No Matter what, you will always be Ours

by BlackSwan130702

When she gets her letter to attend Hogwarts a year earlier than most Hermione feels hopeful for her future, excited to gain knowledge and skill and most importantly take her chance at true happiness. But is she all she appears to be on the surface, an orphaned muggle-born book-worm? And is her life nothing but a smoke screen for a sinister plot that wrecked the lives of many?

9. Feverish

Hey all,

I hope you are all well. This chapter has been in the works for months now. I kept writing little bits and life would do what it does best and get hectic. But it's finally here.

A little bit more mystery for you all and some more hidden clues to help you piece it all together. I'm loving all the guesses so far. Some of you are really close to working it out and it's really hard not to let it slip but I'm determined to feed the information a little at a time. Gotta have some mystery somewhere no?

As always thank you all for the love and encouragement. I appreciate you all so much.

My love always - Nell xoxo

Edited – 08/01/2025

~ Sydenham, The Haven Home for Girls ~

~July 20th 1994~

~ Hermione's POV ~

Hermione groaned quietly as she burrowed her head deeper beneath the tattered pile of blankets she had been hiding under for the past week. The sound of the usual daily chatter of the orphanage had begun to grate at her this summer. Each day had become more and more intolerable as she sunk lower into herself. She hated this Merlin awful place. Hated having to return here each summer. Back to the same old monotony of life as an orphan. It had always been a particularly hard adjustment for the young witch whenever she was forced to return to Sydenham from Hogwarts. The magic that pulsed through her veins protested the absence of magic in the air, It was an uncomfortable feeling for the brunette and made her feel far more isolated than she ever had. She could feel her own magic reaching and searching for any hint of the magic it craved in the world around her and she could feel the restlessness that creeped into her bones the longer her magical core sought what wasn't there.

Though perhaps what was most difficult of all this time around was Matron. The usually sour woman seemed to lose any sense of decency around Hermione the older the brunette got. The woman had been unable to leave Hermione alone for a second without criticising her and losing her temper with the muggle-born. Hermione could practically feel the anger radiating off the elderly woman whenever she was in her proximity. It had meant that Hermione really couldn't do anything except do her best to avoid the awful woman. Not only did Matron apparently decide that Hermione was the worst child she had ever known but the brunette's usual ability to tolerate the incessant voices of her fellow orphans had also apparently fled with Matron's sense of decency.

She felt like she was balancing on a knife's edge, caught between matron's reign of terror against her and each whisper and cough from her fellow orphans that sounded like leaky pipes. Loud and irritating to her ears. Even now she could hear them whispering, a floor below where she lay. She could hear the way they giggled and wheezed in hilarity at something or other, while she lay up in the attic, on her makeshift bed of blankets Matron had tossed up here for Hermione's use.

Matron, had removed Hermione's wand and books from her as soon as she had stepped through the doors at the beginning of the summer. This in itself wasn't out with the norm, she had removed everything magical from Hermione every summer since her first year. Though this year Matron had lacked any of her usual sorrowful self. The woman had sneered at Hermione as she stood open palmed, silently waiting on her wand, grimacing as Hermione's hand brushed hers. As if she carried some sort of disease that she was loathe to catch. Her temperament had been short and snide whenever she spoke to Hermione, the woman finding fault in Hermione's every move. After last week's incident the woman had snapped completely, segregating the brunette to the attic.

Though Hermione still believed the incident truly was not her fault.

Merlin knew she hadn't meant to do what she had done.

It was a mistake, she lost control. As she seemed to be doing more often the past few weeks. It had been her second day home and between Matron's tyranny and all the inexplicable changes she had been experiencing the past few weeks and the girl's targeting her for no particular reason that day; a smashed window, broken kitchen appliances and a new flower garden in the middle of the stairway was the best that could have happened. No one had been hurt and Matron now had an excuse to apply for a bigger budget, so Hermione thought it was a complete over reaction when the woman banished her from the main living area. The woman had made a point of telling every one that Hermione was a waste of energy and they were to forget about her. The other girls seamed to have no problem doing exactly that.

Which left Hermione on her own once again, surrounded by her loss of control and the bitter sense that every thing was wrong.

Even now the attic sported the evidence of her accidental magic. Each of the walls were filled with fleur-de-lis from floor to ceiling. There yellows reflecting the sun in such startling vibrancy that it actually hurt Hermione's eyes to look at. Not that she knew how to make them disappear. Nor could she think straight enough to make them disappear with the awful noise that surrounded her. It was driving her demented, being forced to sit alone in this dusty old attic, listening to her peers laugh and play while she struggled to simply breath. This attic used to be her sanctuary, had been for many a year, now however it felt like a prison. One that was filled with dust, grime and suffocating loneliness.

The brunette groaned again quietly, twisting in the threadbare blankets, a futile attempt to get comfy. She could feel that something was wrong. There was a horrible anxious gurning in her stomach and her whole body had started aching 5 days ago. It was painful and she was clammy. Morgana herself only knew what was happening and Hermione was torn between letting whatever was happening consume her and the ever increasing panic and sense that she needed help, needed not to be alone. Needed something that wasn't this aching pain and all-consuming loneliness that had engulfed her as of late.

The smallest little thing around her had begun to feel too much, as if all her senses had been turned up to a thousand without warning and all at once. Her ears were overly sensitive. Even her sense of smell had changed to, how she could smell matron's perfume even from up here, two floors above the woman's most frequented halls, was beyond her. The smell was haunting her, she could swear it. A reminder of where she was and who in fact she had to answer to for the time being.

Her magic also had been wildly out of control, each time she got worked up it felt as if her magic – amplified like all her other senses – was no longer controllable in a way it hadn't been since before first year. Flowers grew everywhere around her. They clung to every surface they could touch. Even forming a cocoon around her. Almost imitating a nest. At least her flowers dulled the stench of Matron's perfume, lessening Hermione's urge to tear of her own skin just to be rid of the suffocating reminder that Matron had cut her off from her magic and banished her as if she were some sort of vermin.

Hermione stifled a sob, desperately trying to remember that each day that passed was another day closer to the day in which she could return to the magical world. Which meant she only had a further year before she could legally not return to this awful place. It was the only thing she could think of that let her cling to a shred of her sanity. Without her sanity she feared what would happen if she lost all control. She had heard and read stories at Hogwarts about witches and wizards who had ended up going mad when isolated from the very magic that was rooted in their very DNA. So in some ways the flowers that climbed her walls provided a little peace as they filled the air with hints of magic. Even if it was only her own magic.

Yet it didn't feel nearly enough, not when like the rest of her, her magic was restless. Unsettled and unsteady as it buzzed through her like electricity, searching for an outlet that she couldn't allow herself. She'd be expelled from Hogwarts if she did and then she would be stuck here in this miserable hovel, surrounded by muggles who cared not for her existence. Her wand would be snapped and her memory erased of the world she had come to call her own.

Despite that knowledge, Hermione had slowly become more and more terrified over the last few days that she wouldn't be able to maintain control. All the changes that she was experiencing had become more and more difficult to deal with. Her emotions were wildly out of her grasp in a way they hadn't been in years. She could feel the tears that dripped down her pale cheeks, even as she fought for control of herself. Loathe to let them all win in their bid to bring her down.

Hermione didn't know how much more she could take of this. It was endless and she felt more alone than she ever had. Every day that passed grew more difficult to function on the most basic of levels. Her very being rebelling against the lack of magic around her. At least that's how it felt. Why else would her body be suffering so greatly? Changing so rapidly? There was no explanation that she could find in any of her books, for she had lost access to them at the start of the summer and there was no one she knew that she could turn to for help.

Hermione cringed, an image of the Lady Andromeda Lestrange flashing through her mind as she thought of the very few options she did have. Lady Lestrange was a sore topic for her. Even now.

At the end of first year the woman had made Hermione feel as if she finally had someone who cared about her and for her, in her corner. By the end of second year however, it was clear that whatever Lady Lestrange felt for her paled and would always pale in comparison to the woman's own family. Hermione was nothing more than charity. She had been fooling herself into thinking anyone could care for her in any way. It was ridiculous that it had come to this. That at her lowest moment the only person in this world that would possibly care about what was going on for her, was a woman who would never make Hermione her priority.

Hermione didn't fail to see the irony in her situation. She had always striven to find her place in the world. She had held out so much hope for Hogwarts, that it would be the place she found that belonging. Yet here she was back where she started wasn't she? Alone at an orphanage, with no one that cared if she lived or died.

Abandoned by her birth parents.

Abandoned by her adopters.

Abandoned by everyone.

It would be infuriating if she could muster up the strength to feel any one, singular thing. It really showed how little she was worth didn't it? Used and discarded. Time and time again. Set to repeat the same cycle for the rest of her life. Her only other option was Cho, and she couldn't bother her only friend with this. Cho who had been so kind and patient with Hermione. Who had never pushed or acted in anger towards her. Somehow even knowing Cho would absolutely want Hermione to reach out, it wasn't enough to convince Hermione to put pen to paper and send a message. She didn't feel as if she deserved Cho, not when she had always kept her friend at arm's length. Never fully allowing her to see through her walls and always keeping herself shrouded in mystery.

She had tried to let the dark haired girl in but at this point Hermione had no faith that she would ever outgrow her ingrained need to keep herself to herself. Her stomach hurt, a heavy sense of unease sat within her torso like a lead balloon. A warning or a threat though she hadn't quite worked out what one it was yet.

Hermione stood up, emerging from her blankets with a shaky form. Her skin paler than usual, her forehead shining with sweat and her heart racing. She was going mad. It was official. Or she was dying. She didn't know which. However what she did know was that she needed this to stop. For things to make sense. She needed her magic. Needed her school and Cho and she needed out of here. Now.

Yet stuck as she was she couldn't have any of those things. Yet she needed it. Still needed and craved the things she couldn't have and it made her feel as if she was about to burst. Turmoil bubbled within her. A deep acidic pit forming, all consuming. It was a restless energy with no outlet and no direction. A little like the brunette herself. Restless, forgotten. Alone.

So Hermione did the only thing she could do in the moment. She picked up pen and paper and wrote.

~ Lestrange Manor, Wiltshire, England ~

~ July 20th 1994 ~

~ Andromeda's POV ~

"Nymphadora, be a dear and let your father know that I've headed out would you?" Andromeda called as she strode down the pale grey hallway briskly. Long strides taking her past her eldest and only child's room. Her steps were hurried as she approached the stairs. Her expression was one of worry and if anyone had seen her in that moment they would see the way fierce brown eyes were set in determination as she moved.

"Of course mother" met her ears as her left foot hit the first step of the main staircase. The lazy drawl let her know that her daughter was in fact half asleep, which meant her daughter probably wouldn't tell her father anything. Not that she really cared and if she had any spare time on her hands the brunette would have returned to her daughter's room, if only to get a rare glimpse of her darling girl at ease for once. What possessed Nymphadora to join the auror department within the Ministry was beyond Andromeda's understanding. They were all a bunch of corrupt fools if you asked her, which of course no one did. Merlin knew Nymphadora didn't need to work, she had seen to that in marrying her girl's father, the Lestrange heir. A prominent match her father had taken delight in agreeing too. Especially after he had found out about her and the muggle-born Teddy Tonks.

Teddy had been a lovely distraction during her sixth year at Hogwarts, however her blood meant that upon finding out Andromeda had dared to entertain the woman, her Father, Cygnus had about lost his mind in fury. Teddy hadn't come back to seventh year and Andromeda knew her father had been responsible for that. Nevertheless she had to make some sort of plan when the man started talking about speeding up her betrothal.

So she had done what her darling big sister had done.

Found the richest but densest Pure-blooded wizard in her year and talked him into fancying her for a bride. Not that Rudolphus Lestrange had any particularly good qualities about him but his inability to use his brain meant that Andromeda could very well do as she pleased. Nymphadora had been the only thing he had given her that ever meant anything and once she had given him his heir she made him move to his own wing of their home. Far from her eye line.

Otherwise she may have been forced to join her sister in Azkaban and then who would be here holding down the family Fort? Lucky for Lady Lestrange, her dearest husband had never been the brightest tool in anyone's cauldron. A pity really, that all the talent he could have possessed, had been utterly wasted upon a cause that Andromeda found nigh impossible to truly back. Despite her upbringing. It would be so easy, she supposed to let herself fall into the pure-blood mania her parents and their parents and so on had fallen into. Yet she could see the many faults in their beliefs. It was obvious to any who stopped a moment to ponder the reality of concepts such as inbreeding that to create an entirely 'pure' world would only create so many children with increasingly complex mental and physical health complications. She was almost positive that was truly the cause of her idiotic husband's flaws after all.

Andromeda didn't stop longer than the time it took to grab her healer's bag and her wand as she made for the door. She apparated on the spot, an image of Hermione Granger held strongly within her mind. Trusting her magic and whatever bond it was that they shared to get her there safely without knowing the exact destination. An instinctual pull guiding her wordlessly to the young with whom had owled for assistance.

She landed in a dimly lit room, if she were to hazard a guess she would say it was an attic of some sort that needed some serious work. There was dust covering every surface that met the eye and the one small window present was covered by a thinning black blanket. A poor attempt to block out the light that tried to stream through the grime coated window pane. The floorboards beneath her feet creaked and groaned under her and the older witch wondered just how safe they truly were up here. A small part of her mind cautioning her against the potential of her falling through the ceiling in to the rooms below.

She frowned, her eyes studying the room in front of her for the young witch she had come to see. The older witch was puzzled when she found her lying underneath the covered window on what appeared to be a make shift bed? Her frown deepened, confused to see the girl up here alone when she could clearly hear various young voices on the floor below them. Surely this wasn't where the child lived?

But the woman's analysis and worry was soon pushed to the back of her mind when she spotted the girls pale sweaty face peeking out from among the pile of tattered looking blankets. Andromeda could see looking at her that the girl was shivering violently, an indication of fever. Her hair looked wild and unruly, dripping with sweat. But that wasn't all that had Andromeda on alert. The musty air of the attic was saturated in magic.

The girl's magic to be precise.

To most the feeling of being so thoroughly surrounded by another's magic would be uncomfortable at best. To Andromeda it felt like family. A fact she filed away for later examination. Though her main concern was the reason the air was saturated in the girls magic. It was unusual for a student of Hermione's age to be having incidences of accidental magic like the girl so obviously was. Her walls were covered in flowers. Fleur-des-lis lined the walls and ceiling, covering every inch of surface the older witch could see. Yet despite her concern, Andromeda was awed by the display. As it showed an immense power. Power in which not many fully grown heavily trained witches or wizards would ever possess, let alone one muggle-born girl who was so young and still a year away from coming into her power fully.

"Lady Lestrange?" the young witches voice called out in a whisper. Her tone questioning yet Andromeda could hear the exhaustion and pain lacing her words. "Miss Granger." She acknowledged, waving her wand to conjure an actual bed, mattress and warm duvet. She levitated the girl. Settling Hermione down gently as she strode over to the girls side. "I got your letter". She answered the unasked question. Her eyes studied the young girl's face. She watched the emotion play out on tired features. She could see the relief war with the girl's stubborn nature. She reminded Andromeda of herself that way. Too proud to ask for help and reluctant to accept the help even when she knew it was necessary.

"I'm glad you reached out, even if I am a little perturbed at the time it took you to do so. Two years my letters have gone unanswered. Yet I can't figure out what it was I did to cause you to shut me out again young one." She continued talking, all the while casting diagnosis after diagnosis on the teen to determine what exactly was going on with the girl in front of her. Everything she cast came back fine. Every known magical and muggle illness, undetected by her magic. The girl closed her eyes shut tight at her words and Andromeda could tell she wasn't going to get an answer. At least not today. It admittedly hurt, the older witch truly didn't know why the brunette had shut her out after her second year. She had felt like they were growing closer. Hermione had been in regular contact and then it all stopped. Her letters were returned unopened. Though she kept trying and would continue to keep trying for as long as she had too. Merlin knew the need to protect this girl was so overwhelming that she couldn't and wouldn't ignore it. After all, what sort of pure-blood would she be to ignore what her magic demanded for her to do so insistently.

Andromeda frowned, her last magical diagnosis test was one that detected any unfamiliar magical signature attached to a person. She hadn't expected anything to come back but had run it out of habit. The several years as a healer she had done meant she had become quite habitual and methodical in the way she worked. Yet despite the test only being cast as part of her usual practice she was more than mildly alarmed to see her charts flash red. A sign that there was another magic signature attached to the girl. A magical signature much stronger than even she was capable of breaking through. It made no sense but the Pure-blood was unwilling to alert the semi-conscious teen girl to her findings just yet. It wouldn't do to stress the girl out over something that she couldn't actually provide any form of suitable answer to just yet.

Though Andromeda fully intended to find out.

"I think you just have a fever, possibly one brought on from stress. Some bed rest and some pain potions should have you right as rain in no time. I'll also give you a dreamless sleep. It will hopefully allow your body to relax enough to combat the exhaustion and the fever." She explained quietly once she was done examining her many observations. The girls heart rate was a little fast and she definitely had a temperature but everything else appeared fine except the unknown magical presence attached to her.

Hermione still hadn't said another word. Her eyes tracked Andromeda's every movement as she worked. It pained the woman to see the distrust in those weary brown eyes. Eyes that at one point had looked at her with such hope it had melted the pure-bloods heart. Gone was that glimpse of a girl less lost and in her place lay a girl who had clearly seen too much and clearly felt too much. Such was the pain the older woman could see clouding the girls features.

Andromeda took her time removing the potions she had prescribed. Needing a moment to gather herself as she accepted the fact that despite reaching out for help Hermione clearly wasn't willing to converse with her in the slightest. She hoped that in proceeding slowly, it would buy her a little more time to work out what she needed to say to try and repair whatever damage she had unwittingly done to the very tentative relationship they had begun to form. The older woman sighed. Unstopping the pain potion and gently lifting the brunette's head to help her sip it down.

"For what it's worth, child, no matter how long you shut me out for, I will always be around. I care, whether or not you believe me truthful." Andromeda whispered, uncorking the dreamless sleep and repeating the same process of helping Hermione sip it down. She knew it wouldn't be long before the potion took effect. She rubbed her eyes tiredly and conjured up a small sofa at Hermione's bedside. She sat down quietly after tucking the duvet around the girls slim frame tightly. Her mind made up to stay by the young witches side until she had healed.

Though she wished she had left when Hermione spoke next. Her voice rough with sleep she was clearly losing the fight against. Andromeda's breath froze and her heart sank, as the little witches voice reached her ears. The reality of what she was speaking of slapping the older woman in the face in perfect clarity.

"I looked for you, searched for you while I lay there, you never came."

~ Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry ~

~ September 5th 1994 ~

~ Hermione's POV ~

Hermione shivered from her perch up on the astronomy tower, absentmindedly watching the butterflies she had conjured hover above her open palm. The cold autumn air was chilling her overheated skin. It was a welcome relief from the ever present fever she had experienced since the summer. Even with the help of Lady Lestrange the brunette's symptoms hadn't abated. Only lessened slightly, she had become pretty used to it by this point. Her body learning to function through the fever and discomfort she constantly felt. However, the cold air was welcome. It helped that Hermione also had a front row seat to watch the foreign schools arrive for the foolish Tri-wizard tournament, a seat that kept her far away from the rest of the Hogwarts students who all amassed below her on the entrance lawn. Each house swarming as they tried to get the better standing positions around the entrance lawn.

In truth, she was hiding from it all.

Since her senses had heightened over the summer months they hadn't lessened. Nor had they become easier to manage, she became far more easily overwhelmed by all the noise that came with being around so many other people. It took her an age to unwind and relax after every interaction. She had managed to keep it together for the last five days, since she had come back to Hogwarts. Just barely not losing control of her magic or her temper at the incessant voices that surrounded her. Though keeping it together or not, she wasn't about to pass up on the opportunity to enjoy some peace and quiet. She wanted to take this chance to recharge a little, lest she completely lose it. Cho had given her a disappointed look when she had failed to convince the brunette to join her in the courtyard. Hermione was glad she hadn't pushed for her to tag along.

Lady Lestrange had also amped up her attempts to win Hermione's attention once again. The woman had apparently taken Hermione's letter requesting her medical help as an invitation back into her life. It absolutely wasn't. The only reason she had let the woman anywhere near her was because Matron had locked up all things magical, including Hermione's personal stash of various potions. But Lady Lestrange however, did not seem to understand that. The woman had taken to sending Hermione care packages, one had arrived for her each day she had been back at the school. Each basket contained some pain potions, some form of chocolate and some form of a gift. An enchanted brown teddy bear in the first one. A blanket in the next, a new pair of slippers, a new pair of warm pyjamas. Today's gift was a book on wizarding culture. A gift meant with humour she was sure and timed with the foreign schools arrival coincidentally she was assured by the older woman's letter.

All the gifts were ones that if Hermione wasn't still so incredibly hurt by the woman, she would have found them utterly adorable. She hadn't sent them back however, a small part of her unwilling to return the items. That part of her she was loath to acknowledge. If she did, it would leave too much room for her to second guess herself and her choice to keep the woman out.

A sudden uproar from the ground below had Hermione refocus on the scene in front of her. The entirety of the school that had piled out into the courtyard below, teachers included, were all gasping and cheering as a ship emerged from underneath the surface of the Black lake. The ship was large, its mast sporting the rather intimidating red flag of Durmstrang Institute. Its bulk caused the lake to ripple and roll rather aggressively. It made Hermione frown, entirely unsure as to how their giant squid and the Mer folk would appreciate the intrusion. There was no way that the disturbance caused by the ship in the water wouldn't be affecting those that lived below the surface. Hermione also doubted anyone had spoken to the lake inhabitants to even warn them of the potential disturbance from the ships arrival.

The ship rolled to a stop, a large group of muscular boys, all dressed in burgundy, splashing down into the shallow water below them. The display was rather pathetic to Hermione. It was an obvious display of the school's perceived strength. Toxic masculinity at its finest. It was a sickening sight to see and the brunette cringed when she saw the similarities between these boys and the boys of Hogwarts. Who had, for the majority, begun to walk around the school grounds challenging one another over who was stronger. Male ego's posturing and fighting amongst themselves in a sick display of their own 'masculinity' leading up to today.

Once Professor Dumbledore had announced that there would be two schools joining them for the Triwizard Tournament it was like a switch had gone off in all the students. The boys walked with their chests puffed out, their tones matching stupidity with arrogance. Even the Gryffindor boys were acting like idiots. More so than before. Particularly Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley.

Those two had taken to hanging around Hermione the past few days, making small talk and trying to coax the Brunette into pointless conversations all the while continuing their pathetic attempts at belittling her. Ron had even had the audacity to demand she become their study partner. Apparently his mother had "promised to make him regret it if he didn't pass every one of his classes this year because she knew he could do better if he just applied himself." Hermione thought Mrs Weasley was just setting herself up to be disappointed.

She detested it however. She could tell Ron was cruel at heart, he hadn't ever hidden how little he thought of her. Harry Potter was just as bad, though she doubted he was truly cruel. He still did nothing to counter Ron's actions. Both were cowards in her opinion.

The only benefit she had found in having them hang around her is that all the other Gryffindors had apparently grown bored of tormenting her. There taunting growing sparse as they saw the association between her and the golden boy of Gryffindor. So she had tolerated the idiotic pair. If they were leaving her alone it was one less thing for her to worry about.

Hermione had to suppress a giggle at the sight of the Durmstrang boys falling into line. They all looked identical. From their boy scout haircuts to their burgandy dress robes. The only thing identifying that they were in fact different people were their heights. If she had to guess, the tallest stood at about 6 foot 5, the smallest at about 5 foot. She sat watching, as who she assumed was the Durmstrang headmaster, marched up past the students to shake Dumbledore's hand. Both wizards exchanging a few apparently heated words before he moved to stand at Hogwarts Headmasters side. An uneasy sort of tension lingering in the Durmstrang headmaster's posture.

The brunette frowned as a sudden lurching feeling in her magic caused her to topple forward, as what she assumed to be the Beauxbatons Academy carriage came into view in the sky in front of her. The feeling almost causing her to fall had she not cast a sticking charm when she first sat down on the ledge. The feeling rolled through her, causing her heart to jump as it begun to beat wildly. The normal uneasiness of her magic had increased tenfold in the past several seconds, taking on a sudden urgency that settled in the pit of her stomach. Lurching over and over again, a futile attempt to….. do something…

She didn't know what. Confusion and fear filling her veins as her magic continued to swarm within her. It caused her stomach to flip uncomfortably. Her temperature spiking and a wave of dizziness tore through her with a suddenness that left her gasping for breath. Her lunch almost making a reappearance as her stomach flipped violently once more. She forced herself to take as deep a breathe as she could. Her mind having to fight the urge to curl up into herself even as that urgent feeling within her gut increased. She watched, silent tears of discomfort trailing down her now ashen cheeks as the carriage drew closer, her breathing picked up the closer the Beauxbatons students grew to her with no explanation.

Hermione clenched her fists tightly, entirely confused as to what was happening. She knew she had to calm down. Knew she couldn't lose control, if she did her magic would rush out into the air around her. It would draw attention to her hiding spot, not to mention she doubted the students would be kind to a fourth year student displaying such feats of accidental magic. They'd call her a child or worse and it would only reinforce the Slytherin's beliefs that 'her kind' didn't belong here, even if they hadn't said those words to her directly.

The brunette groaned quietly, wishing she had brought a calming draught from her own personal collection along with her or one of Lady Lestrange's care package's at the very least. Not that she had or could have anticipated this happening.

As the carriage landed Hermione forced herself to stand. The muggle-born witch taking an unsteady step down from the ledge she had been sat upon, on to the top floor of the astronomy tower. Her gaze still fixed to the happenings down below. Her magic surged almost in anticipation as the Beauxbatons students glided elegantly down the steps of their elegant carriage. They all wore a baby blue dress robe with matching beret atop their heads.

And Hermione realised she was hyperventilating now. Her magic rolling and coiling wildly as if urging her to do something, anything. Tears began to stream down her face faster now as she fought herself. Pain radiating from tense muscles as she desperately clung to some sort of self-control. She wanted to leave, to run away from whatever this feeling was. But her feet were stuck to the spot where she stood. Her eyes fixed to the Beauxbatons students as they filed out onto the entrance lawn with an elegance that Hermione was sure caused an envy amongst the Hogwarts female population.

Her breath caught in her throat as the last two students emerged. One slightly shorter than the other. Their bright blonde hair hung loosely around their shoulders. Who she assumed was the older girl fussed with the shorter girl's dress and hair. Soothing out the ruffles of her dress and fixing the slightly shorter girls loose curls just so.

Hermione's magic surged again, soaring in an excitement she didn't understand. Slipping past her ironclad control as if seeking the girls below her. Her chest restricted, her breath catching all together the moment her magic touched the two girls' magics below her. They turned, the last thing Hermione saw as her vision faded, and her legs gave away from beneath her was their bright golden eyes landing directly on the open window Hermione stood in as if both girls could sense that she was in fact there.