One more chapter left! There is a light at the end of the tunnel!
Thanks to my lovely betas. Betawork done by etoiledelune, Highladylily, and Photon Zero-Infinity.
As always, thanks for being here!
peace and love,
sam
Hoots and the flapping of wings filled the Great Hall during breakfast. Witch Weekly was already a popular subscription with Hogwarts students, but the rumours of Hermione's official statement in the magazine had seemingly caused a surge in readership.
The owls dropped stacks of the magazine on the long tables and Draco discreetly slid one from the twine holding them together before the other students pounced.
There, on the front cover, was one of the candid shots of Hermione and Penelope drinking tea. It was from an earlier part of their interview, but they both looked serious.
"Damn, Granger," Pansy said from across from her. "You look incredible."
"This feels like you fishing for compliments," Hermione suggested before sipping her juice. Pansy only replied with a shrug before she dove into the article.
"It is a good picture," Theo commented, looking up briefly from his copy.
Hermione didn't need to read the published version. Penelope had kept her word and sent an early copy for Hermione's approval. Hermione had no edits other than to approve Penelope's descriptions of her memories.
None of her friends knew what had happened during her interview. She hadn't let them see the advanced copy, either. Which was why everyone, including Draco, was so voraciously reading the article since she'd shrouded it in secrecy.
It was a well-written article. Exactly what they'd discussed, with not one single exaggerated detail.
The main surprise had been the last paragraph where Penelope had thrown her support behind Hermione. From the previous articles Hermione had read, it seemed Penelope typically remained impartial in her writing, letting the readers draw their own conclusions. But in this instance, Penelope had condemned The Daily Prophet for publishing a poorly researched and poorly corroborated article slandering a war heroine. She'd admitted to having to put a lid on her own emotions because Hermione's descriptions and memories had been so visceral that Penelope's heart had ached for her.
The other, smaller surprise had been a brief public statement from Lavender Brown revealing she'd been the witch Ron dated after Hermione. She'd admitted her treatment had been similar and that she owed Hermione for showing her how to leave, for helping her to escape before it had worsened.
Chatter had subsided in the hall as people read the article, some reading over friends' shoulders or leaning across the table to see the pages. Even the staff table seemed engrossed in their copies. Gasps, chuckles, and murmured words of shock sounded occasionally and people would thrust the pages in front of their tablemates to point out a specific section.
McGonagall made eye contact with her from across the room and gave her an approving nod with a small smile.
"Wow, love," Draco whispered from next to her, turning the final page. "Just wow."
Daphne threw her magazine down and shifted over until she could wrap herself around Hermione like a koala. "I want to be you when I grow up. You total badass." Hermione chuckled and patted the arm around her shoulders lovingly.
Hermione knew when people had reached the end because their eyes would instantly turn to her and they'd confer with the people around them. In her peripheral vision, she saw raised hands poorly disguised by magazine pages.
Clearly, no one told her classmates that pointing was rude!
No one had been brave enough to come to talk to her yet, though perhaps that was due to the intense glares coming from her Slytherin companions. After seeing Hermione was well-guarded, eyes drifted to the Gryffindor table in search of Ron Weasley.
Who was mysteriously absent. Hermione hadn't seen him at meal times since their confrontation. And he'd moved to the back corners of classrooms, coming in late and leaving early. Everyone had made it abundantly clear he was not wanted.
Hermione wondered how long he'd take the rejection in silence.
—
Draco had read the article five times in the past thirty-six hours. Last night, he'd waited for Hermione to fall asleep curled up next to him before sneaking it out of his bag to read it privately.
He'd known she was strong and impressive, but seeing it all written out had felt like a punch to the gut. It strongly contradicted the swelling of pride in his chest. Hermione had left nothing to the imagination with her words. All her accounts had been detailed and visceral enough that even Draco, who knew about her past, felt like he was learning about it for the first time.
Her siren analogy had actually made his jaw drop. It was perfect in its simplicity and accuracy. People understood the lure of the creatures, which would make it easier to see how such a brilliant woman had been trapped by a despicable wizard.
He should send Penelope Clearwater a gift basket for writing this so beautifully. And for lending such open support to Hermione's side. Draco was a little jealous that Clearwater had been permitted to see inside his witch's head. It wasn't as though Draco wanted to see all her pain play out in front of him. But, Legilimency was a rather intimate exchange and Draco wanted to be close to Hermione in every way that he could.
He was currently sitting in the library on his sixth read of the article when Blaise slapped a hand over the page.
"You have got to stop obsessing over this," Blaise ordered. "It's freaking everyone out. Including Granger."
"Hermione hasn't said anything about it to me," Draco retorted.
"How could she? You're constantly dissecting her interview." Blaise sat across from him and steepled his fingers. "Mate, what are you hoping to gain from this?"
"Nothing."
Blaise studied him for a long moment. "You won't find the clarity you need in an article that's not even about you. She didn't mention you because she wants to keep you wholly separate from that despicable chapter of her life."
"That's not it."
"Then tell me what it is!" Blaise shouted. "Because you've barely talked to her since this came out and she's starting to think it's because you didn't understand the severity of it all."
Draco stilled. That wasn't his intention at all. Had he been ignoring her? They spent almost every night together, cuddled on the couch, still had their study dates…
But he had been reading the magazine more than once during those moments.
"She doesn't talk about it like this with me. When I see her talk about this it's because she saw him and got a flashback or her nightmares returned," Draco explained. "In this article…she is fearless. Hermione took control. I can't stop reading it and knowing her eyes got all hard and determined at this part. Or her voice shook but she kept going."
Draco closed the magazine and slid it across to Blaise, his finger tapping the cover photo of Hermione and Clearwater. "I'm the one who helps her pick up the pieces after a panic attack. And I wanted to see her be the same stubborn witch she is with everyone else. I love her, all the parts of her. But this witch is when she's at her happiest. I want to see her happy and proud of herself. So, yeah…maybe I've been a little obsessed with it."
Blaise looked over Draco's shoulder and his eyes widened. Draco turned around to see Hermione standing at the end of an aisle.
"Love—"
Hermione moved to sit next to him, eyes focused on the glossy cover. "My back is straight, my chin is held high. I look like the Hermione Granger who took charge and made revision schedules or packed a bag of essentials to go on the run." She traced the edge of the pages with a delicate finger.
"I think I see what you're seeing," Hermione said quietly, gripping her books tightly to her chest. "I hadn't considered it from that perspective because when I look at that picture, I remember the nerves and the tension. But…you're right. I look more like the old me. I've missed her."
Draco cradled her face with one hand, bringing her attention to him. "She never left you, love."
Hermione smiled at him and tapped her finger on his nose. "Well then I guess you can stop obsessing over the same three pages, then. Since that witch sits before you. Live and in-person."
"Four," Blaise said. "Four pages if you count the cover, Granger."
Draco laughed as Hermione rolled her eyes. He threw an arm around the back of her chair while pulling the magazine to him. With one final look, he tucked it in his bag. Draco wanted to keep this issue, but it could go in his trunk when he got back to the room.
Hermione was right. As impressed as he was with her in print, he was ten times more impressed with the complex woman tucked into his side.
—
"It seems you all are capable of manners and civility," McGonagall announced. "We've made it through the majority of the semester without any major issues…that you all reported."
The Headmistress scanned the room with a pointed expression. There had been plenty of issues—as Hermione could attest—but no one had filed formal complaints. And the staff wasn't going to be acting on rumours and gossip.
"As a result, the board has arranged for your winter festival. The grounds will be undergoing preparation over the next three days for the weekend frivolity." Her announcement was met with boisterous cheers from all the students; Hermione noticed the fourth-years seemed particularly excited and it reminded her of her own excitement about the Yule Ball.
And any further announcements would've been drowned out so McGonagall took her seat with an exasperated head shake.
"Do I need to ask you to come to the festival or is it a safe assumption?" Draco yelled. The chatter was still quite loud and likely would be for the rest of dinner.
"I think it's a pretty safe assumption," she yelled back.
Pansy cast a silencing charm around their little group and rubbed her temples. "Fucking excitable children…"
"I definitely heard a squeal of excitement out of you, Pans," Daphne teased.
"No, you are clearly mistaken," Pansy snapped.
"Yeah, Daph. Mistaken," Theo chimed. "I know what Pansy's squeals of excitement sound like and that was most definitely not it. Squeal of annoyance or frustration maybe."
Pansy slowly turned to look at Theo, face blank. Which was the scariest face Pansy Parkinson could make. Low-level irritation was her basic state of being so when there was nothing…one should run.
Theo was apparently oblivious or well-versed because he met her stare and continued to eat his meal. The couple engaged in a contest of wills.
Pansy finally sighed irritably and looked away. Theo looked suitably smug in his victory. Situation diffused.
"Now, we need to go shopping for outfits!" Daphne declared. Pansy perked right up and Hermione winced.
"Do we?" Hermione asked.
"Yes! Let's do Muggle shops! I love your denims Hermione and I'm dying to get a pair," Daphne insisted.
Draco leaned over to Hermione. "I also like your Muggle denims, but for an entirely different reason," he whispered. Hermione felt her cheeks redden.
He'd been getting very bold with her and she loved it. But it did make her resemble a tomato when they were in public.
She'd been rather impressed with how he'd handled the whole Fred situation. No jealousy. No rage. He didn't lash out or ignore her while he pouted. He took what she gave him for what it was and offered to be there if she wanted to talk.
It had been so unexpected and so wonderful. Like everything about this term.
It all could've gone so poorly.
Being sent into Slytherin could've pushed her further into isolation. But it didn't. It did the opposite. She'd found people who had accepted the broken version of herself and then helped her put the pieces back together—in a different and better way.
Everything they'd been through along the way…her first real date with Draco, confronting Ron, meeting Draco's parents, telling her story. It all could've been worse. But she'd surprised herself with how well she'd handled it. With how much support she'd had throughout.
The exchange program may have started as an ill-thought-out idea to bring people together after the war, but she looked around the Great Hall and saw it had worked. People had gotten to know students in other houses because there was suddenly a common point of connection. They were chatting and laughing. Inter-house relationships were cropping up.
Hermione recalled the first feast of the season and how shell-shocked everyone had seemed. How the war was still going on in the shadows of the castle, in the dreams of the people who slept here. But now, it seemed like everyone had taken steps to heal. There were still signs, habits that would likely never go away. And yet…the students looked like teenagers instead of war veterans. Instead of terror there was joy. Instead of paranoia there was laughter.
The board had rarely made good decisions when it came to the student body of Hogwarts. For Godric's sake, the adults of the wizarding world rarely made good decisions. The exchange program was the glaring exception to all the poor decision-making because this had actually made a positive impact.
"How dare you, Minerva?" a shout echoed through the hall followed by the loud, hurried steps of one angry witch.
Molly Weasley had arrived.
"Perhaps I spoke too soon regarding your manners and civility," McGonagall said primly. She remained on the raised platform at the front of the room, looking down her nose at the Weasley matriarch advancing toward her.
Moments later, Ron sauntered in behind her.
"That wretched girl is spreading lies about my precious boy and you stand there, saying nothing," Molly ranted. "My Ron has been through enough. Now his friends have been manipulated. The staff ignored his pleas for help. He's being bullied—"
"Bullied? I'm surprised to learn Mr. Weasley knows the definition of the word," Minerva interrupted. "From what I understand, the boy can be quite the bully himself. I'm sure he'd have no problems putting the other students in their place."
"This girl lies, Minerva."
"Does she? I have seen no such evidence of deception, Molly."
"She—"
"Enough," McGonagall commanded, pinning Mrs. Weasley with a stern look that had terrified students for decades. "Now, I allowed this boy to remain a student in this school because of his actions in the war. But many of the staff pushed for expulsion."
"Expulsion?" Molly squeaked.
"Yes, and now I think I will follow through on their recommendation," the older witch declared. "I sat idly by as this school allowed violence and anger to fester in its students. To infect others like a plague. No more."
McGonagall finally stepped down from the platform, but she still towered over Mrs. Weasley's stout frame. "I will not allow another student with a penchant for violence to be educated here. Not on my watch. Mr. Weasley may take his NEWTs privately in my office when the time comes so he still completes his education."
"But—"
"Be grateful I'm allowing him that much, Molly. There is far worse I could do to him," McGonagall warned.
Molly was red in the face as she whirled around, stomping back toward the doors and taking Ron with her. Hermione noticed Ron hadn't said a single word during the entire altercation. It was entertaining how Molly Weasley seemed to be the only woman he was afraid of.
The glares Ron received as he left made Hermione feel a wicked sense of satisfaction. She was glad to see she had at least won Hogwarts. Her peers had cast Ron aside and it had only been a day or two since the article was released. She knew if she wanted to be the bigger person—the better person—she should feel a little bad for the boy who had once been her friend.
But the only thought she could muster was "serves him right."
Outwardly, she kept her face blank though she wanted to give him a smug smile and finger wave as he walked out of the castle. Not a single person spoke on his behalf. In fact, Hermione had noticed that when he walked in, some of the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws—those closest to the walkway he'd used—had stood with their wands in their hands. Ready to take him down if he decided to make too big of a scene.
Harry had been the first to rise, which warmed Hermione's heart.
It hadn't shocked her that students were supporting her. Since the eventful morning when the owls delivered her story, students had been seeking her out to say she was brave. The gendered differences in their responses amused her. The witches would steer toward telling her eloquently that she was strong and that they looked up to her. The wizards usually mumbled about her being wicked and brilliant or outright yelled at her from across the hallway that she was a legend.
Even some of the Slytherins who'd sided with Astoria had shamefully approached her and apologised for their actions.
After the echoing sound of doors closing had faded, Draco took Hermione's hand in his. "So it's over then?"
Hermione nodded. "It would seem Hogwarts is officially Ron-Weasley-free."
"Granger! No speaking his name in my presence!" Pansy shrieked, causing their little group to burst into laughter.
—
Hermione had won over the students and staff. Beyond Hogwarts' walls, George wrote to her a few days after Ron's expulsion to regale her with tales of Ron being denied entry at various establishments in Diagon.
According to him, Ron had been attempting to enter one of the newer cafes since The Leaky Cauldron was swarming with press and the owner had warded the entrance against him. He was blown back from the door and landed on his arse on the cobblestones.
He'd been verbally accosted by the apothecary operator when he went in for a pain relief potion. And several other stores had hung signs saying "We Support Granger" in the windows so he hadn't even tried.
George had followed him around in the streets to simply laugh at him each time someone told him to piss off. He offered to send her the memories so she could relive it. Draco had demanded she accept them because he wanted to watch them on a loop for at least three hours.
Hermione had been most entertained by the story George told her of when Ron came to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes for some familial comfort. George had treated Ron like a complete stranger. Asking him if he was looking for anything specific and following him around the shop to make sure he didn't nick the smaller products. When Ron finally got so upset he screamed and swore at George, the wizard escorted him out saying, "This is a family shop. We will not tolerate this type of behaviour!"
It brought her unbridled joy to know Ron had so miscalculated his manipulation of his family that he was blindsided by his brother's rejection. He'd tried to isolate her for years and now he was the one alone with the consequences of his actions.
Hogsmeade had certainly been eventful when they'd taken a walk before the festival. The girls still wanted a trip to Muggle shops, but they needed to restock on magical hair and skin products. Hermione would advocate for Muggle technology all day long, but magical hair products had tamed her curls in a way Muggle curl cream never had.
From the moment Hermione stepped into the village, she was accosted more than usual. The weird thing was that people kept giving her gifts. Owls had been arriving with them, but it was strange to receive them in person. Hermione equated it to when people bring you food after funerals. People wanted to show support and simply stating it wasn't enough, so they gave her free drinks, free meals, baked goods, handmade cards, and a variety of other things.
Rosmerta, Merlin love that woman, had finally had enough when people kept crowding her pub door without buying anything. "Oi! You lot can gawk at that young woman later. Leave her be unless you're spending gold!" she shouted before magically slamming the door in their faces.
"Bloody vultures," she muttered when she dropped off their orders. "Tell me if you want me to kick them out, petal."
"Thank you, but I think I'd prefer you just guilt them into buying more drinks if they plan to be here," Hermione suggested.
"And this is why you're my favourite," the older witch shouted over her shoulder.
"I'm pretty sure she says that to everyone," Hermione chuckled. The others at the table joined her and didn't disagree.
"Ok, let's eat quickly," Daphne insisted. "I want to get to my denims and convince our dear Hermione to try on something scandalous before we get back to the castle." Hermione rolled her eyes.
Draco likely would've slipped in a comment at the insinuation, but the boys were off playing Quidditch with Harry and Ginny today. So Hermione was all on her own with two very cunning snakes who had made it their personal mission in life to push her out of her comfort zone.
"This will be fun," Pansy chimed in, smirking over her glass.
After a fortifying lunch, they used the Floo to pass through the Leaky and cross into Muggle London. Hermione dragged them into thrift shops and tried to keep them from designers' storefronts. It hadn't worked.
Three hours later, they returned to Hogwarts laden with shopping bags they refused to let the boys look into. Pansy did drop off two bags with Draco and Theo because if they were going to get a show looking at the girls in tight denims…turnabout's fair play.
—
Draco and Hermione strolled toward the Black Lake. His arm was slung around her shoulders and she hugged his waist. They'd started with holding hands but Hermione was always cold so Draco caved and pulled his witch into his side.
They were a study in contrasts. But not in the way people would expect.
Draco had opted for a casual look. Hermione had convinced him of the comfort of the puffer jacket and denims and so he'd finally bought some. He didn't dare deviate from his all-black wardrobe scheme. Dark grey denims, an all-black puffer vest, and an emerald green scarf. It was close enough to his normal look that no one really noticed. Hermione had. Of course, she had. His hat was currently on Hermione's mess of curls because she never remembered her own. He made a note to start carrying a spare.
Hermione had dressed up for the occasion. Draco was willing to bet good money most of the clothes had been either borrowed or at least procured by Pansy and Daphne, as none of this was in Hermione Granger's comfortable, practical wardrobe. He liked how she looked normally, but he certainly wasn't going to complain.
She'd managed to still get denims but these were tighter and darker than her usual ones. Almost black. When he'd helped her into her green peacoat in the common room, he'd been treated to the view of her shimmering silver sweater that might as well have been backless. One strip of fabric connected above her shoulder blades and then another at the small of her back. The idea of what her coat hid—of what only he would get to see—was thrilling.
She was also decked out in Slytherin colors, which might as well have been a big, loud "fuck you" to everyone who condemned their relationship.
Her black scarf was looped around her neck and his Slytherin Quidditch knit hat was pulled over her ears.
She was elegance and refinement and danger rolled into one gorgeous package. And he still couldn't believe she was his.
Draco had expected her to retreat into herself at the end of the exchange program, knowing so many things she'd gotten used to would change. But she surprised him. Again. She was smiling freely and he'd heard her laugh more times tonight than he had in months. Even the spark in her eyes had returned. He wasn't ashamed to admit he noticed it always intensified when looking at him.
Next term, she'd be back in Gryffindor. They had already decided she'd pop back into the dungeons every so often so they could go to their room. She'd lose Pansy and Daphne as roommates - though Pansy said she'd still help Hermione with her hair if she wanted. There was a clear stipulation that Hermione would be the one waking early to trek to their room.
So things would change officially, but Hermione Granger would still be spending a great deal of time in the snake pit.
The castle was all decked out in holiday decor. Christmas trees were decorated in each of the house colours and one was a combination of random bobbles. But the spirit of the castle was no match for the Winter Festival.
While snow this time of year was almost guaranteed in Scotland, charms had been employed to keep a steady stream of snowflakes falling around the event. The Governors had brought in vendors to sell everything from hot chocolate and Butterbeer to trinkets and high-quality wares.
A fun night and an opportunity for last-minute shopping all in one.
The festival was a burst of colour on a white landscape with all the fairy lights casting a glow on the couple. Draco looked at Hermione and saw the Northern Lights reflected on her skin.
"Shall we?" she asked with a smirk. He kissed her slowly, sweetly, blatantly ignoring the open stares of the other students, the vendor, and everyone else at the festival. When he nodded, their noses brushed slightly.
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