Chapter Text
Hermione always knew she would end up here. One way or another, come hell or high water, she knew she belonged in this moment.
Muffled chatter began slowly filtering into Hermione’s room. The sound of students hurrying past her door dragged her from the depths of sleep. Hermione Granger, Golden Girl, was late for breakfast on her first day. In a blind panic, she grabbed her wand off of the bedside table and stumbled to her closet. Searching quickly, she settled on a simple sweater and pencil skirt combo with button accents.. She pulled her hair back into a mess of tangles with a clip from her bedside table, before she searched for the rest of her clothes and began to jump into them, nearly tripping on the way to her bathroom. Once inside she wiped her face with a washcloth and pinned her curls up as best she could. Just in case, she added a sticking charm to the bobby pins and a light smoothing charm to her curls to help with the effects of the Scottish humidity plaguing Hogwarts.
As she walked out she summoned a pair of sensible Oxford’s and her black teacher’s robes. Shit shit shit she thought as she sprinted towards the Great Hall, her feet slamming against the cold stone. Green, red, yellow, and blue blurs past her as she swerves between groups of students. She briefly stops to put on her shoes and robes, the latter of which were floating behind her. As she reaches the Hall she takes a breath and brushes her palms against her skirt front to rid herself of any sign of dishevelment. Feeling somewhat collected, she walks in, past the tables and up to the professors bench where she drops down next to the Headmistress. The Great Hall was dimly lit by the floating candles and the sky projected on the ceiling exhibited dark grey clouds as it had for the past week. Rain seemed to be a plague of sorts near Hogwarts, Hermione suspected it had something to do with the wind off the Black Lake. Her time at Hogwarts had allowed her to become quite skilled at drying charms, and she often had students asking her how she avoided the disastrous effects of the bone chilling downpours common to the area. As she surveyed the sea of students in front of her, her heart warmed at the hope they posed for the world they were building from the ground up.
“Well, good morning to you too” Flitwick quips beside her a warm plate of food appearing in front of him.
“Yes, how kind of you to join us” Minerva adds from her left.
Hermione glares in her direction but quickly turns her attention to the food appearing in front of her. A perfect plate of syrupy waffles, sausage, and buttered toast lands in front of her with a pop. Soon after a small bowl of berries and a glass of apple juice join it. As she begins sawing into a waffle she notices a bedraggled form slowly moving a spoon to his lips. Malfoy looks down right awful, she observes silently. The young potions professor was eating his oatmeal at a turtlelike pace, his hair sticking up at odd angles and his robes hanging off the back of his chair. His tall frame was nearly a pile of limbs in front of him as he looked tiredly out over the Slytherin table. Noticing a group of 5th years moving in around a small 1st year he drew himself up and out of his seat gliding over to the students with all the pureblood stiffness he could manage. As he reached them he straightened his spine like an iron rod and cleared his throat. They scattered almost instantly. As he began to make his way towards his place at the table a small voice behind him said a small “thank you professor” and disappeared. Hermione noticed that in spite of his reckless appearance he held himself in a way that demanded attention and respect, she hated it. He sat down again, this time seemingly a bit more awake. He silently cast a few charms to adjust his hair and clothing, and resumed his melancholy eating.
Soon, breakfast was over and classes were soon starting, as she made her way down the corridor to the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Hermione charmed a book to float in front of her. It was titled Unsolved Magical Murders 1200 AD- 1700 AD, and she was about three quarters of the way through the second case when she reached the door. As she unlocked the large wooden door she sent her book upstairs to her rooms. Upon entering the classroom she took in the results of her hard work over the past month. The desks were arranged in a semicircle. They were also new and heavily warded. The windows were cleaned and covered with moving stickers that changed according to the seasons or upcoming holidays. The front of the room held a desk with a soft high backed chair and many organized stacks of papers. The large space afforded to the middle of the classroom by the arrangement of the desks was for dueling and spell practice so Hermione could observe her students and keep them in a slightly confined space. Soon, the third years begin slowly filtering in, all with differing levels of exhaustion plainly written on their faces. As they each began to sit down a low murmur rose from huddles of students. There was a wardrobe at the front of the room, and their professor had a wide grin plastered on her face.
Downstairs in the dungeons, Professor Malfoy was perched on his desk watching clouds of smoke puff up from his seventh year’s cauldrons. “Ms. Smith do remember to be heavy handed with the newt’s egg next time.” he instructed with his eyes closed and his fingers pinched on the bridge of his nose, a habit likely picked up from his predecessor. The dank dungeon where the potions classroom was held was a stark contrast from Hermione’s classroom in the upper levels of Hogwarts. The potions room was lined with shelves of ingredients ranging in uses and variety. Each shelf was alphabetized and neatly stocked with symmetrical bottles, each one with warded glass and neatly printed labels. The desks were lined in three columns, each column had four desks and each desk held two students. The windows on the right side of the room were covered with emerald and silver brocade curtains charmed to repel the fumes and dirt constantly thrown from bad brews.
As Draco rose from his perch on his desk and began slowly observing his students he heard a scream echo from upstairs. At first he assumed Peeves was torturing another first year who had gotten lost on their way to their first class, Peeves had been much more reserved since Fred’s disappearance, but Draco hoped he was getting some of his spark back. When the scream returned, this time much louder, he felt a chill run down his spine. He recognized that scream, it had haunted him for years in his sleep slowly infiltrating his dreams until even a Dreamless Sleep draught couldn’t resolve its effects. Granger. His mind screeched to a halt. Her screams flooded his ears and stopped him in his tracks. He quickly asked the Head Boy, who happened to be in this class, to watch the other students while he investigated the screaming.
Once outside the potions classroom he began sprinting towards the DADA classroom 4 floors above him. As he neared the door he felt as though his limbs were made of lead. Upon reaching the door he briskly pushed it open and forced his way inside.