The start of Easter break signaled Albus Dumbledore's departure from Hogwarts, leaving dark cloud hanging over the school, as its students were subjected to the insanity that was "Headmistress" Umbridge. Her corporal punishments were brutal, leaving every caught member of the DA with nasty gashes, hateful words carved into their delicate flesh. It was a jarring sight and even the Slytherins felt bad for the former DA trainees – though they'd never admit it. Merlin forbid they appear sympathetic to mudbloods and blood traitors.
Dobby had come to warn them, but he was moments too late. Some of the DA had escaped, but quite a few were apprehended. Though, Luna had somehow "slipped" from Draco's grip and disappeared, but Umbridge paid little attention to her. She had the Harry Potter and proof of Dumbledore's misdeeds.
She'd definitely be getting a promotion now.
The abused, raw flesh stood out in the light of the school and Hermione winced understandingly. She knew the sting, even softened by the potions Draco had provided her. Merlin only knew what she'd do to other students if they broke one of her insane rules. Her decrees seemed to cover every inch of the walls, taunting them with each new "law".
Dumbledore had taken full responsibility for the DA's meetings, claiming Harry had only acted under his instruction; he saved Harry from the same charges he faced and insisted it was all him. News of his escape from two Aurors, the High Inquisitor herself and the Minister was known throughout the school the morning after it occurred, though no one would tell where the story originated from.
Hermione knew Ron suspected her of selling them out, despite the protests of other members. SNEAK was sprawled across Marietta's forehead yet he truly believed she'd sold them out and blamed Marietta. It was obvious Harry did not hold the same animosity toward his fellow Gryffindor, but Ron was insistent – though he made no further attempts against her (whether because Dumbledore had finally corralled his madness or because he feared Umbridge's wrath, she wasn't positive).
Draco was appointed Head of the Inquisitorial Squad for his "diligent work" in catching Harry Potter and his "band of misfit delinquents." He, and the others, were granted authority over the others – giving them the right to dock points for whatever they deemed inappropriate and giving them free reign of the castle. The other Slytherins enjoyed the power, but having calmed relatively over the months, Draco didn't let it go to his head. He simply relished the freedom of it all.
Surprisingly, Hermione was allowed to keep the quarters Dumbledore had offered to her. Umbridge paid her no mind now that she wasn't associated with Potter. In fact, she was rather cordial after she noticed Draco and Hermione conversing in the hall. What they didn't realize was that she had a plan.
Umbridge prided herself on being a bright woman (most would argue, but no one dared to say it aloud for fear of punishment). She knew the Riddle heir was either a potential threat or asset to her control of Hogwarts – and the Ministry, when she was of age, so she needed a way to ensure Hermione remained on the side of the "righteous" and did not stray. If she was no longer under Dumbledore's thumb and Potter's lunatic spouting (seeing as she was nowhere near the DA's meeting and showed little sympathy for Potter's plight), Hermione could be manipulated – groomed – to become a vital piece to the Ministry. Her grades were outstanding and, seeing as she was a pureblood and not muddied, she could easily be a fine witch.
"You called for me, Professor?" Draco wondered, peeking into the Headmistress' office. She'd been locked out of Dumbledore's previous office and was left dwelling in the one she'd acquired as a professor. It irritated her greatly, but she could not open the room to save her life.
She gestured for the young man to enter and smiled at him, oblivious to his wince. Whenever she smiled, his body would tense and a shiver would drag its way along his spine. She was a rather creepy woman – all pink everything and cat obsessions were signs of insanity, right? "Come in, take a seat."
He settled himself on the edge of the chair, warily studying the new headmistress.
"You are friends with Hermione Riddle, correct?" She forced down her shudder. To be the spawn of that man…
"Yes ma'am," he replied cautiously, apprehensive of where this conversation was heading.
Her smile turned predatory and she leaned forward. "How would she like to become a member of the Inquisitorial Squad?"
-X-
"She wants what?!" Hermione screeched, spinning on her heel and stumbling backward when the stunned boy rammed into her.
Steadying himself and Hermione, he shrugged. "She wants you to join the Inquisitorial Squad."
"Why? She hates me!" Hermione threw her arms up in exasperation, glaring at the sheepish blonde.
"She only hated you when you were friends with Potter. Now that you're not? You're strong and she knows it. Your "morals" are shaken and if she can turn you into a Ministry puppet, you'll keep order. No one realizes what you're capable of, but they know you're powerful and that makes you dangerous."
Grunting, Hermione's glare only intensified, though Draco knew it wasn't directed at him. "So I either join and become a puppet or I paint a giant target on my back and let her drag me through the mud?"
"Think about it this way: you'll have permanent protection. You don't have to become her lackey, just make her think you are. Play into her delusion, get the privileges and do whatever you want. That's what I do. I dole out punishments and point deductions to those who annoy me, bug Potter and Weasel King, and appreciate the perks."
Sighing, Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and slammed her eyes closed. "Draco…"
"Just think about it over Easter break, okay? It'd be easier to protect you this way and fulfill my promise to Aunt Bella that I make sure you're safe. Sometimes, we have to do things we don't want to, but what we have to do to survive. Our lives are examples of that, Hermione. We do what we must to stay alive; to keep our heads above the tide. We hate it, but we play the parts we've been assigned." Heading for the Great Hall, Hermione pondered the proposition. He wasn't wrong, but the idea of working for that horrid toad left a nasty taste in Hermione's mouth. "Oh, Mother is coming to Hogsmeade during our next visit. She has another supply of potions."
"Thank you for grabbing them for me last time, I was a bit distracted." Hermione blushed at the memory, the tips of her ears glowing crimson and a low fire burning in the pit of her belly.
Chuckling, he smirked at his companion. "A bit?"
"Shut up." She nudged Draco playfully and a quiet laugh was shared between them. She appreciated their familiar repartee, finding solace in the comfort he offered just by being himself.
Vibrations rattled through the statues and tapestries, the stone of the walls shaking beneath the tremors, the low grumble of explosions echoing through empty halls. They shared a concerned glance before racing down the hallway, their steps eclipsed by the deafening booms the closer they drew. Pausing behind a small crowd, Hermione was thankful the group was relatively short in stature.
Along the central staircase, fireworks were erupting from a crate resting near the top of the stairs with dragons of gold, green and red blended into the sparks. Sparklers, rockets (similar to the bottle rockets Mr. Granger had purchased when she was a little girl), firecrackers and any other firework imaginable were bursting forth. Every time Umbridge attempted to corral and fight off the nuisances, they'd only grow and fight back.
Umbridge singed and darkened with soot was the best she'd ever looked. Hermione couldn't contain her giggles, but she pressed her hand to her lips in hopes of quieting it slightly though they were muffled by the explosions.
Filch was horrified, standing at Umbridge's side as they tried valiantly to combat the enchanted fireworks. A flying saucer of an explosive barreled toward the "headmistress" and her shriek of terror brought Hermione to tears, shaking arms encasing her stomach as she held herself upright.
Draco was stunned, his eyes widened and jaw slacked but he couldn't keep his eyes from drifting to his companion. Her laughter was infectious and the uptick of his lips betrayed his delight, his throat quivering as he fought back his chuckles.
When the fireworks disappeared out a nearby window, the crowd of students parted for Umbridge as she charged out the doors and onto the grounds with Filch on her heels. Knowing she and Filch would be spending their Saturday (and the first official day of Umbridge's appointing) chasing down rogue fireworks and trying to find a suitable means of ending them sent Hermione spiraling into rib-aching, body quaking laughter and Draco was forced to support the Gryffindor's weight when her knees buckled.
Merlin, today was shaping into a good day.
-X-
Easter Holiday rolled along, the incident with the fireworks having brightened up the gloominess of Umbridge's reign. Teachers had her running ragged, leaving Umbridge to deal with the escaped fireworks terrorizing classrooms. She'd caught sight of the headmistress, dirty and exhausted, leaving Flitwick's room with him saying, "I could have got rid of the sparklers myself, of course, but I wasn't sure whether I had the authority…" before slamming his door in her face.
It had sent her into another fit of giggles.
Tuesday evening, Hermione was tucked away in her quarters, ink splattered across her skin and a blank sheet of parchment mocking her from its home on the desk. She'd been trying to study for her upcoming OWLs, writing down what she believed would be pertinent knowledge, but the words were blurring into a glob of black mess and her ring was throbbing, distracting her from the textbook. Her potion stock was running low, leaving her to ration it out the best she could.
I wonder if Severus…
A knock on the door startled her from her thoughts and she set the quill dangling precariously from her fingers onto the wood. Strolling over to the door, Ginny's face greeted her, a devilish and toothy grin tugging her lips.
"Hey," she drawled, leaning against the frame. Her eyes were twinkling and wary curiosity filled Hermione's stomach.
"Good evening. What can I do for you, Gin?"
Ginny's grin seemed to deepen, a dangerous glint in her eye. "I need your help."
Brow cocked, Hermione tilted her head. "With?"
Slipping into the room, Ginny glanced around the door before closing it with an audible clink. "Fred and George need your help, actually."
If her eyebrow rose any higher, Hermione was sure it'd been lost in her hairline. "Ginny, I will not participate in any of the insanity that is your brothers' schemes."
"It'll be funny though. Please?" Ginny pouted, blinking her wide doe eyes at the older Gryffindor.
"No." Glancing away from the gaze, Hermione's resolve melting away. It was difficult telling the girl no when she was looking at her like that.
Ginny's bottom lip began to tremble and she gripped Hermione's arm. "Hermione," she whined, "Please?"
Huffing, Hermione peered over at her discarded parchment. "But…"
Grinning victoriously, Ginny grasped Hermione's hand and started tugging her toward the door, ignoring her half-hearted protests. She needs the break anyways.
-X-
Absently spooning oatmeal into her mouth, Hermione's dark eyes traced the print of the Daily Prophet. She was sitting alone; Ginny had joined Draco at the Quidditch pitch, using his privileges to their advantage. Umbridge had cancelled their remaining games in an attempt to spite the passively rebellious staff and students, but the Inquisitorial Squad were still allowed to practice – so Draco invited the Gryffindor to tag along, much to Ginny's delight.
Frowning at another headline about Sirius Black's "dastardly deeds," it became evident the Ministry was grasping at straws; obvious in their quick endeavor to blame the easiest targets nowadays (being an escaped Azkaban prisoner that wasn't tied to the Dark Lord and a defamed Headmaster). With Dumbledore's getaway from the grounds and the havoc undoubtedly wreaked by the Death Eaters, they were running out of excuses.
Oblivious to those remaining within the school over Easter break, Hermione missed the quiet, "Harry, what are you doing?!" and the footsteps stopping directly behind her.
A shadow fell over her shoulder and she twisted at the waist, peering up at the meekly smiling Golden Boy himself. "Harry."
Harry winced at the frosty tone, unaccustomed to the narrowing gaze and distrustful tensing of Hermione's spine. "C-can we talk?"
An unimpressed brow climbed upward and Hermione crossed her arms. "I don't think we really have anything to talk about."
"Please, Hermione," he begged, his green eyes glittering with guilt and unshed tears. He'd come to the realization a while ago that he was being a prat to his former friend and confidant, but he'd never gotten the courage to admit it.
If he didn't apologize now, he feared he would never find the nerve to again.
Clicking her tongue, she studied her fellow Gryffindor warily, taking in the uncomfortable shuffling from one foot to the other; how his hands clenched, palms slick with anxiety. Taking pity on him, she stood from the table and followed behind Harry in silence. Strolling out of the Great Hall, he led her toward the courtyard, ignoring the curious looks and away from prying eyes. She could feel Ron's gaze in her back, but she simply rolled her eyes and continued on.
Inhaling deeply, Hermione smiled at the fresh air caressing her skin. The cobblestone courtyard was relatively empty, aside from the occasional student shuffling into the castle. Harry awkwardly settled himself on bench, pressed as close to the edge of one side as he could be. Hermione followed his example, her eyes flitting across his hunched form and gauging him by the tautness of his posture.
"What do you want, Harry?" she finally sighed, the prolonged silence unraveling her iron-clad nerves and leaving her as vulnerable as the day Harry had thrown her under the proverbial bus. She was disgusted with herself for feeling raw, but he'd been her friend for so long that a part of her still wanted his approval (despite how backwards that thinking was).
Flexing his fingers, Harry's head seemed to droop lower. "I know that I don't deserve your time, but I wanted to apologize – for everything. For how I acted at the meeting over Christmas, for letting Ron treat you so bad. You were one of my closest friends and I…"
"Threw me under the bus?" Hermione provided sarcastically, glancing down disinterestedly at her nails.
Harry chuckled humorlessly. "Yeah. It was wrong."
"It was wrong?" Hermione sputtered crossly. "That is the mother of all understatements. You kicked me aside without a second thought! Threw me to the wolves and left me to flounder alone, but had the audacity to judge me for befriending Draco. None of you stopped to think about how this affected me! You only thought about yourselves! I had no one left, so yes, I accepted Draco's kindness and yes, Narcissa became my guardian because the Order clearly wasn't willing to be helpful. But I was still the villain for trying to find a home; to find someone – anyone – to be on my side!" Angry tears trickled down flushed cheeks, her chest heaving with fury and hurt.
"I know," Harry whispered, glaring at the ground. He couldn't look her in eye, terrified he'd see what he feared most in her eyes: hatred, disgust, or worse – nothing.
"No, you don't," Hermione hissed, though the malice she'd hoped for was absent; it only held a brokenness she couldn't stand.
Peeking up, Harry's brow furrowed and his guilt swirled dangerously in his stomach. "You're right. I don't. But Merlin, Hermione, I am so sorry. If I could take it back I would. I never meant to hurt you. I was so blinded my hatred for Him," his fists clenched, "That I forgot who you were and it's one of the biggest mistakes I've ever made."
They sat in weighty silence, the only sound being their harsh breaths.
"I know I don't deserve it, but can you ever forgive me? Please? I want to make this up to you, Mione," he implored, chewing his bottom lip.
"I…" Hermione swallowed roughly.
"I know things won't be the same. But, I hate not having you in my life…"
Hermione bit her lip, unaware of how deep her teeth had sunk in until a metallic taste landed on the tip of her tongue. A part of her wanted to tell the Gryffindor to go fuck himself; utilizing the chance to make him feel even an ounce of the heartbreak she had.
"Sometimes, we have to do things we don't want to, but what we have to do to survive. Our lives are examples of that, Hermione. We do what we must to stay alive; to keep our heads above the tide. We hate it, but we play the parts we've been assigned."
"Harry…"