The Ice Bowl | dramione

A Star

trigger warning: mentions of bullying, implied anxiety

Hermione Granger smiled. Not out of happiness, out of desperation. She had read in a study ages ago that just the act of smiling could improve a person's mood. And she really needed that, after the bizarre, oddly terrifying nightmare she had just had.

It was bizarre because what was happening wasn't physically possible, even in magical terms. The world had been cast into complete darkness, and it was confusing as hell.

It was terrifying because the person she'd seen in the dream was most definitely Voldemort, which should've been impossible since he was quite literally the equivalent of a barely alive slug. Obviously, it was just a nightmare, but with the wizarding world, she wouldn't be surprised if it was some sort of premonition. She believed dreams were the real future-telling things, not stars and planet arrangements like the centaurs believed or Divination like that fraud Professor Trelawney claimed.

You need to calm down, Hermione, she thought. The smiling wasn't working, just making her look like a crazy person. She checked the time. 13:57. She never woke up that late. Her parents were probably at work by now, so she had the house to herself.

School started in a couple weeks, after the Quidditch world cup, which meant Ron would be picking her up soon. She sighed, secretly glad her parents weren't here. She loved them, but for the past couple of years, every time she left for the Burrow, her parents would tease her about having a crush on Ron, even though she didn't, and felt nauseous just at the thought. Besides, every time they caught up in the summer, he would be rambling on about a new boy he was now obsessed with. The summer before second year it was Lee Jordan, (Hermione was secretly questioning his taste after he told her that), and the next it was Oliver Wood (Hermione declared him a lost cause).

She opened her closet to change, because she definitely could not leave the house in her neon green, alien-themed pyjamas.

She gaped. Nothing was left in there apart from thick, fancy, layered, dresses, way too heavy for everyday use. A small note was left on the floor of the closet.

Accidentally shrunk your dirty clothes in the laundry :(. Sorry, dear - Mum

Hermione groaned and collapsed back on her bed. She was going to pack her trunk with wizarding robes, but those were apparently in the closet too, so she would have to buy new ones. She could already feel her Gringotts vault shaking in agony.

Scanning the dresses, she eventually picked the one that seemed the least showy, one that would embarrass her the least if others were to see it. It was thick and yellow, and looked kind of like a corset, very Beauty and the Beast-like. She pulled it on reluctantly, before staring once again at the closet, and another dress called to her. It was smooth, silky, and it was different from the other ones, in its shiny periwinkle blue glory. She picked it up and tossed it into her trunk without thinking, even though she always precisely thought about the use of anything she would put inside. There was just something about it that entranced her. Everyone thought Hermione was incessantly neat, a perfectionist, if you will, but in truth, she was only an avid lover of fantasy, so when her daydreams about magic schools came true, she had given it her all to do her best in the magical world she had entered.

She collapsed onto her bed, and Crookshanks ran in from the living room and curled up next to her. She gently stroked his orange fur and just thought. Thought about everything she could, to distract from the feeling of increasing dread that had been slowly creeping up on her.

She thought about her friends. Did Harry still have that intense crush on Cho Chang, the one that had heavily hindered his Quidditch abilities when playing against Ravenclaw? She hoped not. She also hoped Ron's new crush was normal. Who could it be? Harry? Hopefully not. She didn't want to be a third wheel. Neville? Not a chance. Draco?

Malfoy, Hermione. Malfoy.

Why had she instantly thought of him as Draco? First names, for Hermione, were used for friends. Crushes. Eventually, boyfriends, girlfriends, partners, whoever. But not mortal enemies. Not people who call you slurs on the Quidditch pitch. Not people you slapped across the face last year.

She thought back to the first incident. When he called her that word, she was confused. She'd seen him look, for a brief moment, scared. His friends were sort-of nagging him to do something. Even if they made him do it, that was no excuse to say it, right?

But she believed in second chances. He didn't mean it with his whole heart. She didn't exactly forgive him for being so vile, but maybe she should talk to him, if she had the chance. To understand him better. Why exactly had he said it?

Why was she even thinking about this? It was Draco goddamn Malfoy.

Okay, move on. Her other friends. Yes. Ginny. Was she still obsessed with Harry? Hermione was tired of it. Harry cute sweet brave oh my God he saved me Potter. We get it, Ginny. She knew Ginny was only in love with him because he was famous and popular. She had fallen into lovesick shambles recounting the story of his glorious rescue to Hermione.

Neville. Last year, he had liked Ginny. He wasn't head-over-heels in love with her like Harry was with Cho or Ron was with Oliver Wood (she still felt like vomiting when she remembered that unfortunate trademarked Ron Phase). But there was definitely a crush there. Neville knew he didn't have a chance with Ginny, he had told Hermione, because he knew about her Harry obsession as well as the next person. But he wouldn't lose hope.

There was a knock at the door, and Hermione opened it.

Ron.