A/N: it's me, with another story. I am absolutely not neglecting the Gaps to Fill. But, I wanted to start an AU, that's only really going to span out over sixth-year, whereas I plan on keeping my other story going for as long as I'm able to hehe.
As for the Return…. maybe I'll pick it back up once I've finished this story…for now, I present to you Forbidden. I mean, the idea of Hermione/Ron being sorted into a different house has been done before, I know, but oh well.
Also, there is more of a plot than just Hermione and Ron's relationship, even though the story is centered around that.
I hope you enjoy this shorter first chapter. Plus, just as a disclaimer, if I make any mistakes or if something doesn't seem that it would fit cannonly, please remember that it is an AU, which I'm very glad about, because I can use that as an excuse for my mistakes. Lol.
As always, thank you so much for your reviews. In case you didn't know, I am not JK Rowling. I know. The secret's out. Enjoyyy
Chapter 1 - A new regime
As the scarlet train's engine erupted into life, Hermione Granger grasped the handle of her suitcase and readied herself to depart. She turned, intending to wish goodbye to her father, but once she had, she realised he was already walking briskly away. Her cheeks reddened slightly as she realised her hand was waving, yet had no one to be waving to. Using the same hand to adjust her robes self-consciously, Hermione brushed off the embarrassment and headed to the train.
As per, she was the first of her friends to arrive in the Slytherin carriage. Hermione never really minded a moment of silence, though. Once all of her luggage was stowed away properly, she sat down next to the window, watching absently as parents and children made their final goodbyes.
Her summer had been lovely, mostly. Her father had sent Hermione to Costa Rica on holiday, but she was smart enough to know that it was only so she wouldn't distract him - in whatever he was up to these days. No, instead one of Hermione's personal maids had accompanied her. Martha had proven to be good company for the few weeks, although Hermione had made the maid promise not to divulge their temporary friendship to Hermione's father, who would be positively livid with the news.
Hermione tried her best to stay out of her dad's way, as of late. She knew that he was very busy, and that what he was very busy with had something to do with the Dark Lord. But, she tended to stay out of it. She trusted Voldemort, and her father, so there really was no point in trying to keep up with what was going on. Not when she had her education to worry about…
That had always frustrated her father; her devotion to her studies. He would always compare her to the 'great' Draco Malfoy, who was only devoted to helping the Dark Lord. Hermione had rolled her eyes everytime that they had this conversation. Her father, the secret Death Eater, Richard Granger, had always gushed about how imperative it was that Hermione help her leader. He had always maintained that it was a 'pure miracle' that Hermione was in the same school year as Harry Potter. But, frankly, after witnessing Draco's obsession over Potter result in absolutely nothing useful, Hermione had deemed it best to leave the inside job to Professor Snape.
Plus, school was incredibly important to Hermione, even if she wouldn't gush about it aloud. Sometimes, it was strange, her placement in Slytherin. Even if she was on the side of the Dark Lord, she couldn't say that she had always admired the things that he did. Obviously, this was something else that she would never voice to her peers. Even if many of them did well academically, it was never their first priority.
Hermione believed that she had inherited this commitment to her studies from her mother, who had passed away before Hermione could even remember. It was a sore subject to bring up with her father, but Martha had told Hermione about her mother since she was young.
She was a muggleborn who had been sorted into Gryffindor, nevertheless. Top of all of her classes, and shared the same bushy hair that Hermione wasn't so delighted about. Richard had always noted that it looked untidy, so Hermione usually wore her hair in a plait in order to conceal her wild curls. Her mother had died when Hermione was one, of a tragic illness. That was when her father had become a Death Eater; feeling as if he needed to take revenge on the world for what it had taken away from him. Hermione always used this thought as a way for her to suppress the moments of sympathy she would feel for all of the lives the Dark Lord had ruined, some with the help of her own father.
She shuddered at the images, and decided to derail that train of thought. Through the window, Hermione refocused her gaze on the view of families bidding each other farewell. Some were displaying an embarrassing amount of emotion. She watched as Draco shook hands with a considerably worried looking Narcissa Malfoy. Their goodbye appeared more like a business arrangement than two loved ones departing, but Hermione could admit that she felt sympathy for the pair, since Lucius had been sent to Azkaban not seven weeks ago.
Her line of sight flitted over to a pack of redheads. Hermione fought to roll her eyes at the sight of the presumed mother, smothering her children with kisses as if they were each four years old. The Weasleys, bless them, Hermione thought. They could easily keep a low profile during the return of the Dark Lord, what with their pure-blood status. Instead, the lot of them seemed insistent to help Harry Potter. It'll be your funeral, Hermione internally mused. But then again, she couldn't understand why a wizard of such power, like Harry Potter, would ever associate himself with that sort, despite their blood status.
"Rather pathetic, aren't they?" Hermione turned her head back at the sound of her best friend, Daphne's, voice. The other girl had obviously followed Hermione's sight.
"Oh-oh, of course," Hermione agreed, hoping that the sudden absence of conviction in her voice hadn't been noticed by Daphne.
"Oh, goodness. Look alive." Daphne nudged Hermione as Pansy Parkinson made her way into their compartment. This was why Hermione liked Daphne. Just like Hermione, her best friend was never bothered about brown-nosing the other Slytherins. Especially Pansy Parkinson. Hermione had always found her incredibly annoying. Pansy had never liked Hermione, either, of course. And this was simply because Lucius Malfoy had always plotted, along with Hermione's father, that Hermione and Draco would marry someday.
Hermione had never favoured the idea, even in the slightest. For her first few months at Hogwarts, Draco used to bully Hermione for her half-blood status. But, during the Christmas holidays of their first year, it had obviously been divulged to Draco that Hermione's father was a very valued Death Eater, and Draco's tune had soon changed. Although, he still only ever addressed Hermione as 'Granger', whilst he addressed the other Slytherins by their first names. This had hardly ever bothered Hermione, however. Draco had never seemed fussed about the idea of being married off to Hermione, either. He had barely batted an eyelid when Hermione had attended the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum in their fourth year.
As if on cue, Pansy called out, "Draco, why don't you come and sit in here?"
Hermione rolled her eyes at the overbearing desperation. But, despite his slightly sour face, Draco entered through the compartment with Crabbe and Goyle, as ever, trailing along behind him.
"Daphne. Granger," Draco greeted with a formal nod of the head as he took a seat. It was quite a funny sight; the four of them trying to squish onto one train seat.
Hermione was surprised when she looked up to Draco's pale face. He wore the same emotionless expression that she was used to. But the bags under his eyes were far more apparent, and it seemed a perpetual scowl - even more pronounced than usual - was etched onto his face.
She dismissed it, however. As it was, her mind was racing with the prospects of all of the new material she would be learning this year, in preparation for their NEWTs. Hermione hardly had the time to fret about what Draco Malfoy was up to next.
Hermione returned to watching the rolling hills pass by, as she continued to reflect on this coming year. Towards the end of the summer, she had received a letter from a 'Professor Slughorn', who was the apparent new Potions teacher. Hermione couldn't see what was wrong with Snape, herself, but she supposed it could be nice to be taught by someone who wasn't always in such a rotten mood.
The letter had entailed that she was to be part of the exclusive club that the Professor ran, where he had obviously plucked the students he thought suited it best. There was supposed to be a lunch held on the train with the new Professor, but Hermione had had to explain that she wouldn't be able to attend due to the Prefect meeting that was being run at the same time. She wasn't too bothered about missing the lunch, especially if this new Professor couldn't even coordinate it with the Prefect meetings that happened at the same time every train journey.
The train ride passed as it did usually, and soon enough Hermione and Draco had to excuse themselves to attend the standard Prefect meeting.
"Now that we've gone through the basics, I shall inform you that we're introducing a new regime for our Prefects this year."
Hermione raised her eyebrows in curiosity as Professor McGonagall scanned the pile of rotas in her hands.
"Professor Dumbledore believes it is of the utmost importance that interhouse cohesion is created, during these dark times," she continued. Hermione could hear Draco quietly scoff behind her. She rolled her eyes. But what did the Professor intend by 'interhouse cohesion'? Shortly, Hermione's question was answered.
"So, although you are used to carrying out your Prefect rounds with someone in your house, this year you will each be partnered with someone from a different house. So, here are your timetables." The Professor began to hand out the different sheets of parchment.
"Bad luck, Granger," Draco scoffed, having received his before Hermione.
"What?" Hermione asked frustratedly, softening her expression as she accepted the parchment from Professor McGonagall.
Once she had sought out her name, she immediately understood what Draco was referring to. Of all people, Hermione had, of course, been partnered with Ron Weasley.
Hermione had always respected Professor McGonagall, and the Transfiguration teacher had always seemed more than impressed with Hermione's effort and results. However, even if she respected the Deputy Headmistress, she had no idea why the Professor had allowed Dumbledore to select some of the people standing around the compartment as Prefects.
Ron Weasley, for example, displayed not an ounce of a quality that would constitute being a Prefect. He was almost always late to the Prefect meetings, or at least one of the last to roll in, clearly unafraid to exhibit the utter carelessness that he had for such commitments. She had only caught glances of the oaf a handful of times at Hogwarts, and many of those seemed to include him shoveling food into his mouth in the most disgusting manner. Honestly, hadn't anyone, in his whole life, had the sense to tell him how impolite his eating habits were? In lessons, he had never been an academic star, to say the least. So, how he had managed to even be considered for a Prefect, she had no idea. He was an idiot! This group of people were meant to be the handful of the best in their year, and he was surely far from it.
Hermione glanced up from her parchment at just the wrong time, as her eyes met the piercing blue ones that she supposed she ought to get used to. She looked away immediately. For Merlin's sake, if she thought Prefect meetings with Draco were rather dismal, she daren't imagine what traipsing around corridors with such a buffoon would be like. Once McGonagall declared the meeting terminated, Hermione turned on her heel and marched back grumpily towards the Slytherin compartment.
"What's wrong with you?" Pansy asked, a hint of malice in her voice as Hermione reappeared through the compartment door.
"Now, now, Pansy," Draco said as he followed in behind Hermione. "Have some sympathy for dear Granger, here. For the new Prefect rounds, she's been paired with the filthy Weasel, as we know him," he scoffed, sitting back down onto the seat.
"Ron Weasley? But he isn't in Slytherin?"
"Well done, Daph," Pansy mocked sarcastically.
"No need to be a bitch, Pansy," Draco said coolly.
Hermione would've smirked at the horror on Pansy's face, if she hadn't been in such a bad mood herself. "I've been… partnered with him because Dumbledore insists on 'interhouse cohesion'," Hermione explained, rolling her eyes.
"Another dim-witted idea from our excuse of a Headmaster," Draco commented with disdain.
Hermione refrained from commenting. Draco had always had something to moan about when it came to Hogwarts, but Hermione couldn't say she minded the school, or Dumbledore. You'd have to be an utter fool to counter Dumbledore's power, even if he was growing rather old.
However, she couldn't say that she at all agreed with the premise of working with people from other houses. You were placed into your house at the beginning of first year for a reason, weren't you? Houses aren't supposed to mix. Surely, that's the whole point of them. Your house will be like your family, Hermione could remember the words from the Sorting ceremony. But obviously, that whole sentiment was being forgotten this year. And Hermione felt that she was about to reap the worst effects of it.
Apart from the peculiar disturbance of darkness on the train, that even had Hermione rather flustered for a moment, the events of the first evening back were rather uneventful.
Perhaps not to everyone else, though. At one point, good old Harry Potter had walked in, late, and with a face splattered with blood. Hermione was hardly surprised, he was always getting into trouble one way or another. She knew it had to be something to do with Draco; he had insisted that the rest of the Slytherins leave him for a moment alone on the train. But, neither participants mightily shocked Hermione. The pair of them were always falling into trouble because of the other, which is just the golden example of why Hermione never indulged in her father's bids to use her schooling with Harry Potter as a vantage point of success. The expression that Draco was wearing in the Great Hall, conveyed anything but success.
The rest of Hermione's night panned out quite routinely. She methodically unpacked her suitcase, whilst talking to Daphne about nothing much. Millicent, Pansy, and Tracy all filed into the dormitory at some point as well, but Hermione wasn't overly close to any of the other girls in her year.
Once everything was in order, Hermione slipped into bed with heavy eyelids. As she drifted off to sleep, she thought about the upcoming months. Professor Slughorn looked like a disaster waiting to happen, although she found it interesting that Professor Snape had finally achieved his desired post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Hopefully he'd be better than Umbridge, but the standards were fairly low. Despite the other Slytherins' adoration for the pretentious teacher, Hermione had never been one to favour her teaching methods - or her obsession with pink, for that matter.
Her final fleeting thought, something that her conscious self wouldn't remember in the morning, was the face of freckles she had so briefly looked up at, at the end of the Prefect meeting.