Thursday, May 28, 1998
11:48 P.M.
As she manoeuvred her way toward the Room of Requirements, Hermione's mind felt like it had turned into a confused mush of Jello, the dull greys and browns of the dark, dimly lit fifth floor corridor whirling past her at seemingly alarming speeds.
She had emerged from the Headmaster's office carrying a worn, deflated cotton knapsack that she had not recalled entering with. Her graduation cap was hanging limply from her left hand, but she could hardly feel it there. She was still attempting to fully absorb what Dumbledore had just assured her was 'the last option.'
She was so immersed in her jumble of thoughts, she barely noticed the unmistakable wooden door of the Room of Requirements make a ghostly appearance on her left, hardly felt her cold fingers touch the smooth, gilded knob, and didn't even acknowledge the five other people waiting none-too-quietly inside as she slammed the Requirements door shut.
CRASH!
"Whoa there, Hermione!" Ron Weasley exclaimed with a deer-in-the-headlights expression, leaping away from the spray of butterbeer that had immediately erupted from his fallen bottle. A round of applause and some scattered cheers broke out from the remaining four teenagers in the room.
The lofty redhead bowed exaggeratedly before looking back down at the shards of glass on the now wet floor. He straightened up and shook a shaggy red mane of hair out of his eyes, his dismayed face reminding Hermione of a little boy whose root beer float had been stolen from him by the class bully. "What's the rush, eh?" he demanded irately.
"Don't think on it too much, Ronald darling, it's not as if you needed another one." Hermione smiled unremorsefully, pushing her back off the Room and Requirements door and picking her way across the room to the only remaining plush chair. This time, the Room had turned itself into a mock ski chalet. Despite the warm summer night, a fire was blazing merrily in the hearth, the oak and cherry finishes of elaborate wooden furniture, as well as a gigantic hanging pair of buck antlers, completing its adornment.
From his perch on the edge of the mahogany coffee table, Ron shook his head despairingly and whimpered, "You don't understand." Whipping out his wand in mock irritation, he briskly made a show of rolling up his sleeves and looked like he was preparing to take on a blast-ended skrewt. "Reparo," he huffed expertly.
Immediately, a blue haze enveloped the glass, and within seconds, the bottle and butterbeer were again one. Ron shook his head again, probably at her extreme lack of understanding of the mysterious male, and plucked another piece of pumpkin cake off a platter of food, obviously having been smuggled up from the Graduation feast in the Great Hall earlier that evening. Without hesitation, he shoved the entire piece into his mouth.
"Ewwwwwwww, Ron!"
Someone obviously didn't want her to sit down, Hermione thought wryly, and she leapt over the culprit of the previous squeal: the sprawled-out Lavender Brown, still clothed in her silky black graduation robes, the glossy blond's red and gold Gryffindor hat rolled up sloppily and propped under her head as a pillow.
Hermione had never been so relieved when she collapsed into the padded wooden rocking chair beside the crackling fireplace.
"Going somewhere?" Ginny Weasley piped up from her spot on the love seat, curled up beside Harry Potter. When Hermione glanced at her questioningly, the redhead nodded at the faded knapsack still dangling from Hermione's hand.
Against her will, Hermione's mind wandered back to the day Harry had asked Ginny out for the first time a year and a half earlier.
She herself had never been happier with a couple. As Harry's growth spurt slowed and his power grew, he had become the recipient of the completely unwanted attention of nearly half of the Hogwarts female population. Having lost her schoolgirl crush on Harry by the end of third year, Ginny was one of the only girls beside Hermione who saw Harry as just another friend, albeit a very good one; one of the only girls beside Hermione who could fully engage Harry in his skill, bravery, and stubbornness. In short, Ginny and Harry were made for each other.
Now, although Harry had abandoned his graduation robes for a simple coral Oxford, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, tie loosened, and light, tan trousers, Ginny was still in full uniform, having one year remaining at Hogwarts.
That is, if Hogwarts is still here a year from now...
Oh, right, the backpack. Blinking back to the present, Hermione glanced down at her right hand, promptly dropping the knapsack the few remaining feet to the ground. "Actually, Dumbledore wanted—"
"Going mad?" Lavender chirped in, giggling at her apparent ingenuity, or lack thereof.
Hermione sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. "No, actually, so if you wouldn't—"
"Mind if we join you?" Harry added to Lavender's comment before she could finish, a craggy grin lighting up his rugged features.
Lavender, meanwhile, smiled brightly as Ron abandoned the food table, balancing another butterbeer in his left hand and several chocolate frogs in his right, and made his way toward her. She held her hand out to him and just managed to swipe his arm, yanking him down to the floor with a grunt and allowing several chocolate frogs to escape in the process, much to Ron's chagrin.
"Oi, Lav! Relax, will you?"
Hermione's head started to buzz. She blew out an annoyed but good-natured growl, sending a stray wisp of hair flying up into the air above her head, while the last and most surprising member of the Room of Requirements group looked on, an amused smile on a face that had successfully succeeded in melting the hearts of the other half of the girls in Hogwarts.
"Yeah, Granger, since losing your mind alone really is no fun," Draco Malfoy drawled lazily, stretched across on the fine leather sofa diagonal the fireplace from Hermione. His black graduation robes, the only robes in the Room of Requirements baring the green and silver Slytherin crest, hung carelessly off the edge of the couch, contrasting sharply with his sleek platinum hair. He smirked at Lavender and Ron. "Apparently you just have to share that achievement to make it worthwhile."
Lavender laughed to herself and began to mutter, "She doesn't have to, I already lost mine ages ago—"
"Will all of you just be quiet!" Hermione finally exploded in exasperation, throwing the knapsack over her head.
The buzzing immediately silenced, save Harry's yelp of, "Duck and cover!" He shoved his head between his knees and covered it with his hands just in time for the empty knapsack to bounce off his back and hit the floor. "Ow, Mione! That one hurt!"
The brunette ducked her head, burying her face in her hands. "Sorry, Harry, wasn't aiming for you," she mumbled with a sigh, accepting the knapsack back from him without looking up. She couldn't really blame them for being so light-hearted. Though Harry had yet to kill Voldemort, they still thought that the war was swinging their way. Well, s'pose I should let them have their fun while they can, she thought, gulping in several breaths to calm her overwhelmed mind.
Draco swung his feet up and over to the ground, sitting up and leaning back against the sofa. He held out his hand toward a visibly frustrated Hermione. "The Head Girl clearly has something to say," he announced in a typical drawl. "Let her speak." When she lifted her head slightly, he chivalrously winked one deep blue eye at her. "Do go on."
"How thoughtful of you, ferret boy," she teased the blond, though she gave him a grateful smile, which he returned with a characteristic smirk.
It had been two years since Draco Malfoy had turned, and there were times when Hermione still had a bit of difficulty accepting his... well, his completely new personality. He had never done anything to disprove her trust since then, however, and throughout several hard-fought battles and close saves, Hermione had to admit that she trusted Draco Malfoy. She did. Her first year self would have called her current self totally and utterly insane, but now she had no reason not to... save for the fact that he was Draco Malfoy.
The next time Hermione spoke, however, her voice had morphed from lightly bantering to the solid, authoritative tone that could only belong to a Head Girl of Hogwarts.
"All right. Here's the plan..."
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