"Trip?" Hermione said incredulously. "Did we enjoy our trip?! Was that your idea of a joke?"
"Actually, Miss Granger, it was Jarvis who asked for my help with the pair of you. Said you've been causing quite an atmosphere in his department and wondered if I knew any way to fix it," Portree said with a smile that was causing Hermione to become increasingly angry.
"Oh, he did, did he?" Malfoy finally spoke. "And this is what you came up with? These are people's feelings you're messing with!"
Hermione couldn't help but let out a laugh at this, Malfoy glared at her.
"Sorry," she said, stifling another laugh, "it's just, well, Draco Malfoy talking about feelings? It's not something I'm used to hearing that's all," She turned back to Portree. "Not that he isn't absolutely right. That wasn't exactly fun for me. The entire magical world knows what happened to me in that house, what on earth makes you think I would want to go back there?"
"I have no idea which house you're talking about, Hermione. I don't have any control over where or when the portal takes you to. Each experience is unique to the person, or in your case, people, who enter it. As for your feelings Draco, that is the purpose of the portal, it thrives on feelings. Where it sends you depends on your feelings at the time, or towards the person you enter it with," Portree continued to smile at the pair, who in turn looked at him utterly perplexed.
"Well, my feelings now are I'm pleased it's over," said Malfoy, walking past Portree and towards the door.
"Yours and Hermione's journey is far from over, Draco. There is still much to be seen, I believe," Portree said simply before disappearing into the darkness beyond the portal. Hermione shouted for him a few times but no answer came.
"What did that mean, 'your journey is far from over?' We're back now, that's it," She said, whilst heading to the doorway Malfoy was standing in.
"I don't know, and frankly, I don't care. I just want to get back to my office, I've got far too much to do without worrying about stupid cryptic messages from unspeakables."
They left the room together and it took four attempts of opening random doors before they finally managed to find the one that lead to the dark corridor that would take them to the lifts. Once back on their department floor, each returned to their respective offices and spoke no more of their bizarre encounter.
***
The charity Quidditch match took place a few weeks after Hermione and Malfoy's trip in the Department of Mysteries. Much to Hermione's delight, Harry's team thrashed Draco's. Hundreds of people bought tickets and Hermione was pleased to see many of them were old classmates of hers, who proudly sang 'Weasley is our King' each time Ron saved a goal for Harry's team. Juliette, who was an excellent chaser, took to conducting the crowd's singing from her broom in between scoring goals. Surprisingly, Draco took his defeat very well, and gave a speech at the after party congratulating Harry and thanking him for helping to raise money for such a good cause.
Hermione hadn't spoke to anyone about what happened with Draco; not even Harry and Ron. She didn't want to have to re-live the moments again, it had been a long time since someone had called her a Mudblood and the first memory had brought back feelings of inadequacy she was desperately trying to fight. She had earned her title of Witch long ago, proved herself in every test magic could throw at her. It didn't matter that her parents weren't magical, she was and that was that. Or at least that's what she was telling the small voice in the back of her head.
What troubled her more, if possible, was the second memory. Not just because she returned to the room in which she was tortured, but because the more she thought about it, the more she felt sorry for the young boy in it. She didn't think of it as Draco Malfoy, her enemy from school and current source of annoyance at work. No, she simply saw a small boy who couldn't be excited about starting school at the most exciting and magical place in the world because his father wouldn't allow it. Instead, his head was filled with prejudices; who he could and couldn't associate with. The feelings of empathy for the pale, blonde-haired boy just wouldn't go away, it unnerved Hermione.
On returning to her office after their experience through the portal, it was Hermione's intentions to yell at her boss at the first opportunity. Luckily, he was out of the office most of the morning, giving Hermione a chance to calm down. She eventually concluded that it would be best not to give him the satisfaction of mentioning his childish plan and should he ask, she would deny all knowledge. However, no questions were asked by Jarvis and the subject wasn't spoken about by her or Malfoy. Hermione assumed that he wanted to forget about it as much as she did.
Unfortunately for both of them, Pertree was right and their experience was far from over. Hermione found this out just a few days after the Quidditch match. It was a Friday and she had not long finished work and been home. She was going out for dinner with Lucy in an hour, so had just tied her hair up and gotten in the shower to freshen up. Just as the warm water hit her body, Hermione felt something that was both unwelcome and extremely inconvenient; the now all-too-familiar pulling sensation in her stomach.
"No!" she gasped, and quickly turned to climb out of the shower and grab the dressing gown on the back of the door. The scene changed too quickly, and much to Hermione's dismay, her fluffy white dressing gown hung on the back of her bathroom door disappeared just beyond her outstretched hand. Glancing frantically around the room, not taking in the surroundings but looking for something she could cover herself up with, Hermione spotted an open wardrobe and grabbed something pink out of it and wrapped it around her. No longer panicking about her naked state, she acknowledged where she was for the first time.
She was in a bedroom. Her bedroom to be precise, though not the one in her flat. This was her childhood bedroom. Judging by the books on the shelf and the missing Gryffindor scarf that should have been pinned to the wall above her bed, this was from her younger days; before Hogwarts. The floor was covered in a soft cream carpet and walls were lilac, a floral border ran along the middle. A single bed, wardrobe and bookshelf were the only items of furniture; it was small but cosy.
"Nice outfit Granger," a voice from behind drawled making Hermione jump.
"Malfoy!" she said his name like an expletive.
"In the flesh," he smirked, "or should I say clothes. Which is more than can be said for you..."
His eyes scanned the length of her body and Hermione looked down, realising what she had covered herself up with. It was a pink dressing gown with white love hearts on, and it was the perfect size for a ten year old. It was only just covering her bum, her legs; still dripping wet, were completely exposed. The sleeves came just past her elbows and it barely closed, showing more of her chest than she ever would. Her face reddened and she grasped at the material, willing it to be longer.
Draco laughed, "I think you've grown out of that, maybe it's time for a new one?"
"Oh, shut up," Hermione snapped. "I was in the shower when I was dragged here, I didn't exactly have time to get dressed again."
"Where exactly is here?" Draco asked her, looking around the room with one eyebrow raised.
"This is my bedroom, at my parents' house."
The door opened and a young girl with wild curly hair entered. She was grinning broadly, emphasising her large front teeth. In her hands were several bags of different colour and size, Hermione recognised both the girl and the bags immediately.
"It's me..." she whispered.
"Obviously, how many other people do you know with hair like that?" Draco responded.
Hermione shot him an angry look but her gaze quickly returned to the younger version of herself, who had now placed the bags on the floor and was carefully pulling the items from inside them out and lining them up on her bed. Black school robes, more books than were on the school list, a cauldron and finally a long, thin maroon coloured box. The last item was not placed on the bed, but held tightly in her hands as she sat down. Slowly and carefully, she pulled the wooden stick from inside it and lay it across her palms, examining it closely.
Tears were now forming in Hermione's eyes as she watched her ten year old self; she knew the thoughts that were running through the girls mind, remembering them as though it was yesterday that she was thinking them.
"Are you crying? That comment about your hair was just a joke you know," Malfoy was looking at Hermione incredulously.
"No," she replied, wiping the tears way furiously, "and if I was it wouldn't be because of my hair."
"Right. So what would it be then?"
Hermione snorted. "Like you would understand."
"Try me," he said simply.
"It's just, I was so excited. After all the strange things that had happened to me, the children in my class thought I was a freak; part of me agreed with them. Getting my letter, it made it all make sense. I had no idea how it would all turn out; I was so naive."
"What do you mean, 'how it would all turn out'?"
Hermione sighed. "Well, I got to Hogwarts and was still different to everyone, wasn't I? Hermione Granger: the Muggle-born. Not to mention what should have been my final year at Hogwarts ended up as a year on the run and a war..."
Malfoy shifted uncomfortably. "It, er, wasn't all bad though was it? You went back and did your seventh year. And look at you now! Hot-shot ministry worker, changing the wizarding world one school at a time!"
"I guess so...It's not that I'm not proud of myself; I am. I just wish I could warn her," she looked back at the girl on the bed, now reading one of her new textbooks.
Malfoy, not sure how to respond, changed the subject. "So this is after your trip to Diagon Alley then?"
"Yes, I'd been given my Hogwarts letter the week before. Mum and dad took the day off work to take me, they loved it."
"Who was it that delivered your letter?" Draco asked.
"McGonagall. Wait, how did you know it was hand delivered?"
"McGonagall," he replied with a smile. "I spoke to her before I started to organise the Quidditch game. She told me that the teachers visit any Muggle-born children and explain what is in their letter and how to get to Diagon Alley. She also said that she wished they had the time to be able to go with them but they're too busy preparing for the new school year; that's how I came up with the idea for the charity."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You know, I still don't understand why you're doing all of this. Acting like you're every Muggle-born's best friend."
"It's not an act, Granger. I want to help. I have my reasons, not that they're any of your business."
A voice shouting from downstairs distracted them both from the retort Hermione was about to give. "Hermione, darling? Dinner's ready!"
Hermione immediately recognised the voice as her mothers. She watched herself place a bookmark in the page she had been reading, put the book down on her bed and leave the room. She was then jerked away from the scene and found herself once more in her bathroom, the dressing gown she had been wearing was gone, as was Malfoy, much to her relief.
A quick glance at her watch which was on the windowsill told her that no time had passed since she was last here, thankfully meaning she wouldn't be late for meeting Lucy.
She climbed back into the still-running shower and became lost in her own thoughts. Obviously this was what Pertree meant when he said their journey was far from over. As she stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel, Hermione groaned at the realisation that she would probably be spending more time in her past with Malfoy.