As one, they swept by her, grabbed opposite sides of the trunk, and heaved it up. "After you, my lady."
In the middle of the train, Daphne Greengrass lowered herself into the centre-most compartment seat, and straightened her robes.
Freekey leapt off her shoulder and onto the the table.
She fished in her pocket, produced a large nut and held it to the inquisitive monkey, who grabbed and nibbled at it, turning it constantly in her tiny hands.
She produced a small hand mirror and checked her hair. She adjusted her robes again. She produced a small slip of parchment from a pocket. It held a list of some thirty-odd names. She read over the list, turned over the parchment, and went over each of the names in her head, recalling the basic facts about each person, and counting off when she'd finished. She folded the paper back up, and slipped it back into the pocket. Then, just in case she'd missed something, she checked her hair again.
Harry. She sighed. For the last three years she'd never gone more than a few days without seeing Harry. She'd hugged him goodbye not twenty-four hours ago, and already she missed him. The thought of not being able to talk with him for ages did weird things to her chest. But she was the betrothed of Lord Slytherin, the heiress of the Ancient and Noble House of Greengrass, and the de facto leader of the sons and daughters of the Gray. Someone like her wouldn't give the time of day to a scruffy, uneducated, light-named, non-entity. At least, that was the official reason. The real reason was that the headmaster and current Slytherin head of house would be keeping a close eye on Harry for the first few weeks, and he couldn't afford to attract too much attention. It was all heart-wrenchingly frustrating.
In the solitude of the compartment, she allowed herself a self-indulgent pout.
Someone grabbed the compartment door and the pout vanished from her face.
The door slid open. It was Tracey.
"Daph! Hi, Freekey."
A smile lit her face. "Hi, Trace." Freekey looked up from the nut and chirped.
The brown haired girl entered the compartment, dragging a trunk behind her. Tracey looked up at the overhead compartments and frowned. "How did you get your trunk all the way up there?"
"My dad put a feather-light charm on my trunk before we left."
Tracey slapped her forehead. "Argh. I should have thought to ask." She frowned again. "But still, even if it's lightened, that's a long way up. You're not that much taller than me and I can't reach up that high."
She flicked her wrist to produce her wand, which she shook back and forth.
"No way." Tracey looked suitably impressed. "When? How?" "My lord taught me." The pride in her voice slipped into a smirk on her lips, which was fine. She had worked hard for it.
"But how? What about the underage magic laws?" "Wand tracking doesn't work under fidelius." "What's fidelius?" "Look it up."
Tracey pouted. "Fine." The girl sighed. "Wow, you're so lucky, Daph. I wish I had a mysterious betrothed to spoil me rotten. It's so romantic."
She looked at the brunette, incredulous. "Oh, yes, being terrified out of your wits for months because you're going to be married off to a fat old geezer is the best thing ever."
Tracey winced. "But, he saved you, Daph."
She folded her arms. "I know he saved me. That does't mean I'm glad I needed saving."
"But. But, you're always talking about him. It's always Lord Slytherin this, or Lord Slytherin that. Aren't you happy about it?"
Her shoulders slumped back in the chair. "Yes. Yes I am happy. I just wish it didn't happen that way. Wishing for what I have is like wishing to win the Daily Prophet grand prize draw, where if you don't win, you get A-kay'd. Many people who enter, don't win." She looked over at her friend.
"How would you react if, after the great feast, tonight, you received an owl from your dad saying he'd signed a contract for you?"
Tracey stilled. "I'd probably freak out."
She nodded. "Anyway." She clapped once and stood up. "Your trunk."
Tracey looked down at it.
"Why not just shove it up against the wall for now? We're going to need space for six more. Hopefully some of the others have lightened there's."
Together they shoved the heavy trunk against the wall and just got comfortable when the door slid open again. They both turned.
It was Granger. But not as she was the last time she'd seen her. The previously bushy hair was now more wavy, and the buck-teeth looked like they'd been shrunk. The witch stood in the doorway as though Merlin had returned to Earth.
The witch's eyes did a lightning circuit of the room — from her face, to her hands, to Tracey's face, to Tracey's hands, and finishing at her face again. Subtle. Granger took a step into the room. "Heiress Greengrass, of the Ancient and Noble House of Greengrass?"
"Yes," she drawled.
"I am Hermione Granger, of the House of Granger, vassal of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Slytherin."
There was a audible intake of breath to her right.
She rose from her seat and regarded the witch for a moment. Granger didn't extend her hand.
She raised a single manicured eyebrow. So, she was Granger's superior, was she? That's not what the witch actually believed though, was it? "Welcome, Miss Granger." She gestured to her side. "This is my good friend, Tracey Davis, Heiress of the Noble House of Davis."
She glanced towards Tracey, who was looking between her and Granger, very confused.
"Ah, pleased to meet you," Tracey said, extending her hand.
Granger took the hand, and smiled. "Pleased to meet you too."
They shook.
.
.
.
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