Chapter One:

If Hermione could have guessed how her Saturday night would be going, at best she would have guessed curled up in one of the common rooms ratty old armchairs and reading a good book. At the worst, she would suppose being attacked by a troll again.

This wasn't that far off from the troll thing.

'I'm sorry Hermione but there's no other way of saying it,' Lavender informed her (and rather snootily), 'you're emotionally stunted.'

On second thoughts, maybe she'd rather take the troll. It would be far more pleasant than listening to Lavender rip into her personality for another ten minutes.

'I'm not emotionally stunted,' Hermione replied frostily. 'Just because I'm not inclined to natter on endlessly as you're wont to do-'

'Oi! Can you girls go and gossip somewhere else? Dean and I are trying to concentrate!' Seamus cried.

Hermione fixed him with a withering look. 'You're building a house out of cards, and I was not gossiping! She is the one who-'

'Give it a rest Hermione.' It was Ron who interrupted this time, 'I mean, she's not wrong.'

Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable!

Hermione's voice was snide as she glared at Ron. 'Just because I wasn't coddled by Molly Weasley for far longer than necessary does not mean that I'm emotionally stunted, Ronald.'

Ron's face promptly turned his signature red. He almost seemed to swell with rage as he opened his mouth to yell at her, cut off only by the loud BANG as Seamus and Dean's house of cards blew up. Laughter rippled through the common room as Seamus rubbed his forehead in horror, no longer able to feel his eyebrows.

Why anyone let Seamus Finnigan near explosive playing cards in the first place, Hermione would never understand, but as she escaped to her dorm she was thankful for the distraction. She'd already been facing Ron's ire for a week because of his stupid rat, if she had to put up with any more of his yelling she might just kill the bloody thing herself.

Besides, anyone could see it was days away from death already. Really, how much longer could he expect a twelve year old garden rat to live?

And that girl! Oh! Hermione buried her head into her pillow and shrieked. All she'd wanted to do was show Harry and Ron pictures from her holiday in France, but Lavender had to stick her nose in. She knew the girl was daft but Hermione didn't think interracial adoption was that hard to comprehend.

"Do you have a good homelife?" She'd asked in an overly condescending voice. 'Adopted children often struggle with being abandoned, you know. It explains why you're so cold-'

'Hermione? Are you alright?'

Ginny must have followed her. She grunted something in reply through her pillow, starting in surprise when it was tugged out from underneath her.

'You know better than to listen to Lavender,' Ginny began, 'she asked on the train if girls could get pregnant by swallowing cum.'

Hermione let out a strangled laugh and Ginny grinned. 'I'm not joking. Merlin's beard I've never Lisa Turpin look so fed up, I thought she'd popped a blood vessel!'

She let out a proper laugh this time and Ginny joined her as she mimicked Lisa's face.

'How is it,' Hermione chuckled, 'that you're so wonderful and your brother so dense?'

'It's a talent of his,' she sniffed derisively and settled on the bunk. 'We've no idea where it came from. Percy seems to have picked it up too though so maybe it's just recessive.'

Hermione struggled to contain her laughter, 'Definitely recessive. So, do you think I'm emotionally stunted?'

Ginny hesitated. That was never a good sign.

'No.' She drew the word out slowly.

'But…?'

'But… you can be a bit… cold?'

'Cold.'

'Aloof?'

'Aloof-'

'Stop repeating me.' Ginny said indignantly and Hermione huffed, throwing herself back onto her pillows.

'So, everyone thinks that I'm… frigid then.' She deadpanned.

'See now you're being melodramatic.' Ginny said airily.

'Oh, good so I can show emotion now.' She shot back snarkily.

Ginny gave her another wack with the pillow.

'Melodramatic and ridiculous.'

'Hey!'

Wack

'Awfully stubborn too!' Wack

Hermione tugged the pillow out of her hands and walloped Ginny right off the bed. The aghast look on Ginny's face as she lay on the floor was enough to get Hermione's sides splitting.

Hermione adored Ginny. Over the last week they'd quickly bonded over all sorts of things. Books, humour, mutual disgust over Ron's eating habits. They'd become fast friends. Hermione was pleased to be able to get along with a girl for once in her life and Ginny- well, Ginny was grateful that Hermione didn't avoid her like her classmates.

Something about how being possessed by a malicious spirit from a dead person's diary could affect your relationships with people. Hermione didn't really care. God knows she'd been the pariah at her muggle school. After all, odd things happened around Hermione Granger. If you went near her you caught the plague. Newts would appear in your shoes, and you'd get warts on your face. Hermione Granger lived in the walls of the library and if you said her name three times to a mirror she'd appear in your room at night.

It was all ridiculous of course. The worst she'd ever done with accidental magic was make a door swing open and hit Sandra Hogan in the face. The worst she'd done on purpose was set a crow onto Jeff Kale and that was because the boy had thrown her book into the mud.

Looking back, Hermione mused, it was no wonder they'd sent Professor McGonagall to her early.

She grinned at Ginny as the girl leapt into a tale of Fred, George, and a Christmas Pudding. Grinned as she felt the warm comfort of Hogwarts' magic settle on her shoulders. Was she really going to let some silly girl throw her mind into torrents?

Screw Lavender Brown, Hermione was just fine.

Breakfast the next morning was tense to say the least, what with Ron ignoring her. But by the time they'd followed Sir Cadogan all the way to Divination his tongue had loosened enough to moan about the bloody stairs.

Hermione privately agreed.

The incense inside the divination classroom didn't help their shortness of breath either. After climbing the (awfully tacky) silver ladder Hermione felt the heavy smell immediately settle in her airways and they coughed in protest.

The room was decorated in exactly the sort of fashion you'd expect from a muggle fortune teller, a resemblance that didn't inspire much faith in Hermione for how worthwhile this class would be. The heavy drapes were drawn over the curtains so that the room was only lit by the fifty odd lamps dotted around the place and covered with dark red scarves. The fire under the mantelpiece made the room uncomfortably warm and Hermione couldn't help but wonder in a sort of bemused horror at the many hideously floral armchairs in which they were clearly supposed to sit.

'Welcome, how nice it is to see you in the physical world at last.' Professor Trelawney had a misty sort of voice and a buggish sort of appearance. The glasses magnifying her eyes didn't help. Twig thin, her loose and gauzy clothes draped over her delicately and in direct opposition to the many heavy beads, bracelets, bangles and chains weighing down her neck and arms.

Trelawney continued to introduce them to the ~fascinating~ world of divination. She could admit to being a little startled at the prospect of not being able to learn everything from a book ('I mean really, what's the point of it being in the school curriculum if it's not teachable' she would late complain to Harry) but she didn't appreciate the way both Ron and Harry seemed to grin over at her when Trelawney said it.

After the professor terrified the class with her vague and ungrounded predictions for another few minutes she finally instructed them to collect their teacups.

The fact that Trelawney had correctly predicted Neville dropping his first cup spooked the class even further, but honestly, Neville had tripped over his own feet twice just entering the room, it wasn't hard to tell he was clumsy.

But Hermione's patience had well and truly reached its limit when the woman took Harry's cup from him and gazed into it like she was reading an enthralling novel.

'The falcon… my dear, you have a deadly enemy-'

That was it.

'Everyone knows that.' The class turned their eyes from Trelawney to her, Harry and Ron looking particularly amazed.

'Well, they do,' she continued adamantly. 'Everybody knows about Harry and You-Know-who.'

Professor Trelawney ignored her and continued to turn the cup. Club, skull, and finally-

The professor let loose a shriek like a banshee and sank dramatically into one of the chairs, fluttering her hand against her heart as if to comfort herself.

And from there any bit of common sense drew open the heavy curtain, opened the windows and flew off into the distance, leaving the classroom far, far behind. Trelawney couldn't bear to share what was distressing her so, just as an attention seeker couldn't bear to share their news until enough people badgered them about it.

She supposed that was another reason Lavender disliked her. Whenever Lavender sat at the windowsill and stared forlornly out into the night, waiting for someone to ask what was wrong, Hermione would simply flip to the next page of her book and pretend like she wasn't there.

'My dear boy, it's an omen of death!' Trelawney's ravings interrupted her thoughts, and she wrinkled her nose. Moving her way over to where Trelawney was sitting, she scrutinised the cup.

'I don't think it looks like a Grim.' She said flatly and Trelawney looked at her with a mounting dislike.

'I'm sorry my dear,' Professor Trelawney pursed her lips. 'but I don't believe you have enough aura to properly read the future, very little about you that seems receptive. Too cold.'

Hermione raised an eyebrow at the bedangled woman. She could tell already that Trelawney and Lavender were going to get along splendidly.

Seamus Finnigan was squinting this way and that at the offending teacup. He'd just compared it to a donkey before Harry finally spoke up.

'When you've all finished deciding whether I'm going to die or not!' He was scowling at them, but she could see the flicker of worry in his green eyes.

The mood still hadn't picked up by lunch either. Despite McGonagall's assurances' that this happened every year not everyone was convinced.

'It's a load of bull, Ron.' She said calmly as they sat down to lunch.

'No, it's not! My Uncle Bilius saw one and he died!'

'How soon after?' Hermione said, admittedly a little scathingly.

'Twenty-four hours!'

'How oddly specific.'

He was growing red again and twisted to face Harry.

'Harry, be honest, have you seen a large black dog around lately?'

Harry paused, a spoonful of stew halfway to his mouth.

'Uh, yeah actually, the night I left my Uncle and Aunt's.'

Ron let out a moan of horror and Hermione pinched her nose in exasperation. Now they'd never hear the end of it.

'You're going to die.' He whispered dramatically, staring at the saltshaker like Trelawney stared at teacups.

'Well, if we're really using your Uncle Bilius as a case study,' Hermione said snottily, 'then Harry should've died weeks ago! I'm telling you Ronald it's bullsh-'

'You just don't like Divination because Professor Trelawney said you don't have the right aura! You just don't like not being good at something for a change!'

Hermione slammed her book down on the table in anger and felt her hair crackle, electricity sparking along her thunderous mess of curls and making the people sitting near her scramble away. Ron's face switched from flushed to pale in an instant as he physically threw himself from his seat.

'Let's go Harry.' He muttered before storming off.

'Sometimes I wonder if he has the capacity to learn.' She sighed, watching the gangly redhead stride away. She could feel Harry watching her and smiled ruefully.

'Go on.' She told him but he shook his head.

'He's just worried-'

'Harry,' she interrupted with a tired smile. No one but Harry Potter could make her exasperated and amused at the same time.

'You and I both know that if he doesn't have someone to rant to he'll explode on some poor first year.'

He looked at her for a long moment before standing.

'If you're sure-'

'I am.'

He shrugged. 'Alright then, I'd better go before he starts spitting fire.' He ruffled her hair as he left, darting out of her way with a laugh before she could land a hit.

She took her time finishing lunch to avoid catching up with the boys as long as possible. It may have also had to do with Hagrid's first lesson being after lunch. It wasn't that she didn't have confidence in him, but she had to admit she was a little bit worried for how it would go. After all, Hagrid had spoken to them that morning carrying a literal string of dead rodents. She really felt like she had a right to be nervous.

With a sigh she collected her things and set off towards the doors. Hopefully, Ron would have calmed down by now, she really didn't feel like dealing with any more of his moods today.

She'd just reached the doors when a sharp pain knocked her to the side. Her book flew out of her hands and skidded along the floor.

'Watch where you're walking.' Malfoy sneered at her. He walked out with the kind of pretentiousness one had to practise in a mirror, Crab and Goyle in tow.

This type of thing was normal. Expected even. What wasn't, was Theodore Nott picking her book off the floor, dusting it off, and handing it to her.

A moment passed. Then another. She glanced between the book, Nott, and Blaise Zabini behind him, waiting for someone to jump out and yell surprise. When no one did and he wiggled the book in front of her face she managed to snap out of it.

'Thanks.' She mumbled, tucking it into her bag.

'Weasley not too happy with you, huh?' She wondered how many people had noticed that little display if it had reached all the way to the Slytherin table.

'Something like that.'

His eyebrow arched high. Merlin, she wished she could do that. Maybe she could work on it after she understood why his pureblood self was speaking to her.

His lips quirked up as if he could read her mind. 'We're not all stinking blood purists, you know.'

They were walking away before Hermione could think of a response.

Feeling slightly off kilter, she trailed after them towards the Forbidden Forest. She could admit that she was slightly prejudiced after last year. She had been nearly murdered by a giant snake because of her blood status. But, to be fair, Nott and Zabini had never been awful to her. Never really interacted with her really. She'd always just assumed they thought her beneath them.

Zabini glanced over his shoulder. Deep brown eyes caught hers and she stumbled slightly as an odd feeling rushed over her.

Huh.

For a horrible moment she thought Hagrid was going to take them ~into~ the forest. Instead, he stopped at the edge right next to a large paddock and faced them with a broad grin.

'Firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books-'

'How?' Malfoy drawled.

'Eh?'

'How do we open our books?' He repeated coldly, pulling out his copy which he'd bound shut by rope.

Hermione looked around as others pulled their books out too. Some bound with belts or rope, or tape like hers.

Hagrid looked utterly dejected. 'No one's bin able ter open their books?'

They all shook their heads and Hagrid, if possible, deflated even more.

'Yeh've got ter stroke 'em, look-'He reached out and grabbed Hermione's copy, ripping off the Sellotape and running a finger down the spine. The book seemed to shudder for a second before falling open in his hand.

'How silly we've all been!' The blond boy mocked. 'We should have stroked them! Why didn't we guess!' Sniggers came from some of the other Slytherins.

'I thought they were funny,' Hagrid asked her uncertainly and she felt a pang in her heart. Part of her couldn't help but agree with Malfoy about the books but really, Hagrid had just been trying to make the class interesting.

'Tremendously funny!' Malfoy continued, 'Giving us books that try and rip our hands off!'

Harry told Malfoy to shut up as Hermione patted Hagrid's arm reassuringly.

'What creatures are you showing us today Hagrid?' She urged him gently and he cleared his throat, looking a little bit lost.

'Uh, righ' okay, so- yeh've got yer books an' now- now ye need the creatures!' He strode away from the group, his massive strides quickly disappearing into the forest.

'Is this place incapable of hiring competent teachers?' Malfoy complained. 'Quirrel, Lockhart, and now this oaf? Hogwarts' is going to the dogs!'

Good god, she knew Malfoy was a prat, but it was like he was trying to win an award for it this year.

'Shut. Up.' Harry repeated and Malfoy gave a nasty little grin.

'Careful Potter, there's a dementor behind you-'

He was cut off by Lavender Brown's squeal of excitement as Hagrid reappeared with five very large Hippogriffs.

She could ~feel~ the blood draining from her face.

As he tethered them to the fence of the paddock, he explained that you never insulted a Hippogriff. Seeing the length of those talons gave you a pretty good idea why. They were immensely proud and beautiful creatures, but dangerous if you made one angry.

'Always wait fer a Hippogriff ter make the firs' move. It's polite, see?' Hagrid said cheerfully, looking back in his element. 'Yeh bow and yeh wait. If he bows back he's sayin' yeh allowed ter touch him, if he doesn', well, yeh get back right quick.'

This was fine though. A good class even. Learning about proper etiquette towards an interesting creature in the flesh and safely tethered to a fence out of reach-

'Right- who wants ter go first?'

-Nope, of course he was going to make them touch the giant death birds.

The class stepped backwards, and Hagrid's expression fell. It was exactly because of that that Hermione knew, even before he spoke, that Harry was going to volunteer.

'I'll do it.'

Why oh why couldn't she be wrong for once in her life. Better yet, why couldn't Harry get through one day without putting his life at risk.

Hagrid patted him on the back with a grin, 'Good man! Let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak!' As Harry entered the paddock Hagrid untethered a grey hippogriff and slipped off its leather collar.

Impossibly slowly and without blinking, Harry bowed to Buckbeak. The creature angled its head, orange eyes staring at him sharply. As more and more time passed, and the hippogriff still refused to bow. Hermione wondered (in a brief moment of hysteria, you can't blame her for that) if Trelawney had been right.

But then, as slowly as Harry had, Buckbeak gracefully sank into a bow and Hermione could breathe again.

The class applauded and Harry looked utterly relieved. But it wasn't over yet, oh no. He had to pat the Hippogriff and then ride it and by the end of the whole affair Hermione was sure she'd gone grey. When he finally came back to stand by her and Ron, she slipped her hand into his and squeezed it tightly. It wasn't until he squeezed her hand back and smiled at her in his particularly Harry way that she felt her nerves settle.

The rest of the class, feeling more confident now in the exercise, joined Harry in the paddock and began practising with the Hippogriff's. Hermione and Ron were paired off with the chestnut, the red tones of his coat coming out in the afternoon sun.

It was slightly tense but mostly awkward as they both offered for the other to begin. She was almost relieved to face the Hippogriff purely to not face Ron.

He bowed back, thank god, and she tentatively ran her hands along his coat. To her surprise he began to lean into her pats like a cat and she pushed her luck just a little further to run her fingers through his feathers. She couldn't help but smile when the hippogriff made a rolling chirp.

'Blimy.' Ron breathed in awe as he joined her. He looked slightly adorable, his eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas and giddy at his presents. That awful sticky tension had disappeared like a summer storm, leaving behind blue skies, a warm coat, and the bright grin of her favourite red head.

'They're amazing.' Hermione agreed with a grin. She looked over at where Harry had sat and waved at him, perhaps a bit excitedly. He laughed at her but waved back.

But the moment was ruined the minute Malfoy opened his mouth. She turned around right as Buckbeak reared, talons slashing down in fury.

His legs buckled instantly, dropping to the forest floor as blood seeped through his white shirt. Hagrid scooped Malfoy up, both as pale as the other, and headed back to the castle. Hermione didn't even register she'd opened the gate for them until Ron settled a hand on her arm, their fight from the morning long forgotten, and told her it would be okay.

She looked over at the Slytherin's, all clearly furious over what had happened, and felt a sinking feeling in her stomach.

'I'm not so sure it will.'

'He's faking it,' Harry had said later that evening, 'Trust Malfoy to milk it for all it's worth.'

And milk it Malfoy did. He'd reappeared the next morning in a heavily bandaged sling and with an arsenal of pre prepared barbs about Hagrid. Harry and Rob would be in detention faster than Snape could snarl "Potter".

She could feel the headache coming on already.

She, however, had her own challenges to deal with.

'Bloody hell.' Ron swore under his breath as Professor Snape revealed the extensive instructions on the board.

'Today, as I am sure you already know from your holiday readings,' Snape eyed them with contempt, 'you will be preparing Sanguis Funem.

Heritage potions. This one was relatively simple compared to the others, but still trickier than anything else they'd completed thus far. Hermione mentally ran through the recipe she'd memorised over the holidays. Two Bane eggshells finely ground, exactly three mils of rooster blood…

'It is a vague method of identifying familial connection,' Snape said. 'the potion requires two blood sources and will attach itself to any shared blood within this room.'

'Many of you will find a blood connection within the room.' He eyes trailed across them coldly. 'Other's, will have no connection at all.'

Hermione expected this already, being muggleborn. But if made correctly the potion would still react to her own blood.

'Once you have completed your potion you will each prick your finger so it draws blood and then apply a drop of Sanguis Funem to it. Any questions?'

Snape scowled as Parvati timidly raised her hand.

'Sir, how will we know if the potion worked?'

'I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out.' He replied coldly. 'Now if that wasn't too difficult for you dunderheads to understand then get started.'

'He should become a motivational speaker,' Ron whispered to her and Harry as they collected their ingredients.

They sniggered quietly as they worked, carefully measuring and slicing their materials. Well, Hermione was careful. Harry was diligent if a bit wonky and Ron was just plain haphazard.

She sighed as he stirred his concoction of gunk clockwise instead of counter-clockwise. A similar sigh was let out behind her and she twisted to see the professor watching Ron with his nose wrinkled.

She laughed under her breath and dropped in her lacewing flies, the potion promptly fading to the exact shade of light blue.

'Dammit,' Harry muttered from beside her as his potion turned a deep shade of violet.

'You put in one too many.'

'Did I?'

'Yes. Do two mils of rose oil should counteract it.'

He gave a shrug but listened and almost immediately the potion became the same shade as hers.

'Brilliant,' he laughed, 'thanks Hermione!'

The silence behind her was deafening and she turned again slightly. He was watching her now, his face contemplative. A little shaky under his stare she faced her cauldron and continued working, relieved once he'd moved on to look at the other students. Once she'd left the cauldron to simmer and cleaned up, she looked around at the other potions.

Ron's was an irredeemable sludge as was Neville's, Harry's looked decent, Lavender's looked good and Seamus' like charred dog food. She couldn't see anyone else's but as Snape went around inspecting cauldron's she got the impression Crabbe and Goyle's were as bad as Ron's.

'With the pins provided you will each prick your finger to draw blood.' Snape made a lazy movement with his hand and a small container of pins began whisking around the classroom.

'When I call your name, you will apply three drops of your potion to your blood.' Snape sounded utterly bored. 'If nothing happened it is because, to nobody's' surprise, you have failed.'

How encouraging.

Nott was the first name Snape called. The boy stood up, looking equally as bored as Snape. Hermione wondered if it was a male Slytherin thing. Did they have an introductory class on when facials expressions were acceptable?

As students were called on one by one it was interesting to see a network begin to form. When the potion was applied a golden thread would snake across the room and bind itself to the other person. Multiple strands bloomed for some. Such as Malfoy's irritatingly perfect potion which surprised her by connecting to Harry and Ron.

'Distant cousins.' Ron muttered to her in explanation. He scowled at the thread and hurriedly yanked his hand away, snapping the gold instantly.

'Mr. Zabini.' Their professor droned.

What happened next was the cataclysm that threw her whole world off course. The moment the liquid combined with his deep red blood, the moment that golden thread formed and began seeking hers-

Well, as Ron would say: Bloody hell.