Chapter 4
Ronald Weasley's heart raced from adrenaline as he run to keep up with the red-haired woman who was his partner, Fay Dunbar. She dove to her left just in time as green shoots of light flashed past where she was standing. The muggle alley was dark and stank of an unpleasant odour, much like urine. Ron shoved his wand arm under his shoulder and threw some purple stunning spells behind him.
"We have to get out of here Weasley!" she called as she ran athletically, jumping smoothly over a tipped over trashcan.
Ron grinned behind her, keeping up and soon beside her. "You read my mind!" he grinned, grabbed her arm and turning on the spot.
They reappeared in the centre of the training room, and both turned to grin at one another. The action was a thrill, even though it wasn't real. The alley was simulated; they were preparing for their final test before they could become fully qualified aurors.
"Well done Arrow and Bow, you demonstrated good co-operation and are becoming well attuned to one another's defensive and offensive tactics," Kingsley Shacklebolt stood in the middle of the training room, hands clasped behind his back, face determined. "However, the mission was not accomplished. Can you tell me what you learned about your attackers, to help you capture them for future purposes?"
"They favoured unforgiveable curses," Fay stated, standing in an at ease position.
"This means they were likely death eaters, or people into the dark arts. We would charge them with treason, and disarm them, bringing them into the Ministry's custody," Ron specified, also standing in rank position.
"Good. Dismissed." Kingsley turned away from them and turned to the next pair to be trained, sword and shield.
Fay faced Ron, her grin still stretched wide. She was finally doing it; she was going to be an auror. She held out her right hand to Ron, and he took it firmly in his grasp.
"I think a celebration is in order, don't you? Lets go find a bar and drink to a job well done," Ron said as he still held Fay's hand.
He noticed her freckles, like his, scattered across her skin, evidence of her joy in playing quidditch. He noticed her blue eyes that sparkled green in certain lighting. He noticed her strong yet slim figure. He noticed her chin length hair that swished playfully when she crooked her head. He noticed her perfect teeth. Ron noticed a lot about his partner. He enjoyed her company. She didn't make him feel at though he was letting the team down. She included him and valued his ideas. He was not in love with her. But a very large part of himself wanted to call her his. But sometimes he'd turn to her and recall a memory that didn't involve her, such as the time he sacrificed himself for Harry to win the life-sized chess game, and realise he wanted to share it with Hermione, not Fay. And it was in those moments he realised how much he loved Hermione, and how one day he would marry her.
The sun shone through the open window, carrying the cool morning breeze with it as Hermione woke from her disturbed slumber, flashes of the past cropping up into her mind: Bellatrix standing over her; Yaxley chasing her down; Greyback gnashing his teeth at her. She only slept dreamlessly when Madam Pomfrey gave her a dreamless elixir, but too much was harmful and can cause a person to loose an ambition to dream at all, and she'd had her share for the week, so this night she didn't sleep.
It was her first night spent in her new dormitory. She had gotten her photographs and schoolbooks sorted yesterday evening, and now she felt peaceful as she looked up at the gold surrounding her. Her new home was lavish, and it felt familiar. It was as though she was home in her house in Bloomsbury with her mother and father nearby pottering along before they went to work in their practise. In the muggle world she was upper class; her father owned his own practise and their home was a well-decorated townhouse. But Hermione was not a snob; she was not prejudiced and new how lucky she was. But to be in a room that was so homely decorated felt nice.
Hermione was defined, she felt, by her greatest weakness. Her inability to dream a future for herself that wasn't practical was what limited her; she would never be an idealist. She knew what she had to do: a job in the ministry, be head girl, get married and change the way wizards treat others, particularly the minorities. But there was no room for living, not really. If things weren't planned out exactly or didn't follow this plan, she was scared she would end up back on the floor of Malfoy mansion, having a knife piercing her left forearm repeatedly marking her as she was.
She let her eyelids open again as she had closed them with the thoughts of the future. She lolled her head to the side and gazed outside the bay window, over the grounds towards the quidditch pitch. The sun was rising over the edge of the distant mountains, bringing a cool light that filled her inside. She breathed in deeply, but it did little to remove the sadness holding onto her ribs. The nearby clock tower chimed half past six, and she sighed and threw the covers off herself.
Her bare feet hit the floor and soaked in the cool it emitted. She grabbed her towel and toiletries hanging on the inside of the wardrobe door as she walked out the door, taking the steps lightly to the bathroom where she smiled and pushed open the large doors to take in again the splendour of her private bathing facilities. While the bath looked inviting she padded lightly over to open shower and hung her towel on the hook.
Hermione was dressed and ready by seven, smelling lightly of lavender shampoo. Donned in converse shoes, denim shorts and a tee shirt she was greeted by a half asleep Draco as he lounged in the eighth year common room, his leg thrown over the arm of the chair he was sitting on and his head slumped back, trying to sneak in some last sleep before they got to work.
"Good morning," Hermione chirped, cheery despite the sleepless night she had.
"Are your nightmares a regular thing or just a once off occasion? Because you have a pair of lungs Granger," Draco muttered, eyes still closed.
"Not that it's any of your business, but actually they happen every night. I take a dreamless potions four times a week," Hermione curtly replied.
He opened his eyes and peered at her. "What exactly do you dream about?"
"Don't push your luck Malfoy; I haven't even told Ron what I dream," she smirked, playfully pushing his feet off the arm with her leg as she walked out. "Come on, busy day."
The day continued much the same as those before it: fix the school. Thankfully most of it was repairable by magic, such as vanishing the piles of rubble in the Transfiguration classroom, or repairing the cauldrons that were squashed when a wall collapsed on it. The days continued much the same for several months, lives continuing on in a dull monotone of chores and training, until September dawned upon them, and Draco and Hermione found themselves apparating to Platform 9 and ¾, hands clasped, ready to begin their duties as Head Boy and Girl.
The Platform was already a swarm of colours as the two stood with their hands clasped so tightly together their knuckles were white. Draco's grip was strong and determined and Hermione looked up at him against the streaming sunlight trying to read what he was doing.
"Can I have my hand back, Malfoy?" she teased, her other hand covering her brow from the light. His hand was firm and strong, despite the noticeable shallowness of his cheeks. Months of well eating wasn't encouraging him to become healthier looking, and Hermione committed this thought to memory for a late night confrontation in their private common room, which was now clearly lived in.
"I was just contemplating a replacement for you. One similar to Pettigrew's perhaps? I've come to like this hand. It's small and crushable, just how I like my objects," Draco smirked, squeezing her hand in demonstration. Hermione cried out in mock pain and jabbed him in the ribs until he realised her. "No fair Granger. I guess you can have your hand back. I mean, I already have a collection of them at the mansion."
Hermione grimaced and Draco grinned, dropping her hand. "Alright, lets go help some first years. I'll deal with the criers, you deal with the luggage."
They split up and conquered the imminent problems, succeeding in getting every student on the train by 11 o'clock, barely leaving any time for them to arrive at the front Prefect's carriage before the new hordes of prefect's assembled.
"They aren't going to like this," Hermione muttered, one hand on hip, one hand thrown into her hair. "They are not going to like this."
"Chill Granger. I'll tell them the go. They already hate me, so what's a little more hate for the messenger?" he sat down beside her at the very large round table, and gave her knee a squeeze.
"This will change the way the school functions for life. It's never happened. Soon they'll be sorting us into couples to make the wizarding world grow. Imagine how they will take this? Eighth years will be fine, and first years, but sixth years? Seventh years? They hate other hous-"
"Chill Granger. They'll have to get used to it. It'll be fine," he said, phlegmatic about the whole situation. "We've overcome worse things."
The compartment door opened, and a horde of people flowed in, from all houses and young ages. Hermione didn't know these students. They weren't people she'd gotten to know. She hoped that together, she and Draco could earn their respect.
"Good morning," Draco smirked, hands shoved into his pockets. His cheekbones became more pronounced and aristocratic like when he sat cavalier and authoritative. He addressed the group:
"Miss Granger and I," he looked at Hermione when he said this, "welcome you to the team. This year is the most important year of Hogwarts history: how will our generation cope after a war as terrifying as this? Professor McGonagall and the other Professors have worked tirelessly along side us to restore the school, but it's the way we as prefects dictate proper behaviour that will be expected of the students that of the utmost importance.
"This year, there will no longer be houses."
He paused and let the sink in. The twenty-four students seated around him all opened their mouths at once and began to protest, but Hermione held up a silencing finger.
"If you look around the table you will see there are four fourth year prefects, eight fifth years and twelve sixth years. If you behave in a respectable manor you will be prefects until you graduate," Hermione said.
"In a few years time Professor McGonagall will look back over the arrangement and return it to the original way, if we as houses can learn to co-exist in a friendly way.
"As from today, students will be sorted into their houses at the feast tonight, and will eat with their houses, and attend classes with one other house, but they will no longer live with their entire house. First and second years will live in what was once Hufflepuff house, third and fourth in Slytherin, fifth and sixth in Gryffindor and seventh in Ravenclaw. Returning eighth years will have a separate common room, where Draco's and my quarters are.
Hermione continued, resembling Professor McGonagall. "Furthermore, within each dormitory there will be inter-house unity, in that they will have 8 students, with two from each house. We will not tolerate any attacks on one another, and so have placed a no underage magic barrier upon the dormitories, so that no hidden bullying or duelling can occur. The common rooms are free game, however will be monitored closely by you."
Draco sat looking at his nails while Hermione talked and squinted at any body he muttered under their breaths, but when he realised she had finished her long-winded spiel, he continued the meeting, handing out rosters and answering the stream of questions. He could get used to this team thing he and Hermione had going on.
The train began to lose steam and the windows outside grew dark as the Hogwarts express pulled into the station, and the students unaware of the changes boarded thestral drawn carriages, as both Draco and Hermione could now see what death had shown them.
Professor McGonagall had delivered her award winning speech sharing the same news Hermione had just hours before, but much more eloquently. The sorting was easy. The hard part was getting the students to dormitories they had never before been to.
Hermione and Draco were responsible for the safe delivery of the eighth years to their new quarters, and the prefects of Hufflepuff showed the first and second years to their new dorms and so on.
Rounding into the west wing, Hermione and Draco lead their classmates towards the glowing torch, and showed them how to enter, with the flame turning blue. Their classmates were in awe as they walked into the cosy right-angled room and made many remarks of how pleased they were, despite the nervousness of everyone. Hermione stood on one of the chairs and called for their attention, Draco standing closely beside her on the floor.
"Welcome back!" Hermione grinned, which was followed by a loud cheer from the uniformed eighteen year olds. "It is so good to be home, and with you all again. Just some house keeping things before you can settle into your dorms. McGonagall charmed the dorms so neither gender can enter the opposite genders dorm. Draco and I have a separate heads dorm. Please don't kill each other, but all the girls will be in one dorm, and all the boys in the others. I think that's it. Anything to add?"
She looked down and Draco and he raised the corner of his mouth slightly, before adding "Each Wednesday night will be communal night. Hermione and I have decided for the sake of the new wizarding world, we as the next generation will need to become more than acquaintances. So every Wednesday at 7pm, after dinner, we will be playing muggle board games."
People looked ready to protest at the idea of getting to know one another, and Pansy Parkinson was about ready to puke. She looked all queasy and pale, and moaned to Draco about how unfair and improper it was. Draco paid no attention and offered Hermione a hand down from her chair and gave her another smile, which she returned.
"Well Miss Granger, I think it's time to call it a day. Do you agree?"
Hermione gave his hand a squeeze and released his grip. "I think so, Mr Malfoy."
"He was a devil, a fox, a thief, but the only thing he stole was her heart."
Author's Note: I am so sorry it's been a while since I've uploaded, but here's the next chapter. I can't wait to begin delivering some cliffhangers and game changers.