Chapter Text
September 1st 1998.
Hermione POV.
Going back to Hogwarts was meant to be exiting, but for Miss Hermione Granger it was more like Hell.
She watched through the window of the Hogwarts express as she slowly awaited her fate of going back to the one place she never wanted to see again. She used to feel safe at Hogwarts, it was like another home to her but this year she had no home. She had nothing now. Still looking out of the window she felt someone nudge her shoulder.
“You alright ‘Mione? You’ve been quiet since we left the station.” Harry mumbled, his voice full of concern.
She turns to him, eyes droopy as though she hadn’t slept in days, well she hadn’t, not since she got that blasted letter telling her to come back.
“Fine, I’m just a little tired is all.” She answered softly trying not to raise concern.
Hermione couldn’t tell him the truth, she didn’t want sympathy, didn't want to seem weak. She looks over at Ron, they hadn’t really spoke much since their break up a few weeks into the summer holidays, he was still grieving their relationship but it was for the best. In all honesty Hermione didn’t have much time for a relationship with everything that was going on inside her head.
When the train nears towards Hogwarts Hermione excuses herself to change into those stupid red ropes, she changes quickly and applies some lip balm to her dried lips before leaving to head back to her seat. As she heads back she bumps into someone. “Im sorry I- Oh it’s you.” She grumbles towards Malfoy as he just stands there silently. Instead of the snarky remark she was expecting he just walks past her without a word. She shouldn’t care, Hell she should be grateful he didn’t utter a word to her, but it was also unlike him to be quiet and that concerned her a little.
After what felt like hours the welcoming dinner was finally over and Hermione was on her way to McGongall’s office. She stands in front of the large oak doors as she knocks once, twice.
“Come in dearie.” She hears the older witch shout.
“Evening professor.” Hermione sighs as she sits in the chair opposite. McGonogall stands up and starts walking over to her.
“I hope you were pleased with your letter this year, I am extremely proud you made it to head girl.” She offers a warm smile to Hermione.
“Yes professor, I’m extremely pleased.” She answers, though it wasn’t true, she didn’t want to be head girl, not anymore.
The older witch clears her throat. “I hope you will be alright with our head boy. I have decided that Mr Malfoy will be the new head boy this year.” Hermione almost chokes on air.
“Malfoy?! No he can’t be, he’s a death eater. What on earth deems him fit to be—
McGonogall cuts her off. “Mr Malfoy is no longer a death eater, nor is he a threat, his probation states clear that any unnecessary use of magic is prohibited and as for him being head boy his grades are exceptional, just a few points behind you in every class Miss Granger. I believe this will help him, give him something to be proud of.”
Hermione scoffs. “Ill give him a chance.” She stands up to leave. “And Miss Granger… try to be kind to him, from what I’ve seen he doesn’t look his best, I would appreciate it if you kept and eye on him, make sure he’s okay from time to time.” Hermione nods. “I’ll try my best, professor.” She smiles as the door shuts.
Hermione finally makes it to the head dorms. It was spacious, a medium sized living room with two sofas adjacent to the fireplace, only one bathroom (which isn’t exactly ideal), a small but practical kitchen and two bedrooms opposite each other. As she’s looking around she finds Malfoy in the kitchen, his signature green apple in hand but this time he didn’t look smug, he looked rather exhausted, broken even. Hermione wanted to feel bad, well she does but is too proud to admit it. She looks away from him, arms crossed.
“Malfoy.” She mutters, trying to polite, he looks over towards her, his silver eyes scanning over her petite figure.
“Granger.”
…
Smoking, such a disgusting and additive habit, a habit Hermione swore she’d never have. Yet here she was, sitting on her bed that was cleverly placed next to a massive window where she could stare out into the black lake glistening with the reflection of the moon's light.
With a lit cigarette in hand.
It calms her in a way she doesn’t quite know how to explain, the sickening yet sweet taste of nicotine filling her lungs so she can forget. Forget about all the horrible things that’s happened in her life.
-The war.
-Loosing some of her friends.
-Erasing herself from her parents’ minds.
And Bellatrix with that fucking dagger carving ‘Mudblood’ into her forearm.
But that was the only memory the smoke didn’t wash away, not even for a minute, it was like it had been etched into her mind forever. And there was nothing that could get rid of it.
Yet…