause the press to jump on them the moment they'd arrived. Hermione's decision to hole herself up at Hogwarts and The Weasel's "Kingdom" had created an unquenchable thirst in the press for Britain's favourite Muggle-born. Now she'd shown up three times with him; Draco Malfoy, without much explanation as to why. Considering she was returning to Hogwarts, and Potter's fiancé was returning; of course they'd be here.
The flashbulbs seemed to be more blinding than ever, and Hermione had quickly grabbed hold of his arm, it was if she needed his support or something; dragging him over to Potter and Ginny. The Weasley's had created a sort of barrier from the photographers with their sheer numbers, and with a sinking dread, he realised that this was the first time he'd been around the entire Weasley family in public; apparently willingly. He swallowed.
It would be in the papers tomorrow, or even tonight if he was unlucky enough to have the editor deem the group heading to Hogwarts worthy for an extra special edition, which anything regarding the Golden Trio most certainly did.
He'd been living in a special court ordered world; McGonagall's protection from the press had been excellent, he may have chided Hermione and Potter in Madam Malkin's for not being used to the invasions, but he wasn't either. Being kept out of the drama at Hogwarts, instead of Diagon Alley and his home had kept him ignorant. He'd enjoyed being around Hermione, and had thought very little of what the rest of his house would think; the proud, arrogant and cunning Slytherins. The subject he and Hermione had fought about, the blood purity ideals, were still strong back bones in many of their lives, and his almost complete turnabout would not sit well with many of them.
With a jolt as the flashbulbs continued to go off, and his arm found its way around Hermione's waist unthinking; despite him never having done it before, guiding her forward. Even though she was leading him…he found he didn't care.
He didn't care anymore.
Everything had cost him too much.
The weekly letters from his mother told him that his father hadn't died yet. He was still just an empty case of a man; destitute and rotting within a prison, a victim of an old order within the Ministry, and his own ideals. He had lost two people he'd grown up with. Crabbe had incinerated himself in the Room of Requirement, and Goyle had been sentenced to ten years in Azkaban for what was described as his 'gleeful enjoyment and involvement', both in the war, and his time spent at Hogwarts. His family name was in the mud, trodden on and dragged through a hedge.
Everything he'd ever known was in tatters. He'd deal with the spiteful words from his housemates. He'd deal with the slanderous press articles. He'd deal with the harsh realities from the Weasley's.
He'd deal with it all.
He'd show them all in time.
The smell of Hermione, vanilla and so soothing calmed every worry he'd ever had. The red haired family had finally spied Hermione and were attempting to wave her over inconspicuously as to not let the photographers realise that they'd spotted her, thus drawing less attention. Their positions were protective of Potter, their daughter, and the Weasel, all of whom looked irritated. The waves weren't meant for him, and he began to let his grip on her small, but womanly waist go. Her hand instantly shot to his instead, her fingers slipping between his with a tight grip. The throng of people waving each other off, hugging their children, and running to meet one another meant that they had to remain close, their clasped hands thankfully hidden behind her bag.
Even if he cared for Hermione more than he wanted to admit, the press having actual evidence to show he'd corrupted the Muggle-born princess of Gryffindor was too much to bear at the moment, even if he couldn't quite understand why she wasn't pushing him off her. Why she had openly clasped his hand.
Did she…did she like him too?
"Hermione!" The Weasel was saying to her, a mixture of relief and irritation as the outburst of his name caused a few holding cameras to suddenly swing towards them; blinding them all with their flashes. "I was going to say good to see you, but now I'm blinded, so what's the point." He said drolly, and Draco noted he sounded healthier somehow, not so…angry and frustrated. His sight began to slowly regain, and he cast a quick look over the man who'd almost smashed his skull into the floor; noting the tightness that had been around his lips and eyes had begun to loosen, the permanent laugh he'd always managed to hold making a small return. Hermione had evidently noticed the same.
"Well, you…you look…good Ron, happier." She noted and jealousy spread its green wings within his chest, he turned to look at Potter instead who was deep in conversation with Ginny. His hand was on her cheek, their eyes only for each other as they whispered sweet nothings to each other; only he was promising her a letter every week, even if it was only a sentence due to his busy schedule, and as many Hogsmeade trips as he could manage. He hid a small smile, impressed with Potter's dedication to the youngest Weasley, the ring he'd placed upon her finger was nothing to be scoffed at, but they seemed to be taking it calmly and at their own pace. Much to the chagrin of many of the wizarding wedding establishments if the reports from Witch Weekly were to be believed. He pulled his eyes away from them, instead watching the Weasley matriarch fuss and protect her brood, her own stature rapidly shrinking each time he saw her. She looked as if she was suffering rapid weight loss, her cheeks gaunt, and her eyes hollow. Although her voice as loud and orderly as ever. The twin, that always seemed to be by himself these days for some reason was prancing about, attempting to distract the press from Harry and Ginny now in an emotional clinch, his laughter hollow, his eyes dead.
Their father, the one his own father had picked many a fight with was the only one who seemed to have registered him. His eyes were boring into him, an impassive but still somehow wary expression was on his features, his stance ready to draw his wand if necessary. But behind that steely, careful gaze was sympathy; it was as if he knew. Suddenly, another jolt of realisation swept over him, Arthur Weasley had been at his father's trial. He knew. He knew everything. He met the man's eyes, and felt as if he were to drown in the blue lakes of sympathy the man seemed to call eyes. He dipped his head low, respectful; thankful, and surprise registered across his face, his lips drawn together as if he were to say something.
Hermione had let go of his hand to speak to Potter better, and he found himself walking towards the patriarch.
"Listen son," Mr Weasley said lowly to him instantly, the pair of them doing their very best to act as if they weren't speaking to one another. "I know what you and your family think of me and my family; but what I said to your father all those years ago is still true. We have very different ideas of what disgraces the name of a wizard. Some advice from one pureblood to another; even if you do consider me blood traitorous, I'd think long and hard about disgrace. You are still young." The words held no hint of warning, no threat, but plain advice. He looked to the man whom his family had made so detested by the world he belonged to, and blinked slowly, keeping his schooled expression calm instead of betraying the sobbing he wished he could unleash.
"I am not my father, sir." He said respectfully, and Mr Weasley watched him carefully, searching, as if looking for that hint of mocking Hermione had done so long ago now; how Ginny did still, how Potter had. He found none, and dipped his head not with respect, but with understanding.
"Draco," Hermione was saying, as Potter and Weasel's heads snapped round to look at her, their eyes wide with shock as Ginny seemed to grin so knowingly he could have smacked her.
"Hermione," He replied, enjoying the now gobsmacked expressions of the other two members of the Golden Trio.
"It's ten thirty, we need to be gathering the remaining muggle-borns from outside the platform and guiding them on to the train. I'll meet you in the Head's compartment after, so I'll see you soon." She told him business like as usual; as she embraced Potter tightly, turning to hug the Weasel. He grunted, turning away, not wanting to see her wrapped around a man who didn't deserve her. She said she'd see Ginny and Luna later, and bustled away; heading towards the platforms entrance.
:: :: ::
The train was pulling out of the station, he'd watched Hermione shepherd confused muggle-borns through the portal with such efficiency; he'd been in a slight awe. She was a much better one for that particular task, what with being a muggle-born herself; she knew who to look for and how to approach them. He'd found it was much easier making sure everyone was on the train on the other side. A couple of prefects had challenged him, before falling into astonished silence when he placed his finger on his chest, showing the Head Boy badge off with a simple glare. Instead, they'd gone back to making sure everyone and their belongings were on the train, throwing him dirty or wary looks.
Surprisingly, Ginny had backed him up, casually smacking a Hufflepuff prefect about the head "accidentally" with her broom as she got on to the train, apologising in an over the top manner as she managed to tell the prefect off for not listening to the Head Boy. He'd nodded at her thankfully, finding it hadn't been hard to accept help from her, even if it had been unasked for, and he'd almost solved the problem.
He'd finally managed to get to the Head's compartment, throwing his feet up on the chair and relaxing just as the train began to pull away, the Weasley's and Potter waving enthusiastically. He watched them, easy to spot with their bright hues, with a thoughtful expression. It was right, he could say what he wanted about the Weasley's, but they always seemed…happy.
The door slid open and Hermione slipped in, looking pleased with herself, her braid messy where she'd been turning her head so much and strands had been tugged loose, her cheeks pink.
"Busy?" He asked her as she threw herself down on a seat, a quick unamused glance at his shoes on the chair.
"You could say that, have any trouble?" She asked resting her head on the chairs back, and Draco found himself wishing she would lean up against him again, the way she had the day the unicorn had passed.
"No, not really," he said smoothly, as she smiled. He looked to the middle of the table, spotting a Daily Prophet with pictures of them on it. He grinned, checking the date. It was yesterdays, and he picked it up; opening it with every intention to read it as Hermione gasped.
"Oh no," she said horrified, seeing the headline.
"I knew they'd do this," he laughed, reading the headline between pictures of their trip to Diagon Alley. "Oh look at this one!" He exclaimed, pressing the paper down flat on his legs and pointing to a picture of Hermione and Ginny who were looking affectionately over at Harry as he said something to them; Draco standing by Hermione's side, looking far more interested in the wares in a shop window. The tag line read 'Malfoy possessive of Granger?'. He snorted with laughter as Hermione blushed the rose flush making her look as though she were a true English rose, one that had escaped from the garden; while his own insides squirmed with the ever rising truth to the words.
"What are we?" She breathed suddenly, pouring over the pictures of their outing and before, the small article detailing the predicted romance between them, and detailing the proof. "I mean, are we…are we friends?" She asked a little surer as he stared at her horrified all of a sudden.
He contemplated her words, rolling them about in his head trying to figure out where they came from, she was tracing her fingers over the captured images of herself; many of them had him close by her, standing in the back ground or beside her.
"…no, I don't think we're friends." He said eventually, calmly and sadly, they'd most certainly had a 'do over' to clear the air, but he couldn't say he wanted to be friends with her.
He wanted more.
Her look of sheer disappointment crushed him, his insides squirming for the second time that day, giving him a stomach ache.
"But I'd like to be." He finished slowly, smirking at her, as she blushed again.
:: :: ::
"Why are you Head Boy?" A Ravenclaw he hadn't bothered to learn the name of in previous years, challenging him, his arms crossed across his weedy body; brown eyes sharp and accusing.
"Because I beat McGonagall into a bloody mess, demanding that she make me Head Boy," he replied sarcastically, attempting to not roll his eyes and face the music like he'd expected to happen.
"No way," a younger Gryffindor whispered, looking to a Hufflepuff with wide eyes as a sixth year Slytherin looked delighted. He felt a little sick catching the expression ,as the Ravenclaw looked furious.
"You should be in Azkaban-" he began.
"But I'm not." He interrupted, his voice cool and collected, the admiring gaze of Hermione visible from the corner of his eyes. "I think everyone here knows I had a trial. Are you saying the judge was wrong? Even though they looked through all the evidence. You know Potter himself spoke in my defence. You saying he's wrong?" He challenged, as the Ravenclaw boy looked like he was fit to explode, the conflict rife in his expression.
"No," he sighed, still furious, "But I am saying you're a fucking scumbag. I won't listen to you, but I'll listen to her." He seethed, gesturing towards Hermione who looked instantly livid.
"Then I'll have your prefect status revoked immediately." Hermione said calmly as the Ravenclaw paled.
"What?" He exclaimed, flabbergasted, "You'd do that?"
"Of course," Hermione shrugged, "Why wouldn't I? You've just admitted you're not interested in being part of a working prefect team; you won't listen to the Head Boy. It doesn't matter if you think he's a 'fucking scumbag' I'm pretty sure you're not alone in that opinion, but what matters is that you're willing to work with 'fucking scumbags' to set a good example for the school. Need I remind you that we've just had a war?" She said smoothly as Draco contorted his face into a mixture of displeasure of his description, and amusement at the way Hermione was so cleanly causing the Ravenclaw pain.
"Yeah, we've just had a war because of the Slytherins." The Ravenclaw shot back at Hermione, clearly pleased with his retort. Hermione's eyes bulged and she began to look outraged, mingled with torment. It was as though she'd just been slapped roughly in the face, and an enormous task had been dropped on her shoulders.
"You think a bunch of kids started a war?" She asked incredulously, as the Ravenclaws' brown eyes clouded over murderously. "I'm going to make it clear to you all right now; I don't care if you don't like Malfoy. I don't care. I don't care if you don't like me. What I expect from each of you, is the behaviour that earned you the prefect badge you're wearing. You didn't get that from bullying other members of the school. I get that we had a war, I also just happened to have spent a year helping the Harry Potter kill Voldemort, but I am sure as Merlin not going to spend this next year picking on the Slytherins because of it. Get past your differences, grow up, move on. Behave like a fucking prefect. I'm going to give you this chance right now; if you don't think you can handle being a prefect this year, hand in your badge now. Or, if I get a bad report about you; you can bet your arse I'm going to get that badge taken off you."
The Slytherins stared at her; the three with their badges on their chests had matching expressions. Their eyes were wide, their jaws slightly parted, astonishment all over them. The Hufflepuffs shifted about, looking at one another awkwardly while the Gryffindors bristled and threw Hermione curious expressions. The Ravenclaws seemed to accept what she was saying; looks of grudging respect were given to her, as the brown eyed claw scowled furiously; unwilling to pass up his badge.
"To back her up," He drawled, sensing that now would be the time to say something, "McGonagall gave me this position knowing what would happen should I fuck it up. If you can't figure it out, then you're going to have to explain to me how you made it this far in life. I won't cause trouble for you if you don't cause trouble for me. It should be simple." The Hufflepuffs were looking at him with curious expressions on each their faces, as if something was slowly pulling itself together in their minds. The Slytherins looked at him with pride whilst the Gryffindors held incredulous expressions. Once more, the Ravenclaws were split.
"Let's move on," Hermione said with a sigh, "You have a week to get your timetable to us, and any plans to join your house Quidditch team. We will then draw up a rota that should mean you can all do your patrols in time without it clashing with anything else. We will have a meeting next week to see if anything needs to be shuffled with and addressed."
"Oh, and expect the work load to go up this year, McGonagall has been hinting at events," he added, as Hermione glanced at him with surprise.
"Ok, you two Ravenclaws," Hermione stepped in again, pointing to the brown eyed tormentor, and a blonde haired girl who was looking at him as if she were on the verge of a flirtatious giggle, "You patrol next, then go to Gryffindor, then Slytherin, and then Hufflepuff. One length of the train each, it should take you about equal time, Draco and I will go in pairs from our own houses. Fair?" She asked, as Astoria threw him a hopeful glance at the mention of being in house pairs. He nodded to her with a simple dip of his head that he'd so often given her aloof beauty of a sister. She grinned, delighted, and a desire for Hermione to be the one wearing that grin instead shot through him.
Disgruntled nods shot through the gathered group as they realised they'd have to actually begin working as prefects as the first Ravenclaw pair left. He looked to Hermione, smiling as he noted her exhausted expression, and smirked with a wish for the year to be easier than it was clearly going to be.