December 1998
The Yule Ball had returned to Hogwarts in the hopes of raising spirits almost a year after the war. McGonagall had offered a variety of events for the students, including the dance itself, a private hall for those who would rather mingle quietly instead of being on the dance floor, and the ability to ice skate on the frozen lake. Never before had the students seen so much put together for their enjoyment and most of them knew it was only there in order to keep their mind off of the reason for the occasion.
Hermione was one of these students, but she still pulled out her old dress and resized it, Ginny helping her to add embellishments here and there. Ginny talked her into going, reminding her that she only had so many months left to spend at Hogwarts and every moment counts. Hermione couldn't argue with that. After her failed flight with Draco, the overflowing anxiety in her head was screaming to get out and Hermione knew a night with Ginny could possibly help satiate it.
"Do you want to have a drink before?" Hermione asked as the two got ready in her private room. Ginny paused, looking at Hermione where she sat on her bed, slipping her heels on.
"Sure," Ginny responded, turning her attention back to the mirror but watching Hermione instead of finishing her makeup. "What's got you in the mood to drink?"
"Eh, I feel like tonight's just one of those nights, you know?" Hermione didn't want to tell her the truth - that the quiet burning fear was bubbling up again and threatening to spill from her mouth in a wave of vomit. She needed a right proper kick from a glass of firewhiskey to push it back into its holdings deep within her skull.
After Ginny had finally finished her makeup, she pulled from her bag a bottle of Ogden's finest and popped the cork.
"I've been saving this one for just the right occasion. I think this is it," Ginny grinned, handing the bottle to Hermione. The elder girl began to drink, one gulp turning to two, then three, and then a few more until the embers dripping down her throat licked the back of her brain. Only then, when the calmness washed over her in blankets of burning fuzziness, did she hand the bottle back to Ginny.
"I guess this really was the right occasion, huh?" Ginny took a swig, sending a look her way with a raised eyebrow. "Not having problems with Ron, are you?"
"Not really, just needed to feel more confident in myself," Hermione replied truthfully. She decided to add a bit of a white lie to cover her quickly dying pride. "It's been a while since the world's seen me dressed this way and the last time, there were quite a few people who had things to say about it. Don't really feel like dealing with that all again."
In reality, she couldn't care less what people had to say about her anymore. Her brain flashed to Ron. Fourth year Ron to be exact, towering over her in those ridiculously garish maroon dress robes, hasty rips and cuts of lace hanging in random places. He had screamed at her that night, granted she had screamed right back, but the point was that it had happened. Her heart twisted remembering the way he had looked down at her, as if she was whoring herself out just for fun. As if she couldn't possibly be asked to go to a dance just because she was an interesting person. She had cried for so long that night that no matter what spells or salves she used, her dark circles didn't disappear. He had been the only one to talk of it, beyond Skeeter but she didn't count in Hermione's mind, at least not anymore.
Ron was a better person now, having grown, but sometimes that image of him, how he was, came to life right in front of her still. It scared her how quickly he switched to cold and scathing, from his usual warm and comfortable aura.
But tonight wasn't about him. He wasn't here to turn into that and make her cry over enjoying herself again. Tonight, she could relax, have a couple drinks, and dance with her friends. So with a smile and a few more gulps of the firewhiskey, Hermione followed Ginny down to the Great Hall, giggling like she was fourteen again.
The energy surrounding her as she stepped down the staircase crackled, her insides boiling with liquid flames from both the drink and her anxiety. This was too familiar to her as she looked up to see everyone watching her descend. This had happened before. Except last time, she'd had a date on her arm, and now she stood alone on the last step.
Ginny walked ahead of her, waving at Luna who stood by the doors with a large veiled sunhat on her head. Hermione took careful steps towards the younger girls, heat coursing through her veins as eyes followed her. Luna smiled as she approached though and a cool relief quenched the anxiety. The three girls entered the Great Hall, Ginny arm in arm with Luna and Hermione trailing just behind. Her fingers grasped at the fabric at her sides, fistfuls of periwinkle her only stress reliever at the moment.
Ginny reached out to grab one of her fists and pulled Hermione towards the table Luna was sitting down at. With fiery eyes, Ginny brought her head close to Hermione's.
"I brought a flask of the Odgen's. In case you'd like it," she whispered in Hermione's ear. Hermione's eyes widened, her head shaking up and down so quickly she almost knocked their temples together painfully. Ginny grinned, slipping her hand into the bundles of her skirt where it disappeared for a second before re-emerging with the silver flask. "It's got a bottomless charm and everything."
Hermione took the flask with a shaky hand, slipping it into the top of her dress, snug against the side of her breast. She inhaled sharply as the cold metal dug its pattern into her warm flesh and Ginny laughed. The anxiety began to shed from her mind like orange peels. Perhaps the night would be better than she had expected it to be.
February 1999
Hermione stared out at the Forbidden Forest ahead of her from where she sat in the snow at the base of a large tree near Hagrid's hut. Ginny was off with Harry in Hogsmeade for Valentines and Luna was Merlin knows where. She found herself sighing, wondering if Ron would write her a letter or send her something small, but she doubted it. In the last month he'd sent her only two letters. She found herself surprisingly not caring and wishing he might just stop altogether.
The letters were stale, stiff, and written as if a chore he'd been forced to do. Perhaps he had been. Ginny had probably owled to tell him off about reaching out. She'd noticed the lack of correspondence after the Yule Ball and had promptly turned to Hermione for answers which Hermione didn't even have.
Above her head, the dead branches crashed together in the wind, dropping ice and snow into her hair in small bundles. She shook her head out, watching the whips of ice leap from her curls back into the white expanse below her. Ron would've made a joke about her unruly mane and then she probably would've smacked him with a snowball. She looked down at her feet, shaking the image from her head lightly.
She'd brought her new book with her, the one Ginny got her for Christmas. It dealt with knights and paladins, fighting for valor in a ruined city overrun by the natural elements. The flinging snow and ice didn't bother it; she'd placed a charm over the book to protect it from the elements. With a huff, she picked it up and flipped to the first page. She was tired of thinking about Ronald Weasley.
May 1999
The anniversary came around slowly and Hermione sat on the couches in the common room and stared at the large clock on the mantel as it slowly clicked towards May 2nd. Neville had gone to bed just a few minutes ago, leaving her alone, elbows perched on her knees as she leaned forward. Her thoughts strayed to Ron and Harry. How were they holding up? Was Harry having nightmares? Was Ron mourning Fred with the rest of the Weasleys? Here she sat, worrying about her boys when she had her own ghosts to remember.
A clatter came from the portrait hole and she glanced up to see a dark figure bent over in the doorway. As the figure straightened, the firelight caught onto the blonde head of Draco. He took a couple more steps into the room, wobbling on his feet and it didn't take long for Hermione to recognize that he was drunk.
"Malfoy?" She asked and watched as he looked up at her. His eyes were slightly crossed and he pointed at her.
"Granger," he said, then stopped. His eyebrows furrowed and he struggled with his mouth for a few minutes. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm just trying not to be locked up in my room right now. What are you doing?" She stood carefully, keeping an eye on his reactions, of which he seemed to have few of.
"I'm forgetting!" He responded with a sad glee. He threw his arms in the air and laughed, head leaning back. "I'm forgetting everything so it doesn't have to hurt anymore."
"Forgetting what, exactly?"
"Everything. I just said that, weren't you paying attention? Merlin, you used to always pay attention."
"I did?" She wasn't sure why she was asking.
"Oh, yes. I liked the attention too - meant you had your eye on me," he sighed, walking over to the couch and collapsing onto it, laying on his back. She sat back down on the couch by his feet. "It was never the why that mattered, it was always the who and when."
"What are you talking about?"
"The war, Granger, stick with it!"
"You're not making any sense!" Hermione's eyes were narrowed, staring him down in confusion.
"I never make sense, at least not to you."
Well, he had that right, she thought.
"Besides, it doesn't matter anymore. Everything's done and over with," he muttered. She watched him hike his sleeves up to his elbows. With a sudden hitch in her chest, she noticed the inky remains of his dark mark still burned into his arm. He didn't seem to notice. "Except with you."
"Huh?" The last thing he'd said caught her attention and she looked back at his face with narrowed eyes.
"Everything's starting with you now. Everything else is over except for you," he said so plainly, as if his point was obvious. "Mum is done with, father is done with, the Dark Lord is done with, Potter's done with and the Weasel, everyone else is done with, all except for you. Why you?"
"Malfoy, I don't understand."
"Why are you still here?" He lifted his head to look up at her, still seated by his feet. "You've never stuck around before, even when I tried to make you."
"You've tried before?" Her chest tightened again as he lifted his left hand, rubbing it across his eyes.
"Of course I did, what did you think all my poking fun at you was for?"
"To hurt me…duh?" She'd thought it was obvious. He'd obviously hated her for at least seven years of them knowing each other.
"Well, yes, but also the fact that I wanted you to stay. I wanted to pick your brain, figure out what made you tick. I still don't know and it bothers me." He dropped his left arm back across his stomach before crooking his leg to where his knee now pressed against the outside of her thigh. She flinched, but didn't move away, determined to let him keep talking so she could get to the bottom of his rant. "You're as bad as Aunt Bella sometimes, you know, the way you both are so high-strung and difficult."
"Excuse me?" The name of the woman who had so callously tortured her in front of him shocked her on today of all days, and he thought it okay to compare them! "Fuck off, Malfoy." She didn't care anymore about listening to what he had to say and so stood roughly, shaking his knee off with a hard push.
"Wait, Granger, I didn't think-" Draco struggled to sit upright as she stomped towards her door.
"No, I'm sure you didn't. When have you ever, Malfoy?" And with that, Hermione closed her door in his face.
June 1999
Hermione had finished packing, leaving only a few outfits out for the last couple of days she'd be spending at Hogwarts. Crookshanks had curled up on top of her trunk, bathing himself in the sunlight that streamed in through the window. Absentmindedly, she brushed a finger across the top of his head as she sat down at the edge of her bed. The letter from Harry, telling her that she could stay with him, was in her other hand. She kept rereading it, wondering whether she could deal with that or not seeing as how Ron and her hadn't talked since the middle of March. Not a single letter, no floo calls, nothing.
Hermione didn't really mind at first, but slowly the silence grew deafening when she had nothing else to do. Never had she thought that she'd lose him as a friend, but it started to seem like that was becoming the issue at hand. She didn't really mind if any romantic attachments fizzled out but their friendship, she thought, was unbreakable. Apparently not to him, as he hadn't bothered to ask after her in any way and she was starting to resent him for it.
There was a commotion in the common room, a loud banging and a scream, and Hermione darted up and to her door. She wasn't the only one apparently as she saw Neville and Anthony's heads peek out from their own doors. As she entered the common room, she noticed it was packed with the Slytherins and an out-of-place Ravenclaw. Luna sat on the couch besides Tracey and Blaise who were watching the scene before them all.
Draco's wand was out, pointed at Theo who had landed on the floor in front of the bookshelves, Pansy bent down beside him.
"Don't say another word, Nott. I don't quite like the way you think, you know," Draco sneered, his eyes glinting dangerously.
"Just because you're the birthday boy doesn't mean you can go around hurling your friends across the room," Theo muttered in response.
"You're not my friend, not unless you apologize to her." Draco pointed back at Luna, glancing behind him to see the concerned faces of Neville, Hermione, and Anthony standing behind the couch. "And them, apologize to them as well."
"Like bloody hell I'm apologizing to the Mud-" Theo was cut off as Draco hurled an unlit candle from the coffee table at him.
"Apologize, Nott!"
Pansy was staring at Draco in shock, and Hermione figured she had been the one to scream after Draco sent Theo flying.
"Fine! I'm bloody sorry!"
"For what? Tell them what for."
"Sick, twisted, bastard…" Theo seethed under his breath. "For being a dick."
"Good enough, get up, Nott. You're going to sit here-" Draco pointed at an armchair by the fire. "-and drink firewhiskey and be on your best behavior because drunk me won't be as forgiving."
Theo listened begrudgingly to Draco and collapsed into the aforementioned armchair. Pansy took her place in the one next to him as Draco dropped to the floor by Luna's feet.
"Thank you Theo, for your apology," Luna spoke up, tilting the glass she had in her hand towards him in a toast. Theo simply glared at her.
"Wait, are you drinking in here?" Hermione finally stepped up to the group.
"Granger, you've broken about fifty thousand rules in the past seven years, what's one more?" Blaise retorted with a huff of breath from his nose.
"I-" Hermione paused. He had her there. Damn these Slytherins and knowing her much better than she knew them, she hated feeling like an open book to them. "Fine, but hand me a glass too then."
"Oh, Hermione, this will be so much fun!" Luna clapped her hand against her glass.
"What are you even doing here, Luna?" Hermione asked, confused as to how she got sandwiched between Tracey and Blaise with Draco at her feet.
"Draco invited me to celebrate his birthday, it's not every day you turn nineteen."
Hermione glanced down at Draco, who was gulping straight from a bottle and sitting at Luna's feet. She looked behind her to find that Anthony had disappeared back into his room, but Neville was leaning on his door frame, watching the room carefully. She had a feeling he wasn't going to leave while she and Luna were still here. It was comforting.
When she looked back, Blaise was holding up a glass for her to take. With just the slightest apprehension, she took it from him gently and took a sip. Here's to trying new things, she thought.
June 1999
As the night with the Slytherins and Luna went on, Hermione slipped comfortably into the territory of calm drunkeness. She had collapsed at Blaise's feet, beside Draco, and her glass felt loose in her hand. With a shaky smile, she downed what was left and placed it on the table. Draco watched her with hooded eyes and she stiffened, wondering what was going through his head.
"Granger," he said quietly, not drawing attention from the others' conversations.
"Malfoy," she responded curtly.
"I'm sorry."
She whipped her head to look at him straight on. He grimaced, rubbing his thumb over the signet ring on his forefinger.
"What for this time?" She asked with a cautious tone.
"For comparing you to that horrid and evil wench last time we spoke." With his words, her heart stopped. She thought over her words carefully.
"I can't say that I totally forgive you for that, but I know you weren't in your right mind. I don't particularly want to know why the comparison came about or what it actually is, so I'd be grateful if you don't explain," was her slow reply.
"I understand," he paused. "You know, your hair is vibrant in the candle light."
"I-what?"
"It's all lit up like a tree in the sun."
Hermione stared at him like he had hands coming out of his ears.
"It's fascinating, how you get it to be so big," he continued and her eyes narrowed at him. "Do you ever think about charms or potions to maintain it?"
"I've tried that, Malfoy. Obviously it doesn't quite work, does it?" Her tone was clipped.
"Not quite." He smiled softly, lips just quirking upwards enough that she could recognize it up close. "You're not so bad, Granger. You haven't been for a while."
"I still don't understand you, but I guess you're not so bad either, Malfoy," she responded, allowing him a small smile as well. And she truly meant it.
August 1999
Hermione paced nervously outside the statue of the Headmistress' office. She knew the password, but couldn't bring herself to say it just yet. This was big and she was bound to be questioned heavily for what she was about to ask of McGonagall.
With a deep sigh, she turned sharply to face the statue and whispered "plum puffs" under her breath, silently hoping it wouldn't hear her. Unfortunately for her, the statue jumped to life, turning as the stairs began to rise. She waited a few moments and let the stairs climb higher before she leaped up onto a step as it passed by. She clambered up the rest of the steps, pausing outside the door with her fist raised to knock.
"Am I mental?" She whispered to herself. This was about to change the course of her fate, everything she had worked for. The past two months consisted of her sitting in Grimmauld Place questioning the path she had prepared for herself, wondering which way would be the right way to go. That's how she ended up in front of this door, wrist starting to ache with how tight she was clenching her fist.
She finally let her knuckles rap on the door three times. The door swung open before her, showing McGonagall seated at her desk in the center of the room. Fawkes relaxed on his perch beside her and the image of him clenched tight in her stomach as she remembered walking in to the same scene but Dumbledore sat in McGonagall's place.
"Ms. Granger, it's lovely to see you, please have a seat," McGonagall said with an almost cheerful tone. It was hard to imagine McGonagall with a cheerful anything really so the tone threw Hermione off even more.
"Hello Headmistress," Hermione started, moving forward and letting the door shut behind her. She sat down in the seat across from the desk, hands clasped together tightly in her lap. "I hope I'm not bothering you."
"You're never a bother, young lady, I do hope you realize that. I do want to ask what has occurred to send you to my office however. I wasn't quite expecting you so something must have happened."
"Well, actually, it's more so what I'd like to happen," Hermione almost mumbled, but forced herself to speak up. It wouldn't do to let her nerves overtake her now. Her brain shot back to those conversations with Draco about being scared. She pinched herself, chasing the thought away. "Headmistress, I was wondering if I could apply to work here."
McGonagall stared at her, lips thinner than usual. Hermione shuffled slightly in her seat.
"Ms. Granger, I was under the impression that you were interested in working under the Minister. This has come as a bit of a surprise. What position would you even feel comfortable teaching?"
"Well, I realized that I want to help change the world but it's difficult to do that while trying to climb the ladder of the Ministry. I'd barely get any work done in the beginning of my career and that just doesn't sit right with me. I'd figured that I could start at the source, teaching students and hopefully being a changing point in some of their lives which would then transfer into the way they impact the world." Hermione paused, thinking about all the professors she'd had that had done so for her. People like McGonagall herself and Lupin changing how she viewed the world and how she could affect what comes next. "I was thinking History of Magic if Binns would be comfortable sharing the position or even doing Defense Against the Dark Arts. Anything to teach students about what happened and why and how to keep it from happening again."
McGonagall had been silent while Hermione spoke, fingers tracing a line back and forth on her desk. There were cogs moving in her brain, flitting back and forth between ideas.
"Well, we've already had an individual come in interested in Defense so maybe we can work with Professor Binns on History," she said finally. Hermione broke out into a smile, her brain only briefly pausing to file away the information about someone being interested in Defense.
"Thank you, Headmistress, really, thank you." Hermione stood up and reached out to clasp McGonagall's hands in her own. "I promise I won't let you down if I'm able to have the position."
"I know you won't Ms. Granger," McGonagall said with just the hint of a smile pushing at the corners of her mouth.