Hogwarts; 1998
The magazine was in everyone's hands after the break.
Foolishly, Hermione had imagined that it would be seen at one or two tables, being passed around, but the interest in her, Harry, and Ron must have waned somewhat, hadn't it? At least, for those at Hogwarts?
She did help take down a maniac, true, but she was still the exact same Hermione. The Hermione that huffed at you in the library if you were being too loud, the Hermione that wouldn't hesitate to stand up in a fight, the Hermione that sat in class like everyone else.
And Harry and Ron? Well, okay, she could perhaps understand the fascination with those two…
But to wake up and see what seemed like the entire student body and staff leafing eagerly through the pages of Su Li's first edition of her magazine, featuring the Golden Trio, made her want to go right back upstairs and stay the day in bed.
When Su had come, explaining how the current Wizard magazine or news choices were less than perfect, Hermione had been all behind her decision to start her own print.
"Well, that's great, but you see...I need something to break into the news business, you know?" Su had said, biting her lip and twirling her tea-spoon in her cup with a nervous tilt of her head.
"Su!" Hermione had groaned. How naive she was to imagine that one of her former classmates had merely wanted to catch up and see how life at Hogwarts was!
"Hermione, you know that it's an old money game! If my first issue is bollocks, no one will want a second!" She pleaded, "And I'd give all of you rights to see the drafts beforehand. If you think I'm misrepresenting you or...or...you don't like how you look, we'll edit it!" She gave Hermione big, liquid, pleading eyes, "No one's gotten an interview with all three of you before. Think of how exclusive mine would be."
That was true.
After the war, responding to interviewers had seemed foolish. There had been so much to do and frankly, Hermione was far from interested in sitting down and re-hashing arguably the worst two years of her life. Harry, who was used to the popularity, wanted to fall off the grid for a bit. Even Ron, who wanted his name out there, admitted that he wasn't sure he was ready to talk through any of his thoughts yet.
They'd done the one-off comment here or there, but nothing grand. Nothing on the level Su was asking for.
"The longer you wait, the more people will just twist it. Tell your version of things, what people want to know, how you want to tell it." Su prodded.
Hermione exhaled loudly.
She hated how logical Su was presenting this.
"Fine," She had said after long consideration, "But don't chance the boys on agreeing."
To her surprise, once they'd heard Hermione had agreed, they too had jumped on.
"Well, if you're down, it must be the right move," Harry had simply said.
And Ron, kissing her forehead, said he wasn't going to let his girlfriend go through something that was sure to be a bit emotional alone.
"We started this today, we'll end this together."
So, over the holidays, they spent a day in Su's cramped office answering questions about how they took down Voldemort, their years at Hogwarts leading up to it, and any other question she could think of.
There had been moments all three had cried. There had been a few moments each needed to step out of the room and gather themselves. There were some things said where the relief to have it out there was palpable, like a weight lifting from all of their chests. There were secrets they told that the other two hadn't known, each respectively, mostly in regards to certain feelings or hindsight.
Hermione wasn't sure if she was entirely happy, but when she read Su's draft it was incredibly respectful and really highlighted the harrows they'd experienced, as well as praising them without trying to revere them as gods or goddesses that could do no wrong.
They were kids caught up in the wrong war, Su had written, but at the end of the day...thank Merlin they had.
The day after the interview was followed by a photo shoot for the magazine as well.
Though there were other feature articles in Issue 1, this tell-all was by far the most interesting. It spanned nearly thirty pages.
And everyone was ravenous to read it.
Hermione walked around quietly that day, trying to sink into the shadows. She was unsure how she felt, now that she was watching people read it, about all those moments being out there. There was the moment in Malfoy Manor. There was the moment she thought Harry was dead. The moment in the Forest of Dean when Ron had left. The moment she'd had to send her parents away, wiping their memories.
All of that was just...knowledge out there now. She didn't own it and she wished she could take all of it back.
Too bad all the time-turners had been destroyed. For the better, because as the day wore on, this thought was more and more prevalent.
Because while a majority of people were in awe, there were those that nitpicked or were dismissive. All day, Hermione was overhearing other people's judgments of her trials and her experiences, as though they were playing her in a 'Choose-your-own-adventure' game.
"I can't believe she got captured by the snatchers!" She heard a fourth-year Ravenclaw huffing to a friend at lunch, "How amateur."
Okay, well, you try to be on the run and nearly starved in the winter for a few months, and tell me how you'd avoid that stupid, stupid mistake.
Or…
"Great Godric, she wiped her parent's memory? An overreaction, don't you agree?" A fifth-year Gryffindor in the common room was commenting to her friend.
It took everything in Hermione's power to not go over and scream at them.
This was her life. It wasn't a movie. It wasn't a game or a book. It was real and to be discussing, to be dissecting it like this, made her feel small and not the power-house that had saved her friends more than once or helped kill Voldemort.
She felt like she was now questioning everything she'd done.
What was far worse though? Everyone and everyone's mother thought that they had any right to make judgments about those pictures.
Su had a friend help dress them up and put on make-up. It wasn't Hermione's normal style at all; too much this and that, far more makeup than she'd ever put on, and the poses felt very awkward.
Su explained she was trying to highlight their power but Hermione had felt so out of place in those clothes, like a puppet as Su's friend had moved her body and then said 'Now stand very still!'
And okay, she looked good in a lot of them. Somehow, the camera had captured the deepness of her eyes, the sharpness of her face, and the wildness of her hair. It seemed a bit inorganic, but the results had shocked Hermione...in mostly a good way.
But great Merlin! All day people were coming up, informing Hermione about what picture was their favorite. And frankly...Hermione didn't care.
Those people who were merely trying to inform her of a trivial thing were far better than the boys who came up and made absolutely revolting statements about which pictures of her they'd be hanging above their beds when they needed...ahem, inspiration.
She wished she were as brave as Ginny or as good at those bat-bogey hexes because a few of those boys truly needed it.
So yes, by the end of the day, Hermione very much regretted agreeing to the bloody article and photos at all.
By the time Ancient Runes rolled around, Hermione was in a very pissy mood. Hannah had made a joke that the next person that approached her was likely to leave missing a head or another limb but quickly followed it up that she wouldn't blame Hermione. Maybe she too was just trying to keep in one piece, because Hermione's fuse was as short as ever.
She slammed her books on her desk and they all toppled over to the floor.
She wanted to scream.
"Oh, Merlin," Theo jumped up to avoid the waterfall of books. He grabbed two, "Are you okay?"
Hermione set her books firmly back on her desk, lifting her head to his area.
"I'm surprised you don't have my article splayed open like everyone else," She said with a bite of acidity, staring firmly at a few classmates who were browsing the magazine during the break time. Most were polite enough to sheepish store it back away.
"I didn't buy it," Theo shrugged.
Hermione was equally parts offended and relieved.
"Oh."
"I mean, I read a copy." He said but offered no other comments. They were starting class, so he couldn't really, but out of literally everyone in the world, Hermione hated to admit she was only truly curious what he thought about it.
So the fact he gave no indication one way or another was driving her batty.
Had he thought her brave? Foolish? Intelligent? Dumb? Scared? Had he understood what she'd gone through? Did he not care?
Gosh, how Hermione just wanted to pick that quiet brain of his.
Michael Corner came up to Hermione's desk at the end of class, slapping down a full-page picture of Hermione lounging on a couch, tilting her head and blinking into the camera. It was, what had Su said? Ah, well, alluring.
She didn't disagree, but it was quickly becoming the least favorite of hers.
"I didn't know you could look like this! You're a certifiable fox, Granger," Corner said in utter shock, "Ron's lucky, huh!"
Hermione forced a grimace, sitting on her hands. She couldn't hex him if her hands weren't in use.
"Thanks, Michael," She grumbled, hoping that was the end of it. Usually, if she just gave a hollow reply, they'd move on.
"Don'tcha agree Nott? I think you have all the guys at Hogwarts totally looking at you differently with this out there," Corner continued, nudging Theo's arm. Theo gave a long sigh, turning back to look at the picture.
He caught Hermione's gaze.
What if he agreed? Worse, what if he...didn't?
"I mean, it's not a bad picture," He said diplomatically, but Hermione still felt her heart sink, "But it feels forced to me. That's not the Hermione we know." He said, his voice soft, giving a shrug.
With a quick flip through the magazine, more than just someone who had half-heartedly read it once, Hermione realized, he turned to an exact page with a black and white photo.
It was a 'behind the scenes' on the interview set. She wasn't in her nice clothes and make-up yet. She was wearing her favorite jeans and one of her mum's old jumpers. Her hair was messy and untamed, as she hadn't time for a shower that morning. The trio had been reliving some of the lighter moments, like when Ron had tried to make them all dinner from strange items on the run and it was the worst thing they'd ever tasted.
She'd been caught laughing. The camera was focused on just her, Ron and Harry fading into the background. She was nearly doubled over-laughing at Harry's re-telling, which Ron argued was over-dramatic at best, but it had them all smiling for even just a moment.
She hadn't even realized that someone had taken that picture.
"Yeah," Theo said quietly, his lips quirking up into a smile, "I like this one best. It's the only one that really feels like you. You look like yourself." He said, ending in a sense of sureness.
"Weirdo," Corner rolled his eyes, swiping the magazine back.
Hermione turned back to say something more, but Theo had already left the classroom.
She found herself sitting there, up until a student in the next class asked if she was intending to move. She was totally caught up in her own thoughts.
The more she thought about it, the more right Theo was...and more than that? The more...appreciative she was that he had recognized this. Ron had thought all the pictures were great, but he'd really liked the more editorial ones of her. She did enjoy them if only to see what she would look like if someone was always doing her hair, makeup, clothes, and telling her how to stand in pictures, but it was just that...someone else.
It wasn't genuinely Hermione.
But that picture? The one where she was laughing and half-snorting and wiping her eyes...this was her.
Her owl had dropped off a free copy of the magazine today. Previously, Hermione had no interest in opening it, but after class, she strode right up to it and opened it to the page Theo had found.
Then, carefully, she clipped it out and hung it right next to her bed.
All those voices or judgments didn't seem to matter quite as much.
The next few days, Hermione felt her heart quicken whenever she saw Theo in the halls. She was trying to formulate the experience in her own words.
The best she could figure is this; she'd felt unnoticed her whole life or noticed for all the wrong reasons. To have someone see her so clearly, understand her on such a cosmic level, was a wonderment she wasn't sure anyone else had properly done, not since Viktor. He'd seen her for her intelligence, her wit, her fire and been captivated by it.
Behind all of that, so had Theo.
It was nice to feel seen.
She wanted him to know how much that had meant to her, but every time she thought about what she'd say, it always felt strange. Plus, she didn't want to overstep in his relationship or imply romantic feelings, despite how stupidly she knew her own little heart may have them.
So, she said nothing.
It wasn't out of cowardice, she told herself, it was to make sure when she did say something, it was exactly as she wanted it to be.
And that could take a while...right? Right.
Not long after, Hermione found herself bundled up in sweaters down in the dungeons with every returning 8th-year student lined up, eagerly listening with quills, parchment, and questions. Why McGonagall was having this seminar down here was beyond Hermione; still, she couldn't be bothered to spend that much time listening.
For shame, Ron would tease her, if he knew. Hermione Granger, not listening to a class?
Except, this wasn't a class that concerned Hermione. Okay, it was, but not like this.
"And now we have our next speaker, a Mister Booth McDonaguhue," McGonagall read off the tiny sheet in front of her, and there was a light pitter-patter of clapping as she adjusted her spectacles, "And he works in the...Department of Magical Containment and Reassessment."
This was a 'figure out what you want to do next' course, set for the next three months for two hours at the end of every 8th year's Friday schedule. The 7th years had theirs on Thursday. Why the classes couldn't combine was beyond Hermione, but as it was, her mind wandered during these classes.
She heard Mr. Booth's beginning pitch; something having to do that he was connected to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
"Does that mean that you get to analyze crime scenes?" Corner asked, looking far too thrilled.
"No!" Booth replied with a grin, "Even better...we get to clean it up! Make it spotless. Can't have blood stains on our sidewalks, now can we?"
It wasn't better, but no one was going to argue with him.
In truth, this class was useless to Hermione because she'd already figured out what she wanted to do. Or, rather, she'd listed all of her possible job titles and put them into very specific categories in which she weighed the pros and cons of each, and then had a running tally on the side of her order, which changed as she thought of more points for or against one profession. By the end of the term, the math itself would tell Hermione which career to pursue.
She was certain that most of these jobs during these few weeks, the smaller departments in the Ministry, were not for Hermione, so she was able to focus on thinking of logical reasons for or against her jobs. She had situated herself near the back of the classroom, where she could focus on her parchment and not be obviously ignoring the speakers. Truthfully, most students weren't listening completely. She saw Hannah doodling in her margins, Dean was half-asleep, and Lisa Turpin was playing hangman with Pansy Parkinson. And Theo, who of course she kept an eye on, at first glance might have seemed like he was paying rapt attention, but he never wrote anything down on his parchment. It took up the back of Hermione's thoughts, wondering if he remembered it all or it was something else.
She tried not to be too giddy, but she had absolutely noticed that he'd chosen a seat directly in front of her. He would give her a wave and a smile as he came into class, not much more, but he could choose to sit anywhere, right?
When McGonagall called the break, half the students stood up immediately to go grab some snacks provided or to chase down particular employees to ask more questions, or even just to wander the halls until their next batch of speakers appeared.
Theo turned around, turning his chair so that they were sitting across from each other at the long, but thin, wooden desks.
Hermione was grabbing some other homework to work on and came up to see Theo had grabbed her quill and was carefully scribing something at the top of her parchment. If it were anyone else, she would have snapped at them for writing on her notes, but she sat, frozen.
Theo finally looked up at her, "You have it all figured out, huh?" He asked. He was intelligent enough to realize what her notes were with just a look.
"Prepared," Hermione corrected, "I'm not certain of anything yet, though," She checked the tally, "It seems gunning for Minister of Magic is at the top," She said with what she hoped was a casual grin.
"You'd change the world," Theo said, his arms leaning on the desk, but also obscuring whatever he'd written. Curses.
"And you're writing nothing," Hermione said in response, noting his parchment crumpled next to his pot of ink.
"No point, innit?" He asked with a defeated shrug.
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, hating how he sounded.
"Oh, come now, you're the Smartest Witch of the Age," He gave a dry laugh, "You think any of these Ministry openings would accept the son of an inner-circle Death Eater? Sure, the courts pardoned me and others by paper, but I don't exactly see the community taking to us with open arms," He said bitterly, "Ruddy useless class, honestly."
Though he was posturing with anger, Hermione could tell that beneath it, he was hurt.
"They'd be crazy not to take you," Hermione whispered, "You're so brill, Theo."
He looked up, his sea-green eyes sparkling, and just for a second, she feared she'd given herself away. But then Theo shrugged, and her heart rate dropped just a bit.
"Sure, if you say so," He said, but on some level, he didn't believe her. Didn't believe that of himself, which was very un-Slytherin of him.
"So what will you do?" She asked, hating that after all this, he'd only manage a desk job somewhere where someone treated him awful.
"Take the money Draco and I have left from our funds, go where people care less than now," He said, "And like I told you before...do something good. Whatever that means. I'm a Slytherin; resourceful is my middle name."
"I thought it was Winston?" Hermione laughed, hoping to brighten his mood. Theo stared at her, jaw unlocked for a second, his face half-way between awe and surprise.
"How'd you...where did you…" He stumbled, "I've never told you my middle name."
"Smartest Witch of her Age, right?" Hermione replied back, leaning onto the table on her arms, smiling stupidly at him, their faces inches from each other. And oh, if everything was different. If they weren't in a Hogwarts classroom with their classmates, if she weren't dating Ron and he wasn't dating Daphne if she were bold like Gryffindor told her she should be…
She inhaled hard, drawing back. Theo jerkily moved back as well, his chair's legs screeching against the floor. Their faces were both pink and neither could look at the other.
If anyone noticed, no one said anything, and before either could say something, McGonagall was calling the class back together for the second half of class.
Hermione leaned forward, foolishly trying to catch a whiff of Theo's musk lingering in her space, and her eyes caught the words on her parchment. Her fingers traced the very careful, deliberate letters. It wasn't much; to someone less prone to over-examination of everything, they may ignore it or dis-assign any meaning to it.
But not Hermione.
In Theo's neat penmanship, it simply read 'Hermione Granger' and had a smiley face afterward.
She tilted her head, wondering why he'd written her name, and part of her wondered if he hadn't truly realized he was doing it, but it was his unconscious self that turned over her name in his mind every second of every day, trying it on his tongue and pretending he was bold enough to say it how he wanted to say it, as Hermione did similarly with his.
