My positivity didn't last long. As soon as we left the common room the following morning I realised just how tough this was going to be. It was an oddly bittersweet moment. On one hand I was glad to be back in the place that I considered to be home, especially after what had transpired during the long summer. It felt good to have a purpose, to have something to do; it felt good to be surrounded my friends and get back to some semblance of normality.
And yet it was all tainted. Around every corner there was the memory of another friend that had died. Another place or person that haunted my nightmares. The previous day had been tough, but at least it was over with. I was sure it was only the first of many more tough days that would follow; Fred's birthday, Christmas, the one year anniversary of the final battle to name but a few. Yet I had jumped over that first hurdle and made it back to school. Part of me was actually quite glad to be back. Hopeful that it would give me the chance to make new memories and hopefully put some of the ghosts of the last year to rest. We had been given a second chance and I was only too aware of the many people who weren't as lucky. This was an opportunity to move on and get things back to normal. Back to the way that they should be.
The journey down to breakfast on the first morning back was very similar to what had happened at dinner the night before. Nearly everyone that we walked by stopped and gawked, people whispered behind their hands and others, the less subtle, just openly talked about us. I felt my face immediately flush scarlet as I felt all the eyes boring into my back following our every movement. I dropped my eyes, trying desperately to avoid all the faces peering in my direction. I had never been one for attention, always being happier in the background of things. It had taken Viktor Krum ages to persuade me to go to the Yule Ball with him back in our fourth year, mainly because it would involve dancing in front of everyone. It was only his very sweet begging and the fact that I knew people would be looking at him more than me, made me say yes.
Unlike me, Ginny wasn't fazed at all and kept her head held high, even trying to hold a normal conversation as we went, despite my one word answers. She must have sensed my discomfort, as she linked arms with me, dragging me alongside her as I desperately tried to ignore the peering faces and concentrate on what she was saying.
Breakfast was even worse if that was possible. In fact I think that it may have been one of the most embarrassing moments of my entire life. Just as the new prefects were handing out our new timetables handed out for the following year, a blinding flash filled my entire eyes, causing me to go temporarily blind, with flashing stars filling my vision. After a few moments of rapid blinking, I finally regained my sight enough to see a small, brown haired boy standing in front of Harry, Ron, Ginny and me, holding a rather large camera.
'Merlin's beard, he squeaked. 'I can't believe it's the golden trio. Can I have a picture with all of you, please? Can I have your autographs?'
I immediately flushed red again and lowered my gaze out of embarrassment. I looked over to Harry and saw that every ounce of colour had drained from his face, leaving him deathly white. I looked in confusion between Harry and the young boy trying to figure out what had caused such an extreme reaction. It took only a short minute before I made the connection, my mind flashing back to a nearly identical incident from years ago. Colin Creevey. Colin was a Gryffindor who had started Hogwarts the year after we had. He was a muggle born and right from the start he had been obsessed with Harry. He hero- worshipped him, following him around everywhere he went, trying to take pictures or get an autograph. He even followed Harry right into danger, into the final battle and to his death. Although he was only a year younger than us, he had always seemed a lot younger. Harry had never forgiven himself. He never really would. He would always blame himself for the deaths of those who had followed him into the battle. For those who had died for him.
'I'm so sorry,' I said getting to my feet and pulling at Harry's arm, signalling for him to follow me. One look over at Ginny's concerned face told me that she had seen Harry's face and new that something was wrong. I imagined she would know exactly what the problem was. 'We have to get to class. We're already late,' I explained to the boy, as I pulled Harry out of the hall.
'Harry, are you okay?' I asked when we had reached the entrance hall, which thankfully was fairly quiet. We led Harry over to one of the stone benches, although he didn't want to sit down.
'Yeah, I'm fine. It's just... did you notice?' Harry asked, his face clouding over with emotion.
'I know. I saw,' I said gently, 'But Harry you can't keep blaming yourself. Colin wanted to fight and he knew what he was getting into. You have to remember, it wasn't just your fight. Lots of people had their own reasons.'
'Yeah, I know,' he sighed, although deep down I knew he didn't really mean it. 'It's just hard. I thought being back would make things easier, but there are memories everywhere.'
I knew how Harry felt and I didn't have anything to say to comfort him. It was hard for everyone and I knew how much harder it would be for Harry. He took everything very personally and the guilt was weighing heavily on him. Ginny took Harry's hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. Something passed between them, some silent conversation as they gazed at each other and some of the turmoil and pain left his face. Suddenly I felt like I was intruding on something private, so I took a small step back and hovered awkwardly as various other students started to leave the great hall and head to the first classes of the year.
The first years were streaming out in large crowds, not wanting to be alone, afraid of getting lost in the huge castle on their first day. I smiled and said hello to a few people as they went past until my eyes locked with none other than Draco Malfoy's. Our gazes connected for a moment and unlike the day before, he didn't look away. Neither did I.
'So, class then?' Harry said, appearing beside me and I quickly averted my gaze. I looked back to Harry, trying to fight off the embarrassed heat that was creeping into my cheeks. Trying to look like I hadn't just been staring at Draco Malfoy.
'Hey guys wait up. Why'd you run off?' Ron came bursting out of the great hall, panting slightly, with a small grin on his face. When he was met with nothing but raised eyebrows and silence, he simply shrugged. Ron had never been entirely perceptive.
I rolled my eyes and pulled out my new timetable. 'Oh, that's new. We're having completely mixed classes this year. All four houses together, instead of just the usual two.'
'Probably McGonagall's way of trying to get the houses to mingle a bit more. Build bridges and all that,' Ginny offered. 'At least we'll be together. How bad can it be?'
Well of course Ginny just had to ask, because it was bad. Just about as bad as it could get. When we had first arrived in potions class, the formation of the room was different with tables of two rather than four. We had taken seats together at the back of the class, with Ginny and I sitting at one bench and Ron and Harry sitting at the bench behind us. The class had maybe around twenty students. Quite large for a NEWT class, but since there were people like us who had originally missed seventh year there were more people than usual taking the class. It wasn't long before our new potions professor arrived. Professor Slughorn had gone back into retirement at the end of the previous year and so this year we would have three new teachers, one for transfiguration, one for defence against the dark arts and one for potions. The professor was a woman in her mid- thirties, with her black hair pulled into a severe tight bun at the back of her head. She had a stern look on her face a look that made you just know that this wasn't a woman you should cross. I couldn't help but think of how she looked like a younger version of Professor McGonagall.
'Welcome to your NEWT level potion class. My name is Professor Haven and I will be your new potions professor. I have worked as a potion maker at St Mungo's for the last six years and I am looking forward to the coming year and teaching you all the vital skills that you will need to get through your NEWTs. I'm not going to lie to you. This year will be challenging. You will be learning how to make some of the most complex potions and antidotes in the wizarding world and you will need patience and skill in order to succeed. However, before we start I would like to make a few small changes to the seating arrangements.'
At this, everyone nervously glanced around the classroom. It seemed that old habits died hard as everyone seemed to have sat with people from their own house. At Professor Haven's word, we all grimaced slightly, knowing what was to come.
'You will be sitting in alphabetical order. The seats that I put you in will be your seats for the remainder of the year as will the partner that you are assigned. Potion making is a complex art and one that will often require collaboration with others. As such you will be working closely with your partner, working together to make various solutions and antidotes. I suggest you make friends with them as to succeed in my class you will need both good communication and trust.
Professor Haven summoned a register and started to read through it, beginning with Hannah Abbott, assigning her a seat at the front of the class beside a Hufflepuff from Ginny's year that I didn't know As Professor Haven continued to assign people to seats; a Terry Boot and Mandy Brocklehurst were next. I quickly did the maths in my head let out a small groan as I realised who my partner would be. I barely had time to reject the idea when Professor Haven called out my name and pointed to a seat at the front of the classroom, at the opposite side from Hannah. I began to gather my books together when she said my partner's name.
'Draco Malfoy.'
I closed my eyes and heard Ron give a loud scoff. I turned around to shoot a glare at him, before walking over to my new seat. I didn't miss the fact that he gave me a thumbs up with a look of smug happiness on his face. I was sorely tempted to make a rude gesture with my hand, but unfortunately my hands were both full with my books and bags. It was probably just as well, as Professor Haven was standing a mere few feet away from me. Probably not the best way to make a good first impression with a new teacher.
While I had been busy scowling at Ron, Malfoy had been quicker at gathering his things together, as he was already sitting at the seat nearest the wall, the better seat of course; his arm casually resting on the table, his eyes firmly fixed on the front of the class.
I threw my bag down on the table, making it bang a little louder than I had meant to and winced slightly, when I saw Malfoy's eyes flicker briefly in my direction and he sighed deeply as if my mere presence inconvenienced him.
I sat myself down on my seat and turned my back to him, determined not to look at him. I could feel him scowling, I didn't need to see it confirmed. I turned to glance behind me, to realise that Harry was sitting at one of the tables behind me with Pansy Parkinson and behind him was Ginny and a Ravenclaw girl from her year. I searched the class to find Ron and gave a small chuckle when I saw him sitting next to Blaise Zabini; a look of complete and utter disgust on his face. At least I wasn't the only one who would be having a completely miserable year. I caught his eye as he looked up at me and I repeated his previous gesture to me, by subtly putting my thumbs up to my face and giving him a smirk. He however, had both hands free and was able to stick a certain finger up in my direction, giving me a scowl along with it. I couldn't help but laugh at his face and I caught Harry's eye when turned around and realised that he was laughing too. I caught Malfoy's look of disdain as I settled back into my seat, rolling my eyes at his killjoy attitude.
I laid my books and parchment across the table in my usual routine and pulled my attention back to Professor Haven, who had directed us to turn to page seventy-two of our books. I quickly flipped through the book and I couldn't help but smile at the words that met my gaze. Polyjuice Potion. I gave a quick glance over my shoulder to look at Harry, who was grinning widely at me.
'Polyjuice Potion is an extremely delicate and complex potion. It will take us at least one month to brew and to be frank I will be amazed if any of you manage to brew it correctly.'
The smile that I had been trying to suppress quickly came back to my lips. I had currently made Polyjuice Potion twice so far. Once in second year, when we were trying to get information out of Malfoy and once last year, when we had to break into the Ministry of Magic.
After answering most of Professor Haven's questions about Polyjuice Potion (I let Harry and Ron answer some too) and earning ten points for Gryffindor between us, we finally had to start making the potion. I quickly scanned the list of ingredients and waited for him to move, but he remained still beside me, his face impassive.
'I'll get the ingredients then shall I.' When Malfoy simply quirked a eyebrow at me, I rolled my eyes and huffed to my feet, looking down at him. 'Don't worry, I wouldn't expect you to deign to lower yourself to such a menial task.' As I was walking away, I muttered 'pompous arse', just loud enough for him to hear. I didn't even wait for Malfoy's reaction before I stormed off to the supply cupboard where I met Harry.
'This year is going to be so much fun,' I muttered sarcastically, searching through the various jars and bottles for the lacewing flies which were one of the first ingredients on our list.
'I know. I think you got the worse end of the deal though, Hermione,' Harry said, passing me the lacewing flies from the top shelf above me. 'At least this lesson should be easy for you. You had this potion perfected in second year.'
I gave him a modest little nod and a smile, before returning to my table. I noticed that Malfoy had actually managed to move himself and had filled the cauldron with water and had lit the fire to boil it.
I laid out all of the ingredients and made a move to roll up my sleeves, which was part of my usual preparation before making a potion. I rolled up the right sleeve first so that it sat just above my elbow and was halfway through the process on my left sleeve, before I realised that I had just exposed my scar. I gave a small intake of breath, causing Malfoy to glance in my direction. How could I be so stupid? I quickly rolled my sleeve back down, so that it sat midway between my wrist and my elbow, hiding the offensive mark.
I clutched my arm, tightly. I could almost feel the words burning on my skin. As I turned back to work on the potion, I caught Malfoy's gaze lingering on my arm. 'What?' I snapped, causing him to glance up at me. Something in his gaze made my heart momentarily stutter. He was looking at me with a mixture of curiosity and pity and it made my blood run cold. He knew. He must do. He had after all been there to witness first hand when it had happened. When I had been branded.
I jutted out my chin and waited for the insult that I was sure was coming, so I surprised when he merely shrugged and looked away beginning to sort through the ingredients that I had brought over. I watched him curiously, still waiting for him to mention the ugly word imprinted on my arm, when I noticed that his sleeves were identical to mine. The right one rolled all the way up past the elbow and the one on the left only going just above the wrist. I watched as he placed his right hand on his left forearm and rubbed it gently. It took me a moment to realise what he was doing. What he was thinking about. What was hidden underneath that sleeve. His dark mark. I couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind. Was he as ashamed of his scar as I was of mine, or was he merely thinking about the good old days with Voldemort? No doubt it was the latter I thought bitterly; no doubt he was wishing he could show it off to the world with pride. After all he had been the youngest person ever to be given that mark.
We worked in silence for the next half an hour. It was surprising how quickly we fell into routine, working together. I would do one step of the potion and he would do the next. It meant that we didn't need to speak to other, so it worked perfectly. It was all going rather well until I noticed that instead of shredding the Boomslang Skin as he was supposed to be doing, he was rather neatly slicing it into perfectly equal portions.
'You're doing that wrong,' I said, sounding more condescending than I intended. I couldn't help but wince slightly as he stiffened and then turned around to glare at me.
'Is that so,' he said quietly, his voice like ice, dripping with disdain.
I narrowed my eyes at him and stood up straighter in an attempt to show him that I wasn't intimidated.
'As a matter of fact yes, you are. You are supposed to be shredding the Boomslang Skin, not slicing it into perfectly equal portions.'
'I'm sure it will be fine,' he drawled, returning to carefully slicing the skin in front of him.
'No, it won't be fine, Malfoy. It says shredded, so funnily enough, it has to be shredded,' I said scornfully and also slightly louder than I had intended. I turned around to check over my shoulder to see if I had caught Professor Haven's attention, but luckily she was distracted by Ron and Zabini, who seemed to have made a mess of their potion, judging by the orange froth that was seeping out over the top of their cauldron.
'Oh, give it a rest Granger,' he said in irritation, his eyes rolling. 'I know you like to think that you know everything and but it's not like you're such an expert in Polyjuice Potion, so stop trying to tell me what to do.' I noticed that his body was tense. I was getting on his nerves. I had managed to infiltrate through his frosty exterior and as petty as it was, I enjoyed the thrill of knowing that I had gotten to him.
'For your information, Malfoy,' I said with a sweetly innocent expression, 'I have made Polyjuice Potion twice before, the first time being when I was thirteen years old.' I took a small step toward him, my smile turning coy. 'It looks like I was more skilled at thirteen than you are now,' I retorted, satisfied at seeing his brows furrow with both confusion and annoyance.
'Yeah right, Granger,' he scoffed disbelievingly, folding his arms across his broad chest. 'What would you have needed Polyjuice Potion for in second year?'
I knew it was wrong and I knew I should have been the bigger person but I just couldn't help myself. I was enjoying the feel of a spark inside of me that I hadn't felt in a long time; enjoying the thrill of getting one up on Malfoy to let it go. Which is why I found myself taking a step towards him and saying, 'Wouldn't you just love to know.'
'What is that supposed to mean?' his eyebrows shot down as he picked up on the clear implication that he had somehow been involved.
I simply raised my eyebrows back at him with a small smile on my lips, before I whipped out my wand and made his sliced Boomslang skin vanish, much to his annoyance. I took more pleasure that I should have as I turned around and waltzed over to the supply cupboard, leaving him with a look of surprise and confusion on his face. The blood was pumping through my veins, with the thrill of fighting with Malfoy. I hadn't felt so alive in a while. Yes, it definitely felt good to be back.
After potions class, I found that I was in a much better mood, the worries of the morning almost forgotten. More than once that day I caught Malfoy scowling in my direction and I wouldn't even try to deny that I enjoyed it. I took a perverse pleasure in knowing that I gotten under his skin. I could see it in his face that he was irritated, that he was still trying to figure out what I had meant with my cryptic comment.
It wasn't until dinner that night that the others started to notice his constant glaring. I had just taken another glance over my shoulder to see if he was still scowling in my direction, as he had been doing all day. I would bet that by now he had realised that we had tricked him at some point and was trying to work out when we had done it, or else he probably thought that I was just lying to wind him up. He probably thought that he was way too smart to have ever been tricked by us. Either way, I was enjoying watching him squirm.
'Why do you keep looking over at Malfoy, Hermione? And why is he shooting daggers at you?' Harry asked, glancing over at Malfoy. 'He looks like he's plotting your murder.'
'I'd like to see him try,' I scoffed. 'But he's just trying to figure out at what point in second year we tricked him with Polyjuice Potion.' My face broke into a grin at Harry and Ron's questioning looks, wondering why I would have told him. I have a careless shrug. 'He was really bugging me, so I couldn't help winding him up just a little bit.'
Harry and Ron gave out a loud laugh. 'Yeah, he totally fell for it. Took us right inside the Slytherin common room and he didn't suspect a thing. Even when my hair started to turn back to red, he still didn't twig, the idiot,' Ron mused, recounting his experience of being Crabbe.
I gave another quick glance over my shoulder to see Malfoy looking over furiously at us, his face full of rage, while Blaise Zabini talked beside him. I would imagine that he had realised that we were having a laugh at his expense, which was something Malfoy would not let stand. It was only then I noticed how far apart that he and Zabini sat from everyone else at the Slytherin table. Usually Malfoy was surrounded by a large crowd, all hanging onto his every word, but he and Zabini were sat at the end of the table with no one sitting near them. I imagined the rest of the Slytherins had a problem with him turning over to the good side and helping defeat Voldemort. I was pretty sure that more than a few of the Slytherins parents had been put in Azkaban after he had been defeated. As usual Malfoy and his family had come out of the flames completely unscathed. Everyone else had suffered. Once again, Malfoy and his family had been on the wrong side in the war, done unspeakable things and yet got away with everything.
'I wonder why he came back anyway. I mean after everything that happened, why would be even want to?' I wondered aloud. 'Why would any of the Slytherins come back for that matter? I mean Hogwarts doesn't exactly hold the same values as they do. I'm surprised more of them didn't go to Durmstrang instead.'
'They all have to be seen to have changed. Going to Durmstrang would get the Ministry's attention and they would have been watched like hawks for any slip ups with dark magic.' Harry answered. 'Most of their parents are either in Azkaban or avoided it by the skin of their teeth. They have to be seen to try and fit in. Without him to follow, they have too much to lose. They have to conform to regular views. Or at least to be seen to. '
'Like any of us actually believe they've changed,' Ron scoffed through a mouthful of food. ' all know they're just waiting for the next dark wizard that they can follow.
I found myself pondering what the boys had said, looking at the faces at the Slytherin table, wondering if any of them any of them had actually changed, or if they were simply biding their time, waiting for another leader to follow. I shivered at the prospect, knowing that I couldn't go through all of that again. Just like that my good mood dissipated and I found myself plagued by the memories of all that we had most during the war, of all that I had lost since. Harry, Ginny and Ron were all I had left. How would I ever cope if I lost them too?