The Welcome Feast was in full swing as she arranged the food on her plate. All around her, her friends laughed and joked with one another and ate their own platefuls of food. All along the long table, there were mounds and mounds of food, with all sorts of aromas that tickled her senses.
She had treated herself to a curry dish – a Venison Kofta, according to Parvati, one of her dorm-mates. Parvati, with her dark skin, and even darker, sleek black hair, had been giggling in excited whispers with Lavender Brown, another of her dorm-mates when Hermione had reached out to try the dish.
She had hesitated for only a second before carefully ladling the food onto her plate alongside a small portion of rice. In the end, it was an absolutely delightful dish – the venison was rich and tasted magnificent, and she could easily taste the turmeric and clove in the sauce. It was almost enough to tempt her with seconds.
She glanced to her right and smiled as she watched Harry and Neville laugh over something or another. Neville, as always, had opted to sit on Harry's right, while she took the seat to his left. She didn't mind the two boys enjoying their conversation – for the first time since the wedding, Harry looked relaxed, and for that, she was glad.
Even on the train, he had been distant and quiet. Perhaps something had happened, or he was simply sad to leave home – she knew she was, and yet, at the same time, she wasn't.
A year ago, she had been excited beyond measure – a whole new world to learn about and explore, hidden from the rest of the world for centuries, and she had the opportunity to enter it. She had been escorted to the platform by her parents, both worried and just as excited for her as she was.
Then, there was the train ride.
In hindsight, that should have probably been her first clue that all people, in every society, were the same. She had been held apart from her peers at primary school – known as a bossy bookworm that preferred books to other children. Her teachers loved her, and her classmates despised her. No matter what attempt she made to make friends, none would have her.
It had been similar when she had boarded the Express. She had come across a number of students that wore a uniform like Harry and Neville's – she had smiled and asked a few questions about Hogwarts, but truthfully, she couldn't remember the questions for love nor money. The scoffs and sneers she had received had etched themselves firmly in her mind, however, and she found herself in a cabin, alone, reading her own copy of Hogwarts: A History.
The trip had passed without incident, except for the arrival of one Ronald Weasley and his group of excited students looking for the famed Harry Potter. At the time, she hadn't paid much attention, as it was obvious she was in the cabin on her own, but the name had leapt out at her – she had read all about the famous Boy-Who-Lived. The child who had slain Voldemort but had been tragically orphaned in the process.
As a Muggle-born witch, she was incredibly glad to have seen the end of that monster – after all, it was wizards and witches like her that he wished to eradicate. She had immediately drawn the comparison with Adolf Hitler, and the thought terrified her. She knew evil men and women existed – she'd read enough about them in her many, many books – but to know that one had arisen so recently terrified her.
She had told the gaggle of students that she hadn't seen him, and once again, she'd been left out. Alone, with only the pages of a book to keep her company.
It had remained so until she had climbed aboard the small boat, fully expecting to remain on her own until they arrived at the castle, and yet, a girl and two boys had joined her politely. They had all smiled at one another politely, though in hindsight, hers was likely shyer than she'd intended, but they had all introduced themselves.
Harry Potter.
Harry Potter had joined her in her boat.
She'd been so excited – here was a character from her books, fictional or not, sat right in front of her. A real-life hero of the wizarding world! She'd barely been able to stop herself before she'd said how she'd read all about him. She'd instantly regretted her words, especially when she noticed him shift awkwardly before cuffing Neville across the back of the head.
Her apology, and further clarification on her feelings on the loss of his parents had stunned him, and the rest of the boat ride had been pleasant – especially seeing the castle rise up out of the darkness, the warm pinpricks of orange light dotted about the many, many windows. It had been like something out of one of her books.
Last year's feast had gone well enough – she'd been sorted into the house of the great Albus Dumbledore, just like she'd hoped. Though, Ravenclaw would also have been nice. The feast had passed quickly, and before she knew it, her first day as a witch had begun.
It hadn't been pleasant to begin with – she had been bested in a number of ways by Harry, and for the first time in her life, she had been jealous. Harry had such a firm, natural grip on his magic, it was hard to believe he was her own age. Magic responded to him without any struggle, and as a result, he was always the first to grasp new spells. The only time she came close to being better than him was in the theory, and even then, it wasn't as often as she'd liked.
She felt terrible for it, but in those first two months, she'd revelled in the fact that Professor Snape had found fault with every potion Harry had produced.
Then, there had been the Troll.
Ronald Weasley was an utter arse, not that she would ever say such a thing out loud – he was lazy, arrogant, and infuriating. She'd simply been trying to save herself from whatever catastrophe Ronald would have caused waving his wand back and forth like he had. That he'd gone on to bad mouth her quite publicly and harshly had simply been the straw that broke the camel's back.
She had run off – she hadn't been proud of it, but she refused to cry in front of him. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. And so, she had spent her first Magical Halloween in the bathroom sobbing to herself. She was alone, and the one thing she was good at, she was no longer the best at.
As she had stepped from the cubicle, she had come face to face with a twelve-foot Mountain Troll. Even now, almost a year later, she still had nightmares about it – she could still smell its vile breath as it looked down at her. The whole thing had passed in a blur, but she remembered Harry charging into the room and leaping on the back of the creature without a moment's hesitation.
She'd screamed in horror when the Troll had thrown him against the wall, and even now, as she closed her eyes and savoured the mouthful of venison, she could hear the crack of Harry's skull against the marble wall above the din of the Hall.
For a moment, she had thought him dead and her to quickly follow – and then he had moved. At first, he had remained where he had fallen, slumped drunkenly as he vomited and raised his wand defiantly as the Troll advanced upon him. Two red blasts of magic had shot out of his wand, first banishing the Troll through the wall and into the classroom next door, and then a second, launching the club in its wake.
She'd wasted no time, rushing to Harry's side as his eyes closed. It was the most terrifying moment of her life. Blood had pooled around him, staining his clothes, and making him look ever so pale. She'd rushed out of the room and had been lucky to find Professor McGonagall so quickly – the look of horror on her face, and the anguished cry as she'd taken in the appearance of Harry had kept her up the entire night.
She'd felt so guilty, and in the days following it all, she'd sat by his bed every day, doing the only thing she could think of – reading, though this time, aloud. It was during these visits that she'd met Neville properly, her fellow Gryffindor and Harry's best friend, Daphne Greengrass, and Tracey Davis – both Slytherins and pleasant girls.
Between them, they had arranged to cover Harry's notes and homework, making sure he didn't miss a thing. At first, she had been wary of the other children, though, after a time, they were all laughing and joking with one another. Neville had a gift for storytelling, and he'd told many stories of what he and Harry had gotten up to over the years – it was easy to see the bond between the two boys.
Then, two weeks later – Harry had woken up, and for the first time ever, Hermione Granger had friends. At first, it had been strange and foreign – she had expected to be excluded from most of what they all did, or at the very least, maybe even the butt of their jokes. Time had proven her assumptions wrong, she was included in everything, and she had never been the butt of any joke – some friendly teasing, of course – but never a joke.
And so, life went on in Hogwarts. Daphne and Tracey attached themselves to Hermione, glad for another girl in their group, and Hermione found a true intellectual in Harry – not that she ever doubted his intelligence, but there was something about the way he made her think about almost everything that tickled the budding scholar inside her. Not to mention, it seemed Harry loved the Library almost as much as she did – how many hours had they all whittled away, their noses buried in books in companionable silence? It had been everything she had ever dreamed of – and it was real.
She'd even gone to watch Harry in his first Quidditch match – and it had been a good job she had as well! If she hadn't burnt Professor Snape's robes, there's no telling what could have happened, and honestly, he greatly exaggerated the whole 'setting fire to a teacher' thing. Boys.
Autumn had passed into Winter, and before she knew it, Christmas had come and gone. Of them all, Harry had been the only one to remain at the castle – last minute duties having cancelled the get-together Harry, Daphne, and Neville had planned over the break. When she had returned, it had been like watching a stranger, however.
Something had been wrong with Harry. He had gone about his days as he normally would, responding to questions and the like, but he seemed so empty – nothing like the boy she knew, who always had a small smile on his face. She'd resolved herself to keep an eye on him, and so, she had eventually managed to follow him to that strange mirror.
When he had snapped out of it, he had looked so confused – so lost. It still broke her heart to just think about it, but it had been the right thing to do. He'd recovered quickly, and, in the days that followed, and she had her friend back.
The rest of the year had been uneventful, besides the whole Occamy incident – something she tried not to remember. It had easily been the most terrifying experience of her life, travelling from danger to danger – and of course, Harry had managed to save the day after Daphne and Neville had been hurt.
She didn't know what had happened after the ceiling collapsed – Dumbledore had refused to tell them anything, and Harry hadn't been forthcoming with any details, other than he had faced Voldemort once again. The fact that they'd been taught by a man with the evillest dark wizard in recent history in the back of his head had bothered her less than the idea of her friend facing him once more.
Harry had come away with a number of new scars – the most obvious just on the outside of his right eye, slightly cutting through his eyebrow. Personally, she thought it rather suited him – it gave him a rather roguish look. The worst, she knew, was the large one on his side – she'd only seen that the once when he'd lifted his pyjama shirt.
Then, as soon as the year had started – it had ended with nary but a quiet train ride home. She had kept to her books, and talked with Daphne and Tracey – agreeing to, at the very least, allow both girls to give a little advice on how to tame her hair, and even some suggestions for her wardrobe. It had all been in a bid to barter some peace – she had no idea that the two of them would go at it with such gusto.
She'd had a few weeks of relative peace from it, enjoying two weeks of sun in Barcelona with her parents and seeing the sights – they'd even visited the Magical district there, oh, and what a sight it had been! The books, the foods, the clothes, everything had simply been, well, magical.
A week into her holiday, she'd had the biggest fright of her life – and her parents' lives – when Clara had appeared in their hotel room in a burst of flame, a letter held in her beak. She'd been so excited to read it, she'd barely been able to tell Clara to wait for a response as she saw the Phoenix preparing to leave. Her parent's reactions had been hilarious – her mother's quiet shock, and her father's excitement, though she wasn't quite sure why. She'd written plenty of letters telling them both of Harry's first Familiar, though, she supposed, it was likely very different reading about it, and seeing one in the flesh – feathers – as it were.
Clara had stayed a while, eating all the raw meat they could feed her, and all the water they could get her – to say that the creature had returned to her wizard spoiled rotten would have been a gross understatement.
Her letter from Harry had been as she expected – he was touring his lands and conducting family business and would be unavailable for the next three weeks. She'd had to stop herself from asking where he was going that an Owl would have been unable to reach him, but instead, she held her tongue and simply said she understood and told him a little about her holiday so far – she'd even sent a photo of the three of them, though her father had pulled a funny face just before the camera had gone off. Even now, she rolled her eyes at his antics – sometimes she wondered which one of them was the child.
Upon her return to England, both Tracey and Daphne had descended on her like vultures. Tracey had decided to take it upon herself to expand Hermione's wardrobe, while Daphne had decided the arduous task of taming her wild hair.
While she would grudgingly admit that yes, her hair was more manageable now – not that she would ever give Daphne the satisfaction of saying that out loud, of course – and yes, she liked the clothes Tracey had picked out for her, she had despised the shopping trip the two girls had dragged her on.
Her parents had listened to none of her protests, both simply thrilled that she had girls she could count among her friends – traitors, the both of them. As a result, Tracey had dragged her shopping in London, through a number of stores such as Debenhams, Next, New Look, and even Primark – she'd been exhausted by the end of it. Even now, she could see a grinning Tracey shoving jeans, skirts, dresses, and tops into her hands before shooing her off toward the changing rooms, their parents chuckling in the background.
In the end, Hermione had bought a few items of clothing and then it had been Daphne's turn. At the time, she had thought nothing could have been worse than Tracey – she been so, so, so very wrong.
A small shudder went through her at the memory as she finished the last of her curry.
Hermione had joined Daphne in Diagon Alley the following weekend, her parents following the two of them as they meandered through the street – though, in reality, Daphne had all but dragged her. She'd even outright threatened not to let her visit Flourish and Blotts!
While in the shopping district, the two had ventured into a number of stores – some for copious amounts of hair product, and others for dresses for the Black wedding. It had taken an entire afternoon, but eventually, she had found a dress she liked – though, she would never admit that the whole process of trying on an incalculable number of dresses and twirling in front of the mirror hadn't spoken to that part of her that enjoyed the romance in all her stories.
It had been a gorgeous red, with little lions embroidered into it in fine golden thread. Daphne had rolled her eyes, and muttered something about 'bloody Gryffindors', while her mother had snapped a quick photo before Hermione could stop her. Her parents had beamed at her, her mother smiling widely with tears in her eyes, and her father had given her the thumbs up from behind.
Then, the wedding. In a lot of ways, the wedding had changed a lot, and in others, it hadn't. Harry had sent Clara to bring them to Blackwall. Like Hogwarts, Blackwall was hidden from Muggles, and the creation of a Portkey was illegal outside of the Ministry – they also didn't have a fireplace large enough for a Floo, not to mention it was a contained gas fire unit.
So, they had travelled by Phoenix.
They had arrived last, so as to make sure none would catch a glimpse of the magnificent bird – it was no secret that Phoenix feathers were incredibly rare and valuable wand cores. Harry was taking no chances with someone trying to nab one. It was rather endearing, his protectiveness.
They had arrived, and she'd been awed by the ceremony and the food. If she'd thought Hogwarts had impressive cuisine, it had been nothing compared to the food that had appeared at the table. She had been glad to have been sat with her friends, though she'd kept glancing at Harry, who had been wearing a rather nice dark outfit with the wolf of House Potter emblazoned on his breast – she'd never seen him look so happy and relaxed.
Not even during Quidditch – that terrible, terrible sport – did he smile so much, and she'd longed for him to join them at their table. She had wanted to hear all about his travels and to scratch that curious itch as to why she couldn't have written to him. There was a mystery around Harry Potter, and one day, she would solve it.
She glanced at the boy in question. He was telling Neville some story, no doubt, of something or another as the plates cleared themselves away and all the food was quickly replaced by dishes of desserts.
Ever the consummate daughter of two dentists, even hundreds of miles away, she opted for a bowl of strawberries and condensed milk, closing her eyes briefly in contentment as the sweet favours of the fruit and milk danced on her tongue.
With her eyes closed, she could hear the music that had played as the dancing had begun at Blackwall. She'd watched as Tracey, Daphne, and Neville had gotten up to dance – she had been happy for her friends, though a part of her had wished that she'd been asked as well. Daphne had been asked to dance by a handsome older boy, while Neville and Tracey had partnered up.
She hadn't expected Harry of all people to appear behind her and ask her to dance.
It had spoken to a part of her that had always been enthralled by the tales of Pride and Prejudice – the gentleman asking the lady to dance, sweeping her off of her feet.
She had agreed, and it had been one of the best nights of her life. Sure, she didn't know how to dance – she was the daughter of Dentists, not the daughter of some Lord or wealthy businessman. She had listened to Harry, ignored all the eyes no doubt watching them, and simply had fun.
He had spun her around, made her laugh, and even lifted her once! By the end of their first bout of dancing, her face was flush, and she felt a little dizzy from all the excitement.
In the end, she hadn't been able to stop looking at him for the rest of the night.
She had watched as he changed partners, spoke, and laughed with other guests. He had danced with so many and had barely sat down as the night carried on. Her parents had danced the night away as well, and when Hermione would catch a glimpse of the way the two of them looked at one another, she would deny, vehemently, that it could have been described as dreamy.
She knew that her parents loved one another deeply. They were best friends. Anyone who looked at them would be able to see for themselves just how devoted they were to one-another. Who wouldn't one day want that for themselves?
When Harry had returned to the table, she'd been happy – content, even. Nobody else had asked her to dance, and she was perfectly okay with that. Neville, she knew, had been just as busy dancing as Harry had, but she didn't hold it against him. She was happy that her only dance partner, especially her first, had been Harry – the brave boy who had jumped on the back of a Mountain Troll for her, the boy who had helped her calm down from her fear of heights after crossing the chasm beneath Hogwarts, and the boy who had made sure she left the chamber before he did.
He wasn't flawless, of course – like all other boys, he could be arrogant and thoughtless at times, but he was kind, smart, selfless, and good. She was incredibly proud to call him her best friend – not that he knew she held him in such regard, of course – she'd positively die if he ever found that out.
Then, as quickly as it had begun, the night was over – the dawn of a new day calling an end to the celebrations and their last dance together.
The rest of August had passed quickly, and before she knew it, she had found herself in Diagon Alley with Neville, Tracey, and Daphne. Neville had been unenthusiastic about going to the book signing at Flourish and Blotts, but Tracey and Daphne had simply grabbed him by the arms and frog-marched him to the store.
Really, they were supposed to wait just at the entrance from the Leaky Cauldron and meet with Harry, Sirius, and Remus – they were supposed to be the two adults supervising them, after all, but what harm would getting a good spot in the queue do, really?
They had been standing excitedly among the crowd, each of them holding a copy of whichever book they deemed the most important to their chests as they waited. It hadn't been long until she'd felt her magic tingle at the back of her mind. She'd tried to ignore it for a few minutes before finally relenting and handing Daphne her own copy, just in case, and headed for the door.
She'd stood on the step for perhaps only a second before she'd seen him – and what a sight it had been. It hadn't taken her long during their first year to realise that it had been Harry, Neville, and Daphne she had briefly met in Ollivanders the previous year, though each of them had been wearing a heavy-looking cloak over their shoulders – not that she expected any of them to remember their brief encounter.
Besides that, she had never seen Harry in his armour. He had talked about it over the year, she'd even made sure to get him some saddle soap and a leather conditioner for Christmas, but she had never seen it.
He looked like something out of one of her books – the leather gambeson and the sword making for an impressive sight. Images of tales and stories had been conjured in her mind, of brave Knights and heroes boldly walking towards their destiny – Merlin, she had her very own Arthur Pendragon, or Don Quixote or Aragorn.
She had raced towards him, her Gryffindor cloak billowing after her. Even now, thinking about how she had thrown her arms around him made her cheeks warm up a little – the scent of the leather of his armour and the other smells that were just so… Harry.
The rest of the day had passed in a blur, and so had the rest of August. Before she knew it, she was beginning her second year at Hogwarts, and oh how different it was. Arriving at the platform with friends, boarding the Express with friends – sitting in a cabin with friends. It was all she could have ever wished for.
It was a little disappointing, not being able to see the castle from the lake again but sitting in the carriages that pulled themselves along was rather fun. Harry had kept looking at the space in front of them rather oddly – almost as if he were watching something, but clearly, there was nothing there. Perhaps he had simply been brooding again. He'd done that on the train quite a bit too.
The Sorting had gone quickly, with a few more students than had been in their own year having arrived. What was interesting was seeing Harry pay much more attention to the slight blonde girl that had been sorted into Ravenclaw – Luna Lovegood.
After that, the feast had begun, and Hermione had been more than content to simply enjoy her meal and to enjoy sitting next to her two friends and bask in the warmth of the Great Hall. Even now, as she glanced over at the Slytherin table and caught Daphne and Tracey's eyes, she gave a small wave, wishing they could all sit together like they normally did.
At the sound of a chime, her attention was pulled away from the two smiling Slytherin's and toward the Head Table where all the staff were sat – even Gilderoy Lockhart was up there!
She could barely contain her excitement for the first Defence class – they would be learning from one of the most famous modern wizards. After all, not many could claim half as much practical experience as he had! Oh, and his books!
While they didn't have the spell incantations or the wand movements within them, there was no doubt in her mind that he would be passing that knowledge on in his lessons. She'd no doubt have to make notes for her notes, and that was only if she'd manage to look away from that charming smile of his.
She sighed a little.
"You okay there, Hermione?" Harry asked quietly, his emerald eyes looking at her with such an intensity that for a moment, she couldn't look anywhere else.
"Yes, yes – I'm fine. Just thinking about all the things we're going to learn in Defence."
"I think she was making eyes at Lockhart." Neville chuckled.
"I was not!" She hissed, fighting the urge to reach around Harry and slap the boy on the arm.
"He is using that smile Sirius told us about." Harry chuckled, and Hermione found herself rolling her eyes and folding her arms as the Headmaster stood slowly from his throne.
"Good evening one and all!" He called, his voice powerful and clear. "Now that our bellies are full, I have just a few short notices before we all trot off to bed. Firstly, our caretaker, Mister Filch, has asked me to remind you all of the list of banned items can be found on the door to his office and is some five-hundred items long."
"Secondly, the Forbidden Forest is, as the name suggests, forbidden to all students. There are dangerous creatures within those trees, and I would very much like for you all to avoid any unnecessary days under Madame Pomfrey's care." At this, Dumbledore motioned to the familiar matron in her white and red robes as she stood and bowed her head to the hall.
"Thirdly, the Quidditch try-outs will be held in the second week of term as usual – anyone interested should speak to our lovely flying instructor, Madame Hooch." Like the matron, the short haired instructor that had been the source of many a nightmare throughout the previous year stood up.
Hermione shivered a little as the memories of the flying lessons throughout the last year rose up from the depths of her mind. How Harry could stand to go whizzing about on a glorified twig, she had absolutely no idea – she would be just fine with both her feet firmly planted on the ground. If Harry wanted to break his neck, then, well, that would be his own stupid fault.
She found herself folding her arms and sniffing. When Harry turned around and grinned at her, she found the usual grin, which while it was normally rather charming, and dare she even venture to say cute, rather smug. She narrowed her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him, as was the responsible thing to do, of course.
"And finally," Dumbledore called out, a small smile on his lips. "I would like to take this opportunity to introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Lockhart! Please, join me in wishing our new member of staff a warm welcome."
The hall broke out into a polite applause for a few moments, though Hermione noticed that many of the boys throughout the hall were remarkably less enthusiastic as they should have been – even Harry and Neville were both clapping rather lazily, she thought. No matter, once the lessons began, they'd no doubt be far more interested.
"Now, off to bed with you all – and welcome to another year at Hogwarts." Dumbledore called once the clapping had died down.
As one, the entire assembly of students rose, and Hermione was no different. She linked her arms with both Neville and Harry and grinned up at them as they made their way from the hall. "This year is going to be the best." She grinned, realising for the first time, that both of the boys were taller than her by half a head – when had that happened?
"Hopefully your Lockhart is better than Quirrell." Neville chuckled as the three of them disentangled themselves at the foot of the stairs.
"Anyone is better than Quirrell." Harry snorted. "I'm just looking forward to a quiet year – bit of Quidditch, doing well in my exams, and, of course, wiping Hermione from the top-spot."
"You wish, Potter." She replied with a roll of her eyes. "It's not even a competition." She sniffed.
"You've been spending far too much time with Daphne." Harry grumbled.
The rest of the climb up the stairs went by uneventfully, and soon, they were in the Gryffindor Common Room and she breathed in deeply and let out a contented sigh.
"We're home." Neville grinned, wrapping his arm around Harry's shoulders. The two boys laughed as they wrestled with one another.
Hermione, on the other hand, was simply content to watch on and bask in the warmth that the main fireplace provided, the crackle of the wood soothing, and the smell of parchment relaxing her in a way only the Common Room could. No doubt, it would become chaotic as the year went on, but it was their kind of chaotic – Gryffindor chaotic. She was home.
"Right then, you two hooligans – I'm going to bed. We've got a long day tomorrow, and I expect you both up bright and early, ready to get your schedules." Hermione said, standing before the two boys – her boys – with an arched brow.
"Yes Hermione." They both replied, rolling their eyes with a grin. "Wouldn't want to incur the wrath of Hermione Granger – or worse, get expelled." Harry added cheekily, causing her face to heat up a little.
"Honestly, you two are impossible. I'll meet you both down here before going to breakfast – now shoo, go and see Clara."
She shooed them both up the stairs, lightly pushing and shoving each of them to get them started and was pleased to hear them both call a good night to her. With her role as the responsible one complete, she retreated to her own room and slipped inside.
No more than a few minutes later, her clothes were laid out for the following day, her washing taken care of, and her pyjamas were on and she was snuggled into her bed. As she lay there, staring up at the canopy, she couldn't help but be excited for the following day and everything it would bring.
"You're far too cheerful this morning, Neville." Harry pouted, shoving his fellow boy a little as they walked down the path. Hermione rolled her eyes as she flipped through her Herbology book absently, her eyes quickly taking in passages she'd book marked.
The day had started well – she had woken before her dorm-mates, as usual, and managed to begin heading out the door as Lavender had trudged from her own room towards their shared bathroom, her hair sticking up in every which direction, and a trail of saliva in the corner of her mouth.
She had met the boys in the Common Room – both surprisingly having arrived before her, though Harry looked like he was still half asleep and was propped up against Neville's shoulder rather adorably.
She had questioned it, of course, and Neville had wasted no time in revealing how Harry had stayed up half the night with Clara and Hedwig, setting his room to rights to make it feel like it had the previous year. She understood that, truly, she did – even her room wasn't set out how she liked it yet – but it was his own fault for staying up.
The three of them had made it down to the Great Hall, and before long, they had their schedules in-hand. Harry had groaned and buried his head in his arms on the table, Neville had cheered excitedly, and Hermione had quietly cursed.
The reason for Neville's joy was that Herbology was the first lesson of the day on a Wednesday, which was followed by Charms and then Care of Familiars. Her own disappointment came from the fact that they wouldn't get a chance to have a lesson with Lockhart in their first week – his lessons were first thing on a Tuesday! It was terribly unfair!
"Oh shut up, you're only grumpy because Clara pulled you out of bed." Neville snorted, adjusting the satchel strap on his shoulder.
"She did what?" Tracey asked with a giggle, her hand covering her mouth. Hermione was finding it incredibly difficult to focus on her book, even her mouth was threatening to break into a small smile, the traitor.
"Oh yeah – grabbed him by the foot, I think. Dropped him right on the floor. Heard it through the wall and everything."
"She's a bloody menace." Harry grumped, scowling at the thought of the magnificent bird. "Damned goose."
"You should really treat her with more respect – she's a queen after all." Daphne sniffed, hooking her arm through Tracey's as the two of them grinned.
"Queen my arse." Harry muttered.
"Isn't that what she dropped you on?" Neville snickered, quickly side-stepping the swipe that Harry took at him.
"Children – I'm surrounded by children." Hermione muttered, closing her book with a quick thump before she stashed it away in her own bag.
"Anyone want to tell her?" Harry asked, his eyebrow arched as he meandered down a small set of stairs that led to the greenhouses.
"Tell me what?" She huffed, hooking her hair behind her ear with a roll of her eyes.
"You're in a school – you'll always be surrounded by children." Neville chuckled as he wrapped his arm around Harry's neck and rubbed the top of his head – thankfully, Harry hadn't bothered to tie it back today.
Even she couldn't help but laugh alongside the others as Harry eventually managed to escape Neville's clutches, his hair a mess from the rubbing and sticking out in every direction.
"Let them have their fun and think themselves funny – we know better." Daphne winked, hooking her free arm through Hermione's.
"Neville, you bloody arse!" Harry growled, and for a brief moment, Neville paled slightly – or, perhaps it had simply been a trick of the pale morning light and she had simply imagined it – and took off the rest of the way to the greenhouses at a dead sprint, Harry hot on his heels.
"Boys." Tracey sighed. "I don't know why we put up with them."
"It's nice to have people around you that you're smarter than – we just don't let them know it." Daphne winked, and Hermione found herself giggling with her two friends.
It was something that she had never thought she would find herself doing. A year ago, she had thought giggling was something that girls like Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, and even Fay Dunbar did when they talked about things – usually boys.
If anyone had asked her a year ago if she thought she'd be walking down a path, arm-in-arm and giggling with two other girls, she'd have laughed them right out of the room and gone back to whatever it was she was doing.
Now though, there was something with the other two girls that she couldn't get from Harry and Neville – a sense of camaraderie and companionship. Perhaps it was because they were girls and were simply free to talk about girl things – even mature as Harry could be, he would still grimace every now and then at a comment Daphne or Tracey would make.
The three detached themselves from one another as they stepped into the greenhouse and picked up one of the many over-coats that were hung up on the rack.
Herbology was an odd class, she'd always thought. It was taught in one of several greenhouses on the grounds that were all nestled together not far from Hagrid's hut in a clearing that made sure they received sunlight during all hours of the day.
While the study of magical plants was absolutely fascinating, it was taught in a rather odd manner at times. Some lessons, the greenhouse would be arranged into a small classroom, with two chairs to a desk in a number of rows, with the plants having been pushed up to the side – other lessons, they would be stood along large trestle tables as they got practical experience in caring for something.
Today looked to be one of the former. Professor Sprout greeted each student warmly and by name – Neville especially. Though, as Hermione took his wide-eyed and flushed appearance in, she couldn't help but stifle a chuckle as Harry sat on the other side of the row glaring at him – his hair neatened, but not at all tamed like it had been.
"What's got you laughing?" Daphne whispered as they approached their two friends.
"Neville looks terrified, don't you think?" She whispered back with a grin.
"He should be – Harry's been able to kick his arse since they were eight." The Slytherin chuckled. "I've been able to do it since we were six." She added with a playful wink.
"If you did it more regularly, you might knock some sense into him." Hermione grinned, slipping into her usual spot next to Harry and began to pull her books out and place them on the desk.
Harry continued to glare at Neville and had to stop herself from sighing from exasperation. "Honestly Harry, if you glare at him much more, you'll burn a hole through him."
He turned to look at her, a small frown on his face, though she did spot the corners of his mouth twitching ever so slightly. "Now there's an idea…"
She slapped him in the shoulder before placing her bag by her feet under the desk. Quickly arranging her desk into the most efficient use of the space – notebook front and centre, spare quills on the left with ample space for her elbow to rest, and her ink-pot above the notebook and to the right – she noticed that Harry had his things laid out in a similar fashion. How long had he been doing that? Had he picked the habit up from her? Had she inadvertently picked it up from him? Why had she never noticed this before?
"You okay there Hermione?" Harry asked slowly, snapping her out of her thoughts with a start.
She blinked once. Twice. Three times. "Oh, yes – just fine, actually."
Harry nodded slowly; his lips pursed a little as his brows lifted. "Uh huh."
They were both quiet for a time, and before long, Professor Sprout began the lesson.
"Good morning everyone, and welcome back to Hogwarts for your second year!" She began, smiling that pleasant smile that endeared her to so many students. "Now, this year, we're going to be looking at how the practice of Herbology overlaps with other subjects – such as Healing and Potions."
At the sound of the collective groan of the class, Hermione rolled her eyes as she made a quick note of the Professor's words. Even a number of Slytherin's looked like they'd swallowed something remarkably sour from the corner of her eye. "Yes, yes – I'm well aware that many of you despise the subject." Professor Sprout chuckled as she paced up and down the rows slowly.
"However, what does one use to cure a poison when there isn't a Bezoar handy? Anyone?"
Hermione's hand shot up so quickly that Harry had to duck momentarily. He gave her an amused look as she bit her bottom lip in an attempt not to laugh.
"Ah, Miss Granger!"
"It would largely depend on the poison being used, however, a tear from a Felonwood Tree is known to cure most poisons."
"Excellent answer – ten points to Gryffindor. Now, if you could open your books to the first chapter, we'll go over the plan for the year."
"Know-it-all." Harry whispered, gently giving her a nudge and a smile. She rolled her eyes and nudged him back, though the corner of her mouth tugged up a little.
A year ago, the term would have bothered her – now though, with none of the sting in the words, she could appreciate the friendly teasing in which her friend meant it. "Oh shush." She whispered, "Pay attention or you'll lose us those points."
"As M'lady commands." He grinned cheekily, quickly opening out his textbook and thumbing through the introductory chapters. She rolled her eyes and opted to focus on the lesson, instead of the way his eyes had creased in the corners as he'd looked at her – yes, the lesson was much more important.
"Why does Harry look like he wants to murder Neville?" She found herself asking as they left the Charms classroom.
The class had gone well, though no one had been able to practice a spell of any kind. Much like Herbology, it had served as an introductory lesson for the year. Thankfully, however, Professor Flitwick had deigned to throw them the proverbial bones and made mention of a few notable spells they would be working on over the course of the term.
It was an excellent opportunity to read ahead and practice for the upcoming lessons – already she could picture her favourite little nook in the Library and smell the parchment around her.
"Harry has always been a little…" Daphne paused, pursing her lips as she seemed to search for the correct word. "Focused on his hair."
"Focused? Really?" Tracey snorted, leading the three of them down the stairs. "His hair is prettier than mine."
"You should have seen it when I first met him." Daphne chuckled, her eyes dancing as the two girls looked at her. "He'd had it short and it stuck up in every direction you could think – nothing could tame it."
"It can't have been that bad, surely?" Hermione grinned, imagining the well-groomed boy she knew with the image Daphne was painting.
"Oh aye – it was hilarious. Nothing he did with it could stop it either. He pouted for a whole week when I called it adorable."
"He didn't!" Tracey gasped, stepping onto the ground floor with a small skip.
"Oh he did. It's only gravity that tames it now."
"I think it looks rather nice as it is – he looks younger with it down." Hermione shrugged, linking an arm with Tracey and Daphne as they began their walk down to Care of Familiars – a subject in which Hermione found herself increasingly frustrated with.
She understood the necessity of knowing how to care for your bonded creature and the benefits to your magic that they could provide, but to be one of the very few in the entire year with no Familiar hurt. As a result, she simply found herself fussing over Fang, Hagrid's own Familiar, during most of the lessons.
She had thought she'd found one in their trip to Diagon Alley at the end of the summer – the great big orange ball of fur with the yellow eyes had just felt right in her arms. It had almost felt as if a part of her had snapped into place, as ridiculous as that sounded, upon first locking eyes with it.
She'd been tempted to buy him and surprise her parents – but what would they say to her appearing over the Easter break with such a large softie? No, they wouldn't let her keep him, and so, she'd made the painful decision to put him down and leave the store.
Sometimes though, in the nights that had passed since, she had dreamed of sitting in that store, lounging about amongst the shelves and the other creatures for sale. One night, she had gone in search of food and had found a large rat – she'd woken the following morning with the metallic tang of blood in her mouth. Obviously, she'd simply bitten her tongue in her sleep, or cut her lip somewhere.
"He does – I think he wants to grow up too quickly. I think all boys want that." Daphne sighed, rolling her eyes. There was a solemn nod shared by all three of them before the Slytherin girl smiled that lop-sided smirk of hers and drew both herself and Tracey closer towards her. "But we know better, don't we girls?"
"As if you even need to ask that question – of course we do." Tracey snickered, and Hermione placed her fingers over her lips to hide the grin on her face.
The three of them continued the walk down to Hagrid's hut comfortably – Tracey had refused the need to rush back to the Slytherin Common Room to retrieve Kiki, instead revealing the small rodent to have been comfortably asleep within one of the pockets in her cloak.
When they arrived, with Hermione grinning at Tracey trying to coach the adorable little thing out of her pocket, the three of them stepped up to Harry and Neville, both grinning up at the large giant of a man that managed the grounds of Hogwarts and taught the class.
"Hello Hagrid!" Hermione beamed – she was really rather fond of the man. He was the gentlest, kindest man that Hermione had ever met, and his dark eyes always lit up whenever he saw them in between classes or in the Great Hall.
At first, she had been terrified of him – she was only a little taller than she had been then – and he had been so large. Then, their first lesson happened. She could still remember Harry calling for Clara, and the Phoenix making her grand entrance among the distant towers of the castle and how excited Hagrid had been – not to mention just how gentle he'd been with the bird.
Now, Clara stood regally on the grass before Harry, her black eyes trained on the snow-white Owl perched on Harry's shoulder.
"'Ello 'Ermione! Enjoy your summer, did'ya?" Hagrid beamed at her through his thick, black beard.
"It was wonderful, thank you – how was yours?"
"Oh, same ol', same ol'. Mostly lookin' after the forest, honestly. Constant upkeep, it needs."
"Well, from here it looks like you've done a marvellous job." She smiled before she bent down and gave Clara a quick scratch under the chin.
"You spoil her." Harry chuckled as Hagrid went on to greet everyone else.
"And she deserves it for having put up with your antics this morning."
"My antics? She dropped me on my bloody arse!"
"Language, Harry – she's a magnificent creature and you should be awed by her presence." She nodded, grinning as the Phoenix hopped closer to her – it was almost like she agreed with her.
"Traitor." Harry muttered, narrowing his eyes at the bird, and Hermione couldn't stifle the giggle that escaped her lips.
They were quiet for a time, the students trickling in slowly either on their own or in small clusters of two or three. Those with dogs were the wildest – the animals running around and burning off what energy they could with their tongue's half out of their mouths, while those with cats wandered in lazily without a care in the world.
Sometimes, she thought, people often reflected the animal that they were bonded to. Daphne, whose Familiar was the appropriately names Merlin Hawk, had the most calculating gaze she had ever met. The Slytherin held herself with a fierceness and pride that was only matched by her small companion. Tracey was as sociable, playful, and curious as her own Familiar. Harry was as proud as Clara, and had an equally playful side, but there were also parts of Hedwig in him – his resourcefulness, his selflessness. Neville was the only one that she struggled to find similar traits in – though, she would be the first to admit, she avoided interacting with Trevor as much as she could.
"Hermione." Harry began, settling down on the grass next to her, the thin leather of his coat billowing about around him. She sank down into the grass on her knees, carefully tucking her cloak under herself to avoid getting the green marks on her knees.
"Yes?" She answered, turning to look at him with a quirk of her eyebrow.
"Would you want to use Hedwig during these classes? I know she's not your Familiar, but she likes you well enough, and, well, I've seen how you were all year watching us all with ours, and-"
Her mouth fell open.
Harry paused in his ramblings and cleared his throat a little. "I thought you would prefer Hedwig to Fang – I know how you feel about drool."
"Are – are you sure? I know how much she means to you." She murmured, idly aware of the others sitting down around her – Daphne joined her on her left, and Tracey just a little further in front of her and Harry, while Neville lounged on Harry's right, letting Trevor jump between his hands.
"Aye – it's why I brought her with me this year." He shrugged, holding and arm out as Hedwig walked slowly across his shoulders and towards her.
Slowly, she raised her arm and grinned as Hedwig hopped onto it and gently nipped her ear. "Hello Hedwig, aren't you looking beautiful today." She remarked, watching as the bird stood a little taller. She looked at Harry, "I'll take good care of her during the lessons, Harry."
"I know you will – Hedwig would accept nothing but the best."
"I think Merlin still has a thing for Hedwig, you know." Tracey grinned over her shoulder, looking between the two birds.
Hermione blinked and turned to look between the small Hawk and the Owl. "I beg your pardon?"
"I think Merlin fancies Hedwig." Tracey shrugged, and Daphne snorted.
"Please – Merlin is half her size, not to mention a Hawk." Daphne scoffed, though her amusement was clear. "Next you'll be saying Trevor's been flirting with Kiki."
"Who's flirting with who?" Neville asked, sitting up with a grunt.
"Merlin and Hedwig, and Trevor and Kiki." Daphne replied, and Hermione could help but laugh quietly, scrunching her nose a little at the thought of it all.
"What about Clara? Who's flirting with her?" Hermione asked, nodding to the bird contentedly sat in Harry's lap as he ran a finger down her neck.
Harry snorted, clearly amused by the question. "If you think Clara would settle for anyone, you're mad."
"Dumbledore has a Phoenix, what about that?" Tracey asked after a moment. Hermione had to admit, she was somewhat intrigued as to the question herself.
"Who, Fawkes? Clara's bigger than him by at least a third – not to mention she'll only go on a hunt with him. I think she finds him rather disappointing – or irritating. It's hard to tell."
"Only a Phoenix would find another disappointing." Neville scoffed with a grin.
Hedwig barked from her spot just before her, and Hermione quickly found herself leaning down to murmur to the gorgeous bird. "Don't you listen to any of them, Hedwig – you're doing just fine, aren't you?"
Hermione scratched the Familiar beneath her beak a little and grinned as the Owl playfully nipped at her fingertip.
As Hagrid's voice rang out and all the classes were settled, there wasn't a doubt in her mind that this year was looking to be much better than their last. She had her friends around her, and their classes already promised to be fascinating – what could possibly go wrong?
