By the end of their first year, Hermione had formed a friendship with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. The two often joined her and Draco in the library; Draco refused to let them into the Hufflepuff common room, so the library became their usual spot. Ron especially appreciated Hermione's work ethic, or at least how she would look over everything and help him along. Draco was a bit more reticent, but he had reluctantly accepted the two of them in his and Hermione's little circle.
His father was not happy with his placement in Hufflepuff and continuously changed the subject whenever it came about.. His mother was far more understanding.
Hermione wrote both of her friends regularly over the summer, even sending a gift for Harry on his birthday. By the end of their second year, Draco had gotten comfortable enough with the two that he even found himself spiritedly debating Harry rather than arguing outright.
Third year added in all of those classes Hermione had been so eager to attend. Hermione wanted to take them all, but Draco was not as eager. "Arithmancy and Ancient Runes?"
"It's only three additional classes, Draco," she said evenly. "Besides, you're intelligent enough. Push yourself a bit. Or do you want me to academically outshine you again?" He grumbled. "You can always drop some classes after your OWLs so you can focus on your future career with your NEWTs."
"Future career?" Draco laughed. "I'm going to help father manage our estates, work with the Ministry, and all the other business he attends to during the day."
"Not all of us are so blessed," Hermione reminded him.
Draco wrapped an arm around her and held her close. "You know I'll take care of you, Hermione. You're brilliant; with father's recommendation and your flawless record from Hogwarts, I wouldn't be surprised if you were one day head of a department at the Ministry."
"Really?"
It was rare for muggleborns to do well in politically-related jobs, but Draco knew Hermione was an exceptional witch; she would manage.
"Yes."
Fourth year began with a surprise for the students of Hogwarts as Horace Slughorn announced the return of a long-forgotten tradition: the Triwizard Tournament. It was all anyone could talk about for months, especially Ron.
"I'm just saying it would be nice to try," he complained. "Is fourteen really so young?"
"Yes," said Hermione at the same time as Draco. Harry smiled at is friend sympathetically but shrugged. He'd barely accepted the limitation himself. It was all rather irritating to Hermione; almost every other Gryffindor under the age of seventeen was of the opinion that they could be the Hogwarts Champion if given the chance. Hermione was fairly certain the Weasley twins were conspiring ways they might be able to enter.
"I'm more excited about the international students," Hermione said. "It'll be fascinating to talk to students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. Lord Lucius wanted Draco to go to Durmstrang, but Lady Narcissa was dead set against it."
"Thank Merlin mother put her foot down." Draco shuddered. "I can't imagine enjoying any place Hermione would be treated as less than a house elf."
Ron curled his lip at that. "That's revolting. My dad thinks it's wrong, the way muggleborns are torn from their families now. He says muggles are dead smart and could handle learning about magic just fine. The way Pureblood families use muggleborns is just wrong." He eyed Draco, who shrugged uncomfortably.
"I have no say," the blond muttered.
Hermione arched a brow at Ron until the boy squirmed and dropped the subject.
This was about the best the boys interacted together, and it was all for her sake. Draco and Ron in particular disliked one another; apparently the feud stemmed back at least to their fathers, if not further. Ron's father worked in the Ministry in what Lord Lucius considered a lowly position. Moreover, the family had little money and a great number of children. They were everything the Malfoys were not. Hermione and Harry often had to play interference between the blond and the redhead, though Draco didn't care much for Harry either. She was grateful that her friends all played nice for her sake, but it was tiring at times.
"Mione, could you help me with my Potions essay?" Ron asked after a moment of unusual quiet between the students.
She could see Draco straining to keep in the correction of her name, so she smiled at him before turning to Ron. "Certainly. Where's your draft?"
Ron blushed beneath his plentiful freckles. "Er…"
"You have started it?" At his sheepish grin, she sighed. "It's due tomorrow, Ronald. You can't possibly write a seven-foot essay on Blood Replenishing potions in a night. You'll need to pull in at least four references," she chided.
"C'mon, Mione. I know you have it all figured out already."
At the widening of his bright blue eyes, she sighed and pulled out her own essay. "Alright. But you are not copying mine. We'll just… use it as a reference."
"Thanks, Hermione." His smile was relaxed and relieved as he pulled out his own parchment and started working on his header.
The students were told to sit at their house tables for dinner that evening; Hermione was slightly put out, but she sat between Ron and Harry gladly enough. When the Durmstrang students entered, it took only a moment for students to start whispering amongst themselves.
"Harry, Harry, it's Krum!" Ron reached over her to shake their friend, who was wide-eyed as he watched the fur-clad students marching in. "That's Viktor Krum!"
"Merlin's balls," whispered Harry.
Hermione frowned. She'd heard the name, but couldn't match the name and the large, brooding young man to whom it belonged to anything else in her mind. "Who?"
Ron gaped at her. "The Bulgarian seeker, Viktor Krum? The one who caught the snitch at the Quidditch World Cup? Blimey, Mione, you were there!"
Her cheeks reddened. "Oh. Right." She liked Quidditch well enough; both Harry and Draco were on their respective teams (Harry as seeker and Draco as a chaser), so she attended about half the Hogwarts games. However, she didn't make it a point to follow the professional league (though she knew Ron was fanatic about the Chudley Cannons, Harry's favorite team was Puddlemere United, and the Malfoys all supported the French Quiberon Quafflepunchers). She had gone to the World Cup and sat beside Draco, but there had been much more to do than just watch the game. And certainly the seekers were so fast she hardly got a look at them even from her vantage point in the Minister's box.
Krum gazed around the Great Hall and she smiled brightly when his eyes passed over her. She hadn't realized students could play professionally and she wondered whether it was contingent on having decent grades, like playing for a school team often was.
When the headmaster introduced the usage of the Goblet of Fire and the age line around it drawn by Albus Dumbledore himself, Ron stage whispered, "I'll bet you ten Galleons Krum is the Durmstrang Champion. He's massive, he is."
"Not gonna take that bet, mate," Harry responded, eyes glued to the cup where it glowed from its pedestal. Hermione could see the desire in his eyes. While mostly a modest young man, he had a streak of adventure and a longing to prove himself that Hermione sometimes glimpsed. It called to something not dissimilar to a secret she herself bore.
Her eyes roved the Hall, returning the smile Draco threw her way, gazing at the reflected awe in all of the students' faces, and then lighted on the foreign visitors again This was going to be a year to remember.
It was no surprise when Viktor Krum indeed proved to be the Durmstrang Champion. A lovely, veela-esque girl named Fleur Delacour was the Beauxbaton Champion, and the Hogwarts Champion was Cedric Diggory.
There was no end to Draco's bragging about that. "That's right, Potter, a Hufflepuff beat out all your Gryffindor seventh years."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I think he heard you the last three times, Draco." She stood from her seat between the two. "I'm going to try and find a reference for that Arithmancy paper Dumbledore assigned us." Before any of the boys could say a word, she had left their preferred library table (toward the back-corner opposite of where Madam Pince's desk was) and began to wander the shelves.
She heard the incessant giggling when she paused at the Potion's section, having remembered she wanted to cross-reference something Professor Snape had said in class. This was becoming a regular occurrence. Usually the library was Hermione's sanctuary away from romance-addled girls, but it appeared Viktor Krum was indeed a studious young man, as he spent more time in the library than he probably did his own bed on the Durmstrang ship.
The giggling became louder as he stopped beside her, pulling out a book titled Potions of the Amazon and a Comparison to British Counterparts. One of the corners of his usually stern mouth tugged upward when he caught her looking, and she turned red.
"Hello," he said in a low voice.
She reluctantly returned the expression, eyes darting between his and the girls hovering in the distance. "Hi. That one's pretty good." Hermione nodded to the book at his furrowed brows.
"Oh, thank you."
She nodded again and turned away, confusion and warmth swirling through her stomach.
_AN: Slowly getting there! Posting a chapter a day until caught up.