February 1942
Four weeks. That's how long it had taken Hermione to come to terms with Minerva giving her the cold shoulder. After two, she'd stopped crying herself to sleep over the hollow feeling in her chest, and after three, she'd given up on her attempts to appease the other girl. Objectively speaking she knew that reasoning with teenagers was never a walk in the park, but Hermione wasn't ready to give up on her first friend for such a juvenile problem just yet.
It wasn't fair how her housemate was treating her, but she understood where Minerva was coming from. Unfortunately, a broken heart couldn't be fixed in a couple of days.
"Anybody home?" Hermione snapped out of her musings and turned her attention back to the other boy. Standing across from Evan, with her wand raised, she was ready to deflect any hexes he might send her way.
"Come on, dear, I won't bite."
Hermione hurled another stinging hex in his direction at his teasing words, watching sourly as it dissolved upon hitting his hastily conjured shield. She had come to enjoy their weekly duelling sessions quite a lot, with the other boys becoming increasingly well-versed in their spellwork. Without the constant threat of war looming over her head, it was pretty fun to test her skills against her peers.
"Relashio!"
Hermione silently waved her wand in a circular motion, effectively blocking Evan's attempt to disarm her. As she watched her opponent scowl at her casual display of nonverbal magic, Hermione felt a smile tucking at the corners of her lips. In the past two months, the young witch had slowly but surely gained the other group members' respect. In the beginning, she'd held back a lot, following Riddle's order to keep his precious housemates happy. Now though, she had to concentrate on holding up against most of them, Avery and Evan in particular. The first time her friend had caught Hermione off guard, she hadn't been able to look him in the eyes for days. The fact that the others were getting closer to her own level was- unnerving.
The two continued hurling spells at each other until Hermione eventually managed to gain the upper hand, easily catching Evan's wand after disarming him with a simple Expelliarmus. He gave her a proud smile before taking his wand back, and again, Hermione was acutely aware of his warm hand brushing over her own.
"You did great, dear."
His voice was perhaps the single most dangerous thing Hermione had encountered in this time. Goosebumps formed on her arms as she flushed under his praise. After their kiss a couple of weeks ago, it had taken Hermione the entire Christmas break to process the whole thing, but thankfully Evan was the textbook definition of a charmer and had gracefully dispelled any lingering feelings of awkwardness with that damned smile of his.
For now. Hermione thought while stepping away from the troublesome boy. "I can only say the same for you, Evan."
The two made room for the next pair and joined Abraxas and Antonin at the backside of the classroom. Hermione made herself comfortable next to the only Ravenclaw in the group, returning his curt nod after slipping her wand back into her sleeve.
"Did you finish Slughorn's assignment for tomorrow?" Antonin asked, his eyes never leaving the two Slytherins duelling each other.
"No, I need to rewrite my conclusion." Even though she'd already done most of their current coursework in the future, there was a surprising amount of new, or rather old, additions to the curriculum that hadn't been taught in her previous classes.
Their current potions assignments being one of those additions. It seemed like the standards in this era were much higher than in her old time, and Hermione didn't wonder for the first time why so many modules had been taken off the syllabus. It irked her studious mind that she'd missed out on so many topics during her first time at Hogwarts.
"We can go over our texts after this if you want." Antonin offered, and Hermione eagerly agreed.
If someone had told her a few years ago that she'd one day get along with the terrifying man who still haunted her dreams every odd moon, she would've laughed at them. But as she watched the dark-haired boy from the corner of her eyes, she didn't see anything but a young man with a passion for obscure spells and a knack for Herbology of all things, and as much as she tried, she couldn't bring herself to dislike him...
"Hermione, before I forget, this is for you," Evan said with a sheepish grin, shoving a small box into her face.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "If this is a ring, I'll punch you, Rosier," she threatened.
Her friend let out a boisterous laugh. "Don't worry. I'm not that desperate."
Deciding to believe him for now, Hermione opened the wooden container and peeked inside. Feeling her breath hitch at the sight, she looked back at Evan with narrowed eyes.
"It's for your wand! Just a small accessory that I found at Hogsmeade last week."
Hermione pulled the silver item from the velvet cushion it was placed on. It was beautiful. She couldn't deny that. She had seen similar jewellery on other witches' wands in the past but had never had one herself. Holding the delicately carved spiral near her wand, she watched in fascination as it suddenly sprang to life and curled itself around the bottom.
Intrigued, she examined Evan's gift closer before remembering she wasn't alone.
"It's beautiful. Thank you, Evan."
Shifting her attention back to the beaming boy, she gave him a grateful smile which he returned tenfold, his cheeky dimples seemingly mocking Hermione. I need to get over this crush. I can't live like this any longer.
"A little kiss would be a sufficient reward," he teased, causing Hermione, in turn, to kick his shin. "Ow, come on dear, we talked about those violent tendencies of yours."
"Shut up, Evan!"...
April 1942
"I think we should talk, Mione." Minerva's quiet voice drifted through the dark room.
Their other roommates were already fast asleep, and one glance at the watch on her bedside table told Hermione it was too late for that particular conversation.
"Really, now you think is a good time to talk?"
The silvery moonlight shining through the tower's windows did little to illuminate the room. Before Hermione could protest, she felt her friend sit at the end of her bed, closing the curtains behind her. With her wand already drawn, the girl murmured a small muffling spell before turning around to face Hermione.
"Lumos."
Hermione felt her eyes sting at the sudden flash of bright light.
"Merlin, I really think this can wait until tomorrow." She tried to convince her friend, fully aware that she was wasting her breath.
"I think we can both agree that what you did wasn't right, but"- Minerva began.
Hermione raised her hand, "I didn't do anything, and neither did my friends."
A tense silence filled the small space they were sitting in. Minerva silently mouthed the word friends with puckered lips. As if she'd eaten something sour.
"It was obvious that you didn't like him very much." She eventually spat.
"He isn't a great person Minny, and if you'd let me speak for one second, I'd explain why."
Minerva only gripped her wand tighter.
"He cheated on you with Merlin knows how many girls, and all I did was teach him a lesson."
Tears were welling up in her friend's eyes, but Hermione wasn't done just yet.
"You didn't even give me a chance to explain myself, which hurt. A lot." She might as well have punched the other girl right in the gut judging from her pained expression, but after a month of receiving the cold shoulder, she wasn't in a particularly forgiving mood.
Minerva's face was disbelieving, and Hermione felt her heart sink.
"Why? Why don't you want to see me happy?" Minerva's lips trembled.
Hermione was at a loss for words, unsure how to handle the situation. It was late, she was tired, and her friend was upset. Her odds of turning this conversation around were vanishingly slim. Shifting into a more comfortable position, Hermione tried to reach for Minnie's hand, but she hastily pulled hers to her chest.
"You're my best friend, Minny. I'd never do anything to hurt you."
"You know, I think I haven't been your best friend for a while now."
Hermione recoiled at those spiteful words.
"You never tell me anything. Charlus and I haven't been invited to your house once, and don't tell me you were busy. I know that your Slytherin friends visit all the time." Minerva continued, raising her hand every time Hermione tried to explain herself.
"I think you're a big fat liar, Hermione. You pretend to be so different from those slimy purebloods, but deep down, you're just as bad as them." Minerva practically yelled towards the end of her sentence.
Hermione's hands were trembling under the heavy layers of her covers. She felt the familiar sense of dread that came before the panic, settling deep within her chest. The usually comfortable space within her curtains suddenly felt suffocating, and Hermione struggled to form a proper sentence in her mind.
"I-I'd never support any of their views. You know that."
"If you really believe that, then you're either blind or stupid." Minerva's bitter voice cut through Hermione like a knife. "You sit in your ivory tower, the world handed to you on a silver platter, and you don't even realise how hypocritical you sound every time you open your mouth."
"Minny I"-
"No, you don't get it. I know we come from different worlds, but it's becomming more apparent every year." Minerva's eyes wandered over her silken nightgown and back to the Lestrange crest embroidered on its chest, the intertwined letters standing in stark contrast to the white fabric.
"When I first told my mum about you, she told me to stay away from the likes of you." Her friend confessed. "I didn't understand back then, but now", - she sniffed. "You live in this world where even as a witch, you can do anything."
Hermione once again tried to speak up, but Minerva just talked over her trembling voice.
"You want to stand up to your family, so you befriend some poor half-blood. And instead of facing any retribution, you get rewarded for everything."
She was painfully aware of the fact that Minerva didn't know about half of the sacrifices she'd made to get where she was now, but it still hurt to hear her friend's genuine opinion about her.
The young witch wanted to grab her friend by the shoulders and shake her until she understood how awful she felt, how difficult it was to endure this madness that was her life. But she knew she couldn't. She shouldn't. Minerva was too good, too innocent to know about the price most children from old families had to pay in exchange for their comfortable lives.
The abuse, those cold, empty manors, looming proudly on the edges of most English villages they had to return to every summer. There were exceptions like Charlus, but Hermione had seen the bruises on Evan's arms after Christmas break. She'd witnessed Abraxas losing his teasing attitude every time he returned to Hogwarts. She didn't even want to think about Dolohov's or Avery's families after hearing the two talking about their father's preferred methods of punishment when they were younger.
"I worked hard to get where I am now, Minny. I'm not some secret pureblood fanatic, nor am I using you to act up against my father." Hermione seethed while attempting to calm her twitching hands.
Scowling, Minerva shook her head. "All I ever wanted from you was honesty." Sitting up from the bed, Minerva pushed the curtains open. "You live those two separate lives, raving about equal rights in our common room, only to run off a second later with your Slytherins to Merlin knows where. I don't buy it anymore. Ignatius was the last straw."
Minerva stood. "I hoped you'd apologise today, but all you did was continue lying. We're done." And with that, Minerva waved her wand, and the room was cloaked in darkness again.
Silently, the other Gryffindor walked back to her bed and shut her curtains with more force than necessary, leaving Hermione struggling to comprehend her last words. We're done. Hermione grabbed her hair between her trembling fingers. We're done.
"No," she whispered, feeling her mind going into overdrive. Shoving away her covers, Hermione stumbled out of her bed and ran towards the bathroom.
Everything felt wrong.
Pressing her fists over her closed eyes, she sunk to the floor and tried to control her breathing.
We're done.
The words kept replaying in her mind, and Hermione's heart was pounding against her chest. She needed to go somewhere else. Somewhere away from the girl in the room next door.
We're done.
Pulling herself up from the cold tiles, Hermione returned to the dorm room. Grabbing her wand and robe, she slipped out of the door. Chewing her lips to keep her tears at bay, she passed through the deserted common room, ignoring the fat lady's protest at her late excursion.
Turning around another corner, she found herself standing in front of the same girl's bathroom she'd caught Prewett and the Ravenclaw girl all those weeks ago. Swallowing down another sob, she pushed the doors open and pointed her wand at the first stall door.
"Expulso!"
It burst into a thousand splinters, littering the floor and wall behind it. Hermione felt the rage coursing through her veins like liquid fire, and she wondered for a moment if this was how Rodolphus always felt.
She reached another door. It met the same fate as the previous one. Hermione let out an angry hiss, unaware of the splintered wood digging into her bare feet as she walked towards her next target. She was so damn tired of crying. Minerva didn't know anything, making Hermione furious that the other girl assumed her worst. Didn't their friendship mean anything to her? Coming to a halt in front of another stall, Hermione suddenly noticed a shadow in the flickering lights by the sinks. What the- Turning around fully, Hermione walked towards the huddled thing on the floor. An awful suspicion settled in the pit of her stomach as she got closer, and she gripped her wand a little tighter.
"Merlin, please no." Licking her dry lips, Hermione bowed down and nudged the thing with her suddenly humming wand. It didn't move. She'd seen enough of her slaughtered classmates to recognise what she was looking at. She felt bile rising in her throat but forced herself to grab the huddled figure and turn it around. The spiral around her wand glowed brightly.
"Damn it!" Hermione stared at the familiar bespectacled profile of Myrtle Warren. Her eyes were wide open, her face forever frozen in a terrified grimace. She wanted to scream, cry, or do anything other than keep staring at the girl's pale face, but she was paralysed. Her mind had come to a standstill, forcing her to burn the image of the young Ravenclaw forever into the back of her mind...
A loud bang finally tore Hermione away from her stupor, and before she could move, warm arms pulled her away from the dead, dead child.
"Love, can you hear me? Merlin, is that Warren?"
She wasn't in the bathroom anymore. She felt his hands on her cold cheeks, the sudden touch making her flinch.
"What were you doing here in the middle of the night? You're freezing."
Finally recognising Evan's voice through the haze of her whirling thoughts, Hermione looked at his worry-stricken face, still unable to forget the lifeless body a few feet away. I'm not safe here. I need to get away before Voldemort finds me.
"I need to leave," she spoke with a trembling voice, trying to push the frantic boy away from her.
"What are you talking about, Hermione? We need to get you to the infirmary."
Struggling against his hold, Hermione already went over all the possible hideouts she could reach before sunrise. I need my bag, where did I put my bag?
"Hermione? No, whatever is going on, you'll stay with me."...
Evan didn't know what was happening. The charm he'd placed on Hermione's gift had woken him just a few minutes after midnight, alarming him to her emotional distress. He'd gotten up immediately, following the pull of the enchanted item towards the girl's bathroom on the third floor, only to find Hermione huddled over the dead body of the younger Ravenclaw.
Trying to collect himself, he held onto his struggling friend. She was confused that much was clear, and it scared him to see the usually strong witch so distraught.
"They mustn't find me," she whispered feverishly while clawing at his trembling arms, her still glowing wand seemingly forgotten in her right hand.
Evan let out a frustrated sigh and called for one of the castle's house-elves.
"Alarm the headmaster and Medi-Witch. There's a dead student in the bathrooms on the third floor," he said, his voice sounding much stronger than he felt.
At the sight of the student's still body, the elf let out a terrified yelp before vanishing again, leaving Evan to deal with Hermione alone.
"Hermione, love, you need to calm down. The headmaster is on his way."
He turned the shaking girl towards him and pressed her firmly against his chest, effectively blocking her eyes from the outside world. He felt her small hands pulling at his shirt, but he was determined to shield her from this horrible sight. His mind wandered back to the dead girl behind them. What had happened to her. Why had Hermione been with her?
"Evan, please don't let them find me again."
Hermione's terrified voice brought him back to the present. Forcefully shutting his eyes, he waited until little lights started to dance in front of the blackness.
"Who, Hermione? Who mustn't find you?" he asked hoarsely, having an inkling whom she was referring to.
He hadn't bought her explanation about her family's arrival on the isles for one second. No duelling lesson taught anyone to fight the way she did.
"You-Know-Who's men, they'll kill me."
He didn't need to ask who You-Know-Who was. There were only so many evil wizards rampaging the continent. Feeling his heart go out for the young witch in his arms, he couldn't even imagine what horrors she'd faced back home, her severe reaction to Warren's body telling him more than enough...
"Merlin, what happened here, Mr Rosier?" The shocked voice of Headmaster Dippet caused the girl in his arms to freeze, and he knew he needed to get Hermione away from this place.
"We were just"- He tried to devise a believable excuse for their current predicament.
Hermione was still only clad in her flimsy nightgown, her robes barely covering anything, just as he was only wearing his sleeping attire himself. The entire thing was highly inappropriate.
"Hermione and I are to be engaged soon, Headmaster Dippet."
If Hermione had been in her right mind, she would've slapped him for those words, but it was the first reasonable explanation for their presence in the corridors he could come up with, seeing as he didn't want Hermione involved in this mess at all cost.
Better to let the Headmaster think they were stealing away for some quiet time than have no explanation at all. Dippet's disapproving but thankfully not suspicious glare was enough to calm the boy, and he put on his most convincing caught-in-the-act face.
"Twenty Points from Slytherin and Gryffindor each for wandering around past curfew and indecent behaviour. I've expected better from you, Mr Rosier."
Evan felt the weight on his chest lifting at the headmaster's apparent dismissal.
"I've alarmed the Aurors, my- the poor girl is shaking. We should take her to the Hospital Wing." Professor Dumbledore halted next to the headmaster, and Evan gladly followed the teacher's advice.
Giving the two men a final nod, he gently steered Hermione away from the scene and towards the frantic Medi-witch, who took one look at the two before signing them to follow her.
"Merlin, help us. This is truly a terrifying night. Follow me."
Just as he was about to go after the witch, Hermione suddenly began struggling in his hold, and it took him all his remaining strength to hold the thrashing girl down.
"Hermione, you need to calm down."
Tears were streaming down the younger girl's face, and Evan felt his heart clench.
"Let go of me. Ridd"- Before she could finish that sentence, he put his hand over her mouth. He suddenly knew exactly who to blame for the Ravenclaw's death. If Hermione even so much as mentioned his name, he'd kill them both.
"Shh, please, Hermione. You need to calm down."
When the girl struggled, he turned towards the Medi-Witch with pleading eyes. She took pity on the two, waved her wand, and Hermione became still in his arms.
"She's had a very traumatising experience, but don't worry, we'll fix her right up. Would you mind carrying Miss Lestrange, or shall I levitate her?"
Immediately picking up the unconscious girl, Evan looked down at her tear-streaked cheeks with sad eyes. Curse her stubbornness. He'd protect her from now on...
Hermione woke up to the familiar sight of the Hospital Wing. She didn't feel rested, and her hands and legs felt stiff under the thin bed sheets. Merlin, I screwed up. The past events came rushing back into her memory, and gripping her head, she tried to keep calm. Myrtle was dead, and it was her fault. She should've remembered that Tom found the chamber this year. Harry had told her the story countless times. I should've remembered! She was certain he had not intended for the girl to die. The basilisk could not be entirely controlled, and Tom didn't know what would be waiting for him down in the chambers. Still, a girl was dead, and she could've prevented it had she not been busy living her teenage life. She was ashamed of herself.
"Ah, Miss Lestrange, you are awake. How are you feeling? You gave Mr Rosier quite the scare last night. Here drink this."
Hermione let the Medi-Witch spoon-feed her what she suspected to be a calming draught before leaning her head back onto her pillow.
"What happened while I was asleep?" she asked, feeling the potion relaxing her tense muscles.
"They found the culprit in the early morning hours; it was to be expected that that half-breed would only bring misfortune to this school."
Hermione knew she was talking about Hagrid. Sweet Hagrid, who had just been accepted into Hogwarts last year. She hadn't spoken to him, her friends and school keeping her busy, and now she had let history repeat itself, robbing the boy of a bright future. She truly hated whom she had become at that moment. The old Hermione would've never allowed that to happen.
"I see." She felt drowsy from the potent calming draught she'd been given.
"Rest now. You're safe here."
Too tired to protest, Hermione closed her eyes again. Relieved to escape the grim reality of her life for a few more hours...
September 1942
Hermione stared at the little boy currently sitting in her lap, giggling at something only he saw. She couldn't believe the small auburn-haired child in front of her was her cousin. He is so big. Has it really been that long since her last stay at Lestrange Manor? Looking down at the babbling toddler, it might as well have been an an eternity.
"Isn't he just precious? He said your father's name for the first time just yesterday." Loreen smiled warmly at the unfamiliar sight of her niece and son enjoying each other's company.
Hermione raised her brows at that statement, a little thrown off by the fact that the infant she remembered was already capable of forming his first words.
"He grew a lot since I last saw him." She pulled her head back as the cheeky boy attempted to pull on one of her locks.
Hermione sucked her cheeks in. Once again, she was overcome by the lingering dread pooling in her stomach at the thought that this boy was her actual blood relative. She didn't even want to think of all the possible consequences of his birth to the timeline.
"You should visit more often. He'll adore you once he's older."
Hermione didn't know how to feel about that. She'd never been in any sort of mentor role in her old life for her relatives, with her being the only child in the family. She didn't think she was ready for the responsibility.
"I'm sorry, Aunt Loreen. I'll try to better myself." She appeased the hovering woman.
After her return to Lestrange manor, the first thing she'd done was to tell Rodolphus what had happened to Myrtle, expressing the immense guilt she felt. He had explained that some things were just meant to happen and after weeks of him constantly assuring her, she'd started to believe him.
Without Minny and Charlus lifting her spirits, she'd only had Evan to talk to. After she'd found out about the charm on her wand, which conveniently could only be lifted by him, which he refused, she was still cross with him. Despite his best intentions. Sneaky brat. Eying the innocent accessory at the bottom of her wand, she scowled. She should've known that Slytherins never did something nice without an ulterior motive.
"I still can't believe you don't want to celebrate your birthday this year, Hermione." Loreen carefully lifted Edwin from Hermione's arms as she spoke, noticing her growing unease holding the toddler.
Giving the woman a grateful smile, Hermione brushed the wrinkles out of her skirt before getting up as well.
"I'm not in the mood for a celebration this year. Maybe next time." She'd turned fifteen two days ago and had decided that following the events at school, a lavish party was the last thing on her mind right now.
I still can't believe it's been over five years already. Her body was finally not that of a scrawny child anymore, and she apparently hadn't been the only one shocked at her sudden development of a cleavage. When Rabastan had seen her at the train station, he nearly choked on his breath. Giggling at the memory of the flustered man, she once again patted over her new burgundy robes that her uncle had gifted her on that same evening. They were her first real witch robes, different from the usual ones children wore. They were more form-fitting and swished beautifully when she twirled around in front of her mirror.
She felt like Narcissa Malfoy, gliding around the house and couldn't suppress the need to lift her chin a little higher than necessary. Simply put, she felt like a woman again, and it was easily one of the most empowering realisations she'd had in recent years.
"Of course, child, I understand. You were so brave, a true Lestrange."
Hermione internally cringed at her aunt's words, unsure if she should be offended by the woman claiming to know what a real Lestrange was like or amused at the thought of her handling the situation like a true Lestrange by losing it entirely and going cray-cray on poor Evan until someone had to knock her out. Literally.
"Thanks. If you excuse me, I still have to finish some homework."
Before the woman could answer Hermione, she hurriedly left the room, unwilling to put up with her for a minute longer. She could only take so much of Loreen at a time, and now, with the baby added to the mix, she felt seriously exhausted after spending time with the two.
Closing her doors behind her, Hermione threw herself face down on her soft bed and inhaled the by-now-familiar scent of the house deeply, instantly feeling at ease. Her mind wandered back to her little cousin, wondering if he'd ever feel like family to her. He was her blood, unlike Loreen, but that did little to convince her brain that this was a child she should love unconditionally. Everything seemed to revolve around precious little Edwin with Rabastan, which somehow didn't sit right with her. She was glad that Rodolphus appeared to be just as unsure how to feel about the addition to his family tree as she.
Hermione was connected to the two brothers through their shared pasts, and that made for a bond much stronger than anything Loreen and Edwin could ever provide. The woman didn't even know her real husband, which probably irked her the most. That condescending tone of hers when she didn't even know that her beloved husband was a criminal who had spent half of his life locked away in Azkaban...
"Daughter of mine!"
Her doors swung open, and ignoring her annoyed huff, the older man came to a halt near her bed, crossing his arms in the process.
"Get out. We discussed this a million times. My room is off limits."
Rodolphus tutted at her dismissive tone, and she felt his warm hands on her exposed lower legs before he roughly pulled her from the bed. Twisting her ankles from his grip, she cursed at the chuckling man and kicked his hands away.
"Morgana is my witness. You're such a teenager. It's hilarious."
Huffing at the man, Hermione stood up, craning her neck to look into her father's sparkling eyes. Unfortunately, whatever he was excited about, usually meant bad news for Hermione.
"Shocking, I know. What do you want, Rod"- At his stern gaze, Hermione caught herself.
"-Father. What can I help you with, father?"
He seemed to stand a little taller at the mention of his title, making Hermione even more suspicious of the man.
"I planned a little get-together with our Lord's circle to celebrate your birthday tonight. Wear this."
"What?"
She only then noticed the little elf at his side who handed her a flat, white box.
"It's a late present, custom-made and disgustingly expensive, so you better stop growing. I won't buy you something like this every year."
Rolling her eyes, she put the container down on her bed.
"You know that's not what I meant. Why did you invite them on such short notice? Merlin, does this mean Avery is coming as well?"
The thought of the older boy's taunting smirks haunting her in her own home almost made her hurl a curse at Rodolphus' head. What have I ever done to deserve this?
"We still have a mission here, so stop whining. It'll be fun. I remember my teenage years as the most enjoyable time of my life."
Hermione turned to look at what he had gotten her.
"Yeah, nothing more fun than hanging out with a bunch of hormonal teenage wizards. I think you sometimes forget that I'm, in fact, a witch." Lifting the lid off the box, she pulled out a set of beautiful emerald robes.
Letting her hands wander over the soft fabric, she suddenly let out a surprised gasp.
"They're trousers. Oh, Merlin, real trousers!"
They were loose fitting, resembling a skirt but still. Hermione turned around, beaming at the man patiently lingering behind her.
"Thank you so much. I never thought I'd be able to wear anything but dresses and skirts ever again." Still clutching her new robes firmly to her chest, she allowed Rodolphus to put a hand on her shoulder.
"We have to make use of our right to wear supposedly daring French couture at some point, and you won't be able to keep up with those boys in billowing skirts after all."
They smiled at each other before Hermione cleared her throat, pointing at her doors.
"I'll try them on immediately. Now get out. You can't keep coming into your fifteen-year-old daughter's room. It's inappropriate."
Rodolphus looked like he had bitten into something sour at her words but made his way towards the door.
"My brother and I killed you once. I think we're past the point of societal norms," he called before closing the doors with a wink, causing Hermione to scoff.
"Thanks for reminding me why I hate you!" she yelled and heard the man chuckle on his way back to his study. Bastard.
Turning her attention back to her new favourite thing in her wardrobe, Hermione ran behind the screen near her dressing room and quickly peeled herself out of her stiff robes. She nearly cried at the familiar feeling when she stepped into the soft fabric, slowly slipping it over her hips. Fixing the buttons shortly above her navel, she put on the complementary blouse and outer robe, closing more intricate buttons up in the front, before dashing towards the large mirror in her dressing room.
"Wicked." She gave in to the need to do a jumping jack. Feeling a little silly after a while of crouching and kicking alone in front of her mirror Hermione composed herself and calmly sat back down on her bed.
"Winny?"
Her elf plopped into the room at her call, immediately admiring Hermione's new robes.
"Missy look beautiful."
Smiling at the gushing elf, Hermione asked her to take care of her hair for the evening. If she had to hang out with those horrid people, she'd at least make sure that they knew they were in the presence of a witch and should behave as such. Too often, she had to deal with them getting a little too unbearable during their club meetings after writing her off as one of them. She hated it. Like Harry and Ron, they seemed to forget that she was just as much of a girl as Ginny and Cho. Well, Evan is an exception, but he's insufferable in every other regard, so he's still not in my good books...
"Morgana's tits, you clean up nice, Lestrange."
Was the first thing Hermione heard after Rodolphus had left the children to themselves, crowded around the blazing bonfire he'd ignited in celebration of her birthday. Glowering at Avery, she flicked her hair while turning away from the boy.
"Charming as always. Can't say the same for you, though," she cackled at his indignant spluttering before returning her attention to Riddle, who silently watched the rowdy crowd from his seat a little away from the fire.
"Merlin, I hate that boy so much. How was your summer, Riddle."
As he looked at her, Myrtle's terrified face flickered through her mind, and she hurriedly took a sip from the fire whiskey some of the boys had borrowed from their fathers' stashes.
"I see you're not above joining those buffoons in their drunken escapades?" he noted, regarding the glass in her hand with a judgemental glare. He clearly wasn't a fan of alcohol. Interesting.
"Just a little to tolerate Avery for an entire evening." And I'm actually twenty-three and deserve this after having to stay sober for the past five years. Hermione was not a supporter of underage drinking, but as most of the boys would turn seventeen this or next year anyway, she just couldn't be bothered to play the responsible role.
"Understandable. I've been reading the books you got me. I need some more until next week."
She nodded eagerly, actually interested in the topics he was reading up on. The books discussed highly advanced magical theory that even she had trouble understanding, and having a second opinion would surely help her in her studies.
"Consider it done."
She was about to ask him another question when she felt someone's arm slipping around her waist.
"We're playing some games. Won't you two join us?"
Hermione turned her head towards Evan, her stern gaze ordering him to instantly remove his offending limb from her body if he valued his flawless freckled face. Slowly removing himself from her form, the other boy regarded them with a questioning look.
Sighing, Hermione got up as well. Better to get wasted with them than deal with them later wholly sober. She thought to herself while waiting for Riddle's answer.
"I won't join the drinking, but I'll come over with you."
Feeling a little bolder from the whiskey, Evan cheered and led them towards the rest of the group. He shoved Hermione onto the bench between Abraxas and himself, whereas Riddle sat down next to Dolohov, who looked more than a little uncomfortable about the whole thing.
"Loser has to put on one of Lestrange's dresses!" Avery exclaimed, earning loud cheers from the entire group, whereas Hermione just pursed her lips. As if she'd let any of those idiots wear her precious new robes.
"All right, let's play some games!"…
It had gotten late, and the group had gotten increasingly rowdier. Hermione felt extraordinarily light-headed and blamed her dulled sense of responsibility for her next action.
"Let's go to the village and scare some muggles!" One of the boys suggested, and everyone except for Hermione, Tom and Dolohov loudly agreed.
Before she knew what was happening, their group was already on the move, wands in their hands and ready to cause some mayhem.
"What about our trace?" she asked, a little concerned.
"Don't worry. If necessary, father will erase the records." Abraxas slurred more or less coherent, which in turn just made Hermione angry.
"That's so illegal. How can he do that?" she asked incredulously, turning towards Dolohov and Riddle for support.
"Calm down. That's how it's always been. Why are you getting all Hermione over this?"
She sighed at Abraxas' hollow insult, happy that at least Tom seemed to agree with her on this matter.
"Tom thinks it's crap, too, so get off your high horse Abraxas."
At hearing his name, the pale boy regarded her with a deadpan look. He looked a little strangely at her, and she wondered how he'd react to her advances now that they were both older. And prettier. She added in her head.
"Tom?" She successfully got his attention and promptly launched herself at the boy. She let out a delighted giggle at his annoyed grunt as he caught her reflexively.
Ignoring the other boy's incredulous stares, she rested her head on Tom's shoulder for a second.
"No more whiskey for Lestrange tonight," he drawled while peeling her off him before shoving her back towards Evan and Abraxas.
"Spoilsport," she pouted as she grabbed Evan's arm, trying to keep her steps steady on the uneven forest ground.
"I see you still have a death wish, love," Evan whispered as they continued their journey towards the village, and Hermione giggled.
"Don't tell him, but deep down, he likes it."
Her friend barked out a laugh at her teasing words, taking her hand in his and happily swinging them up and down.
"Hey, I found a house!" Avery interrupted their conversation from his spot at the front of the group.
Hermione stood on her tiptoes to see over the shoulders of the other boys, but before she could ask what Avery was doing, orange flames shot towards the night sky. Shocked, Hermione watched as the two trees in the house's front garden lit up.
"What the- Are you insane, Avery? Augmenti." Hermione tried to gain control over the crackling flames, but the older boy just laughed at her before stepping out of the forest and onto the cobblestone road of the outskirts of the village.
"First one to draw a muggle out wins!"
Suddenly feeling like she was back, fighting off death eater on one of their raids through muggle neighbourhoods, Hermione swallowed down her rising anxiety. Everyone except for Riddle had joined Avery, even Dolohov, who had just lit a mailbox on fire.
"Okay, that was stupid. I need to get them away from the town now."
While Hermione still contemplated how to get a bunch of inebriated teenage boys away from exploding mailboxes, the house door to her right opened, and a middle-aged man in a pair of old-fashioned pyjamas stepped out.
"Muggle! Dolohov got the Muggle, run!"
And suddenly, everyone was running back towards the manor laughing loudly, and Hermione suddenly realised that those boys didn't want to torture some unsuspecting muggles, unlike their future descendants. They were just irresponsible, spoiled brats. Breathing out a tense breath she didn't know she'd been holding, Hermione turned on her heels and followed them through the forest at a more leisurely pace. She was catching up to Riddle, who wouldn't be caught running like a headless chicken if the entire Auror Department was on his heels.
"If your hands come even near my person again tonight, I'll not hesitate to hex you." He warned her as she swayed dangerously close to the older boy.
Hermione tried to pull herself together, but the forest around her was swinging up and down like she was on the world's most nauseating cruise ship. If she didn't find anything to hold on to immediately, she'd empty the contents of her stomach right onto Riddle's shiny shoes.
"Please, Tom, I don't feel so good."
Throwing her a nasty look, the Slytherin watched her pathetic attempt to stay upright before seemingly coming to a decision in his mind.
"That'll cost you one favour I promised you."
Gritting her teeth at the boy's offer, she wanted to do nothing more than flip him off and make her way towards the manor herself. Sadly, her body was not in agreement with her mind, and she found herself heavily leaning on the other boy before the rest of her body had even registered what had happened.
"I'll take this as a yes. Merlin, pull yourself together."
Together they made it back to the manor, where the other boys were already drinking around the fire again. Hermione was not in the mood for any more fire whiskey and was just about to ask Riddle to escort her to her room when Evan crouched down in front of her. His cheeks flushed from the cold night air.
"I'll take her from here. Come on, Mione." When he went to grab her hand, Hermione pulled back and gripped Riddle's upper arm a little tighter.
"Thanks, but I know what you're planning," she spoke primly. "I wasn't born yesterday. Tom, would you mind?"
Judging by his cold glare, he undoubtedly would, but a deal was a deal, so he regarded the Rosier heir sternly, prompting the boy to scramble out of their way hastily.
"All right, all right, you got me. See you tomorrow, love!" he called.
Hermione was still appalled that Rodolphus had offered the lot of them to stay overnight. They weren't a hotel, for Merlin's sake. The only positive thing about this event was Loreen's sour expression at him mentioning that fact during dinner. The young mother was not impressed with a bunch of rowdy teenagers staying at her precious home. Sucks to be the wife of the second brother...
Hermione allowed Riddle to more or less carry her up the stairs towards her room. If she hadn't been so smashed, she'd have found it more than a little unnerving that he could remember where her rooms were.
"Thanks for your help, Tom, I trust Evan only as far as I can throw him, and that's not very far."
Finally arriving at the familiar double doors of her bedroom, Hermione let go of Riddle's abused arm and leaned heavily on her door. I really need to get to bed.
"Can you take it from here, or do I have to carry you to your bed?" he asked sarcastically, not expecting Hermione to actually fail to open her own doors.
"Winny!" she yelled, but her elf was nowhere to be seen. Irritated, Hermione pulled at her doorknob, but it wouldn't budge.
"Merlin, your inebriated brain is more useless than Avery's."
Gently steering the girl to the side, he waved his hand, and her doors swung open.
"Ohh, I forgot I can do that. Being a witch is so amazing!" she giggled.
Riddle entered her room first and pulled back her covers before returning to her and manoeuvring Hermione towards the bed.
"Arms."
Doing as she was told, she raised her arms eagerly, not even flinching when Riddle waved his wand and her outer robe levitated from her body towards the low settee at the front of her bed.
"Sit."
She dropped gracelessly onto her heavenly soft mattress, barely able to keep her eyes open. Her shoes flew off her feet and joined her robes.
"Good, now lie down and stop being a nuisance."
He pushed her shoulders into her pillows, and Hermione smiled sweetly at the expressionless boy.
"You're so pretty, Riddle. It's not fair."
The boy ignored her ramblings about his perfect hair and chiselled cheekbones, instead trying to get her hands off his crinkled robes. Feeling uncharacteristically bold, Hermione pulled the boy closer, looking straight into his grey eyes.
"Why do you have to be so brilliant, Riddle? Brilliant and pretty."
For the first time this evening, Riddle seemed to be thrown off by her words, and she watched, satisfied, as his mouth turned into a thin line.
"You should sleep before you say even more things you'll regret tomorrow."
Finally, getting her hands off his robe, the Slytherin quickly exited the room before Hermione could reply. Rubbing her face, Hermione took a deep breath and pulled her covers up to her chin. Merlin, she hadn't been this drunk in years.
Closing her eyes, she decided to deny everything outright tomorrow. Quickly succumbing to her hazy dreams, Hermione imagined that her doors opened again and even felt someone throwing themselves across the end of her bed. Obviously, her doors wouldn't let anyone in without her explicit consent. Riddle's ability to enter her room at his leisure conveniently escaped her brain already...
Winny's shrill shrieks tore Hermione from her restful slumber, and barely conscious, the girl tried to sit up, only to be stopped by a vice-like grip around her waist.
"Morgana, what time is it?" A deep voice that definitely did not belong to her wailing house-elf nearly gave Hermione a heart attack.
Yelping at the unwelcome guest in her bed, she immediately kicked the other boy off the side. Earning herself a muffled curse from the other person in return.
"Avery? What in Merlin's name are you doing in my room?"
Upon seeing the disgruntled boy sitting up, still fully clothed, and his dark hair standing up in every direction of the sky, Hermione sneered in disgust at the thought of sharing anything with the boy. Especially her cursed bed!
"Winny, will you shut up already?" Hermione groaned, and her elf finally stopped having a full-blown breakdown in her room.
"Winny has failed her, Missy. Just like Missy's father, she will never find a husband now, forever alone."
Feeling the urge to face-palm at her elf's sorrowful whining, Hermione rubbed her tired eyes.
"She wouldn't have found someone anyways, elf. I mean, have you looked at her?" Avery eyed her dishevelled form, judging her tangled locks for an exceptionally long time.
"Screw you, Avery!" Throwing one of her pillows at the boy's head, she crawled over her mattress towards where the boy was sitting and pointed a finger at him.
"We will never speak about this to anyone, ever. If you even so much as think about this night, I'll gut you."
Raising his arms in defence, Avery pulled himself up and slunk towards her door.
"Your chastity is safe with me, Lestrange. I'd rather be boiled alive than tell anyone I spent the night snuggling up to your barmy arse."
Throwing another pillow after the boy, she watched it harmlessly bouncing off the doorframe, inwardly cursing the older Slytherin.
"I'll never drink again."...
Still edited in December 2022.
Fun(ish) Fact: I recently came across a ff that used the gender-neutral term Wixen in their story. Had to drop it. In my native tongue, this word describes something completely different… (of a crude sexual nature). I couldn't unsee it, lmao. xoxo
