Chapter Text
Original Art by Elivrayn
*Hermione*
Hermione pushed the tape into her walkman and thudded her head back into the scratchy blue fabric of her seat. She pressed play.
Leave me, Lying here
Cause I don’t wanna go
I don’t wanna go
Maybe if she closed her eyes she could ignore the pit in her stomach. Less than six months. She could do it. She could finish out this year. She sent out a silent prayer that no one would think about sliding open that compartment door to join her. She would jinx it shut if she could.
The fact that she was even on the Hogwarts Express again was asinine at best. The changes Hogwarts had implemented post-war in the name of “unity” made her want to lash out. It was all for show. It was amazing to see how quickly it all went to shit when she refused to fit their mold anymore. She didn’t care. She refused to be their little Golden Girl.
She smoothed her thumb over the soft plastic of the device and twirled the cord between her thumb and first two fingers. Relaxing the policies on Muggle technology had been one of the only things she’d staunchly supported. The idea that Muggleborn students needed comfort objects more than ever was not lost on her.
Volcano Girls, we really can't be beat
Warm us up and watch us blow
But now and then we fail and we admit defeat
We're falling off
We are watered down and fully grown
Hermione let the music wash over her as she crushed the remnants of three letters in her other hand. She’d read them so many times at this point she’d committed them to memory.
Dear Ms. Hermione Jean Granger,
We regret to inform you that we cannot grant you access to 12 Grimmauld Place as an ownership contestation investigation is still active. We are not at liberty to discuss the chain of ownership at this time.
All further inquiries may be directed to…
Hermione crumpled the document further in frustration as she recollected the seven mornings she’d spent outside of the townhouse trying to break the wards. She flinched at the memory and the pain that followed.
She looked out the window and sighed. They’d be at Hogwarts soon. The second letter, one from Ronald, had been your basic copout. I’m sorry, I can’t, don’t hate me. He only confirmed that no, he would not be returning to Hogwarts and would continue his work with George at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Her tumultuous relationship with almost every member of the Weasley clan was only highlighted with letter three.
To say that Molly and Arthur Weasley had cracked down after the deaths was an understatement. She didn’t blame Charlie for rushing back to Romania or Bill and Fleur for spending more and more time in France. Ron and George were practically banished to a life at the store and Ginny and Hermione were under a microscope at school. Hermione often wondered which of the Hogwarts staff may actually be reporting their movements back to her surrogate parents.
She’d always felt they were hers and Harry’s in a ceremonial type of way but now, that was in fact, what they were.
She thought back to the rare moment of lucidity in her parents’ treatment. The moment where she promised she’d stay with the Weasley’s until her formal graduation from school. The third letter only reminded her that the healers had confirmed it, they were no longer her parents. Their memories were gone and it was her fault.
She hated that promise now. She kicked at the seat in front of her repeatedly.
Fuck. How does one properly catalog all the anger? If she could shape it, if she could hold it, if she could transfigure it, maybe then she could control it?
She couldn’t take back any of what happened. The losses were part of her now. Most of the time, it felt like her collection of losses was all that she was made of.
It had taken a number of months for her to dismantle herself. She was no longer golden, not even gilded. She was stripped of the parts of herself that served others. It was the only form of control she had left.
She could feel her teeth grinding together but she didn’t care. Just get through this. You can start over in six months, she thought.
A sense of change drifted through the train and she could feel the moment they passed through the wards and onto the school’s property. A quick Accio robes and she was changed—ready to start this all again, for the last time. No Ron, No Harry, she and Ginny were barely on speaking terms.
She had spent the last six months successfully isolating herself from each of her former friends. Acquaintances now openly despised her. The classmates she always thought may have disliked before the war were now free to shoot her biting remarks.
I was lonely so I did even lonelier things.
She paused to rewind the end of the song for a fourth time.
Leave me, leave me, leave me
Go I don't wanna go
I don't wanna go
I don't wanna go
I don't wanna go
When the train halted to a stop, she slid the door handle open and nearly collided with two other bodies.
Both Patil sisters halted in place with varying levels of apathy on their faces. Padma still looked mildly hopeful, while Parvati looked disgusted.
“Can I help you?” Hermione sneered.
Parvati scoffed, “I told you,” she hooked her arm into her sister’s and walked forward, “the Winter Hols haven’t changed a thing.” She looked back at Hermione with such a condescending little smile that Hermione tightened the grip on her wand.
Without realizing it, she gripped down on the train’s hallway railing and seated herself. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale.
Leave me alone.
She repeated over and over. She just wanted to be left alone.
Hermione jumped down from the train door onto the platform and started her walk toward the carriages. When she looked up at the castle, as she often did at this point, she thought back to the wonder and excitement it once invoked. The thrill of learning. The hope of mastery. The building had been a touchstone. Now so much had changed—her most of all. She found the school now looked quite different. Her own transformation had warped the stone, lessened the grandeur, siphoned the magic.
She stood near the back of the line as a small body pressed up close to her. A waify brunette’s face was hidden under fringe and a tattered copy of Romeo & Juliet.
Hermione noted the thestrals’ approach. How strange to see something so skeletal and grotesque and think I finally see you now.
She threw her beaded bag onto the seat and mounted onto the carriage. A petite hand reached up after her and Astoria Greengrass slid in opposite her.
“Mind if we ride together?” She closed her book and placed it neatly on her lap.
Hermione couldn’t help her need to blurt, “That wasn’t on our reading list for Muggle Studies.”
Astoria picked up the book and turned it over before gazing down at the front cover, “Oh, I know, but I devoured Twelfth Night and I immediately wanted to read more. This is my fourth of his actually.”
“Shakespeare?” Hermione failed to hide her surprise.
“Mmhmm,” she confirmed.
“You’ve read nearly five Shakespeare plays this year alone?” She looked at the younger Greengrass sister with both admiration and incredulity. She took a moment to really look at her. She was Daphne’s younger sister, she knew, but what else did she really know about the girl? Petite, quiet, fashionable. She wasn’t overstated, but put together in a way that Hermione believed herself never capable of. Her long black hair was swept half up into a velvet green bow. Her shoes looked like they were worth more than the entirety of the Burrow’s wardrobe combined.
“Yes. Well, I’m sure you noticed Daph didn’t return this year. She’s left home. Vowed not to come back until our parents apologize. So I was mostly alone over break.” She spoke with a hint of melancholy that Hermione could recognize all too well.
Hermione couldn’t help but feel curious.
“Did the Ministry freeze your Gringotts accounts as well?” She leaned in on instinct.
“Yes, it hasn’t been easy. They’ve started extracting money and my parents are fighting constantly. I don’t blame Daph for leaving.” Astoria shuffled the fringe on her forehead.
“I thought I read in the Prophet they were only doing that for the families of known Death Eaters?”
“Really? You know how the press is, Hermione. I’m sure you can understand that it’s not always accurately reported. It’s for sympathizers too. We’re not the only ones.”
Hermione shuffled uncomfortably in her seat as the carriage approached the castle. Astoria jumped out first. Hermione jumped down after her and grabbed the beaded bag that doubled as her security blanket.
While not entirely unpleasant, Hermione still wasn’t sure if there was an ulterior motive to this conversation. One could never be too careful with a Slytherin.
“Why are you talking to me?” Hermione asked as she quickly plaited her hair to the side of her shoulder.
“I think we have a lot in common, Hermione. You’ll see. I hope we can talk again soon.” Astoria lifted her arm in a soft wave and turned around to make her way toward the dungeons.
Hermione nodded after her and took a steadying breath. First term had been filled with a self imposed silent treatment from many of her peers.
She’d gotten used to the silence. Her mind was filled with fictional characters and Muggle music. A worthy distraction. It successfully and almost entirely had the ability to wipe out the voices that were all too loud.
Her room and things would be waiting for her but that would not be her first stop. She received an owl three days ago directing her to report to the Headmistress’s office upon arriving.
*Pansy*
“So Ms. Parkinson, you received private tutoring after the Battle of Hogwarts? And that didn’t work out?”
“Obviously,” she drawled.
Pansy crossed her black boots over her knee and scowled. She’d expected a re-entry meeting in McGonagall’s office, not this lousy excuse for an imitation professor. Oh, excuse me, Guidance Counselor, whatever the fuck that was.
“As I was saying, the Headmistress thought the Eighth year students needed some extra support this year with the war and the stress of returning.” The woman shifted in her seat and cleared her throat. “A little about me. I am a Muggleborn, Libra, Hufflepuff. I did a stint in a Muggle school to learn the practices for this role and I’m here to help balance your schedule and ease your transition back in.”
“Listen, Profes-”
“Miss. It’s Miss Wright.” She patted her hand on her desk.
“Okay, Ms. Wright. I don’t really need to be eased back in. Can you just give me my class schedule so I can go to the dungeons to unpack?” Pansy rose from her chair and gestured out her hand. “I’m tired, am I dismissed?”
The woman huffed and Pansy secretly delighted in exhausting her excessive cheeriness after one meeting.
“Fine, Ms. Parkinson. I asked another student to come down and fill you in on what you’ve missed. I trust we won’t have a problem.” She handed Pansy the folded paper and picked up a quill to make notes in her schedule.
Great, Pansy thought. She’d probably get Granger or some equally swotty Gryffindor. Pansy waited outside the office and let her head hit the hard stone. She closed her eyes. Six months. She could survive being back here for six months. She wasn’t sure how. No Daphne, No Blaise, No Draco. Her mind was spinning when a firm hand shook her.
“Thank fucking Merlin, it’s you,” she lit up under the gaze of Theodore Nott. She hadn’t seen him since the trials the previous summer. He was always quiet—bookish, but she knew he hid a sardonic humor she would delight in entertaining again. He’d also gotten extremely attractive. He’d grown six inches and his floppy brown hair was cascading over his green eyes.
“Pansy Parkinson, you have no idea how happy I am to see you.” He grabbed her bag and tossed it over his shoulder.
“Gods, I am not really happy to see you in that I’m not really happy to be here. How bad is it?” She fell in step next to him as they made their way to the Slytherin Common Room.
“We’re basically pariahs. The majority of Slytherins have retreated to keeping their heads down. In the absence of Malfoy and Zabini some of the other houses have taken to openly mocking us. There are fucks like Finch-Fletchley who called for us to be punished when we got back. I would expect some incivility.” He nudged her through the large room and up to the dorms.
“Perfect,” she sighed, “Let me drop my bag and I’ll meet you back in five for breakfast.”
She dashed up the stairs, taking note of the few younger girls she saw on the way. She took a moment to look in the mirror before casting a charm on her bobbed hair and semi wrinkled skirt. Her insides may have been a wreck, and her reputation far worse, but there was still an ingrained Pureblooded desire to never let the world see just how disheveled you actually were.
She let him lead her back to the Great Hall and back to the sneers and objectification of her classmates. They sat at the end of the long table and Pansy sipped a small cuppa and picked at a muffin.
Theo noted her quiet glare around the room. “Immediate reactions?”
Pansy did a scan again and stopped short at the Gryffindor table, which was now moved to the middle of the room and directly next to Slytherin’s. Her eyes caught on someone—someone she hadn’t let herself look at in some time. Someone she’d looked at many times during Seventh year. Someone she knew she had absolutely zero chance to ever get to know better.
“Uh,” she stammered, which was new to her vocabulary, “Ginny Weas-”
“Ginny Weaslely got so fit. I know. Trust me it’s all anyone talked about for the first term.”
Pansy let her gaze move over the redhead again. Her hair and skin were luminous. She turned to talk with Lavender Brown, and her smile brightened her entire face.
Pansy had always known she was attracted to women, she just thought it was something she’d explore years into her marriage to Draco, after they’d both fulfilled their duties, produced an heir, and grew tired of each other. She admitted it to Daph in a drunken game of Truth or Consequences in Sixth year, but then she swore Daphne, and to some degree, herself, to secrecy.
Seeing Ginny Weasley with the golden light of the Great Hall reflecting on her hair was something new entirely.
“She is practically untouchable now, and constantly followed by her doting minions,” he motioned to Brown and Parvati Patil along with a gaggle of Seventh years.
“That’s bullshite”, Pansy scoffed, “She was always gutsy, but with some warmth. She can’t have changed much.” Pansy sipped her tea and tried to listen in on their conversation.
“Why? You’ve changed. I’ve changed. Merlin knows you’d be pretty surprised by some of the other Eighth years.”
Pansy shrugged, “I suppose. I wasn’t expecting that.”
She glanced back again and Theo nodded in understanding.
“Oh, she’s beautiful, and deep, I’m sure, but her new group is shrinking her mental depth by the minute,” Theo motioned his chin for Pansy to continue listening in.
Ginny repositioned herself to stand and brought their conversation that much closer to Pansy’s eavesdropping.
“Yeah, but you see, there’s a difference between like and love, because I like my dragonskin backpack, but I love my Nimbus broom.”
“But I love my dragon skin backpack.”
“That’s because you don't have a Nimbus broom, Lav.”
Pansy leaned back into Theo and widened her eyes as she shook her head.
“I told you,” Theo shuffled their plates to the side so he could lean into her as well, “so while I’m very interested in whatever experimental road you just went down, I’m telling you, it’s a waste of time. Not only is Ms. Popular more obsessed with Quidditch than ever, but Cormac McLaggen was hovering around her all last term. Not that it matters, it’s basically common knowledge that the Weasleys cracked down hard after the battle. No dating until she’s aced her N.E.W.T. exams.”
Pansy shuddered, realizing for maybe the first time that she hadn’t been back in this room since last May. She pictured a younger version of herself and a public demand that rifted the Slytherins further into chaos. She cleared her throat.
Oh, your gaze in dangerous
And you fill your space so sweet
If I let you get too close
You'll set your spell on me
“It’s not experimental, by the way. I’m just sick of not being myself. You’re quite the gossip, Nott.” She leaned in and pushed on his shoulders.
Theo scanned around the room and laughed. “I have literally nothing else to do but study and observe those around me.”
“Well keep this between us, please.” She finished her cuppa and played gently with the empty cup. “So what else?”
When she didn’t want to appear discomposed, she ran her hands over her hair to calm her nerves.
“Oh, see, behold,” Theo brought his hand up to his chin and surreptitiously poked a finger for Pansy to turn again.
Pansy took in Cormac gaping at Ginny from across the table. He had a lustful gaze that made Pansy’s stomach turn and she whipped her head back around.
“We all know that green is our color, but fuck, Pans, I didn’t realize this was more than a crush, are you jealous?”
“How can I be jealous? We haven’t spoken. In fact, the last time she saw me I was calling for Potter to be hauled away,” Pansy riffled through her bangs.
‘Right, so clearly you should move on. Put her in your wank bank and move on.”
Pansy looked over at Ginny and caught herself staring for a beat too long. “I think you’re wrong, Nott. Well, not about the wanking part.”
“Oh really, you think you have a shot with her, be my guest. Don’t come crying to me when you find a vapid jock.”
He stacked his books for the day and Pansy laughed at what a swot he was. She did like him though. He was easy to talk to. Which was why Pansy felt indignant on Ginny’s behalf. She also did not dare admit that there was a very real chance he was right. She hadn’t spoken to her again, and there was a likely chance that Weasley would want nothing to do with her. Pansy leaned her head subtly to listen again.
Parvati had grabbed Ginny’s attention now.
“I know you can be overwhelmed and you can be underwhelmed, but can you ever just be whelmed?”
“I think if you’re American.”
Pansy straightened her back. She was about to comment that maybe Theo was right when she noticed Hermione Granger’s vacant stare from the other end of the Gryffindor table.
“Salazar’s fuck, Theo, what happened to Granger? Why isn’t she with that lot?”
“Gods, you've missed so much, this is good gossip. She’s practically living with the Weasleys now and they all despise each other. Her ex has completely ditched her, that wanker, and she’s basically lower than us now. Still an insufferable swot but she’s far less golden, as you can see. Walk with me to Potions. Slughorn is going to announce new partners, so that could be your way in with Weasley.”
Pansy looked back over at Hermione Granger, former Gryffindor darling. She looked like the weight she lost last year still hadn’t come back. Her eyes were a bit sunken in. She had a Muggle device around her ears and a book open in front of her.
Pansy knew she had come back changed but it was a rather jarring notion to accept that someone like Hermione Granger would come back worse off, even after being on the winning side. Pansy shook her head with the suspicion she knew the reason why.
*Draco*
Draco twirled his wand in his hand and sat in the unfamiliar office. A tall woman with a saccharine smile came in and took her seat at the desk in front of him. Luckily, she was not wearing pink, or she would have reminded him way too much of Umbridge. He shuddered at the thought of that horrible witch and having to spend any small amount of time sucking up to her.
Merlin, his youth was so misspent.
“Draco Malfoy. So nice of you to grace us with your presence, finally. You were expected in September,” she rose from her seat to fix her skirt and reshuffled.
“Yes, well, I had other engagements to attend to.” He folded his hands on his lap.
“Is that so? Did any of them include a formal education because you are in fact behind.”
“Well, Miss, had I known I’d be meeting you I would have jumped at the chance to come back.”
“Don’t test me, Mr. Malfoy. You just got back to Hogwarts, don’t start the term on everyone’s shit list.”
“Can you curse at me, ma’am?”
“Weren’t you a Death Eater? I think you can handle it. Headmistress has asked me personally to keep an eye on you.” She took out her wand to summon a folder that opened onto her desk. “Some housekeeping. You now have a double period of Muggle Studies as is required for all returning Death Eater kin and Voldemort sympathizers. I think you will find Professor Stratford most instructive. This is your chance at a new first impression, Mr. Malfoy, don’t cock it up.” She closed the file and handed him a folded schedule, “That’s all.”
“Right,” he picked up her name plaque at the end of her desk and studied it.
Guidance Counselor. Sure. He was absolutely positive this witch would do nothing to “guide” him. He sighed.
He dropped his shoulder bag into the hallway and exhaled. Six months. He just had to sit his N.E.W.T.s and graduate. Fuck being back here felt torturous already. No Blaise, no Pansy, no Quiddtich. He could already assume everyone hated his bloody guts. He had absolutely no desire and no energy for that matter to pretend like he even cared one iota for the politics for school houses or gossip. He just needed to keep his head down and survive.
He opened his satchel to pull out his Muggle walkman. Muggle music had been his one saving grace this fall. All the feelings, all the emotions just turning inside him. Finally he could hear it reflected back at him.
How he came upon the music device and its origins were another story entirely. He had his suspicions of course, but the thought that he carried any little piece of Granger around with him on a daily basis was too big a burden to analyze. It was simply left in the bedroom he had occupied for some months and therefore it belonged to him. Its provenance was simply none of his business.
One of the first things he noticed was the device worked on the school grounds. It didn’t take a genius to figure out some things had changed in his absence. He pressed play.
I need to wash myself again
To hide all the dirt and pain
'Cause I'd be scared
That there's nothing underneath
And who are my real friends?
Have they all got the bends?
Am I really sinking this low?