The Confectionary Chronicles || HP/SPN

Sweets and Studies- CH22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO:

There was a flurry of activity around the Slytherin girl dorms the first morning of the holidays as everyone rushed to finish their packing, ready to catch the train at eleven.

Hermione had said goodbye to Ron and Harry the previous evening, knowing that they were staying at Hogwarts over the holidays. Neither boy seemed disappointed by this– Ron, because of the novelty of a first Christmas away from his parents, and Harry because it was becoming increasingly clear to Hermione just how little love was lost between him and his relatives.

Oh, she'd certainly suspected from the start– how could she not, when Harry was sent to school with broken glasses, when he was so small and thin, when he had flinched away from her touch before her campaign to get him more accustomed to friendly contact? But it was their conversation the night before that really cemented it in her mind that Harry's situation with his relatives was a grim one.

"I'm going to miss Hogwarts," she'd told her friends, as they sat at the Gryffindor table, long after dinner had finished, the candles above them burning low. "I didn't realise how much I'd love this place. There was a point when I didn't really want to come at all, you know."

"Really?" Harry asked her, astounded, while the other four looked on in surprise. "But why?"

"Doubts, I suppose," she admitted. "I didn't want to be separated from my–" god– "family." She smiled, a bit self-deprecatingly. "I've never actually been good at making friends with people my age. For a long time, my cousins were my only friends growing up."

"I've never been good at making friends with people my age either," Neville confessed, ducking his head shyly.

"Me too," Harry said quietly, then snorted, just as self-deprecating as Hermione. "Though unlike with you, Hermione, that was firmly thanks to my cousin."

Hermione very carefully didn't let her expression show the sharpened interest and simmering edge of rage that had sparked inside her. "Do you not get along?" She asked instead, feeling as if she already knew the answer.

"Dudley– my cousin– he liked to scare all the other kids away from me," Harry explained and Hermione had to fight to keep the rage from her face.

"What a horrid little prick," she said instead, which made Harry and Ron grin at her language while Neville gave a nervous giggle. "And his name is Dudley? That's one of the most... unfortunate names I've ever come across."

"His full name is Dudley Dursley," Harry said with a grin and Hermione didn't have to feign her horror.

"By the gods! Were your aunt and uncle by chance drunk or high when they named him? Alliteration? Rarely a good decision in a name– and certainly not in this case!"

The boys were laughing, which had been Hermione's aim, and she took a moment to trade looks with Millie and the other Slytherin looked as grim as Hermione felt– it was obvious that Harry had been bullied and isolated by his cousin and his aunt and uncle had done nothing to stop it. That didn't bode well and her unease lingered.

"It's strange," Millie had said later, when they were sitting together on her bed in the Slytherin dorms, Vashti perched on Hermione's knee. "Harry Potter was this... this legendary figure as I was growing up, every witch or wizard in the United Kingdom knows his name. We all always assumed he was being raised like a prince somewhere. Not that he was been raised by muggles and completely ignorant of magic. Especially not abusivemuggles."

"He's been done a terrible disservice," Hermione agreed sadly and Vashti warbled, shuffling slightly to rest her head against Hermione's heart. Hermione smiled softly down at her disguised phoenix, stroking her golden-brown crest in appreciation of the comfort offered.