Hi Everyone! I've had the idea for this story for a long time, and am finally in the process of turning it into a full story! I wanted to explore the possibility of a wizarding college, and to write a dramione story post-Hogwarts while they're still young! Please let me know what you think so far in the reviews! A lot of this story is written already and should be updated every week or so.
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In the center of O'Connell Street, in the heart of downtown Dublin, a frazzled young woman was struggling to push an enormous trolly over the curb of the sidewalk.
As pedestrians made way for her to pass through, they offered her sympathetic smiles. What a lousy day to be moving, they thought.
Dublin was always hot in August, but the past week had been unusually, excruciatingly stifling. The temperatures had been creeping higher each day and had impossibly exceeded the day before by a whopping seven degrees. The air had grown so dense and damp that it gave one the impression of taking a sip of warm water simply to breathe, and as the holiday season was coming to an end, the city was brimming with visitors, packing the city to its threshold. Tourists sought the vibrancy and vitality of the city before returning to the structured monotony of everyday life, and the pubs were bursting with patrons, who sat fanning themselves in the extensive outdoor seating, as they sipped gratefully from frosted beers. Local boutiques enticed shoppers with their blasting air conditioners, and the gelateria sported a line streaming down the block.
The abundance of tourists posed an additional obstacle for the woman, who narrowly avoided crashing into numerous people who stopped short on the sidewalk to take pictures of any sign or building that was remotely aesthetic.
What these pedestrians failed to notice, and seemed acutely oblivious to, was that there were some rather peculiar items in the trolley, from tattered, ancient trunks to a large, shiny cauldron stuffed with bottles of anomalous herbs and shimmering powders. One of these bottles, filled with a sinister black liquid, began to teeter precariously on the cauldron's edge, threatening to escape. The woman pushing the cart swore and lurched forward suddenly to grab it just before it smashed against the blistering pavement.
As she let out a sigh of simultaneous relief and frustration, Hermione Granger pushed the vial firmly back into the trolley. She wiped her brow, leaving her hand slick with sweat, and pulled a crumpled piece of parchment out of the pocket of her faded denim shorts, squinting again at the tidy scrawl.
She should be just about arrived.
She straightened, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of her white blouse cemented against her back, and peered across the street in search of her destination. Her eyes lit up with sudden recognition as they reached a small, unassuming brick storefront.
Brennan's Botany.
The faded, wooden sign was illuminated by twinkling gold string lights, and although a wide array of colorful plants was visible in the window, bypassers did not spare the shop so much as a passing glance. Hermione recognized this exceptional obscurity at once and clumsily steered her cart in the direction of the large, paneled door.
Her entry into the little shop was announced by the tinkling of a bell on the door frame, and Hermione immediately relished the refreshing cool air washing over her as she stepped inside, accompanied by the rich fragrance of vegetation. The interior of the shop was cluttered with mismatched antique tables, the surfaces of which hosted every imaginable plant, small spikey succulents, delicate, pale flowers, large splaying palms, and graceful, statuesque orchids.
Hermione was tempted to lose herself in the greenery, studying the informational tags of each and every plant, but forced herself to focus on the task at hand.
"Hello there!" A small, round man popped up from behind a large arrangement of poppies. He was older, nearing seventy, Hermione guessed, and the deep crinkles by his eyes and mouth indicated a lifetime full of humor. "Can I help you?"
"Oh!" Hermione said, relieved by the presence of this stranger. "I'm looking for the, erm, back refrigerator?" she recited the instructions on her parchment, praying that he wouldn't stare at her like a complete moron. To her relief, he nodded knowingly.
"Of course! I figured as much." His voice was jolly and clear, and he spoke with a thick Irish accent. "Right around the corner, there, in the hall." He pointed in the correct direction. Sensing her apprehension, he smiled kindly. "First time visiting, is it?"
Hermione nodded confidingly. "Yes. I'm incredibly excited, of course, but it's just hard to imagine starting a new school- a school that's not Hogwarts. Especially after everything that's happened in the past two years. I can't seem to wrap my head around it all. Entering a new chapter."
The man nodded somberly. "Transitions are difficult even in the best of times. But you know something? Seeing all you students filling this place again has given me a hell of a lot of hope. Macmathan is the best of the wizarding medical colleges, and I have no doubt that you all will do incredible good in the world with your education." He sniffed, his small eyes glistening. "I think it's wonderful to see so many students pursue healing after the horrors of the war."
"Thank you," Hermione said earnestly, touched and comforted by the old man's sincerity. "I've always wanted to be a healer, but it does seem to take on new meaning after the war."
This was true. In fact, since her fifth year, she'd secretly been set on the revered Macmathan to continue her education after Hogwarts.
But then, of course, the war had happened, and she'd quickly sidelined her dreams to embark on her quest with Harry and Ron. After the war, she'd spent months leading the rebuilding committee at Hogwarts recovering the extensive damages to the school. Her peers began to slip off one by one into new endeavors, starting new jobs or entering new relationships, but she'd continued with the project until the castle was in better shape than it had been before. She soon stepped into a similar role at the Burrow, taking on the household burdens of the grief-stricken Mrs. Weasley, and keeping all the boys fed and in check. While her help was deeply appreciated, Mr. Weasley and her friends had begun gently urging her to relinquish her caretaking role to finally pursue moving on for herself.
She'd been all but forced to submit her applications to medical colleges, and to nobody's surprise except her own, she was immediately accepted to enroll at Macmathan's in the fall. She'd been hesitant to leave Harry and the Weasleys, shipping off to Dublin alone, but after insistent promises of visits and postcards, she'd sent in her acceptance, and begun to pack up her life in London.
"I'm Glen Hopshire, by the way," the man said, extending a chubby hand for Hermione to shake, pulling her from her moment of nostalgia. "If you ever need anything, I spend most of my time on the other side!"
Hermione thanked him profusely before steering her cart toward the back of the shop. Sure enough, a large glass plant refrigerator stood against the back wall. Move the heather into the empty vase sitting next to it, the instructions she had been given said. She glanced through the door, and sure enough, a bundle of heather sat neatly in a vase, next to an identical empty vase.
Hermione shrugged, having seen too many ludicrous things to continue questioning them, and opened the fridge, carefully lifting the heater out of the delicate porcelain. The moment that she dropped it into the neighboring vase, the shelves of plants began to rumble thunderously. Hermione gasped as they dropped, one by one, vanishing rather than shattering on the ground until the back wall of the refrigerator itself collapsed.
Hermione covered her eyes momentarily as a bright light flashed through the space where the wall had been. When the light vanished, her eyes adjusted, and she found herself peering into a large, dimly lit room.
At first glance, this room appeared solely to be an extension of the store, albeit a strange one. In this room, too, tables overflowed with plants, stacked on every possible surface. When she looked closer, however, she realized that these tables held no roses, peonies, or palms. Instead, Hermione recognized the sprouting of potted mandrakes sitting next to blooming phoenix lilies, enormous growths of dittany, gurdyroots, starthistle. Tendrils of honeyvine climbed the stone-cobbled walls, which, Hermione noticed with a gasp, were lined with shelves, stocked neatly with rows of jars filled with shimmering powders, leaves, and ointments of any shape and color imaginable.
"It's a healer's dream," Hermione breathed. Hopshire's Apothecary, she read from above the small stone counter at the front of the shop.
As she stepped inside to look closer at the newly revealed precious herbs, her anxiety dissipated to wonder, the entrance behind her vanished, leaving a wall in its place.
She was positively awestruck. The place put Professor Snape and Professor Sprout's collections combined to shame, boasting some of the rarest and most useful healing remedies Hermione had only ever read about.
"Unicornblossoms," she gasped when she spotted a jar of the pale pink flowers. "And pixiethorns!" She was once again tempted to lose herself in the store's offerings, but excited chattering from outside called her back to the present. The front door of the shop was cracked open, revealing a sliver of the street outside. She sucked in a breath of excitement and nervousness.
It was time to finally see Eriwald Village, one of the oldest and most highly esteemed wizarding settlements in the world, home to rich wizarding culture, and, of course, Macmathan Medical College for Wizards.
When she'd tried to picture Eriwald in her mind, she'd been unable to conjure anything but the image of Hogsmeade, the only wizarding village she'd ever been to. When she stepped outside, however, she found a completely contrasting image.
Where Hogsmeade was dark and cozy, Eriwald was bright and spirited. Shopkeepers laughed and bargained outside of open, enticing shops. The cobblestone sidewalks were lined with elegant townhouses painted shades of pastels, with bold, colorful flags strung between their roofs and into the street. Planters exploded from the sidewalk with flowers and trees of the most unusual colors, and a beautiful stone bridge overpassed a trickling blue stream in the center of the town.
It was beautiful. It was nothing like Hermione had ever seen, in the wizarding world or elsewhere. Little cafés and pubs bustled with business, while nightclubs not yet open for the night, sat patiently next to them. Second to the incredible education, the nightlife of Eriwald was renowned, attracting young witches and wizards from across the continent.
Hermione continued onwards, making note of the shops or businesses she indented on returning to when she reached the heart of the town, where a lush, green quad marked the main campus of Macmathan. On the quad, young witches and wizards lay out on picnic blankets, sending sparks lazily from their wands, and older wizards in healer's robes wove in and out of the large stone and brick buildings encompassing the quad. Hermione felt a jolt of excitement, wondering which of them would be her professors.
When she arrived at a large, brick building bearing the inscription Kinley Hall above the front door, she slipped her hand into her shorts pocket, feeling for the small golden key she'd been owled the week before. 205, the key was inscribed. This was to be her flat number in the complex of flats designated for student housing. The more she learned about Macmathan, the more surprised she grew with how strongly it resembled muggle university.
She groaned internally upon entering the building, locating a narrow, steep stairwell. Of course there was no lift in the magical world. Another bead of hot sweat rolled down her back.
Ok, she told herself, eyeing her precarious trolley. Just one flight of stairs. She could do this. She fought in a bloody war, for Merlin's sake. She pushed the front wheels cautiously over the first step, then higher, before losing her balance under the weight of the cart. As the cart wobbled, she considered how pitiful it was to die crushed under a cart of one's own belongings, preparing for her fate, before a large, strong hand reached out to steady her shoulders.
"Need a hand, there?" said a deep, amused voice from behind her, presumably belonging to the hand that had saved her.
So much for a good first impression at school. Hermione turned sheepishly, embarrassed by her clumsiness, finding herself having to crane her neck upwards to look up at the smiling face of a boy around her age. His skin was deeply tanned, and an array of chocolate brown curls spilled out around his face. He looked down at her with big, warm eyes of the same shade of brown as his hair.
"That's ok-" Hermione began to politely decline, deeply embarrassed to have been caught in such a moment of incompetence, but knew that her inability to push the cart up the stairs alone was probably painfully obvious.
"Well, that would be very nice, thank you," she resigned. Without pause, the boy had circled around to the other side of the cart and begun to lift it up the stairs.
"Where to?"
"I'm just one floor up," Hermione tried not to pant as the trolley thump thump thumped up the stairs. "Flat 205."
"How about that." The boy's grin impossibly expanded, dimples materializing in the corner of his cheeks. "I'm in 206. I just moved in a few hours ago. I guess that makes us neighbors."
They finally rolled the trolley securely to the top of the stairs, where sure enough, flats 205 and 206 stood directly across the hall from one another, and the pair stood outside their respective doors.
The boy extended a hand. "I'm Declan, by the way. I'm originally from about an hour south of here but went to school up in the trenches at Durmstrang. I can't say I'm not happy to be back where the sun occasionally shines."
Hermione returned his smile, trying to imagine her laid-back new friend in the serious, gruff overcoats of the Durmstrang men. "It's good to meet you. I'm quite familiar with Durmstrang. I went to Hogwarts."
She twisted the key into the door of her flat. "Thank you again for your help," Hermione said, genuinely. She hadn't expected to have made an acquaintance this early, and it was comforting to know who would be living right next door.
"Hang on. I didn't get your name." Hermione's heart twisted slightly. Ever since the war, she'd preferred to keep a low profile, disdaining the looks of pity or awe that accompanied her notoriety as a member of the golden trio. She'd been looking forward to her escape to Dublin, where the war had been significantly less central, but knew her unwanted celebrity status would be relatively hard to shake. Still, she knew it was inevitable that she'd have to share her name at some point.
"I'm Hermione," she said.
Declan's eyes widened slightly with recognition, but to her relief, he simply nodded.
"I'll be sure to see you around, Hermione. If you have any more 500-pound trolleys you need to be lugged up the stairs, you know where to find me. Don't be a stranger!"
With a final smile, he vanished behind his flat door, leaving Hermione standing alone in the hallway for a moment until she heard a thunderous thud from inside her flat. She quickly opened the door to see a very petite girl struggling to move an enormous couch across the floor of a cozy living room, cluttered with boxes and bubble wrap. Rock music blasted through the apartment, and her roommate seemed oblivious to Hermione's entrance.
"Um, are you Veronica?" Hermione called out warily. The girl still didn't look up.
"Come on, you fucking bastard," she swore passionately at the couch, giving it another futile shove. She groaned, straightening to wipe sweat from her face, when she finally noticed Hermione in the doorway.
"Oh!" she perked up right away, darting over to envelop Hermione in a tight hug. "It's so nice to meet you," she squealed. "I'm Veronica Yang, which you probably already know from the housing assignments. You must be Hermione."
"That's me." Hermione croaked, taken aback by the tightness of the other girl's grasp. Being friends predominantly with males, she was unused to physical affection with her friends. The girl stepped back. She was shockingly pretty, Hermione noticed, taking in the girl's sleek black hair, elegant cheekbones, and full lips.
"This is so exciting." The other girl was glowing, despite her chest heaving and cheeks flushed from exertion. "I've always wanted to be a healer." A dreamy look crossed her face. "And Eriwald is just so cute! I read in Witch Weekly that it's one of the top places for young people, you know. I've already made a list of places I want to go. We're going to have the best year."
Hermione smiled, beguiled by Veronica's automatic assumption of a "we." She'd been nervous that she'd end up in a similar position as she'd been at Hogwarts, where she'd never gotten to be more than acquaintances with her roommates, and although Veronica had an extroversion that reminded her of Lavender and Parvati, her sincerity was obvious, and Hermione already liked her more.
"And how great is this place? I was expecting a total shoebox, but it's rather spacious, don't you think? Granted, it would look better if I could get this bloody couch into the living room."
Hermione took a moment to look around. It was better than she'd expected, she agreed, with a large, open living room, illuminated by large windows overlooking the street, and an adjacent kitchenette that was small yet polished.
"Fancy helping me move this?"
The two spent the remainder of the afternoon unpacking and hoisting furniture around until the flat began to somewhat resemble a home rather than a storage unit, and Hermione's back and arms ached. As they unpacked, Hermione found it easy to get to know Veronica, who had no difficulty coming up with topics of conversation. She learned that Veronica had grown up in Manchester, but had gone to the Kau Yan School of Hong Kong, where her family was from. She was the youngest of four, the self-proclaimed baby of her family, and a religious subscriber and consumer to multiple witch's magazines.
When at last the boxes had all been unloaded, Hermione plopped down onto the couch -now in the living room!- exhausted, next to Veronica.
"I'm bloody starving," Veronica groaned. "I saw a Thai place across the street, wanna owl over an order?"
"Yes please," Hermione sighed gratefully.
"And we'll need this, for sure." Veronica padded over to the kitchen and pulled a sweating bottle of white wine out of the fridge.
"Yes please," Hermione repeated, vehemently, accepting the hefty glass that Veronica handed to her.
"To new beginnings." Veronica raised her glass. "And new friends."
Hermione smiled, raising her glass. "To new beginnings." They both sipped their wine. Veronica shook her head.
"I can't believe we're really here." She laughed softly. "Classes start tomorrow, and it still hasn't sunk in. Hopefully it sinks in before I have my wand over a patient!"
Hermione nodded. "I've read all the assigned textbooks cover to cover, but it still can't prepare you for all of this." In fact, she'd read them all twice but had learned that disclosing those kinds of facts typically wasn't the most conducive for making friends.
Veronica's eyes widened -this was apparently not relatable sentiment- admiringly. "Sheesh. Well, I hope you're in my classes, so I have someone to study with!"
The doorbell rang, and Hermione jumped up to answer the door, the smell wafting immediately into the flat.
"Thank Merlin," Veronica exclaimed, plopping down at their small dining room table. "I could eat a hippogriff." She tore open the bag, only for her brow to furrow in confusion.
"You didn't order Kao Phad, did you?" She dug through the bag. "Or spring rolls? I don't think this is ours." She moaned dramatically. "You've got to be kidding me."
Hermione peered at the delivery label. Declan Sullivan.
"He's right across the hall from us. They probably just switched our orders."
Veronica peered up from between her arms hopefully. "I hope so. I don't think I can wait another bloody half hour to eat or I'll disintegrate."
Hermione rolled her eyes at Veronica's dramatics.
"I'll run this over and ask." She whisked the bag off the table, shoved her feet into her fluffy cat slippers, and stepped across the hall, knocking on the door of 206.
They really were just a few feet apart, Hermione observed as she waited for Declan's friendly face to peek through the door. She wondered whether she should've put on shoes, but the wine on an empty stomach had left a slight buzz in her head, and she hadn't considered the potential embarrassment of wearing cat slippers, particularly after her less-than-impressive first impression.
Still, nobody came to the door. Maybe he hadn't heard her? Was it rude to knock again? She was debating the courtesies involved with bringing your neighbors their incorrectly delivered food and had just raised a fist deciding to knock again when she heard the lock sliding from the other end. When the door opened, however, instead of Declan's broad, tan face, she found herself looking up at a pale, thin face, comprised of sharp angles and shadows. This face was contorted into a deep, seemingly permanent frown, but with dark gray eyes that portrayed mutual shock.
She knew this face. She knew this tall, thin frame, she knew that fair, slicked hair, and she knew those dark gray eyes. She'd known these features for years, learning to avoid them at all costs. But that seemed to be failed because she found herself standing across from Draco Malfoy in the doorway of flat 206.
I know the first chapter is short, but they will get longer as they go along! Reviews mean so much to me, so please feel free to leave any feedback or comments or anything at all :) I hope you enjoy so far, and I'm excited for you to see how the story progresses! Side note, I'm still unsure about the title, so that might change at some point! Until next week!
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