Harry Potter FanFiction - All Aboard the Hogwarts Express

Can't Just Wipe the Slate Clean & Answered Questions

 Looking into the courtyard, she could see that Malfoy had bent down to tie his laces, and hadn’t yet taken to his luggage anywhere. She stood up, brushing her robes down, removing invisible dirt, shoved Twilight into her over-stuffed bag, and walked briskly to catch up with Malfoy, who’d now stood up and was making his exit.

            “Wait,” she began. “Where are you taking your bags? We don’t know where our common rooms are yet,” she exclaimed, and a thoughtful expression flitted across Malfoy’s face.

            “You’re right, I don’t! How silly of me. Well in that case, I can keep you company a bit longer.” He threw her a wry grin, and Hermione found herself smiling in spite of everything that had ever occurred between the blonde-haired Slytherin and herself.        

What would Ron and Harry say if they thought she was ‘fraternizing with the enemy?’ She pushed the thought aside, as a wave of thought hit her. Before her stood Draco Malfoy. A person, she thought, who before the Final Battle, she’d happily have punched, like she had back in their third year. He was a person who she could honestly say she hated; he was spineless, evil and there was nothing redeemable about him. But ever since that day, in Malfoy manor, when he’d hesitated, and not given the Golden trio’s presence away, she wasn’t so sure. He’d done some terrible things, she thought, but then again his circumstances weren’t exactly easy. When the Dark Lord is residing in your family’s house, your father is a Death eater, and you have the expectation hanging over your head of following in his footsteps, there isn’t much you could do to resist. It was with this realisation, that it dawned on Hermione that Draco could have perhaps just been born into the wrong family, in the wrong circumstances, at the wrong time.

            That wasn’t to say she was wiping his slate clean. Heck, Malfoy had done things that Hermione didn’t even want to think about; things so dark and evil that they were beyond the imagination of someone even as experienced in pain and suffering as Hermione. But she was willing to be lenient; give him a chance. She’d see if Malfoy’s seemingly new outlook on life lasted long enough to be considered a different person – but she wouldn’t waste her time with him, either. She would be civil, as she was to the rest of the Slytherins. She didn’t particularly like any of them, but at the same time she didn’t openly share her distaste, like Ron or Harry did.

            “Ron and Harry,” she began, noticing the slight flicker of something cross Malfoy’s face, as she continued, “have a theory that they will have converted the abandoned girl’s bathroom for the eighth years sleeping quarters. What do you think?” She was struggling to think of a conversation that didn’t reopen old wounds – but she realised that through discussing the changes to Hogwarts, she opened the door to why the changes were needed, in the first place. If it hadn’t been for the destruction that the final battle had caused, they wouldn’t be having this conversation. It was awkward, talking to a person who had fought for the opposing side – the losing side – about such matters, but Malfoy shrugged it off.

            “Yes,” Malfoy said, nonchalantly, gazing up at the magnificent castle. “That makes sense. Although the girls bathroom doesn’t hold particularly fond memories for me.” Hermione winced as she thought about Harry’s incident with Sectumsempra, the spell from Snape’s old potions book that had severely injured Malfoy; nearly killed him, in fact. Draco’s face showed a split second of pain, at the memory, before he composed himself. The strained conversation, that it had become, was saved however, by none other than Professor McGonagall, who had come into the courtyard and was using her wand to amplify her voice, as she asked to speak to all the eighth years in the Great Hall. Draco and Hermione made their way silently, Hermione breaking away from the grey eyed Slytherin, and rejoining the throng of Gryffindors, including Harry and Ron who acknowledged her presence with a grin, immediately drawing her into their conversation. Hermione didn’t notice Malfoy’s sad smile, as he made his way to stand on the outskirts of the group of students. An outsider. He was alone.

The chatter soon subsided, when Professor McGonagall asked for quiet. She began a list of house-keeping; trailing of the previous year’s rules – no going in the Forbidden Forest without permission from a member of staff; no fighting in the corridors; duelling and so forth. Then it dawned on Hermione; Professor McGonagall was doing everything that Dumbledore had done before he died, at the start of time. It made sense, as Professor McGonagall was one of Hogwarts most talented, loyal and oldest teachers – but it was with a wry smile that Hermione realised that Professor McGonagall was the first female Headmistress of Hogwarts; and a fine one she would be, Hermione mused.

            “Now,” Professor McGonagall continued, interrupting Hermione from her momentary lapse in concentration, “As you are all aware, you have all returned to complete your NEWTs, as last year’s circumstances didn’t enable you all to do so and fulfil your full potential. Many of you were absent,” she paused, looking pointedly at Hermione and Ron and Harry, who stood either side of her, “and many of you were preoccupied.” Hermione saw grins flit across the remaining members of the DA, and an angry glare directed towards the head teacher, coming from Malfoy’s direction.

            “But due to this years increased intake of students, I ask you to bear with the teaching staff this year, and be as understanding as possible. There will be mix ups and confusion, I assure you, but I will be doing my best to minimise this. Provisions have been made, in the castle, to accommodate more students. The girls bathroom, on the the second floor; which many of you will know as the residence of Moaning Myrtle, one of the castles ghosts, has been converted to a common room.” Grins crossed Harry and Ron’s faces, and their pride in being right made Hermione smile too. “However,” Professor McGonagall continued, “due to the number of students returning – only a handful of the original year group – it has been decided that whilst you will remain loyal to the houses you were first allocated when you arrived at Hogwarts, there will be only one communal common room. One house, unified, if you will. The password for the common room will be ‘muggle’” – Hermione dared dart a look at Malfoy’s face at this point. It remained expressionless, and this surprised Hermione. Normally he couldn’t help but curl his lip at the word. “There have been enchantments placed on the room to ensure that only 8th years may enter it. You are still permitted to visit your previous common rooms, as I understand that many of you have friends in the lower years.” It took a moment for the murmurs of indignation to die down, but when they did – after a stern look from the bespectacled lady standing on the podium – Professor McGonagall continued.                       

            “I have been asked to inform students that because you are all now of legal age, I cannot force this rule upon you,” Hermione saw a blush colour the teachers face slightly, and this made her curious, “I would ask you to refrain from physical relations between each other –“there was a titter amongst the boys at this point, and Hermione tutted. Boys were so immature, she thought. “But I do understand that you have hormones and urges which need to be dealt with.” By now, Professor McGonagall had turned as red as beetroot, and Hermione felt sorry for the old witch. “All I’m asking is that you keep your business to yourself, and don’t let it come between you and achieving the best grades you can. That is all I have to say on the matter.” The crowd of students began shuffling, as if to leave. Finally, Professor McGonagall added “Oh, and Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy, you will be our head boy and girl this year. I wish to speak to you alone, now, please.”

            Hermione couldn’t help but let a huge grin consume her face – to be Head Girl of Hogwarts was an honour that Hermione had dreamt of, ever since her first day at Hogwarts – and she beamed ecstatically as her Gryffindor co-students congratulated her, and Harry and Ron sang her praises. As the throng of students left the Great Hall, Hermione couldn’t help but notice out of the corner of her eye; there was nobody congratulating Malfoy.