Breath Mints / Battle Scars

Chapter 24: XXIV

December 18th, 1998

Diary,

I've never stayed before.

This is bloody strange. I mean, I used to literally have nightmares First and Second Year that I'd miss the train and be stuck here.

And now I-

Oh, for fuck's sake, here we go...

December 18th, 1998

"You can't be serious, 'Mione."

"I can and I am, Ronald." She butters her toast without looking at him, trying very hard to keep her tone steady. "I need some time to myself. Time to think. Relax."

All around them, people are hugging goodbye and lugging suitcases through the aisles between tables. The train leaves from Hogsmeade in a little over an hour.

She's staying.

"Come on, it'll be fun, 'Mione. Mum wants to see you," Ron urges. "And you're always alone."

"Ron..." Harry starts.

"It's true, she is!" Ron practically shouts. "I mean, blimey, Hermione. It's like you don't want things to go back to normal."

"Ease off!" Harry snaps, and Hermione jolts a little on the bench. Harry very rarely loses his composure.

She glances up to see him leaning in to whisper something to Ron, and she tries in vain to scrape her knife against her toast so loudly she won't hear. But she does.

"Her parents, Ron."

Hermione clears her throat, rushing out, "Luna, what are your holiday plans?" and turning to her. Plastering a smile on her face.

Luna beams, as does Neville beside her. "Neville is coming to meet Dad."

"That's wonderful," says Ginny, going along with the subject change, and Hermione feels yet another endless swell of gratitude for her. "Are you up to date on the Quibbler, Neville?"

He goes a bit red in the face. "I, erm - might be, I dunno, a few issues behind..."

But as they laugh, Hermione hears raised voices from the far side of the Great Hall. The Slytherin table.

Malfoy - Draco - is sitting at his usual end, purple journal out, and Cormac McLaggen is standing over him, backed by two Gryffindors she doesn't know the names of.

"No one to go home to, eh, Ferret?" Cormac jeers.

Hermione's gut wrenches.

"What? Mummy doesn't love you anymore? Or is Mummy in a work home with the other House Elves now that the money's gone?"

They've all turned to look now. Students have stopped mid-step with their trunks in the aisles. Cormac's making quite a scene of it, and Hermione is already halfway out of her seat before Ginny pulls her back down.

Draco glances up at Cormac like he's just noticed him talking. Adopts the classic bored expression. "Would you like a wand up your arse, McLaggen? I can be very accommodating."

"Oooh," Cormac feigns fear, and the two behind him laugh. "See, that's the problem, Ferret. In order to properly threaten people, you have to actually be good with a wand. When's the last time you were good at anything?"

Hermione's wand is out, aimed carefully at him under the table. But she hasn't even thought up a proper hex before there's a muted, sickening thud and Cormac's sprawled out on the ground, a panting Theodore Nott standing over him with a bloody fist. Cormac's cronies scatter like vermin as Nott grabs Cormac by the shirt collar and lays into him again and again and again.