Hermione's parents didn't know if they would ever get used to entering Platform 9 3/4. Walking through walls, of course, was not something muggles did on a regular basis. Their daughter had exhibited magical abilities since she was no more than two years old, when Jane walked into Hermione's nursery one morning and saw all of the plush animals floating one-by-one into the crib. Her scream broke Hermione's concentration, and the animals dropped from midair, landing all around the room. Wesley rushed in and found Jane cradling Hermione in her lap, a look of pure panic etched on her face. When Jane explained to Wesley what she'd seen, he put a call in to his own mother, Agnes. She'd told him to call if anything unexplainable ever happened, and this definitely qualified.
Agnes made the short trip from her home, and within the hour, she was advising her son and his bewildered wife on the truth of her relatives... the Clarkes. Julius Braun had eloped with Millicent Clarke when they were just 17 years old. His family hadn't approved of the marriage because Julius was the son of an affluent, Irish magistrate and Millicent was their maid's daughter. Upon refusing a divorce, Julius, along with Millicent and her mother, Maggie, (her father, Ben, had died before she was born) was forced out of Ireland by Magistrate Braun. They resettled in northern England, near the Scottish border. It was there that Millicent gave birth to their four children, Magnus, Mattias, Madelyn and Meegan.
When Meegan was five years old, she accidentally set their family home on fire after becoming upset with Mattias for stealing her favorite doll. It was then that Maggie was forced to tell the truth about her late husband. Ben had been a wizard, an auror (someone who fights dark magic), in fact, for the Ministry of Magic. He died while attempting to apprehend a wizard who had been placing muggles under the Imperius curse just for fun. Although Millicent never displayed any magical abilities, Maggie knew the chance to have a witch or wizard in the family increased with every grandchild. Julius and Millicent were fearful of how Meegan's powers would affect their other children. They decided it would be best if Maggie took Meegan away, and raised her as her own child.
Meegan did not understand why she'd been sent away. She promised her grandmother that if they returned home she would never again get angry with Mattias. Maggie couldn't help but feel sympathy for her granddaughter, but she knew Julius and Millicent were too fearful to accept Meegan back into their home. Maggie settled them in Godric's Hollow, Ben's hometown. She explained to Meegan that she was special. She told her one day she would get to attend a magic school, and meet many other children like her.
Six years passed. The summer of her eleventh birthday, Meegan received a letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry inviting her to attend. Meegan graduated from Hogwarts, but never fully embraced being witch. She actually blamed her abilities for tearing her away from her family. She did not pursue a magical career, opting instead to live a muggle life. She married Stephen Warner, a blacksmith, and had one child...Agnes.
Meegan prayed Agnes would not be magical, because she knew first hand how magic could alienate a child. Meegan thought her prayers had been answered, but as she was doing dishes one July afternoon, an owl flew through the kitchen window and dropped a letter right in the girl's lap before circling back out. Meegan's heart dropped, knowing full well what that letter was going to say. Her heart shattered as her daughter read the letter out loud, then looked to her expectantly. Meegan assured her it was just a silly joke, that there was no such thing as magic, and a part of her died as she watched the light of hope drain from her daughter's eyes.
Meegan owled Headmaster Dippet, to inform him Agnes would not be attending, and to please not send anymore owls. Meegan felt ashamed about denying her daughter the truth, but she could not risk Stephen finding out, and rejecting the both of them. She convinced herself that she lied to Agnes for her own protection, but the guilt started to eat her alive. When Agnes turned 18, Meegan took her on a vacation to London. It was there that Meegan confessed everything, even took her to Diagon Alley to prove it. Agnes couldn't believe her eyes or that her mother would lie to her about something so important.
She felt a lot of things... confused, angry, sad, disappointed and betrayed. She tried to see things from her mother's point of view, but simply could not. She knew it was too late for her to immerse herself in the magical world, so she did the next best thing... she read about. She devoured every book she could get her hands on. If she ever had a magical child, she would be ready. When she married Michael Granger, however, she began to understand some of her mother's fears. She knew he wouldn't understand her being a witch, even if she had never used magic a day in her life. Much to her relief, her only child, Wesley's, eleventh year came and went with not an owl in sight. She knew she would have to tell him about his magic blood at some point, but for the moment, what he didn't know couldn't hurt him.
According to the books, most magical children don't display any abilities until after five years old, so she thought she'd have at least that long after Hermione was born to tell Wesley and Jane the truth, but when she got the call just after Hermione's second birthday, she knew the time had come. Wesley and Jane stared at her in shock for several, agonizing minutes before they could find any words. Agnes prepared for them to be angry. They had every right, just as she had with her own mother. It was Jane's voice that eventually broke the silence. "I think we're going to need those books you were talking about, if we are to be prepared for anymore of these magical episodes."
From that day forth, Hermione's parents kept a watchful eye on their daughter, encouraging her to use her "super power" (as they called it) only when inside their own home. When she received her Hogwarts' letter, they were quite relieved. They knew it would be far better for Hermione to be in a place where her abilities would be considered commendable, rather than something to hide. For although they had no experience upon which to compare, they were certain she was above and beyond most witches of her age.
It was helpful that the letter had also contained instructions for entering Platform 9 3/4, as odd as them seemed. And now, even though they'd been through multiple times, they still closed their eyes and clung tightly to each other's hands, preparing for the wall to be as unyielding as it looked. When they emerged unscathed, they let out the breaths they'd unconsciously been holding. Hermione followed them through as she'd done every year, save for the first one when her father bravely declared he would go first and the girls would come after, 'you know just in case something goes wrong between here and there.' Luna and her father were right behind.
They were the first of their friends to arrive, which wasn't surprising seeing as how Molly and Ginny waited for the boys at the Leaky Cauldron to give them their supplies. Harry and Ron never could be on time. The two girls placed their trunks in the luggage compartment while Hermione's parents chatted with Xenophilius about the latest issue of the Quibbler, which they receive at their home as a way to stay connected with the wizarding world. Hermione had told them that most of what he writes is simply his own opinion, and doesn't usually reflect how things actually are, but they just wave her off. They enjoy having a piece, no matter how incredible it may be, of her world fresh on their door step every week.
"I hope they are close," Hermione mused, looking from her watch to the barrier and back again.
Her worries subsided as she heard a familiar voice complain, "You could have just used an extension charm on Ginny's trunk, mum. You didn't have to make Harry and I drag ours all over London."
"I didn't mind-"
"Oh, shut it Harry." Ron cut in. "No one asked you."
"Ronald Weasley! You will change your attitude or you will make the rest of the trip in silence." Molly threatened, pointing her wand at his face.
With that, he turned to the train, pulling his trunk behind him, and climbed aboard.
"What's got him so wound up?" Hermione asked, looking to Ginny.
"Typical Ron stuff... I wanted more sleep. I wanted more breakfast. I don't like doing things the muggle way. Why can't we just apparate into Hogsmeade? Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Been listening to his whining for the last hour. If mum hadn't been around, I'd have Bat Bogey'd him into next week."
"I still might." Ginny said under her breath so only Hermione could hear.
"Actually," Harry corrected as he brushed a kiss against her cheek and slid his hand into hers, "He's still upset our night at the Cannons game didn't quite go as planned. I'll fill you in on the train."
Everyone said goodbye to their respective parents and boarded the train as the whistle loudly signaled: ALL ABOARD.
"Should we look for Ron?" Luna wondered.
"I vote we let him stew in his misery?" Hermione stated as the the train pulled out of the station. She felt bad saying that about her boyfriend, but she'd seen him in moods like this, and it was usually best to just let him be. "Eventually he'll get over it, plus I want to hear the truth from Harry about what happened without Ronald painting himself as some sort of victim."
They all filed into the first open compartment they found, far from where they knew Ron would be sulking. Once they were settled, Harry recounted the details of the disastrous outing:
"Ron was an absolute nightmare the entire day. From the moment he woke up until I let him drag me out the door at 3, four whole hours before the match was set to begin, all he did was bombard me with questions about how he should act (should he play it cool or act like he was already one of the guys), whether or not I thought we'd be invited to watch from the team owner's suite, how did he look in his Cannons replica uniform (because with any luck he'd be receiving a real one soon enough), and, most annoyingly of all, how should he handle the reporters he was sure would be dying to interview him (should he refuse to comment until an official statement is made, should he embrace and answer their questions or should he simply flash them his dazzling smile and let them come to their own conclusions). The bloke was completely convinced he'd be offered a position at least on the reserve team until their current keeper, Frederick LeGrande, announced his retirement. So we apparated to the field inside the stadium's anti-muggle protection shield. Like I said, it was four hours before match time, even though the gates don't open until one hour before. Ron was sure they'd let us in once he told them who he was. Not surprisingly, the gates were locked, and there wasn't a soul to be seen anywhere. I told him we should just go to the Leaky Cauldron or even a muggle pub to wait, but he wasn't having that. We walked around the stadium three times before he conceded no one would be coming to let us in. We ended up sitting in relative silence for the next hour and a half. Occasionally he would curse under his breath, but there was no conversation. Finally, other fans started to appear. I spotted Seamus and Dean, and waved them over. They were on a double-date, so they didn't hang around long after they noticed Ron's sour mood. When the gates opened, Ron was adamant we find Roger Kechly the team publicist. Ron was sure once we found him, he'd make sure we were treated properly (meaning treated like the celebrities Ron believes we are). I, of course, just wanted to find our seats, and enjoy the match. We spent nearly the entire hour before the match was to begin searching for Roger before Ron spotted him at the entrance to the team locker room, his back to us. Ron called his name, waving like a maniac, but Roger was engaged in conversation with someone we could not see inside the locker room. When Roger turned to see who was yelling his name, we saw he'd been talking to Cormac McLaggen, and Cormac was wearing a Cannons jersey! You can probably imagine how well Ron took that. Before I knew it, he was throwing a punch at Cormac, which he dodged brilliantly by the way, and Ron's fist smacked directly into the stone wall. I won't include his specific language, but let's just say Ron managed to offend everyone within earshot. I had to petrify him to make him stop. I apparated us back to the Burrow where Molly patched up his hand and confiscated his wand. She put a containment spell on his room so he couldn't leave, and he spent all day Saturday throwing a tantrum. You should have seen the aftermath. His Cannons' posters ripped to shreds and strewn upon every inch of noticeable space. His bed overturned and all his books scattered across the floor. I had forgotten that muggle destruction of property could be equal to the wizard kind. I'd hate to see Molly's face when she gets home to that mess. I stayed in the twins' room and actually haven't spoken to him at all since Friday. Arthur dropped us at the Leaky Cauldron around 10 this morning, and you know the rest."
"I knew it was bad, based upon his demeanor on the platform, but I had no idea it was that bad." Hermoine softened her feelings toward her obviously hurting boyfriend. "I should go find him." And she excused herself from their compartment.
"Well," Ginny broke the silence, shooting a knowing look at Luna, before informing Harry, "you and Ron aren't the only ones who had an exciting Friday... We, well Hermione actually, ran into Draco Malfoy at the theater!"
"What?!" Harry gaped wide-eyed from Ginny to Luna and back again.
"Yep, and I mean ran smack dab into him. Her face, his chest..." Ginny clapped her hands together, in demonstration. "What's weird though, other than the fact the he was in the muggle world, is he didn't shove her away or make any disgusting comments. He actually kind of... cradled her in his arms until she pushed him off."
"It was quite a lovely moment if you think about it." Luna added, in her sing-song way. "Two life-long enemies, removed from their usual surroundings, thrown into a situation in which they simply viewed each other as equal human beings."
"Wow, Luna," Harry answered, "that's a beautiful perspective, and if it wasn't Malfoy, the death eater and Hermione, my best friend, someone whom I consider to be a sister, we were talking about, I might be able to see it that way. But he's done too much and hurt too many people for me to see him as anything other than the slimy, rotten ferret he is."
Hermione found Ron in the second to last compartment on the last car of the train. He was sitting on the bench, hunched forward over his knees, his head resting in the palms of his hands. She could tell he was more defeated than angry. His head popped up, ready to curse whomever disturbed him, as she slid the door open. His eyes softened, when he saw it was her, but he still snapped, "I just want to be alone," and returned to his prior position.
"I'm not leaving." Hermione declared as she slid the door closed and took the seat next to him, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. "We don't have to talk, but I'm not leaving."
He turned into her, laying his head in her lap and propping his feet upon the bench. She ran her fingers through his hair, and felt the tension leave him as he slowly fell asleep. Hermione looked down at her sleeping boyfriend, and wished there was more she could do to ease the pain of his embarrassment and disappointment. His whole life had been spent in the shadows of others. First, all of his brothers, and then his best friend. All Ron wanted was to be a somebody. A somebody people recognized on the street. A somebody people looked up to. A somebody that wasn't a supporting role.
Ron had thought he'd found what he wanted after the Battle at Hogwarts and people started calling Harry, Hermione and himself the Golden Trio, but soon he began to feel like it was more of the Golden Duo plus their third wheel. He didn't blame his friends, but couldn't help the resentment he felt whenever an article ran with Harry in the headlines, or an eloquent quote from Hermione. Inevitably, Ron would either be left out of such articles or thrown in as an obvious afterthought. It drove him mad. Even George who was "flourishing under the weight of extreme loss" -The Daily Prophet, got more press than he did.
He tried to be happy for everyone else, but they didn't even want the attention (okay George did), but Harry and Hermione did everything in their power to avoid it. Why couldn't someone just acknowledge the role he had played for seven years? Why was everything about them? When would he get to be in the spotlight. It was his deepest desire after all, to break out of the shadows and be the best at something... anything. Being best friends with the Chosen One and dating the brightest witch of their age wasn't enough for Ron anymore. He needed to make a name for himself as an individual. Becoming the keeper for the Cannons was exactly what he needed to make that happen, and now that chance was gone because of Cormac McLaggen.
Ron's sleep was fitful as his mind tried to sort through these thoughts. When he woke, Hermione was still in his compartment, but she'd moved to the other bench. She knowingly smiled at him, and he gratefully returned it.
"Are you ready to talk?" She soothed as he sat up. "Harry told us everything."
"I figured he would," Ron shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe after I've had something to eat. I'm starving."
"I thought you might say that," she smirked, holding out a handful of chocolate frogs.
"You know me too well, H." He snickered grabbing her outstretched wrist with both hands, one securing the frogs, and pulled her onto his lap. She giggled as he placed his lips against her neck, nibbling softly, slowly moving up her chin, landing on her lips.
He thought arriving two hours early and choosing the last compartment on the train would afford him the privacy he desired, and it would have if that damn Weasley hadn't been throwing a pity party. Ron's ranting and beating the compartment cushions lasted a good 45 minutes. From what Draco could make out, Weasley had been hoping to take the soon-to-be-empty keeper's spot on the Cannons' roster, but his fellow Gryffindor, Cormac McLaggen had beaten him to it. He also heard random spurts of resentment toward the two primary parts of the Golden Trio.
Its understandable, Draco thought to himself. Poor lad has five older brothers (well four now)... One works with dragons, one married a veela, one has his own extremely successful shoppe and the other, well the other is quite a prat, but successful in the ministry nonetheless... and a sister who is equal parts fierceness and beauty. But what's Ron got, other than a famous best friend, and Hermione of course.
Any feelings of sympathy for the youngest Weasley brother faded at that last thought, and were replaced with resentment of his own. Why doesn't that idiot realize how great he has it? Hermione should be enough for any man. If he had her... He couldn't allow himself to go any further. He would never have her, and he had to accept that.
It was then that he heard her voice..."I'm not leaving. We don't have to talk, but I'm not leaving." Draco heard through the compartment wall. He pressed his ear thin piece of fabric-covered wood that separated them, begging for her say more. During their years at Hogwarts, Draco had come to an understanding with himself... he'd never be allowed to touch her or look at her in the way that he wanted, but no one could stop him from hearing her voice. Her voice was the only thing he'd ever be able to fully have of her, and it had become home to him. He lived for the brief moments he would catch a breeze of it in the hallways.
The chance to hear it was the only reason Draco was returning to Hogwarts. He knew their career paths would most likely take them different directions, and this year would be the last chance, for the rest of his life, to be sure he'd hear it everyday. He held his ear pressed to the wall for the remainder of the ride. Weasley at some point must have fallen asleep, because Draco heard him snoring. A few moments later, she settled herself on the bench adjoining his compartment, and began humming a lullaby.
His heart skipped and his breath caught. He placed his hand against the wall, willing it disappear so he could touch her just for a moment. Her sweet melody was one he was familiar with. He'd heard it many times over the summers he spent with Severus. Jane had hummed it to them, he and Hermione, as they fought sleep under the stars. As he heard it now, he couldn't stop the tears as he remembered the feeling of her hand in his, and the way she'd turned to him that last night and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.
"I love you, Blake," she'd whispered, her eyes boring into his.
He stared into her deep, brown eyes, willing her to understand the secret he was keeping. Wishing this wasn't going to be the last time she looked at him that way. Knowing she'd received her letter over a month ago, not only because she had shown him, but also because he'd received his the same day. They were going to be classmates, but she would never know it. When they arrived at Hogwarts, he wouldn't be Blake Simmons, Hermione's best friend and soulmate. He would be himself, Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, infamous death eater, and his wife Narcissa. Severus would no longer be Jason Simmons, Blake's father and pharmacist. He would be their cruel potions' master. The charade they'd lived behind for six summers would be gone, and she would never look at him that way again.
"I love you, too, Hermione. I always will." He responded, before she drifted off to sleep, and Severus advised him it was time to go.
She must have hummed him to sleep, because the next thing Draco knew, they were pulling into the Hogsmeade Station. He roughly scourgified the tear tracks from his cheeks as he waited for everyone else to exit. When he heard no more noise outside, he disembarked and retrieved his trunk. He had missed the carriages, but it was no matter. He could walk to Hogwarts. The cool air would help clear his mind, which would be essential if his plan to show everyone the real Draco Malfoy was to succeed.
