Author notes:
* I do not own the rights to Harry Potter
+Follow me on Instagram @lenacatalina.writes
A huge thanks to Becca who drew the incredible cover art for this work follow her on Instagram @ Siriusly.drawing <<<<<<3
shoutout to my incredible beta, who has done so much work on this story she should genuinely be considered a co-author. I love you so much! Thank you for being my Midas and my muse all wrapped into one. @HelixSpencer
15 October 1999
"I'll catch up with you all later. I need to do some research—"
"—at the library," mocked Ron and Harry synchronously, cutting Hermione off mid-sentence.
"Mind yourself, 'Mione. We can't afford to lose any more points because you wind up stuck in a book past curfew on nights when that nitwit's doing rounds." Ron's face squinched up, cringing at the thought he'd conjured himself. "Stupid git. He truly does let that ridiculous badge get to his head."
Hermione nodded appeasingly but secretly was a little annoyed. She liked her ridiculous badge.
The boys said their goodbyes and made their exit down the corridor back to the Gryffindor common room for the night. As they left, Ron carried on with his complaints about how absurd it was that eighth years had to answer to a Head Boy.
Hermione never said it out loud, but she felt Ron's resentment stemmed from jealousy that he wasn't Head Boy, yet a Slytherin with pearl hair was.
It didn't help that since they were eighth years, McGonagall assigned both the Head Boy and Head Girl to live in the third-floor corridors near the astronomy tower, locked away from the rest of their class. She claimed it had something to do with inter-house unity, but Hermione had a suspicion that it was to protect the boy on probation from prejudice, and from the potential revenge of students who felt his sentence wasn't harsh enough.
When McGonagall first called Hermione into her office, she had instantly thought it would be a bad idea to spend nights one room away from Malfoy, mere months after the war had ended. Now, after spending six weeks doing just that, she could adamantly confirm that it was much worse than anything she had ever expected.
1 September 1999
On their first day back, he timidly knocked on her door.
She hadn't seen him on the train, not that she was paying all that much attention to his presence, or lack thereof. Even though his Hogwarts education was now reduced to a mandatory condition of his parole, she was still surprised he ended up returning. He had already evaded Azkaban; she was pretty sure the Malfoy fortune could have made his schooling contingency evaporate as well.
She had been expecting Harry, who said he would be visiting once she got settled in. Before she opened the door she jokingly called out, "Password?" hoping Harry would play along with her bit; she would refuse him entry until he declared her the most intelligent witch to ever exist.
A muttered, "Uh...Peaches?" and she tensed, realizing that wasn't, in fact, Harry's voice at all.
A pause followed her realization as she struggled with what to do. He hadn't been on the train; she hadn't thought he would return. After a ridiculously long delay, she finally registered that she still needed to open the door. Snapping out of her haze, she reached for the brass knob and pulled it back.
Hermione stayed partially behind the door—using it as a shield between her and the one she was about to encounter. "Sorry Malfoy, I didn't realize you had arrived. I thought you were Harry."
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