A/N: Thanks so much for the wonderful reaction to the first chapter! We greatly appreciate it! x
Chapter Two
This isn't real. Not at all. I'm going to wake up, now. I'll wake up and this will all have been just a terribly messed-up dream.
No matter how many times Hermione thought the words, she couldn't make herself believe them or forget what she'd learned.
"We couldn't keep this from you forever," her mother had said.
Well, Hermione thought now, perhaps you should have.
She did her best to listen to what her duties as a Prefect would entail as she sat beside Ron in the carriage they'd been instructed to report to aboard the Hogwarts Express. She was still beyond thrilled about the opportunity to prove her leadership skill, and she tried hard to remind herself of this in order to tear her focus away from what her parents had finally gotten around to telling her just a few weeks before her sixteenth birthday.
Adopted.
The world circled through her mind, taunting her, and she fought to push it away, to forget. It doesn't change anything, she told herself. Or it doesn't have to. You're still the same person. They still raised you. It doesn't matter.
She sighed quietly and looked out the window at the passing scenery, wishing she cared more about it at the moment and could relocate her enthusiasm for this term at Hogwarts.
She wasn't completely certain how long she'd lost her focus on the conversation before she heard another sigh from a few seats down, this one much louder than her own. It wasn't until someone spoke from nearby that she realized who had made the sound.
"What are you looking at, Weasel?" snarled the voice of Draco Malfoy. "Why don't you drool on your filthy girlfriend instead of staring at me?"
Hermione felt Ron shift beside her, and she blinked back to the present, turning her head toward him in time to see him pull out his wand. "I'll show you," he muttered.
Draco smirked. "Haven't you learned by now, Weasley? If you don't want to eat slugs or float upside down by only your trouser leg, it's best not to tempt me."
Ron scowled and returned his wand to his robes, slumping down in his seat. Draco snickered, and Hermione glared at him.
"It's all right, Ron," she said flatly. "He wouldn't dare do anything here. He's only just gotten his badge, and he won't risk losing it before we even get to school." She looked to Ron's face and watched him nod, and then she cast another cold glance at Draco, far from in the mood for his antagonizing.
"Not like anyone would believe the two of you over him, if you abused your power so quickly and decided to tell them," said Pansy Parkinson from Draco's other side, rolling her eyes.
Draco scowled at Hermione. "If there was any other Headmaster in charge, you'd never have been given that badge, Granger." He looked to Pansy and nodded. "They wouldn't dare, if they knew what was good for them," he said in a lazy drawl.
Ron sent another scowl Draco's way and returned his attention to the front of the carriage.
"I'd say I earned this badge quite a bit more legitimately than you did," Hermione snapped at Draco. "Dumbledore couldn't have picked me because of my parents' example, at least."
Hermione's cheeks burned, and she immediately regretted losing her temper, particularly when she realized she had no idea what her biological parents would've been like, if they'd gone to Hogwarts. She looked straight ahead and tried hard to listen when the Prefect responsibilities were divided, and when she learned she had first patrol of the train along with Draco, she huffed quietly and stood.
Of course. This is going to be the year that I can't even begin to catch a break.
"I hope this doesn't last long," she muttered to Ron. She squeezed his shoulder and made her way to the door of the compartment and out into the corridor beyond. She held still for a moment and worked to gather her thoughts and her composure.
"You're still our daughter," her mother said, wiping away the tears Hermione hadn't quite managed to keep from sliding down her cheeks. "You always will be, and we will always be so, so proud of you. We just didn't feel right keeping this from you any longer. It doesn't change anything between us."
Hermione returned to the present when Draco emerged from the Prefects' carriage, and she folded her arms over her chest. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of making him think he'd gotten to her by firing an insult at him first, and so she straightened her badge and started forward.
"Looks like the first-years have managed to find seats," she said absently as she realized how empty the area appeared to be.
"Well, chat much is clear," said Draco.
Hermione let out an irritated breath. "You're incapable of not being difficult," she muttered, starting down the corridor more quickly. She paused to let a sixth-year girl pass and bit back a sigh at the sight of the silver bird imprinted on the girl's neck.
Look, something else I'm not part of, Hermione thought bitterly. If I knew who my soulmate was, I'd at least know who to reach out to, right now.
Draco sucked in a sharp breath from behind her, and Hermione's eyes widened when she realized how close he'd come to her before stopping. She supposed she should've given him more warning, but she'd been too distracted to do so.
"I'm not the only one who's difficult," Draco spat. "You might try looking in a mirror every once in a while."
Hermione took a few steps forward, determined to put a few paces between them. "I don't go looking for comments about my blood, thank you. And neither does Ron. All he did was look at you, you know. It's not a crime, and it doesn't warrant an insult for me, either."
"You know what, Granger? I don't have to listen to you defend your boyfriend. You take that half of the train and I'll take this half. You stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours."
Draco turned on his heels and made his way back down the corridor in the direction from which they'd come.
Hermione closed her eyes and let out a sigh. "Fine," she said shortly. She continued along the train, mentally kicking herself and wishing she knew what to do to make things less hostile between Draco and her friends. She knew this was going to be a ridiculously long year.
When the train arrived at Hogwarts, Hermione attempted to convince herself to stop worrying about this term and focus on the positives: she was here and she as safe, along with her friends. After what Harry had witnessed at the end of the Triwizard Tournament, she knew that was a blessing and not to be taken for granted. Cedric's death still hung heavy in the air around the student tables, and the only thing about the school environment that sickened her more than the mutters of people casting doubt on Harry's version of events was the appearance of Professor Dolores Umbridge, who was clearly going to make this year a difficult one.
When the feast had ended, Hermione excused herself from her friends, telling them she would meet up with them soon back in the Gryffindor Common Room, and approached Professor McGonagall at the staff table. If she trusted anyone enough to ask for advice about the problems at hand, it was her Head of House.
"Excuse me, Professor. I wondered if I might have a word with you in private, if you have a moment?"
Professor McGonagall looked toward Hermione. "Yes, Miss Granger, I believe I do. Wonderful chat, Rolanda," she added to Madam Hooch, who sat beside her. Professor McGonagall wiped the edges of her mouth with her napkin and stood. "This way, my dear."
Hermione followed her around the back of the room, away from the crowds, and out into the corridor, letting out a quiet sigh of relief when they'd escaped from the masses.
"If you're here with me, dear, does that mean Mr. Weasley is guiding the group of first-years all on his own?"
Hermione fidgeted with her sleeve. "He is. I apologize for that, and I intend to help him in every way I can and make up for it. I just didn't feel I'd be the best company for the first-years, right now. Have you ever been told something you wish you hadn't? Something you wish you could forget so that life would go back to making sense?"
Professor McGonagall's brows furrowed. "Miss Granger, you've known me for five years, now, and you very well know that I'm a straightforward woman and prefer my students to behave in such a way, as well. Your ability to say what you mean has always been a quality that I've admired. Now, what is it that's going on?"
Hermione lowered her eyes to the floor. "I know. It's just hard to talk about." She ran a hand through her hair and took in a long breath. "Professor, my parents have told me that I'm not their biological child. I love them so much, and I know I'm still their daughter, but it hurts more than I know how to handle. I've spent so long defending them to other students and making myself all right with who I am, and now… I'm not entirely sure who that is." Her eyes stung with ears, but she denied them and refused to let them fall.
"I'm sorry, my dear," said Professor McGonagall quietly. "That is quite the load to land right before your first term. Did your parents give you any information at all?"
Hermione shook her head. She was relieved that her professor wasn't judging her for handling this poorly and that she seemed to understand. "Thank you," she said. "I wish they had, but from the way they were speaking, it sounded like it was either a closed adoption and they had no idea or they were trying very hard not to remember. They just… stopped talking about it."
Professor McGonagall nodded. "It sounds like you've got some digging to do, Miss Granger. Thankfully, one of your skills is allowing your curiosity to help you find what you're looking for."
"I hope that it's enough." Hermione paused. She supposed her professor was right; for the first four years of her schooling, she'd relied on herself to find out everything she needed to know, and now wasn't the time to give up on her ability to locate whatever information was available. "Thank you for letting me speak with you about all this. I appreciate it very much." She glanced down the corridor. "I suppose I should get back and see if Ron needs help."
"Good luck, Miss Granger. And it will be. Use that brilliant mind of yours to find the answers you need."
"Thank you, Professor."
The two parted, and Hermione made her way up through the school's levels to Gryffindor Tower. When she arrived, she sought out Ron and Harry, and when she spotted them on a couch, she made her way over to stand beside it.
"Sorry about that," she said quietly, hoping to keep the other students clustered throughout the room from hearing.
"It's about bloody time, Hermione," said Ron. "Had a blasted first-year practically beat me to death. He was the biggest arse I've ever dealt with—other than Malfoy."
Hermione's eyes widened. "I'm sorry. Are you all right? Why in the world did he do that?" Merlin, what is happening to this school? she thought bitterly. First-years weren't supposed to cause such trouble.
Ron threw his hands into the air. "Who bloody well knows? They're damn first-years with no brains and very large egos."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You know that was us four years ago, yes?" She sat down beside them. "Anyway, other than that one, how was it?"
Ron huffed, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. "It was fine. You should've been there, though, Hermione. I needed you."
"I've already said I'm sorry, Ronald. I had to deal with something important." Frowning, Hermione looked to Harry. "What about you? I know it must've been… different." She hated that Harry hadn't been made a Prefect along with them; she knew it had to be odd for him. She tried not to pay attention when Ron sighed and stood from the couch to make his way across the room.
"Fine," said Harry, not looking up from his copy of the evening's Prophet.
Hermione glanced from him to Ron—who had made his way over to the fireplace—and back. "Fine, then," she said flatly. "Goodnight to both of you."
She couldn't handle their indifference, at the moment—not when she was dealing with something so difficult that neither of them appeared to care enough to ask her about.
They can't even tell when something isn't right, she thought, shaking her head.
She was fully ready to sleep, after such a ridiculously long day. She stood and made her way up the stairs without another word.