Chapter Text

Chapter 1 

The Road Less Travelled By

Hogwarts Express

September 1, 1995

Hermione

Harry and Hermione walked through the crowded train in comfortable silence, looking for an empty compartment. After spending the last couple weeks cleaning out Grimmauld Place, the gloomy, but airy train was a welcome change of pace.

Ginny signalled to them from further down the train, waving them through to an open compartment.

“Where’s Ron?” Neville piped up as they entered and set their trunks below the seats.

“No clue, we lost him in the crowd on the platform.” Hermione replied, ignoring Harry as he threw himself down beside Ginny dramatically.

As the train's whistle tooted its final warning, Harry started up the argument they’d been having for weeks. 

“I just don’t get it.” He huffed as Hermione fastened the red and gold Prefect badge to her jumper, ignoring his accusatory gaze.

“Get what Harry?” she asked, bracing for the inevitable fight, hoping he wouldn’t get too wound up with Neville here.

“Ron got Prefect, not me. I wasn’t even sure that Dumbledore knew he existed—” Ginny snorted at Harry’s exaggerated jab at Ron, again.

“—And I thought this was based on like, marks, responsibility, and stuff. My marks are way better than Ron’s.” Harry whined.

“Harry, for the hundredth time, I’m sure Professor Dumbledore had a good reason not to make you a prefect. I don’t know how I’m going to keep up with the duties and studying for our OWLs. You have Quidditch, surely that’s enough?” Hermione replied, repeating herself for the umpteenth time in the last several weeks.

“But Herm—” 

“—It’s Angelina’s last year right?” Ginny cut him off with a sympathetic glance to Hermione.   “So you’ll be Gryffindor Captain next year. Maybe McGonagall wanted you free for that? Like training and stuff?” 

That stopped his tirade, thank Merlin.

After a couple seconds of awkward silence, Neville broke the tension. “So how many OWLs is everyone going for this year?” 

Ginny sighed, grabbing a Quidditch strategy book from her bag. 

“Sorry Ginny,” She shrugged as he continued. “Professor Sprout has basically told me that I can intern with her once I graduate, so I’m going for the normal ones. I want O’s in Herbology obviously, Charms, Transfiguration, and Care of Magical Creatures, Divination should be easy. I’m hoping to get an E in potions, but I doubt that’s possible with Snape.” he finished calmly.

“Oh that’s wonderful Neville! To have something lined up already!” Hermione shook his shoulder, he grinned sheepishly at the praise.

“I assume that you’re going for all of them, Hermione?” Ginny covered for Harry’s silence.

“You know I am Gin. I’m a little worried about having Arithmancy, Runes, and Transfiguration. But I’m sure if I put my mind to it, I should do fine. I’ve already started on my homework planner, as organisation is the first step to success!” She rambled off as they all groaned. 

“Laugh all you want, but I’m sure that you’ll be begging me to plan your revision come March.” She stuck her nose in the air at their teasing. 

As the train began to move, she turned to Ginny, “Watch my stuff, will you? The Prefects are meeting with the new Heads before we get to the school. I’ll be back when I can!” Ginny nodded as Hermione stood up.

“Hermione, wait!” Harry stood up as she opened the door. “Do you really think that’s why I didn’t make Prefect?” he said quietly.

“I don’t Harry. I might know a lot, but I don’t know the inner workings of Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore’s minds. Why don’t you ask them?” she replied.

“Plus you know how much this meant to Ron, right? You consistently whinging about how unfair it is probably doesn’t feel great.” she whispered as Harry opened his mouth to retort, then decided against it.

“You’re right. I know we’re supposed to meet with Professor McGonagall in the first couple weeks of term. I’ll ask her then.” He backed into the carriage and closed the door.

She walked several paces away before looking at herself in the train’s windows, smoothing her jumper and hair. When she had received the badge in the mail, her mother had taken her shopping for some more professional clothes. Her jumper was a thin, soft lilac-coloured cashmere, and she’d put it over a button-down, tucked into her denims. Sirius had also shown her some beauty spells for curly hair, ‘the second Black curse’ he’d joked. They’d changed her curls from frizzy chaos to defined curls that cascaded down her back. Pleased with her appearance, she continued on to go find the other Prefects for their meeting, thinking the whole way..

Harry was normally not this torn up by something. He’d been through a lot, Cedric dying only months ago, but he’s normally not this difficult when it comes to other people getting accolades. Merlin, usually he doesn’t want the spotlight at all.

He did have a point though. In their whispered conversations over the last weeks of summer at Grimmauld Place, he appealed to her sense of fairness and justice more than once. They went around in whispered circles, Harry advocating that if the prefect couldn’t be himself, the favourite of the Headmaster and most of the Wizarding World, then it at least should be someone sensible, like Dean or Neville, definitely not Ron. They both knew that this would undoubtedly end with her thanklessly picking up his slack, again. Prefect rounds weren't food or quidditch so he’d lose interest once the responsibility set in. She knew he was right, and something about this whole thing didn’t sit right with her. It was like someone was toying with their friendship.

Having finally arrived at the Prefect Compartment, she reached for the door, stealing herself for whatever lay on the other side. Not knowing who the other new Prefects were before walking through this door really was worse than the whole sorting from the first year.

Sliding open the door to look around, she saw Ernie MacMillan and Padma Patil sitting by a far window. Padma looked up at the noise and waved her over. 

Thank Merlin.

Both fifth years seemed to have also grown up a bit over the summer. Padma had started wearing kohl liner that made her brown eyes seem more mysterious. She also cut her long hair much shorter; Hermione wondered if Parvati had too, or if they were finally moving away from being identical.

Ernie was definitely taller than in June, but overall unchanged, still wore glasses and his family’s wealth like a lifeline. 

“I was so happy when my badge arrived. Everyone knows that making a prefect looks amazing on CVs.” Ernie droned as she approached, basically bouncing on his feet. “ Ah, welcome Hermione, knew you’d get in the club, you swot.”

Hermione smiled back as he continued, barely missing a breath, “My parents were so thrilled, I hope to get Head Boy in our final year, though I think I’ll have quite a bit of competition with Malfoy. I hear he and Parkinson are the Slytherin prefects, though I see they’re fashionably late as always. Can’t do anything without being dramatic. Hannah, Abbott, that is, and Anthony Goldstein are here as well from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Though I doubt you’ll have any competition for Head Girl, Hermione, no offence Padma.” Ernie turned to point out Hannah and Anthony on the other side of the compartment as Hermione and Padma shared a look. She got the sense that Ernie had been going on for some time.  

“None taken MacMillan. We all know Hermione is the Brightest Witch of Her Age or whatever Skeeter called you in the papers last year.” Padma said with a wink to Hermione. 

“Where’s Potter, I assume he’s the other Gryffindor fifth year?” Ernie cut in.

“Ah no, it’s Ronald actually,” both their heads snapped to her, wide-eyed and horrified at her answer.

“Weasley is a Prefect?” Ernie gasped, looking offended.

“Yes?” Hermione cringed.

“Oh Hermione. I’m so sorry! Having to do rounds with the git would have had me seriously reconsidering the benefits of being a prefect! Are you okay with having to do all the work?” Padma huffed. 

Hermione knew their Yule ball date had gone badly, but when she had pushed him to make things right, Ron had mentioned he apologised and it was all smoothed over. Seeing Padma’s quiet rage, Hermione realised that Ron probably lied, again. Ernie patted Padma’s hand in sympathy.

“Yes, Hermione, you should complain to Professor McGonagall right away. He’s going to make you do all the work.” he echoed, trying to be cheerful. “Plus, with Weasley as a Prefect, it throws the whole authority of the programme into question. You need to complain.”

Hermione chuckled darkly; “I will if it gets to be too much.” 

As if Professor McGonagall would be able to change anything Professor Dumbledore did.

Her comment would have ended their conversation if not for the door opening again for the new Slytherin prefects to walk in, fashionably late as always.

Pansy Parkinson looked roughly the same as she had the year before. It looked like she’d started to grow her bob out a bit longer, which definitely helped her face look less squished. She was almost pretty. 

As she pushed past Malfoy, a change from her normal clinging. Seems like their normal relationship had soured over the summer. She appreciated the Slytherin’s commitment to icing out Malfoy as she watched her walk over to the other Slytherins without a second glance.

“Ah perfect everyone, let’s get started so you can all get to work and back to your friends.” Marcus Turner, Head Boy, yelled out over the crowd of fifth, sixth, and seventh years. “Thank you everyone for being here and being on ti…”

“Sorry I’m late!” Ron yelled as he waltzed through the door to the compartment. Hermione cringed and she saw everyone else look at him with either disgust or contempt. He lumbered through the compartment, shiny prefect badge on display, clashing with his red hair and rumpled robes, as he waved at her with a dopey smile on his face and joined the crowd.

After an uncomfortably long pause, Gemma Fawley, Head Girl, rolled her eyes and continued. “As Turner was saying before he was interrupted, thank you for being here and being on time.” 

Hermione shrank at the dig towards the Gryffindors, who all threw nasty looks at Ron, and her by default. Ron was naturally unaffected. Oh, this year would be so long.

“We’ve created a weekly rotation for patrols. Anyone scheduled for today, please patrol the train and ensure that your first years make it to the boats and their common rooms.” Fawley drawled. “This year Dumbledore and the other Heads of house have asked us to foster inter-house unity, and ensure fair distribution of points, so you will not be paired up with someone from your house. If you have a problem with your partner, take it up with Dumbledore, not us.” 

With a wave of her wand she sent parchment flying gracefully through the room towards everyone.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief – she wouldn’t need to worry about picking up Ron’s slack. Maybe his partner would be willing to do it, or would have enough wherewithal to kick him into shape. 

Looking down the list she saw the first two pages of the packet were rotation schedules, with pairings noted as ‘fifth year pair 1, 2, etc.’ all the way down. She flipped to the back page to see the pairings for fifth year prefects:

She could hear as every other fifth year caught up with her, the sharp intakes of breath around the car as they realised who was paired with whom. Hannah looked more than a little pissed off. 

Meeting Padma’s dark eyes again, Hermione saw another sympathetic look. Great, so instead of having to do everything, now she’d be dodging insults while she did it.

She stared at their names beside each other on the parchment. Draco Malfoy - Slytherin. Hermione Granger - Gryffindor. Every Saturday night for the rest of the year. The thought made something twist uncomfortably in her stomach—dread, surely. It was just dread.

At least it wasn’t Ron she’d be patrolling with. She could already picture him ‘forgetting’ half their rounds, leaving her to do it alone whilst he snogged Lavender Brown, or some other girl in a corner of the common room. No, better the devil she knew than the one she’d have to make excuses for.

Still, Malfoy. Of all people. She could already hear the comments from the Slytherins; Mudblood this, swot that. And Ron… Merlin, he was going to have a fit when they got out of this compartment. He’d probably insist on checking in during patrols, making everything so much more awkward.

She folded the parchment carefully, tucking it into her pocket. It was one year. She could manage one year of late-night corridors with Draco Malfoy without hexing him. Probably.

Looking back through the packet she saw that thankfully, ‘5th Year Pair 2’ wasn’t patrolling until tomorrow evening. She could enjoy the welcome feast and first day of classes without being accosted. 

“Watch your head Granger, I know you think a mile a minute, but we wouldn’t want you steaming up the compartment.” She heard that familiar, male, wiltshire drawl behind her. She spun to face Malfoy, her face burning at his taunt. He was closer than she anticipated and she almost tripped taking a step back.

Catching herself she looked up at him—Morgana, he was even taller close—and blinked in surprise. This wasn’t the pointy, ferret she remembered from last term. Over the summer, Draco Malfoy had apparently decided to grow into his features. The sharp angles of his face had filled out. His hair, usually shellacked to his skull with enough gel to construct a helmet, now fell in a more natural platinum sweep across his forehead.

She shook her head slightly, dispelling the observation. It didn’t matter if Malfoy had grown a foot and discovered what a hairbrush was for. He was still Malfoy. The same git who’d called her a Mudblood, who’d sneered at her parents in Diagon Alley, who’d spent four years making her life miserable.

Rolling her eyes dramatically, she crossed her arms “Whatever Malfoy. I guess we’re partners now.”

He was still much, much too close. She could smell his cologne, spiced sandalwood, and something almost tart like those green apples he ate all the time. It was distinctly un-Malfoy-like. Or at least unlike the cloying scent he used to wear. 

Stop noticing things about him, she told herself firmly.

“I guess you’re also seemingly stuck with me. Could see that coming though, top one and two from rival houses paired off. I wouldn’t be surprised if Dumbledore schemed this all up just for us.” Malfoy said with a dazzling smile. No, not dazzling, annoying.

“Maybe you could, but prefects have traditionally been paired within their houses.” she replied snarkily.

“And how lucky for you that you get a partner who will actually do something useful for once?” He glanced over at Ron and Hannah, the latter of whom already looked about ready to burst.

Hermione suppressed a laugh, which made it sound more like a snort. “It’s fine, Granger. I promise I will only bite if you ask nicely.” Malfoy joked, smiling at her blushing, wide-eyed look.

“Okay, so our first patrol is tomorrow night, and it looks like we have… every Saturday night from there on out until the second term.” She moved on, and stepped back to put some distance between them, hoping he wouldn’t notice how uncomfortable she was.

“I mean, I know you don't want for a social life, but some of us do.” Malfoy complained as he threw himself on the seats to their right. 

Hermione bristled, this was what she was waiting for, him to shirk his duties so she could go to McGonagall with something. “I mean, I’m sure I can patrol by myself. No social life and all.”

“Oh no Granger you misunderstand. My social life will wait for me. I’m just saying there are much more preferable companions on a Saturday night than Gryffindor’s resident uptight swot.” He leaned forward and plucked the schedule from her hands, to her indignation.

“Says here patrols need to start at nine, and the fifth years patrol until eleven when the Professors and Heads take over until one. Meet by the grand staircase at eight forty-five then?” He looked down at her with eyes the shade of a frosted lake. 

“Fine. I won’t wait if you’re late.” she huffed back.

“I don’t assume you would.” he replied. 

When Hermione thought back to this moment, she thought he looked rather like Crookshanks when he got into her parents cream.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“‘Mione, it’s not that big of a deal. I mean, even Malfoy didn’t look that bothered that he was partnered with you. If I have to miss a couple patrols for quidditch or a party or two it’ll be fine. Hannah even said so.” Ron was somehow taking up a whole bench in their compartment. She had no idea how Harry and she had been shoved together on the other side. He didn’t even have as much stuff as them.

Hermione’s eyes narrowed, “Hannah said that, did she?”

“Yeah, loads understanding, Hannah is,” Ron said, not quite meeting her eye.

“Ron, we’ve been over this a million times.” Hermione lectured on, ignoring that stupid nickname he still used despite her protests, “being a Prefect is a big deal. People want to do a good job. Being good at it gets you recommendation letters, job offers and Head positions to help you after Hogwarts! I’m sure Hannah wants those things, which will be harder if her partner shirks his duties.”

“Whatever. I wouldn’t be a Prefect if McGonagall didn’t think I could do it. She knows how I work!” Ron replied, turning his body towards Harry and Ginny, “Harry, did you hear about the match between the Cannons and Puddlemere?” shutting down any other response from Hermione.

It’s Professor McGonagall, she thought to herself as the boys started talking about Quidditch again. She very much doubted Hannah Abbott had said such a thing. More likely, Ron had mentioned possibly missing patrols, Hannah had been too polite to tell him exactly what she thought of that idea, and Ron had interpreted her tight-lipped silence as agreement, or knew it wasn’t but bull-dozed right through it. He’s done the same in third year when he’d “totally cleared” borrowing Fred and George’s fireworks.

She knew better than to push this though. He’d just get defensive, and she was too mentally drained to have a row with him right now.

She popped on the headphones of her Walkman to drown them out so she could read her novel in peace.

Looking out the window of the train, the gloomy September morning felt foreboding for the year ahead. Watching droplets of rain race across the windows, she hoped that she was wrong and there would be nothing too horrible would happen this year.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Draco

Draco slid the door to the compartment they had commandeered earlier open to the sound of his friends catching up. 

“Ah, here the Sagacious Snakes return to us their Prodigal kin!” Theo shouted as Pansy entered, sitting beside him and rolling her eyes.

“Theo, darling. We love you and know that you are enjoying the Muggle dictionary Granger sent you over the holidays, but can you talk like a normal wizard before you scare off anymore people?” Pansy drawled as she patted his hand, voice dripping with that Pureblood charm she seemed to have mastered at teas with Narcissa and her mother.

“Pansy, your habitual use of standard vernacular is so plebeian.” Theo said with a smirk, “I can ask Hermione to procure you a thesaurus on our next available sabbatical if you so wish.” 

Pansy rolled her eyes, pulling away with a huff. “Has he been like this all morning?”

“YES!” Blaise, Greg, Vince, and Daphne all shouted unanimously. 

“Granger created a monster.” Blaise whispered to Draco as he sat down next to him. “I think that Greg and Vince have actually lost brain cells trying to understand what he’s saying.”

“I’ll make sure to ask Granger where she got them so I can send out dictionaries for Christmas.” he laughed as his friends all groaned.

“Like you’d get within ten feet of her, especially with the Weasel breathing down her neck.” Daphne said.

“Oh, if only I’d thought of that…” Draco trailed off. “Oh wait, I did. I just happen to be paired with Theo’s secret study buddy for Prefect rounds until the end of time.”

The announcement was met with exactly the chaos he had anticipated. He settled back into his seat, looking far more relaxed about the whole thing than he felt.

Paired with Granger. Every Saturday night. For the entire year.

It could be worse, he supposed. At least she’d actually do the work. At least she wouldn’t spend the whole time gossiping or trying to snog him in dark corners like Pansy probably would have. It was almost so predictable it was boring. Of course the old codger would pair the top students from rival houses together, looks better on paper than in practice.

Except it wasn’t boring. It was Hermione Granger, who’d punched him in third year and had made it impossible for him to look at her the same way since. Hermione Granger, who argued with him in every class and never, ever backed down. Hermione Granger, who’d sent Theo that thesaurus over the summer with a note that had made his friend laugh for a solid ten minutes.

He ignored the small, traitorous part of his brain that had noticed how the summer had changed her too—the way her curls caught the light, how the new confidence in her posture made her seem taller than she was. That was irrelevant. He just noticed, it’s not like he cared.

He should be annoyed. He should be plotting how to make her life miserable, how to ensure she did all the work whilst he took the credit.

Instead, he found himself thinking about Saturday nights in empty corridors, with no one around to see them, no one to perform for. Just the two of them and whatever conversation they might stumble into. It might be nice to have someone to talk to who wouldn’t use his words against him later.

Dangerous thoughts to be filed away.

“Wait, what, they switched up the prefects this year?” Theo asked, knocked out of his fun to everyone’s happiness.

Draco forced his attention back to his friends, pushing thoughts of Saturday patrols and bushy-haired, honey-eyed Gryffindors firmly to the back of his mind.

“Yes, and to Granger’s benefit really.” Pansy chuckled, inspecting her nails. “Poor Hannah Abbott got stuck with the Weasel instead of Granger. I can’t wait to see him crash and burn once Hannah’s finally had enough.”

“We’ll probably be waiting until April then?” Theo joked.

“Can you let me know when they’re doing rounds? Might be helpful to know when patrols will be more relaxed,” Blaise’s eyes lit up. “You know, ‘cause the Weasel won’t be there, or dragging his feet the whole time?”

“Oh, this year is going to be fun.” Daphne replied with a sneer.

Theo chimed in, “I think you’re looking for stimulating or recreational if you’re on the same line as Blaise. Or jocose if it’s just general merriment!” 

“THEO!” The whole car erupted in jeers and laughs as Theo enjoyed the chaos of his own creation, winking at Draco.