Hermione Granger was not a lovable girl. She didn't laugh all the time. She didn't twirl her hair while smirking at boys. She wasn't warm and inviting. She definitely wasn't charismatic. No room of people had ever turned to peer at the door when she entered.
But she already knew this.
And sure, it would be nice to have a couple of friends outside of Harry and Ron. And wait, Ginny, too. And sort of Luna as well, she guessed, though she couldn't exactly call them her close friends.
I mean, it wasn't as if she could tell Ginny every sordid detail about her and Ron's last argument. Or about Harry's idiocy last night with his revisions. Ginny didn't exactly want to talk about her brother, and she most definitely could not tolerate even the slightest insult against Harry.
Alright, so? She didn't have any friends outside of Harry and Ron. And was Ron really even her friend anymore? It was more complicated than that. They had kissed.
It was a nice kiss. She wasn't complaining about that part. It was more so all the stuff that came after it. For example, the angry letters about why she hadn't reminded him of Harry's birthday coming up this summer (we've only been friends for seven years, Ron!), or why she was always nagging him to go back to Hogwarts for an eighth year (we never attended our seventh year in the first place!). Yeah, that could get a little tiring sometimes.
Plus, now they wouldn't be attending school with her this year. So yeah, she was kind of wishing she had at least one friend outside of those two gits.
Well. Even if she wasn't lovable, she was definitely intelligent. That always counted for something. At the very least, she would be asked to help someone with their homework, and maybe that would result in a friend or two. Also, she was determined to branch out this year and make a friend outside of her house. It was more important than ever to bridge the divides that existed in the wizarding world. It had always been Voldemort's mission to create barricades between the different types of wizards and witches, so it would always be Hermione's mission to do the opposite.
Hermione loved a challenge.
She supposed that's what had granted her Head girl, she thought as she lightly traced the letter "H" on her new badge. She idly wondered which current seventh year was currently cursing her under their breath for returning for an eighth year and thus stealing the glory of being Head Girl. Hermione didn't really know anyone in the year below her except for Ginny and Luna, so she supposed it could be anyone.
She picked up her quill. She wanted to thank McGonagall for the honor, and ask her who Head Boy would be as well. She hoped it would be Neville. She felt he would likely return for an eighth year too, especially considering she had heard rumors he had started dating Hannah Abbot from Hufflepuff in his seventh year.
Indeed, it would be a strange year at Hogwarts. Because so many students were out of school due to the war last year, everyone had been given the option to repeat the year. Additionally, a new class of first years would still be accepted to Hogwarts this year, because they couldn't really refuse to take them if they were already eleven years old, could they?
This meant there would be eighth years. Some of them would be like Hermione—attending because they had never gotten to attend seventh year in the first place—and some of them would be like Neville—attending because they hadn't actually learned anything in their seventh year. Hermione had already heard from McGonagall that a lot of the lower year students had opted to repeat last year rather than proceed to the next one due to fears of failing OWLs or NEWTs because they attempted to take them when they weren't actually ready.
Hermione shuddered.
Imagine taking NEWTs when you knew you hadn't been able to revise?
That was almost scarier than facing Voldemort.
XXX
The reply from McGonagall was surprisingly short. Hermione weighed the parchment in her hands before unfurling it. McGonagall must have been in a rush to reply due to all the stress of being Headmistress the first year Hogwarts reopened since being overrun with death eaters. Hermione felt guilty. She shouldn't have written McGonagall such a long letter right before the start of term.
Dear Hermione,
I am very happy to hear you have accepted the Head Girl position. Indeed, it is truly my joy and pleasure to be able to offer it to you this year. Head Boy will be Draco Malfoy. More instructions to follow soon.
Yours, etc,
Professor M.
Hermione read the letter rather quickly. Then she read it again, because she had obviously read it too quickly the first time. She sat down on her bed. She rubbed her eyes. She rummaged through her desk drawer for her old glasses. She laughed. She rubbed her eyes again. She read it out loud finally, because surely her ears would catch what was escaping her eyes.
Head Boy will be Draco Malfoy.
What a strange way to spell Neville Longbottom!
She read it again. A heavy feeling settled into her stomach this time. It was like butterflies, but as if they all dropped dead at the same time. That definitely did not say Neville Longbottom. And she was pretty certain Professor McGonagall knew how to spell…
Suddenly, she felt sick. She was going to wretch. She ran to the bathroom and collapsed over the toilet, still clutching the letter in her little hand.
Her every heave seemed to echo in the little toilet:
Draco Malfoy, Head Boy.