A/N: this was supposed to be a 10k word chapter but i decided to split it because the second half had a different tone from this one hehe :) enjoy!
November 5, 1992
"Are you all going to take much longer?" Tracey asked vexedly with her chin atop her palm. Her plate of food had been emptied ten minutes ago, around the same time it had been filled. It wasn't because Tracey had only put a small portion for herself, but because she had scarfed everything down quickly to prove a point.
Nobody said anything to acknowledge that they heard the blonde, except Crabbe who rolled his eyes. Tracey continued, "You know, if you were all vegetarian like me, you wouldn't have this problem."
"What problem?" Drawled Millie. "You think that eating for more than ten minutes is a problem?"
"Sure," she replied. "See, look at me—I've finished everything in five. It's because I'm vegetarian now."
"That doesn't make any sense," mumbled Hermione quietly.
"Eating vegetables is not going to make us eat any faster, you daft bimbo." Millie retorted.
Tracey's eyes twitched. "Yeah? Well, maybe you should give it a try, Mills. Merlin knows you could do with a little less meat..." she mumbled.
Millie dropped her fork. "What are you saying?"
"Nothing at all! I just meant that being vegetarian has its perks. What did you think I meant, Mills?" Tracey said with a coy smile. Millie glared at her for a second more before picking up her fork and stabbing the chicken leg on her plate.
Tracey claimed to be a vegetarian ever since yesterday when she had had a conversation with a fifth-year Slytherin girl who demonstrated the benefits of that lifestyle. Tracey then proceeded to eat no chicken, beef, or fish, and only opted for plant-based foods. Despite the fact that meals at Hogwarts were plentiful and varied, there was only a little that excluded any sort of meat completely. The ones that were plant-based were usually… well, desserts.
Tracey looked down her nose at Goyle's plate, "All that greasy fat from your chicken is making me nauseous."
"You think your food was any better?" Goyle asked. "You had a whole box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and like, six pumpkin pasties."
She raised her chin even higher. "It's meatless," was all she said.
After five more minutes of rushed meal time, Hermione, Tracey, Millie, Crabbe, and Goyle left the Great Hall and made their way to their next class: Defence Against the Dark Arts.
While they walked, Tracey continued boasting. "We should just all be vegetarian. It's better for literally everyone."
"What about cow breeders and people who take care of livestock?" Hermione asked. "They'd lose their jobs if everyone stopped buying from them."
Tracey raised her hands. "Then, obviously, they should just use those animals to make leather for bags or something, I dunno."
Hermione cocked her head. "Are you… are you joking?"
Tracey shook her head.
"You know, Trace, people usually go vegetarian when they want to save animals' lives, not kill them in some other less justified way."
Crabbe agreed. "I've got an auntie who's vegetarian because she saw a pig being killed. Now she's all about saving the animals."
"I'd respect your decision, but I don't think you've got your principles quite right," Hermione said while Millie sniggered. Tracey, however, only examined her pristine nails, choosing to ignore her.
They arrived at the classroom and found two Ravenclaw boys alone inside… seated on the Slytherin side of the room. Uh-oh, Hermione thought. This was an opportunity for her friends to exert power over their peers. Crabe and Goyle had already spotted them before she did, and they made a beeline to the blue-clad students.
Hermione hesitated before following them reluctantly.
"Oi," hollered Goyle. "What do you think you're doing, sitting over here?"
The five Slytherins enclosed the Ravenclaws in the way they did when they were bullying people. Hermione was uncomfortable as she heard Weasley's voice in her head saying, neutrality sides with the oppressor.
"Nothing, we're… we're just sitting." The redhead said, probably confused as to why the Slytherins were confronting them.
"In case you haven't heard, nerd," Millie said. "This is the Slytherin's side of the room."
"No, we haven't heard, actually. It's because there's no such thing as a Slytherin side. Nor is there a Ravenclaw. This class—" the redhead gestured to the empty classroom. "It's free-seating. Professor said so."
Hermione was impressed. Very seldomly do people stand up to her friends, but when they did they were usually the Gryffindor sort. Ravenclaws normally appealed to their logic and opted to back off before the situation got any worse.
"Yeah?" Crabbe challenged. "Well, we say it's not. This side is ours. Go back over there."
The two boys looked at each other briefly before the dark-skinned boy with green eyes spoke. "No. We're not going to. You can't just bully us into submission like the others. We're not afraid of you."
Said the redhead, "If you want these seats, you're gonna have to fight us for it."
Crabbe and Goyle stood straighter and exchanged evil smirks. "Oh, we will." Goyle stepped forward and took the redhead by his collar. His arm raised as if to punch him, but before he was able to push through with the assault, however, Professor Lupin entered the room.
"Goodness, early students! My, Mr. Goyle, what are you doing with Mr. Sinclair?" Everyone balked as they stared at Lupin. Millie relaxed her guarded stance and Tracey dropped her hands from her waist to her side.
Goyle dropped the smug-looking Ravenclaw. "Just… fixing his collar, Professor." He then proceeded to make a show of straightening the boy's collar, which Goyle had ruffled in the first place.
"Take your seats, children. We'll be having a pop quiz as soon as the rest of your classmates arrive, so I suggest filling your minds with as much knowledge you can muster before the hour is up." Lupin made a beeline to his desk and arranged the test papers from his messenger bag.
Crabbe said lowly, "Wankers."
The Slytherins reluctantly made their way to the other side of the room, where Ravenclaws usually sat. As students filed in, most of them stopped at the entrance, baffled at the new seating arrangement. Some went back to their seats from the day before, while the others understood that the two sides of the classroom were still divided House-wise. Draco and the others were a few minutes late, but didn't ask why the classroom's setup was different because the quiz had already begun.
The quiz was long and tedious, which made everybody feel extremely drained afterward. As the group headed out to their next class, Hermione stayed behind to ask Professor Lupin about a question in the quiz they had just taken. When she was satisfied with his answer, she took her bag and walked out of the room.
She was stopped on her way out by the two Ravenclaws. "Lestrange." The redhead called out as he leaned next to the door.
"What do you want?" She propped her hand on her hip and shifted her weight, narrowing her eyes at them.
The boy only said a few words. "Tell your friends to meet us behind the Quidditch pitch after classes." He turned away from her.
His friend added, "And don't be late." The pair walked off.
Hermione wasted no time. She rushed to the Herbology greenhouses and located Daphne as quickly as she could. The girl had saved her friend an empty seat, and Hermione slid into it, hastily throwing her book bag on top of the table.
"Daphne," Hermione said. "We've got a problem."
"What's wrong?"
Hermione told her what had happened in the previous class before she arrived, as well as what happened after. Daphne's eyes widened.
"Daph, what am I going to do?"
"We've just been challenged to a duel! You've got to tell them, Hermione. You absolutely must."
"If I tell them, someone's going to end up in the Hospital Wing. I don't want anyone to get injured."
"If you don't tell them, no one's gonna turn up, and our reputation's going to be ruined. Do you want that?"
Hermione wanted to tell her that she didn't give a damn about their reputation, but she kept her mouth shut. A true Slytherin would care, wouldn't they? The truth is, Hermione was still bothered over what the Sorting Hat had told her over a year ago—it had claimed that she wasn't fit for being in Slytherin, and would do much better in Gryffindor, of all houses. "I don't know Daph…" she said
She scowled. "What's gotten into you, Hermione? You used to be angry when people threatened us. Anyway, it doesn't matter because if you're not telling them, then I will."
Hermione looked away. "That might be a better idea actually."
So Daphne walked away from Hermione towards Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco. From the corner of her eye, Hermione saw that the trio had received the news gladly. They were delighted to be challenged to a duel, and from the looks of it, they weren't going to decline.
"So… what did they say?" Hermione asked Daphne once she came back to her seat.
"They accept. Of course, they do. We're invited too, you know. To watch them when they win."
"How are you so sure they'll win?"
Daphne looked at her best friend with an evil glint in her eye. "Let's just say Crabbe's got a trick up his sleeve."
It was a chilly October evening. On nights like this, Hermione preferred to be snuggled up next to the common room's hearth while reading a heavy, juicy tome. Instead, she was standing in the cold, clad in only her school robes to fight off the frostbite. A warming charm would have done the job, however, Hermione didn't want to risk getting caught using magic. Sneaking out was mischief enough.
The Slytherins who were present were busy planning with Crabbe and Goyle, who would be dueling with the Ravenclaws. Their voices were loud in the otherwise quiet night. Hermione tuned them out, focusing on keeping her fingers warm.
As the clock struck to signify the new hour, the Ravenclaws appeared.
There were four of them. The two boys from class earlier were flanked by two other Ravenclaws—a boy and a girl. It was much too dark to see their faces, and Hermione could not tell whether they were as angry-looking as their companions.
"Ah, finally!" Draco said. "We thought you'd never come."
"We aren't backing down from a duel we asked for."
"Could've fooled us," Pansy snickered.
The girl from Ravenclaw spoke loudly, "No more wasting time. Who will be dueling?"
"I will," said Goyle.
The girl nodded. "From our side, it will be Torin."
The redheaded boy stepped forward, lifting his chin in defiance.
Goyle and Torin Sinclair took their positions across each other, about three meters apart. Everybody else moved out of the way. Hermione stood next to Millicent and took her hand.
"Wands at the ready," said the girl. "There will be no use of unforgivables." She looked pointedly at Goyle, then at the other Slytherins. "Under no circumstances, understood? On my count… three… two… one… begin!"
But Goyle had already begun even before she finished counting down. He cast, "Locomotor Mortis!"
Sinclair moved swiftly, much to Goyle's chagrin. Somewhere behind then, the Ravenclaw girl complained about him casting too early and breaking the rules, but nobody paid her any attention. Sinclair was now casting a disarming charm at Goyle, which he had fought against with a Protego.
If she was being completely honest, she didn't know Goyle could duel well… or at all, actually. He was abysmal at best in Defense class, hence her worry that someone would end up in the Hospital Wing. She felt relieved. If he did lose, at last, he put up a fair fight.
But alas, Hermione's daydreams of the duel ending fairly were just that—daydreams. The Ravenclaw now had the upper hand. He was throwing jinx after jinx at Goyle, who was looking very distressed. He was panting and sweating in exertion after having cast four shielding charms in a row.
Sinclair was on a warpath.
Just when Hermione thought he would concede, Goyle called out, "Now!"
Suddenly, Pansy, Blaise, and Theo simultaneously cast Petrificus Totalus spells at the three Ravenclaws, causing them to topple over like wooden figurines. Draco threw a verbal Incarcerous at Sinclair, and the hexes aimed at Goyle stopped. Thick ropes appeared out of thin air and bound themselves around the redhead. His wand fell out of his grasp and to the floor. He cried out, "That's cheating! Un-petrify my friends!"
"It's not cheating. Your friend clearly said no unforgivables, and we haven't used any." Goyle said. "Now, for the finale."
Hermione's friends grinned. Millie squeezed her hand and she found the brunette smirking evilly. Theo, Blaise, and Pansy took the petrified Ravenclaws and hauled them upright, forcing them to watch whatever was going to happen to their redheaded friend.
Crabbe stepped in front of Sinclair. He placed his hands on the boy's shoulders and pushed them down, forcing him to kneel. When he was on the ground, Crabbe's hands went to his belt buckle. He undid it slowly, looking down his nose at the Ravenclaw.
"What are you doing?" He panicked. "What's going on? Let me go! Let me—" He was cut off by Millie's Silencio.
Crabbe's zipper was as loud as Hermione's protesting thoughts. She jerked forward instinctively but was held back by Millie's hands, which now enclosed hers.
Hermione refused to look. She turned her head as she heard the telltale sound of... a boy urinating.
Her friends cheered and hollered happily.
"In the mouth, Crabbe! Shoot it in the mouth!"
"Or piss in his nose!"
"Look at him cough!"
"Oh, are you crying, little baby?"
"That's what you get when you mess with us!"
Hermione saw that the three other Ravenclaws looked on with identical horrified but helpless facial expressions. She herself was repulsed. The strong stench of piss permeated the air, and Hermione could no longer breathe without the smell of it invading her nostrils. She gagged, feeling bile rise up in her throat. She wanted to stop it. She wanted to intervene so badly, but Millie's hands pinned hers down. Her friend had sensed Hermione's hesitation in the idea of a duel, so she had acted accordingly.
Hermione decided she wouldn't forgive Millicent easily for this.
After what felt like an eternity, the sound of piss finally ceased. Hermione dared to look.
Torin Sinclair's face was completely soaked in clear, yellow urine. From the front of his hair to his chest. The boy was visibly crying, but his tears mixed with Crabbe's piss on his lashes. Screaming, too—silenced by Millie's curse.
"We don't want to see your lot in our side of the room again… or else." Said Draco.
Theo, Blaise, and Pansy let go of their hold on the other Ravenclaws, causing them to fall over once again, stiff as boards. Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco laughed boisterously as they retreated back towards the castle. Everybody else followed, and from a distance, Hermione spotted Daphne and Tracey coming out and complaining, vexed about having missed the duel. Crabbe put his arm around their shoulders as he filled them in on what had happened. Hermione envied the girls.
Millie let go of her hands, but not before giving her a pointed look that dared her to unbound Sinclair or his friends. Hermione looked away. Millicent made sure that her friend walked ahead of her before following.
Everybody else made their way to the Great Hall for supper. Hermione felt the beginnings of a panic attack rising within her. Breath came out in short puffs, her eyes started to water, and she felt very, very nauseous. She decided that she needed to excuse herself from the group to "use the loo." Hermione slipped away with Millie's suspicious eyes trailing after her.
When she was finally alone, she broke down in tears, allowing the panic attack to do what it wanted to her body. I should have stopped it, I should have stopped it, I should have stopped it... her subconscious repeated over and over. She emptied the contents of her stomach into a toilet for ten minutes, and when there was nothing left, she continued to dry-heave until her throat screamed for her to stop.
My fault, my fault, my fault.
Wiping her eyes, she exited the cubicle. She forced herself not to look at the mirror because she was absolutely certain that she wouldn't like what she would see. Instead, Hermione splashed her face with cold water.
After her episode in the lavatory, Hermione faced the Great Hall, where her friends were. She couldn't bring herself to walk inside. When she tried, her heart rate sped up once again at the thought of the conversation her friends were bound to be having about the defeated Ravenclaws.
So she had turned around and started walking. She didn't think of a destination but followed only where her feet took her. Hermione tried not to dwell on the events of that night. She thought of potion ingredients, incantations, and practical spells.
The castle was bigger than she had thought. Hermione never thought to explore or stray from the path of her regular classes. She went up staircases just to wander empty corridors and go back down again. She made polite small talk with some portraits who deigned themselves low enough to speak to a 'snake', or so they called her.
After a while, Hermione's legs grew tired. She had no idea where she was. There were many paintings on the wall of prominent historical figures she did and did not recognize, but the biggest painting was of a fat lady with a wreath of flowers atop her head like a crown.
Hermione began, "Excuse me—"
"Oh, I know you!" The Fat Lady exclaimed. "You're that Slytherin girl who was supposed to be in Gryffindor! The Lestrange, yes."
"What?" She was taken aback.
"The Hat told Phineas all about you last year. Phineas, you know him! Phineas Black the Headmaster back in… what year was it… oh, I couldn't remember for the life of me—well, not for the life of me, exactly, because I already died—"
"Did you say you knew me?" Hermione interrupted.
"Of course I know you. You would have been a great addition to my Lions, but you decided to bunk with the snakes, instead. I don't take it personally, but I can't speak for Alcott…"
Hermione hesitated. "Does… does everybody know about this?"
"No, no. Just me. And don't worry, we won't tell a soul. Not a living soul, anyway."
"Oh." She said. "Well, I just wanted to ask how I could—"
The Fat Lady held up a finger. "Hold on, dear, there are students coming out."
"Students? I beg your pardon?"
But the ornate gold painting swung outwards and Hermione had to move out of the way to save herself from a possible concussion. There was a hole behind it, Hermione realized, her interest piqued. Out of the hole walked Potter, Weasley, and two other Gryffindors Hermione didn't recognize.
"Lestrange? What are you doing here?" Potter asked, approaching her. Weasley followed his friend, while everybody else regarded Hermione distantly with cold glares.
"I'm, um… I'm a bit lost." She said quietly that the two other boys wouldn't hear. "I didn't know this is the Gryffindor tower, and I also don't know how to get to the Slytherin common room from here."
"Does get a bit tricky with the staircases." Said Weasley.
"It does. Come, we'll escort you." Potter said. He looked behind him at the two other boys and said, "You go on, Dean, Seamus."
Dean and Seamus left, muttering about something—or someone, more likely—too lowly for her to overhear.
Potter and Weasley led the way for Hermione. They went down staircases, crossed corridors, and avoided Peeves the poltergeist. The trio was silent, but not awkwardly so, like the silences they had in the library. It was comfortable, much to Hermione's surprise.
Weasley said, "Why were you roaming about in this part of the castle, anyway?" There was no malice in his tone at all, which again, took her by surprise.
Potter agreed. "Yeah, aren't you supposed to be having supper with your friends?"
Hermione shook her head. "I'm not very hungry."
The boys exchanged a look, but decided not to push it.
Instead, Potter said, "Your friends made it to the Slytherin Quidditch team, I heard."
"Pansy and Draco did, yes."
"I heard Angelina say Parkinson isn't terrible on a broom. Better watch out for her, mate." Weasley said to Potter.
"And Malfoy too. They say he made Seeker."
"Yeah, Lestrange, is it true? Is Malfoy your new Seeker?"
She hesitated. "I'm… not actually supposed to tell you… but yes. It's true. I was there when it happened."
"Wonder how he did it. There were no open slots for Seeker."
Hermione replied, "It's sort of complicated. Draco's been rivals with Terrence Higgs since we were little. He was the Seeker last year, but Draco asked Flint for his spot."
The two boys nodded. "And he got it? Just like that?" Asked Weasley.
"Well… I can't…" Hermione hesitated again. Can I trust them? She asked herself. It took her a few seconds to debate with herself. Finally, she thought that it didn't matter because Draco was angry at her either way. She sighed. "You have to promise not to tell."
"We won't tell. You have our word—"
"—Yeah." Potter and Weasley said at the same time.
"Draco… he sort of… bribed Flint into giving him the spot."
They all stopped walking. Thankfully, nobody was in the corridor because Weasley exclaimed loudly, "What? He bribed him? How?"
"Shh! Keep your voice down!" Hermione reprimanded Weasley before continuing, "He 'donated' brooms to the whole team." She used finger air quotes.
"What?" Exclaimed Potter.
"Shh! Be quiet, I said!"
"What brooms were they?"
"I don't know. New ones? The handles were black."
"Nimbus 2001! The whole Slytherin team flies on Nimbus 2001s?"
"I guess."
"That's even more impressive than your broom, mate." Said Weasley.
"We're going to have to train harder, then. I'll tell Wood."
Hermione stomped her foot. "What? You promised not to tell!"
Weasley raised his brows, amused. "Did you just stomp your foot?" Hermione ignored him.
"I won't tell him about the new brooms. I'll just ask if we can train harder this year. They'll find out eventually anyway." He paused, studying the worried expression on the Slytherin's face. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with us."
"Thank you." Hermione breathed, relieved.
The trio started walking down the hallway again at a slower pace.
"Besides, we've been falling a little behind lately. We were absolutely crushed by your lot last year, and I want to make sure it won't happen again."
Under her breath, Hermione muttered, "At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent."
Potter and Weasley laughed out loud. "What, you're saying Malfoy hasn't got any talent?"
She denied it, saying, "No, he does. I just mean he should have been Beater if not for his father's money." Suddenly, Hermione was filled with guilt at the mention of Lucius Malfoy, who did nothing but accept her into his home, albeit stiffly. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me."
They were quiet for a moment, enjoying the sounds of the night—the howling wind, ruffling leaves, the clip-clop of their shoes on stone, and hooting owls from a distance.
Out of the blue, Weasley said, "You haven't been out torturing people again, have you?"
He meant it in jest with an accompanying smirk, but her Hermione stopped in her tracks, her eyes focused on nothing.
Potter asked. "Lestrange? Have you?"
Hermione's heart rate sped up. She had already been doing fine. She was distracted enough to the point that she could have gone to bed without remembering what had happened behind the Quidditch pitch. Everything was going so well. Suddenly, her memories flashed in her head again. The look of Sinclair's soaked face, the petrified Ravenclaws, the sound of a zipper…
There was a harsh sound. A heaving sound… like someone was drowning and gasping for air. It took a while for Hermione to realize that the sound was coming from her. Hermione trembled.
Weasley put his hands on her shoulders. "Hey, breathe, Lestrange, breathe."
She couldn't focus on what they were saying. Her vision spun. She closed her eyes. Distantly, she heard Potter say, "Lean her against the wall. She looks like she might faint."
The stone wall collided with her back rather harshly, and it snapped her out. She let the dizzying sensation take over her for a few seconds. When things stopped spinning, she opened her eyes.
Hermione was seated on the floor with her knees to her chest. Potter and Weasley knelt in front of her. One of them was waving a hand in front of her eyes.
"Are you alright? Do you want to go to the Hospital Wing?" One of them asked.
"No… I'm fine, I just need to breathe for a few seconds."
The trio sat in silence. Even the calming sounds from outside were suddenly gone.
When Hermione's vision was clear and she could grip her robes without trembling, she said, "Sorry. I have panic attacks sometimes. They usually happen when I'm alone. I've never had one with anyone present except Draco when I was young."
"Are you sure you don't want us to bring you to the—"
"Yes, I'm certain." She said firmly.
After a while, Weasley said, "I take it the bullying hasn't stopped?"
Hermione shook her head, not meeting their eyes.
"Do you want to tell us about it?"
Hermione had no other friends. All of them were bullies and enablers of violence if it meant they would end up superior. This might be the only chance she would have for an outlet. She began. "I tried to stop them earlier. I did. But Millie's grip was so tight, it hurt, and everybody was there. If I stopped them, I wouldn't have any friends and I don't want that."
"What did they do?" Potter asked.
"They petrified three Ravenclaws for challenging them to a wizard's duel." She paused, contemplating her next words. "And also… Crabbe urinated on a boy."
"No." Their jaws dropped to the floor.
"It's true, unfortunately. And I tried to stop them, but Millie held me back. She knew I didn't want any of it, and she held me back to make sure I wouldn't interfere." Hermione looked down, ashamed. "I thought she was my friend."
"Well, she isn't." Said Potter, rather heatedly. "Friends don't hurt their friends. Especially not on purpose."
Hermione nodded, realizing that he was right. "I know."
"Someone should tell Professor Dumbledore. Or Professor McGonagall. Those gits can't just get away with something like that. They should be expelled!" Weasley seethed.
"No! Please, they're my friends. Even if they're mean and they bully people a lot, I don't want them to get expelled. I'll just try harder to stop them in the future. Besides, I was a part of it, too. If you rat them out, you rat me out."
Hermione stepped in front of the two boys. "Please promise me you won't tell. Please, please. I-I can't, I can't—"
"Hey," said Weasley. Hermione lifted her head. "Alright, we won't tell… as long as you do something to stop them next time. At least you tried, right? Baby steps." He gave her an innocent, timid smile.
"I guess so." She returned the smile. "Thank you for this, Potter, Weasley. I didn't know how much I needed to hear that."
"You're welcome." He paused. "You can call us by our names, you know. Our first names. We aren't your enemies."
Hermione chuckled, light filling her eyes. "You're right… Harry." She looked at the ginger. "Ron."
At the same time, the boys said, "Hermione."
A/N: i love u