A/N: Hello. If anyone still follows this account, you might know that a couple years ago, I wrote a Dramione story called An Illicit Affair. I abandoned that story and deleted all the documents I had, so that will never be revived. However, I started this one a few days ago and it hasn't been able to leave me alone. I hope you enjoy it!
I obviously don't own Harry Potter. If I did, my house would be paid off by now.
The first time Hermione Granger saw Draco Malfoy, she was eleven years old, aboard the Hogwarts Express. She thought he resembled a rat.
He was striking, sure, in a pointy and self-assured way that let wordlessly everyone around him know that he thought he was a young god amongst men and women – if you could call preteens and teenagers men and women. But nevertheless, Hermione wasn't impressed by the haughty air surrounding him. He looked like a blonde rat.
It was rather fitting when he was temporarily transformed into a rat of sorts in their 4th year.
He had just walked by the compartment she was sitting in on the Hogwarts Express, years later from that first meeting, wearing a black suit, black button-down shirt, and black tie. Honestly, if it were possible to invest in a color, the Malfoys would predominantly own the color black. Hermione smirked to herself at the memory of that first sight of him. It wasn't often that she thought of Draco Malfoy, but when she did, unpleasant memories often arose. He truly was a terrible person, along with most the other Slytherins – especially the ones in their year.
Shaking her thoughts away from Draco, Hermione came back to the present, where she was leaving Muggle London behind to travel into the beloved Wizarding World once more. Summertime had blessedly ended, and though she loved her Muggle parents very much, she felt much more herself around fellow wizards and witches.
They were entering into their 6th year at Hogwarts – a time that provided most students with a sense of freedom that wasn't allowed during previous years. Most students had single out which classes to take in order to pursue their future career goals. This awarded most students a free period or two during the school day.
Hermione Granger wasn't like most students.
The problem was that Hermione had so many future career goals that she couldn't limit what classes she took during her time at school. So, she took as many classes as she feasibly could – feasibly, because even though there were many more classes she would've loved to have taken, she wasn't using that bloody Time-Turner like she did during her 3rd year.
Quite simply and to no one's surprise. Hermione Granger loved to learn. She probably should've been sorted into Ravenclaw rather than Gryffindor.
But where would that leave her two best friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Her lovable, yet completely clueless and sometimes idiotic best friends that made her wizarding life worth all the trouble she'd endured since she was just eleven years old.
Ron was one of seven Weasleys, and Harry was the Chosen One, but to her, they were simply Ron and Harry – the two people she loved most in the world. She'd do anything for them, and they'd do anything for her. They had proved this time and time again over the last five school years.
They were currently sitting across from her in their secluded compartment. She was reading the Daily Prophet, scanning articles for mentions of Harry's name, or for known sightings of You-Know-Who – Voldemort. She was trying to get used to saying his name, now that the Ministry had finally accepted that he was back and at large.
"I'm telling you, Harry, you've gone mental," Ron said in-between bites of the roast beef sandwich his mother had pre-packaged for him ahead of their journey. If Ron wasn't eating, something was wrong. It was a well-known fact about Ron Weasley – he liked to eat. More than liked. Loved.
"Ron, I'm not mental. I know what I saw in Diagon Alley. He's up to something, and I'd bet every galleon in my vault that it's got something to do with Voldemort." Harry's voice was rising – not angrily, but passionately – with each word. At the mention of Voldemort's name, Ron visibly winced.
Hermione set aside the paper and joined in on their conversation. "What's going on?"
Ron devoured the last bite of his sandwich before sticking his head out of the compartment, presumably to see where the snack cart was in comparison to their location. After he shut the compartment door and sat back down, he said, "Harry's convinced that Draco Malfoy is now a Death Eater."
Hermione fought herself not to roll her eyes. She wasn't irritated at Harry or his ideas, but there were only so many times they could rehash the same thing before it became redundant. "Harry," she began. "We've been over this…"
And they had, numerous times. Harry was convinced that Malfoy had finally fulfilled his own prophecy of sorts – joining the family business of serving the Dark Lord.
"I'm serious, Hermione. I know he's up to something. I just know it."
Hermione sighed, knowing that she and Ron couldn't convince him otherwise. They'd tried and tried, but Harry was nothing if he wasn't stubborn. And unfortunately, his stubbornness often landed them into trouble more often than not.
"Okay," Hermione acquiesced. "Let's just see how things turn out at Hogwarts." She knew how to placate Harry – something she'd learned rather quickly during their 1st year.
It wasn't that she vehemently didn't believe Harry, nor was the idea that Draco Malfoy would become a Death Eater that far-fetched. However, Hermione liked a bit more evidence than Harry before she jumped into something whole heartedly. She liked to read, research, formulate plans, and then do it all again before making a big change.
Being Harry Potter's friend didn't exactly allow for that, as past events could bear witness.
At that moment, the snack cart rolled up outside their compartment, ceasing Ron's interest in the conversation.
"Chocolate frog, Hermione?" Harry asked as he and Ron opened the door to step outside. "My treat."
Hermione smiled, picking back up the Daily Prophet and turning to the page she last was reading. "Sure, thanks Harry."
She really did love her two best friends. And she was hoping that this year, though Voldemort was back, though Harry was the Chosen One and the three had to navigate all that entailed, and though she was taking a full course load, she hoped that this year would be one of the best she'd had at Hogwarts thus far.
The Great Hall was filled with decorations of each of the four Hogwarts houses – banners and signs floating along the walls and magically strung over each table, the colors intermingling with each other as though House unity was a common thread at Hogwarts. Candles lit the magically induced night sky, setting a calm atmosphere for the first meal of the school year.
The tables were lined with the most delicious food Hermione had ever tasted. She didn't agree with requiring the house elves to labor over their food, but while she ate a bite of ham, she guiltily forgot for just a moment that an elf had made this dish.
Ron, of course, was on his 3rd plate, vacuuming the food into his mouth as though his mother had starved him this summer. It was a sight to see, and even though Hermione had known him since she was just a girl, she still found it amazing that Ron could eat so much.
After the desserts were cleared, Dumbledore cleared his throat at the front of the Great Hall, causing a mass silence to fall over the crowded room. "Good evening, young witches and wizards, and welcome to another year at Hogwarts. I trust that each and every one of you had an extraordinary summer. It's no secret that the Wizarding World is facing one of its greatest trials at the moment, and though I try to keep the woes of the world outside the walls of our fine institution, I am well aware that some of you will be facing your own trials over the course of this year, as well. I hope that you make wise decisions, and know that I, as well as all of your staff, are here to guide you in the best way that we know how.
"Heads of Houses and Prefects, please escort all students except for the 6th years to their dormitories. I need to speak with them for just a few more moments."
As the majority of the students filed out of the Great Hall, the 6th years were glancing at each other nervously, wracking their brains trying to figure out what Dumbledore could possibly have to tell them, and only them. What could apply to the 6th years that wouldn't to everyone else?
"Maybe Dumbledore is going to warn us that Malfoy is a Death Eater," Harry whispered.
"I can't tell if you're serious or not," Hermione said.
"I am."
"Harry, I think you might've drunk too much butterbeer tonight. Even if that was true, Dumbledore isn't going to stand at that podium and blast it for the entire year to hear."
Ron sat across from them, hiding his face in his palm, attempting not to laugh. It wasn't working.
Once all the other students had left the room, Dumbledore raised his arms again, asking for silence from the remaining wizards and witches. The teachers sat at their table behind him, not giving anything away with their stoic facial expressions. All their eyes remained firmly on Dumbledore.
"As you well know, this year you have decided which classes to continue pursuing based on your performance during your OWLs last year. That has left many of you with free periods. Therefore, I've decided to implement something rather new at Hogwarts this year, only for you bright, young pupils to try."
Dumbledore smiled, walking around the podium to stand in front of it. "You've been assigned a fellow student to correspond with over the course of this year. A pen-pal of sorts, if you will. Each pairing has been chosen by me only, and I am the only person who knows which two of you are paired together."
He walked back and forth, eyes twinkling with little-boy mischief. "The person with whom you are corresponding is not in your House. In doing so, I believe this will create more inter-House friendships – something we so greatly need in today's time of attempting to create chaos between our great four Houses.
"Now, I assume you want to know how you will be communicating with your partner. There is a special journal designed for messages between you and your assigned correspondent, as well as special quills and ink. They are personalized for each student with your name etched in gold."
Hermione's eyes were widening with each word Dumbledore spoke. She tried to catch the eyes of the other students, but they all stared straight at Dumbledore, as if in a trance.
"These journals have been spelled to exclude conversations regarding Dark Magic, overthrowing the Ministry of Magic, cheating on schoolwork and tests, and interfering with Hogwarts business. I know how the minds of our youth work, and I have done everything in my power to make sure that this is a safe and stimulating environment with which to communicate with your peers.
"I've spelled each of the journals so only the name etched on the front cover will be able to read it. At the end of each day, all the conversations written in the journals will disappear. Please note, I've also designed this to be anonymous, so it is strongly encouraged that you keep your identities a secret. However," Dumbledore said with a knowing twinkle in his eye. "I'm well aware how the young adult mind works. You are bound to break that rule sooner or later. But I will stress again that this is designed to be anonymous. Keep it that way as long as you possibly can, my young, clever pupils."
As if the trance had been broken, a chatter arose amongst the students, each one turning to each other in confusion, asking questions and demanding answers from each other, as if the other had the answer that only Dumbledore knew.
"Silence!" Dumbledore called, and once more, the student body fell quiet. "Please, I am not doing this to cause you stress and to raise your fears. I want you to build more friendships, to take part in something so much greater than you and me. I want you to have conversations you might not have with your closest of friends. I want you to connect with someone on a level other than what we offer at face value. This is important!"
The silence continued, and the hair on the back of Hermione's neck rose. What in the world was going on?
"Your Heads of Houses do not know who you are partnered with, so please, do not ask them. Trust the process, trust in yourself, and trust in who I have placed you with. Though this is anonymous, I do believe that I have done the absolute best I can to pair you with someone who can challenge you in the best ways possible."
Dumbledore smiled one final time before stepping behind the podium again.
"Now, on with you, to your dormitories, where your journals await you on each of your beds. Remember to embrace change and let possibilities flood your hearts and minds as you embark on this new school year. This is not a required exercise, but I strongly suggest that you take part. You never know what good can come from something so utterly unexpected. Goodnight and good luck to all of you!"
Hermione rose on weak knees with an overactive mind.
She was numb as she exited the Great Hall with Harry and Ron, completely unaware that a certain white-blond fellow 6th year was steadily watching her the entire time.
"Can you believe him?" Hermione exclaimed as she, Harry, and Ron walked toward Gryffindor Tower. "What is Dumbledore thinking?"
Harry and Ron knew better than to interrupt her when she was in one of these moods, so they shook their heads and shrugged, allowing her to continue on her rampage.
"We have so many classes this year – we have to be focusing on our careers and preparing for NEWTS next year! Not to mention that Voldemort is back and those of us who are part of the resistance don't have the time to waste on writing stupid notes back and forth! This is the most ludicrous thing Dumbledore has ever done!"
"Hermione –" Ron began, but was silenced when Harry shook his head at him.
"Don't you two think this is ridiculous?" Hermione asked, abruptly stopping in the hall, turning to face them. "Don't you think this is a waste of our time?"
Her two best friends shrugged their shoulders once more, shooting each other helpless looks.
"I don't know, Hermione," Ron said. "It could be fun. Think about it."
"I am!" Hermione shouted. "Harry? What do you think?"
"I'm not sure," Harry said. "I agree with both of you. But Hermione…only you are taking a full course load. Ron and I…we both have free time."
Hermione groaned and started walking again, saying the password to enter the Gryffindor Common Room to the Fat Lady when they reached her portrait.
"You don't even have to participate," Harry said as Hermione tromped through the door. "It's not required."
"Not required but strongly suggested," Hermione said. "In other words, required."
Ron tried to object, but Hermione silenced him. "It doesn't matter. I'm tired and going to bed. I'll see you both in the morning for breakfast."
She turned around and trudged up the stairs, leaving Harry and Ron dumbfounded.
"I know I said this 1st year, but I think she needs to sort out her priorities," Ron muttered to Harry.
Harry laughed. "Unfortunately, Ron, I think she might be the only one of us who has them halfway sorted out."
When Hermione reached her dormitory, her fellow 6th year roommates were already there, giggling and clutching their journals to their chests, like silly schoolgirls writing to the loves of their lives.
She tried not to shoot them dirty, condescending looks, but she couldn't help but scrunch her nose. This entire exercise was an insult to her intelligence.
When she reached her bed, she sat down and picked up the chestnut leather journal that lay on her pillow, with the quill and ink atop it, her name etched in a fine dusting of gold, almost mocking her.
She truly didn't have time for this – this year was about expanding her studies and focusing on the future, preparing for the life she'd envisioned since she'd first received her Hogwarts letter all those years ago. Though she wasn't quite sure where she envisioned herself after Hogwarts, she knew that corresponding in a silly journal anonymously with another student was a waste a time and, quite frankly, insulting on Dumbledore's part.
Sure, Hermione was certain Dumbledore meant well. But meaning well and the reality of it were two separate things.
Hermione huffed, picking up the journal and running her pointer finger over her name. She wasn't going to be the first to reach out. Whoever Dumbledore had paired her with, he or she was going to have to be the first to write something in that bloody journal. Otherwise, she was going to stuff the journal, quill, and ink into the bottom crevices of her trunk and never think about it again.
Rolling her eyes, she opened the journal to the front page. If someone had written to her, then she would respond. She might not like this, but she wasn't blatantly rude. It was only polite to respond once someone had written something to you.
She didn't expect to find anything. Surely Dumbledore knew her better than to pair her with someone who found this exercise charming, like the other girls in her dormitory.
But perhaps that was part of Hermione's problem. She expected too much and relied on facts and truths to carry her through life. Though she'd had so many years to expect the unexpected just from simply being Harry Potter's friend, Hermione never truly expected to see what she did upon that first page.
Hello…
One word. One simple, common word.
That's all it took for Hermione to backtrack on placing the items in the bottom of her trunk. Instead, she resigned herself to the fact that this was happening, whether she liked it or not.
She dipped her quill in the ink and placed it on the paper.
Hello…
I hope you enjoyed. If you did, leave me a note. Talk to you next time! :)