Chapter Three
Hermione glanced around Platform 9 3/4, the tightly packed crowd of students and their families giving her a sense of unease. She recognized the friendly faces of her former school mates and some not so friendly ones as her eyes fell upon the disdainful face of Blaise Zabini.
She wasn't sure if it was her paranoid imagination or not, but there seemed to be a hush amoung the crowd - eyes darted furtively around, and the small groups seemed to huddle closer in on themselves. Perhaps it was the foggy gloom of the morning, but she never remembered her departure to Hogwarts being so somber before.
Hermione brushed against Ron as Ginny leapt at Harry for one last passionate snog before her final year at the prestigious school of witchcraft and wizarding. There was certainly a larger security presence if the two men accompanying them was any indication. Ron and Harry had pretended to act as their security, but as she glanced awkwardly at the two in full embrace, she knew at least Harry had other motives.
As what always happens when traveling with her best friend in public, people stopped and stared openly, whispering amoung their friends at the sight of The Boy Who Lived. Hermione pretended they weren't looking at her as well.
Ron blushed and scratched the back of his head, looking anywhere but at the two next to them as they approached the Hogwarts Express.
"Well…" He started, finally looking down at her when they were meters from the train steps.
"Ron, it's…" She said at the same time, and they both shared a brief, embarrassed laugh.
"I just wanted to say that...well, I'm going to miss you," Ron turned to her fully, his hand reaching out to brush a stray curl from in front of her eyes then gently skimmed down her cheek to rest on her shoulder. Hermione's heart sped up in apprehension. "The holidays can't come soon enough, really," he nervously rushed out. "And this summer, it was so chaotic with the cleanup and all. We never had time to chat. In private. A proper private chat about, well, you know-" Before she could hear the words she knew he was going to say, the warning whistle blew.
"Ron, the train-" Hermione took a step away from him, out of reach of his warm hand and his gentle heart.
A brief look of hurt flashed across his face, but he gave her a lopsided smile nevertheless and nodded. "I'll be owling you, I promise. And I'll come to Hogsmeade when I get the time off for a weekend visit. Just me, yeah?"
Hermione looked up into his cobalt blue eyes and wanted to reach out to him, to pull him into a warm hug and never let go. She wanted things to go back to how they were between them before they were captured by the Snatchers. Before the dungeon and the cold and the pain. Ron deserved someone better than her, someone who could return his affections and endure his touch without feeling sick.
He deserved someone clean.
She returned his smile for a wan one. "Yes, of course, Ron," and before her brain had time to stop it, the words erupted from her mouth "I'll miss you." Ginny and Harry finally parted lips as Hermione bid her best friends farewell and stepped aboard the train.
Held captive to the sea of students trying to find an empty compartment, Hermione fell into her own thoughts. For the last two weeks, she had stayed awake most nights, anxiety ridden and unable to move as her mind raced with thoughts of the future. She knew she was running out of time, that this child would make its way into the world soon, and she would have no alternatives left. And a vast, silent part of herself no longer cared. It wanted her to lock herself in a room, never come out, ignore her friends and her parents and shut the world away.
Hermione wished she could ignore her body and the new aches she was experiencing, but they would not be ignored. While she hadn't had much weight gain, her belly was more pronounced, the disillusionment charm the only reason no one knew yet. The skin of her stomach itched, her back ached, and her feet were already throbbing. She felt exhausted and frail, as if this thing within her was sucking out her life's energy.
She no longer recognized the woman she had become. Before, Hermione would have had an action plan, would have charted out her course for the next five years. She would have had this mess sorted out straight away. Now, Hermione barely had one foot in front of the other let alone a plan for what to do next.
In her mind, she was standing in the middle of a bleak, empty field, and in every direction an impenetrable grey fog hung in the air. No direction was more alluring than the next, no choice more desirous than any other.
She was alone in that field, falling deeper and deeper into despair.
As if stung with a hex, Hermione's attention was pulled upward when her eyes spotted a familiar white-blond head across the train. Draco Malfoy was halfway through a compartment when his eyes rose as well as if sensing her. Quickly looking away, he entered and snapped the door behind himself. Though only seconds had passed while she was locked in his frosty gaze, Hermione's heart had jumped to her throat, halting her ability to breathe.
Neither had been in contact since their meeting two weeks prior. During that time, her mind had raced with the possibilities of his suggestion, of any other options she had. She had made her mind up in that regard, but couldn't bring herself to send him an owl. Now that he was also at school, it would seem she had no choice but to face him.
Hermione chastised herself. She had never thought she could be so cowardly.
A sudden tug on her arm pulled her sharply from her self-castigating thoughts, and she violently pulled away and turned.
Neville blinked down at her. "Here, Hermione. We have a compartment," he said sheepishly and led her a few doors down.
The compartment was full of her friends, warm and welcoming and Hermione felt the chill of her thoughts temporarily disappear in their company. Ginny was already seated next to the window, staring out of it with a forlorn expression, no doubt mentally tallying the days when she would see Harry again. Neville sat next to Luna who was sporting an incredible jumper that seemed to be made of fresh leaves and moss.
Hermione took a seat next to Dean, who was in the midst of a debate with the ethereal Ravenclaw.
"The only reason I asked, oh hey Hermione, the only reason I asked was because Muggles use those type of clothes to go hunting. They're called gilly suits. I didn't mean to offend you, Luna" Dean said, flopping back in his seat.
"What's this?" Hermione inquired, stroking Crookshanks who had jumped into her lap after being released from his cage and was furiously nuzzling her hand.
"Dean asked Luna if she were dressed like that because she was hunting which seemed to insult her since she no longer eats meat or uses animal products after a sheep spoke to her," Ginny informed Hermione, her eyes glinting mischievously.
Luna appeared mildly affronted, "It didn't communicate verbally. Through its eyes I saw the fear and humiliation of its very existence. To be shaved naked every year for the use of clothing. To be butchered and eaten on Easter day with mint jelly. That is the plight of so many creatures…"
As Luna prattled on about her reasons for not wearing a proper jumper, Hermione and the others looked at each other and smiled.
Some things, I suppose, never change. Hermione thought, and settled into the comfortable companionship of her friends.
Hogwarts was not, as it seems, entirely the same. The hulking frame of Hagrid did not greet the first years as they finally arrived at Hogsmeade later that day to take them to the lake and the boats. They were instead unceremoniously shuffled into the thestral-drawn carriages with all of the other students by a handful of aurors. Draco briefly wondered how many more people could see the gaunt, haunting creatures now.
Draco watched curiously as two of the aurors broke away and entered the train, wands at the ready. He was nudged by Blaise Zabini to his right who was looking over his shoulder.
"What do you think that means?" Blaise asked curiously at his polished voice would allow.
Draco willed his hand to unclench the new hawthorn wand in his robe. "Haven't the slightest," he said, shrugging. But as the carriages brought them closer and closer to the castle, Draco couldn't ease his mind at the strange welcome they had received.
After the first years were pulled aside by Professor Flitwick, the rest made their way to the Great Hall where another curious sight greeted them. The Hall itself seemed little changed with the exception of a fallen archway or two and some large chunks of stone missing from the walls - remnants of the battle. Above, the velvet black ceiling was dotted with stars and the waxing crescent moon was just peeking up from the north.
Thousands of candles floated overhead as usual, but the four long House tables that ran down the length of the hall were gone, replaced instead with four rows of two tables. Placards were at their center, the first one on the left closest to the staff table reading "First Years".
Draco wasn't the only one taken aback. All around him, his fellow returning students looked perplexed, but following the cues on the tables, sat with their year. The table marked "Eighth Years" was by far the smallest of the bunch with, Draco counted, only seventeen returning students.
Tracey Davis was the first to say what he was thinking, "It's strange, don't you think, being here again. The last time we were all in this hall, it was after the final battle and we were helping bandage each other up and moving the bodies and…" she tapered off, her fingernails scratching at a dent in the table.
Daphne Greengrass patted her back consolingly, her hazel eyes averted downward. "Yeah, I know what you mean."
Draco heard, but said nothing, his face set in stony apathy. The memories of the aftermath of the battle still gave Draco nightmares, and the smell of death and charred flesh lingered long after he'd awoken.
He was surprised that some of his classmates from Slytherin house had returned at all. They all sat at one end of the rectangular table, apart from the other eighth years. Blaise was the only other male and Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis rounded the Slytherins out to four.
Blaise, ever the elitist, held his head high and vehemently ignored anyone who dared look his way.
Draco knew Daphne's father had prompted her to return with her sister, Astoria, but knowing Tracey, she had done so out of pure spite and vindictiveness.
A Slytherin through and through. He couldn't help but admire her.
The Hufflepuffs had the same amount: Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott sat next to their group, though there was a large gap, followed by the Ravenclaws. As could be expected, they had the most returnees of any house with Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein, Padma Patil and Mandy Brocklehurst.
Amoung the Gryffindors, only four returned to complete their final missed year at school. Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Pavarti Patil and Hermione Granger.
Granger, Draco thought, and willed his eyes to stay to the front of the hall. He'd heard nothing from her the last two weeks. He had started a hundred letters asking her what she had decided, but they all ended up in the bin. Draco told himself he didn't care to know, the child was her problem, and he offered her all the help he could at their last meeting. It was in her hands to take care of things from this point forward, but a tiny nagging voice in the back of his mind still wondered, whether he would admit it or not.
As the last students took their seats, the Great Hall doors swung open and the first years spilled out, led by Professor Flitwick, to stand before the High Table, and the Sorting Ceremony commenced.
It was much longer than Draco recalled it ever being, and as the last girl "Willowby, Britney" was sorted into Hufflepuff and the cheers subsided, he had counted more than forty-five new students.
Odd, Draco thought as Headmistress McGonagall took to the podium. The largest lot I've seen yet.
The headmistress cleared her throat, and the hall was hushed. "Welcome, new students and old, to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry! We have quite a year of magical education planned for all of you," McGonagall declared in her stern Scottish brogue, the corners of her lips lifting upwards.
"Now onto business. I would like you all to welcome Professor Tagget to our staff." A tall, black witch sitting next to Sprout stood briefly at the student's mild applause. "She has previously taught at Ilvermorny in America and will be taking on the role of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Professor Sinistra, while continuing to teach Astronomy, will be taking on years one through five of Transfiguration, and I will be instructing the N.E. students myself until a suitable replacement can be found.
"As many of you have noticed, there is and will continue to be an Auror presence on the grounds for the foreseeable future." There was a sudden outbreak of murmuring amoung the students. McGonagall raised her arms and all was quiet once more. "Now, now, there is nothing to be concerned about, simply a precaution as construction continues throughout the castle."
The headmistress paused for a moment, her eyes passing over the students slowly, and when she spoke again, her voice had taken on a solemn quality. "These last years have been difficult, to say the least. We have lost so many in the war against the dark. Yet this castle remains. This beacon of light and learning is still standing in the face of those who would have burned it down and had ignorance and intolerance stand in its place. We are here, all of us whole and triumphant, while others cannot be. We must learn from the past and press forward to create a better world for ourselves.
"I am proud to assume the mantle of so many esteemed witches and wizards that came before me. I hope to add to the legacy of Hogwarts by improving house unity. Students will now be seated by year rather than house from this point forward, however, living quarters and classes will still be with your house." The eighth years were now talking amongst themselves so loudly, Draco almost missed what McGonagall said next. "Eighth years, please meet me in the North Tower after the feast."
After the usual notices and warnings, the start of term feast commenced
Draco tried to pretend he didn't care about the hard stares and the contemptuous murmurs that followed him as he walked out of the Great Hall. They didn't mean anything to him.
When he finally reached the last door atop the former Divination Tower, he sunk down, head falling into his knees.
Anything.
A/N:
First, let me apologize for how late this chapter is. That certainly wasn't my intention, but Lady Fate makes liars of us all.
I moved across the country last month, and somehow, somewhere, someway, I lost my laptop. It's most likely underneath a motel bed in Tennessee. Unfortunately, 80% of my story notes were on there and not backed up. Sooooo….yeah. Having to remember my chapters and plot details from memory is not at all fun. I threw a week long tantrum and now am back to writing.
Please forgive the grammar and other errors - I'm trying to push the words out of memory as fast as I can and don't have a beta reader.