Chapter Twenty-Eight: Third Year, Schmird Year...

Disclaimer: I own none of the material written by J. K. Rowling, or her publishing company, or Warner Brothers.

OOOO

Daphne sighed as she packed her trunk. Normally Tinsy might have helped her with such matters. Just like the House Elf had since her first departure for Hogwarts. She rifled aggressively through the desk. Slapping the hundreds of BYR papers into their respective folders. Tossing the flashing Prophet picture of her at Amelia Bones' inauguration into the rubbish bin. She took a moment to lean against the ancient writing desk, muscles tensing beneath her rebellious muggle clothes. A snow-white tank top and brilliantly blue jeans. Being friends with Hermione meant that she had many more muscles than a girl her age usually possessed, thanks to their duelling workouts at Hogwarts. Accordingly, the ancient desk rattled beneath the force of her tensed arms.

"Sissy?" Came a soft, angelic little voice. In a flash Daphne stood ramrod straight, how could she not after years of strict training to respond in such an elegant manner? Reaching up the witch swiped tears from her blue eyes before turning with crossed arms. "Are you alright?" Astoria asked, standing in the doorframe. Her little sister was frail as ever, yet Daphne had always been unable to refrain from envying the girl's ethereal beauty. Dark hair with the gloss of a raven's wing, sharp features, and skin the color of ivory. Though the perpetually dark bags beneath those deep, blue eyes always bore the reminder of how much pain her little sister bore. The worst kind. A blood malediction that would only ever grow worse.

"I don't know." Daphne answered softly, brushing a curtain of golden hair behind her ear. She hated when the sun burnt her locks into a blinding halo of gold. Blinking away blackspots the teen slipped to her bed. Pushing aside articles of clothing and school supplies. "Are you excited for Hogwarts, Astoria?" She forced her voice to trickle musically, utterly uncaring.

"Daphne. Stop." Astoria closed the door firmly and slipped over to the bed, "Stop pretending that everything is alright. We both know it isn't. That this family will never be fine."

Daphne's eyes widened with surprise. "No Astoria." She stood to both feet quickly, "Do not start doing this. Don't turn into me. It isn't worth it. Are your dreams worth what they can do to you?"

"Do you mean my morals, Daphne?" Her frail little sister bit back with more ferocity than ever before. The older girl fell back on the bed in surprise. "Forgive me," The eleven-year-old scoffed, "I had to wait for you to start dressing like a muggle before I could trust you with this information. My own sister. That is what our family does. We guard ourselves with opportunism and the hearts of reptiles. What it means to be in the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Madness, distrust, hatred. All because our ancestors refuse to see muggleborns, half-bloods, squibs, muggles, women as humans. Grandfather loves to tell everyone exactly why my blood is cursed. Because a filthy, malicious, evil, magic-stealing mudblood cursed our great-great-great-great grandfather. Guess what, Daphne. I have met our family and I am on the side of that mudblood myself."

They stared at one another for a long time. Daphne finally opened her arms and gestured for her sister to sit beside her. They hugged tightly, staring at the empty fireplace. "I hate them," Daphne admitted in a low tone, "When I started going to muggle London by myself I thought it was odd I loved it so much. Maybe I don't love it all. Maybe I just tell myself I do because I know they fucking hate it."

"I like your new clothes. They seem cooler in the summer than these stupid robes anyways." Astoria smiled, leaning a head down on her older sister's shoulder. "I'm happy you became friends with Hermione Granger, even if mother and grandfather aren't. It means there is someone else in the family who thinks the way I do. Who I don't have to worry about biting into my back one day if my tongue ever slips…"

"I will never hurt you Astor," Daphne tightened her arms, "Never."

"I'm so sorry about Tinsy. You were so close to her. What they did, how they…" Astoria choked off.

"Like she wasn't a part of this family. Like she was not the person who raised me," The blonde acknowledged frostily. "I will never forget her though. One day I will find her, find out where they sent her. Mother and father have forgotten I am the BYR now. They can't bully me anymore."

OOOO

Hermione was the sort of person who often felt nervous though in the prior two years she had learned to hide it masterfully. This, however, would not be one of those cases. From the moment she stepped through the Floo into the magnificent Manor Cedric had reassured her everything would go 'swimmingly well.' Now, as she sat at the quiet dinner table, it was hard to figure if her boyfriend was an incredibly swell liar, or a total optimist.

His father was already turning out to be an arrogant tosspot. 'I knew the moment I read that Prophet article last month you'd come to your senses and pick our Ced over that Potter any day of the week!" She had not quite known what to say to that. Fortunately, the man's wife, a consummate Pureblood in an old-fashioned dress led them into the dining room. Then, as if to negate that good turn of events, it turned out that frail old Vulpinia Diggory waited for them all in there. The withered old fruit bat.

"So, Hermione," Mrs. Diggory smiled brightly, dutifully taking the reins of the already-disastrous evening, "I happen to know that you will be presenting with Nicolas Flamel at the Alchemical Conference in New York this Autumn. Any big discoveries we should be prepared for?"

"Mum works in the International Magical Office of Law," Cedric explained quickly, as though to make clear he had not been gossiping about her secret work with the Flamels. "She is deputy head of the licensing division."

"All of the portkey applications from British Alchemists for the conference pass through my desk. I pick up a fair bit of gossip and insight from all of our travelling countrymen." She took a dainty sip of her soup, "Mr. Flamel's secretary came in a month ago. Quite a chatty little man. They should fire him."

"I have never heard of such a prodigious muggleborn before," Vulpinia decided to rear her ugly head, betraying where Amos Diggory got it from. Of course, Hermione could appreciate that the man had inherited none of his mother's meanness. He was just incredibly proud of his son.

"I hardly imagine you have met many muggleborns before in the first place, Madam Diggory," Hermione rebutted pointedly.

"Mother-," Even Mr. Diggory seemed to recognize how inappropriate the conversation was turning, though his mother was quick to cut him off.

"Quiet Amos. If I want your opinion I will damn well ask for it." She flashed a vicious look at her son. Prior to turning back towards Hermione and Cedric. "This girl has sharp teeth, and a sharper tongue. Just like her grandmother. Hmm?"

"Ironically enough," Hermione pressed a napkin to her lips, "You are nothing like your grandson."

"Point proven," Vulpinia nodded, reaching for her wine, "Women like you and I, Hermione Granger." She sipped from her glass with a snort, "We raise splendid, fine young men like Cedric here." At this Mrs. Diggory rolled her eyes silently in response. "Then we are forced to watch as our successors, cruel, ruthlessly ambitious girls, steal those blessed boys from us. Let that be my warning to you, and always remember that you better dare not think of luring him from the path to greatness. Not you, Ada, Amos was hardly a catch." This last bit was presumably directed to Mrs. Diggory who simply glared.

"You are being rude, grandmother," Cedric spoke suddenly in a stern voice, "You promised me you wouldn't be rude tonight."

"It is fine to know where your grandmother stands, Ced." Hermione placed a soothing hand on his elbow. "This means I can tell her that I am more than just a broodmare. My goal in life is not to simply snatch a husband and, 'raise splendid, fine young men.' I would much rather be like Mrs. Diggory and contribute something more meaningful to the world than the likes of you, Madam Diggory."

The woman suddenly stood with tight lips, wobbling on her cane. Hermione wondered momentarily how Cordelia was still aging so well when her former classmate could barely stand on two feet. Face pointed haughtily in the air Vulpinia peered down her nose at them. "I was born to the House of Yaxley," She sneered, "Yet here I sit. Taking cheek from the Morrigan mudblood who is dating my grandson. All because my family needs the money. I have decided that I can handle the thought of Cedric consorting with a mudblood, yet I do not have the stomach to watch it happen." With that she hobbled from the large dining room.

"I apologize most sincerely for that Miss Granger. My mother lives in a different time-." Mr. Diggory began to explain in a nervous voice.

"It is fine Mr. Diggory," She smiled brightly, cutting him off easily, "Do you think that is the worst name I have been called? I've weathered worse. Besides, the remaining company has been very pleasant otherwise." Still, Hermione had to take several deep breaths coupled with sips from her water glass to calm down. Nothing had given her any reason to believe that Vulpinia was so deeply entrenched in Purist ideology. Nor had she anticipated Cedric's parents would witness the more scathing side of her personality so quickly.

"Its not acceptable," Cedric said in a cold voice, "Nor is there any excuse for it." He looked furious. His gorgeous, red lips pulled tightly together, jaw working mightily. Their eyes connected, grey on brown. "You are one of the finest witches Hogwarts has produced in years. My grandmother should be honored that a girl like you would bless me with her attention." The muggleborn in question had to fight her jaw from dropping. Never had Cedric seemed so angry before. So defiant. In fact, she noted that in the company of his parents he seemed more like a Pureblood than he ever had before. Hermione had never liked Jane Austen's boring books, yet now there was something so undeniably Austen-esque about her boyfriend. She felt her heart start to flutter mightily. "If grandmother misses the Yaxleys so much maybe she can go to live with them."

"So, Miss Granger," Mr. Diggory started the conversation over again, "You are already such an accomplished young woman. Do you have any ideas for what you might like to do after graduating Hogwarts."

She almost sighed in relief at the normal, easy question. "Well, I am not rightly certain yet. No matter what career I pursue I can always continue to do research on the side. Though it would be helpful if I obtained at least a few post-NEWT Masteries, I do find myself drawn to Ministry work."

"A particular department?" Ada Diggory wondered.

"Well, as you have likely heard, I am the co-President of the Elfish Advancement is my grand goal at present. So perhaps I might spend some time in the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures." She hardly thought that there was anything wrong with that goal. Mr. Diggory's face instantly turned puce at that comment.

To his credit, the man did not lash out like his mother had. "Many of my colleagues and I in the DCRMC find ourselves… Uncertain of the EAO's goals. House Elves like to serve their families. If you asked them you would discover that they genuinely enjoy the work they do."

"Yes," Hermione smiled with forced neutrality, "Of course, that is all they have ever known. Though the EAO does not operate on the agenda of releasing all House Elves, yet. We are dedicated to finding abused House Elves in need of help. Just last week we raised enough capital to purchase the freedom of the majority of Chimney Sweep Elf's workers. They were forced to endure abhorrent conditions. Since our inception we have rescued nearly one-hundred elves from prostitution."

"That is simply ludicrous," Mr. Diggory finally seemed to have met his limit. "The Ban on Inter-Special Sex Slavery protects House Elves and many other creatures from exploitation. No one in their right mind would-."

"Would be willing to break the law when it simply means paying a small fine if they are caught?" Hermione asked sternly, "That is not deterrence. That is merely the Ministry's way of enabling certain members of the populace to keep on their way. Besides, Cornelius Fudge was breaking that very ban himself during the entirety of his adult life. Let me tell you one story. My partner, Dobby, often scours the seedier parts of Britain searching for Elves in need. He found a female Elf named Glimpa one night. Close to death, beaten black and blue, then tossed away in a rubbish bin. We healed her. Helped her to see that she was worth something. Now she runs the most successful fashion house in magical London. That is our goal. To rescue Elves that need help. I plan to build a community of free Elves who have money, rights, and autonomy. Then my intention is to work in the Ministry until all Elves are given the opportunity to decide if they really want to remain servants to their families."

Mrs. Diggory was nodding contemplatively, Mr. Diggory remained visibly unconvinced, and Cedric sat beside her with a bright smile on his face. An emotion Hermione had only seen from her parents before shining in his eyes. Pride. That carried her through the rest of the dinner and well into dessert. Cedric's parents retired for the evening, and her boyfriend escorted her to the fireplace in the entry room. "Sorry, I didn't mean to argue so much with your father. We just disagree on lots of things." She smiled softly.

"My dad likes you, even if he disagrees with you," Cedric grinned, dimples flashing, "He likes loud people, with strong opinions. My mum loved you too. They were all that really mattered." He stepped closer, grabbing her hand, peering down at her through his long eyelashes. "You realize that I adore you, right? When you put my dad in his place about helping Elves I wanted to snog you right there at the dining table."

"Naughty," Hermione smirked, tapping a finger on his nose chidingly. "When you said those things about your grandmother I had a similar pattern of thought…" He leaned closer as she grabbed at the front of his robes. Their lips meeting, except she went further automatically by turning the chaste kiss into a french kiss.

Cedric instantly pulled away. Eyes wide with distress. "That's not…" He panted, "That's how he…"

She realized what he was saying quickly. They had not really discussed what had happened in much depth. Only once at Pyrites' Townhouse after a sunny afternoon cuddling on a couch. Briefly at that. "I didn't mean to," Hermione said urgently, "It just felt right. For the moment. I didn't even think about it, or him." That was a lie. She always thought about Tom after what had happened. There was no escaping him. Not when he had managed to wedge himself so firmly into the middle of their relationship. "Ced," Hermione stretched on her tippy-toes and pressed a final, chaste peck to his lips, "We need to talk about it at some point, you know. What happened. Really talk about it this time. What happened in France with you, what happened in my head last year."

"I know," He sighed, suddenly looking very tired and vulnerable, "I promise we will talk about it at Hogwarts. I just want to enjoy what is left of the summer. Focus on my Metal Charming."

They hugged again, and she disappeared with a flash of Floo powder back home. Trying to think only of all of the packing she still had to finish.

OOOO

The Hogwarts Express honked its warning signal that departure was imminent. "Five minutes," Hermione sighed to her parents, giving them both a last hug. Then there was the customary kiss on the cheek for Cordelia. Harry obviously was not close enough with Cordelia to kiss her on the cheek, but he did hug both of her parents. Her father reminded him sternly about the Quidditch tickets, and warned them both to look after one another. This was pointed mostly towards Hermione who had been at the head of the Philosopher's Stone and Chamber of Secrets debacles.

Without much more ado they struggled through the crowd towards the train. Managing to board just as the ancient engine started to chug forth. The corridors of the train surged with bodies. Lots of them were happy to greet the most famous students in the entire school. "Hermione!" A blinding flash of pale blonde grabbed her by the arm and tugged her into a compartment. She was engulfed in a tight hug before she even knew what was happening.

"Luna Lovegood! I nearly hexed you deaf! You can't go around tugging people into small spaces…" Nonetheless they hugged again. "How was Scandinavia?"

"Strange." Luna answered, sitting back down. Leaving Hermione and Harry, who had encountered Luna before during Duelling Club, to peer at each other discreetly in surprise. For Luna Lovegood to find something strange, it certainly was a troubling prospect. "I studied much magic this summer," The girl explained, eyelids flickering gently as though she were drowsy. "In fact, I have a gift for you once we have returned to Hogwarts, Hermione."

"Lovely," The older girl smiled awkwardly, hoping she wouldn't wind up with 'proof' that nargles existed. She turned to deal with the fussy animal that had been secured in a carrier above her trunk. "His name is Crookshanks…" Hermione smiled at Luna, holding the angry-looking, old cat out for Luna to inspect. "I found him on Diagon Alley when I went to see Dobby. He's gorgeous, isn't he? The shopkeeper at Magical Menagerie said he was there his whole life, and no one ever wanted him." She took the furry mass of cat back into her arms, "Their loss."

Daphne arrived as soon as the silence engulfed them again. She was red in the face, and the little girl just behind her did not look much better. Obviously the pair had barely managed to get on the train before it left. "Hey," The Blonde Stunner moved to levitate her trunk along with the little girl's up onto the overhead racks. The three occupants returned the greeting with pleasantries of their own. Hermione noting that Daphne was now proudly wearing the muggle clothing they had bought her in muggle London. "This is my little sister, Astoria. She retired from the Societal Debut early, which may be why you and Potter didn't meet her."

"It is nice to meet you Astoria," Hermione smiled brightly, "Are you excited for Hogwarts?"

"Yes, Miss Granger-Pyrites," The little girl answered both politely and shyly.

"Call me Hermione. This is Harry Potter, and that is Luna Lovegood." She purposefully kept her voice mildly bossy so that Astoria would have no reason not to call them by their first names. "I caught your first vote in the Wizengamot, Daph," The muggleborn turned her focus back to the older Greengrass. "Mermish rights? You never struck me as the sort to support oppressed beings."

"It failed," Daphne said somewhat bitterly, "So why bother discussing it? Madam Bones certainly wasn't happy with the press that resulted."

Miffed somewhat by the other girl's bad attitude, Hermione boldly pressed onwards. "Just because something failed does not make it a worthless endeavor Daphne Greengrass." She paused, hoping her voice was not too lecturing. "Good people, who think differently than they were raised to think. People who are the first to stand up for unpopular things. Those are the sorts of magicals who make this world a better place."

"You're right. It still hurts though," Daphne sighed, "They are going to begin hunting any Merfolk who live in Loch Morar. All because people like my parents want unlimited access to Partridge Algae. I am not ready to think about it."

"Focus on the next battle," Luna interjected wisely, dreamily, "Living in the past is the work of Tittering Sick-Sookles. That is how they get you after all. Sink their tentacular fangs into your soul and force you to reminisce about what might have been. The only way to combat the infestation is by looking forwards." Everyone stared at her with open mouths for a long moment. Then Daphne began to cackle violently, sliding over to lock Luna into a tight hug.

"I missed you, weirdo," She giggled, releasing the nonplussed Second Year. Suddenly Daphne glanced around. "Where is Cedric? I figured since the two of you have been all over the gossip columns that he would at least pick us over his lame friends for once…"

"He made Prefect," Hermione supplied easily, "Had to do rounds and couldn't sit with us."

"Why am I unsurprised?" Daphne asked with a smile.

Their train ride went much, much better after that.

OOOO

Hermione stood up to her feet and cheered the loudest as the quiet Great Hall looked on surprisedly. Little Astoria Greengrass slipped down from the stool, and scurried beneath the glares of the Slytherins to sit beside her. "Daphne wanted me to go to Gryffindor," The First Year confided nervously to Harry and Hermione, "She said it is hardly even safe for her in Slytherin nowadays."

"You don't have to worry about that." Harry filled in expertly when his friend was too terrified to think of something to say in response. "The two of us are going to look out for you. Besides, even I don't know Daphne that well, and I can tell how difficult it would be for any of the Slytherins to get at her. She handles herself well."

"Miss Granger." They all looked up to find McGonagall standing behind them. During their discussion the Sorting had finished, and Dumbledore had commenced the feast. "The Headmaster and I will need to speak with you after the feast. Screwdriver Plugs."

With that the stern woman retired early from the feast, slipping out of the boisterous space. "That is a wizarding candy," Astoria supplied as they all looked at one another. "A horrible taste, yet a candy nonetheless." After that bit of oddness they all chattered for a little while. Stuffing themselves full, and trying not to think of the unpleasantness emanating from the green-clad table behind them.

"I am going to leave a bit early," Hermione stood, smiling at them both, "See by how much I can beat Dumbledore up to his office." Bidding the other two farewell she slipped from the Great Hall, ignoring the many, many stares that followed. Briefly catching sight of Cedric's face in the middle of the Hufflepuff table. Surrounded by Firsties who all seemed to have looks of admiration on their face. Heart warming at the sight she froze suddenly in the Entry Hall. There was the ancient statue of the first Headmaster of Hogwarts. Yet now, wedged into the other corner stood a large replica of her dead friend. Ron. Gulping slightly, forcing herself to keep moving, she cursed Dumbledore mentally for putting the reminder in such a public place. Utterly unavoidable.

Flashes of green haunted her mind whilst she climbed the many steps of Hogwarts. Finally arriving at the gargoyle guards to the Headmaster's office. "Screwdriver Plugs," She enunciated clearly on a whim. Without another word exchanged the statues jumped aside. The muggleborn, used to how this worked now, jumped up to the top of the spiral as it wound upwards. Allowing herself the luxury of being carried upwards to the top. Soon enough Hermione was sitting before Dumbledore's desk. Trying not to look at Fawkes who was still incredibly young after having been melted alongside Ron that summer.

Mercifully, as her mind began to wander, the door to the office opened. "I did not expect you to take such initiative with regards to punctuality, my girl," Dumbledore smiled merrily. It was as infuriating to her as ever, but tolerable. They had come to an understanding at the end of last term after all.

"I did not want to get caught in a crowd of people. All of them staring at me, Professor," She admitted aloud. McGonagall took the seat beside her as Dumbledore sat down on the other side of his desk. Withered old fingers plated on the wooden surface. Their eyes connected without any animosity. Surprising considering how long they had spent at one another's throats. Still, Hermione forced herself to remember, things were different. He had proven he had no interest in destroying her when he halted Ginny Weasley's testimony from going any further. Despite the calm that flooded through her body she still double-checked that her Occlumency barriers were standing strong.

"I understand completely, Miss Granger. Take it from me though. It gets easier to ignore as the years pass by." He gestured to the Transfiguration Professor, "Now, Minerva. I believe I shall allow you to start things off?"

"Yes," Her tone was strident as ever. "Miss Granger. As you well know the curriculum at Hogwarts has changed. You selected nearly seven of the available electives. We need to decide which ones you will drop. I did not notice this until I reached your slip in the pile this July."

"Honestly Professor McGonagall," She sighed, "I had hoped you would make that choice for me. Beyond eliminating Divination, Muggle Studies, and Wizarding Studies, it was incredibly difficult to handle dropping any of the others. So much new knowledge and opportunity to learn is available. Making me choose is like asking me which hand I want to chop off!"

Dumbledore smiled. "We suspected this would be the case, Minerva." He glanced at Hermione again. "There are often rare situations like these with some students. Either they select all of the extra classes due to misguided hubris, or they do so with the pure desire to learn as much as possible. I myself fell into the latter category."

"As such," McGonagall took back the reins in the conversation, "We applied with the Ministry of Magic for a Time Turner. You were thoroughly vetted. They very nearly denied this request due to the discovery of the Villis Malificus in your possession…" At this, an incredibly sharp look was shot at Hermione who tried to hide her annoyance at being guilt-tripped. "They decided in the end, however, that if you did wish to pursue such a drastic option it would be permitted."

"We must carefully assess now where you stand with your studies. Your Second Year was far from traditional after all. These are more classes than have been offered at Hogwarts in a very, very long while…" Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "You have advanced ahead of the rest of your year in both Potions and Transfiguration. Do you imagine you can handle the pressure of OWLs in those two classes, and this new challenge?"

"I will obviously need to drop my extra-curricular involvement," She answered somewhat sadly. "That will make up for the fact that I am only slightly ahead in Runes and Arithmancy after working with Madame Flamel."

"The Beginner's Healing course as well as Artifice and Enchanting should not be overly complicated," McGonagall finally decided to act in a helpful manner. "They will be on a bi-weekly period each."

"I am well-ahead in Potions," Hermione continued, "This summer during my work with Monsieur Flamel I was already working with Golpalott's Third Law. Transfiguration I am, again, not that much further ahead than I was at the end of last term."

"Good." McGonagall harrumphed, "Then that assuages my concern regarding whether or not you will be able to keep up in your other core classes. Now we must consider Magizoology and Linguistic Lore."

"That is where the time turner will come in handy, I suspect," Hermione smiled cheekily.

Dumbledore clapped his hands together and laughed jovially. "I feel as though Miss Granger is capable of approaching this challenge. Perhaps I will meet with her every few months to ensure that she is still handling it all well?"

"I will meet with her every two weeks as well," McGonagall supplied in response, not one to be outdone. "Which leaves us with the final matter at hand. Mr. Flamel has told us that you must journey to the Alchemical Conference with him this November. The entire event lasts for almost a whole week. Will you be able to get sufficiently ahead in all of your courses so as to not fall behind after returning?"

"I swear, I can handle it." The muggleborn replied in a firm voice. She was itching for the time turner. To finally have enough time in the day to push herself the way she always knew she could.

"Good." Professor Dumbledore nodded, withdrawing a slim book from his desk. "The Ministry sent this to us for your perusal. Professor McGonagall expects a six foot essay by Wednesday morning on the proper, safe protocols of time travelling. If the essay is of sufficient quality, you will then be given the time turner."

Hermione accepted the book from him. Not quite certain if she wanted to puke, or scream with joy.

OOOO

After what she went through the last year, I feel like Hermione's time travel shenanigans needed to be increased a bit. Higher stakes and all. Do you think she will crumble again under the pressure? Or will she be able to handle this plus any possible misadventures coming up?