All You Want Episode 30 - Harry Potter

 Caught after curfew by Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini, Hermione’s private St Mungo’s interviews are dragged into the light with one brutal number: an eighty percent risk she could lose her magic if she chooses surgery. She refuses to be shamed, then walks straight to Draco for warmth, wit, and a quiet confession that she has liked this more than she ever expected. Before the day is out, Harry and Ron arrive in gray trainee robes, a tense reunion becomes an unexpected show of unity at the Slytherin table, and a casual mention of robbing Gringotts leaves half the hall staring while Draco decides this is exactly why she is terrifying in the best way. 

Transcript

**Chapter 30: I Need This.**

“Wait. What?” Hermione turned sharply to see Blaise Zabini emerge from a tapestry down the hall, followed by a confused and rumpled-looking Daphne Greengrass.

She shot a quick glare of loathing at Daphne, who seemed to get around like it was nobody's business. Earlier that day, Hermione had seen her cornering Draco for what felt like the umpteenth time.

Now, the aggressive Slytherin girl looked like she had just been interrupted from a rather intimate encounter with Blaise. Hermione tried to keep her disdain in check, but Daphne Greengrass was really starting to get on her nerves.

Ignoring Blaise's question, she fixed her gaze on him. “You’re out past curfew, Zabini and Greengrass.

That will be ten points each from Slytherin.” 

Blaise waved his hand dismissively. “Right.

Never mind that. You’re losing your magic, Granger?” 

“Fuck off, Blaise.

Granger and I are bonding,” Pansy interjected sharply as she stepped forward. “Oh, you’re bonding?” Blaise's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Does Drake know? Sorry, I just need some clarification about this whole losing magic thing.” 

Hermione’s mouth twitched as she glanced between Blaise, Pansy, and Daphne.

Blaise seemed to realize that having Daphne around was a problem. “Daph, love, why don’t you head back to the dorms without me?” 

“What?

I want—” Daphne started, visibly sulking. Pansy and Blaise both shot her glares.

With a dramatic sigh, she relented. “Fine.” 

Daphne stalked off toward the dungeons, leaving Blaise and Pansy to face Hermione.

Crossing her arms tightly across her chest, Hermione glared at them. “I’m not the type to put all my eggs in one basket.

I’m preparing for multiple possibilities, lining up backup plans. I don’t see how this can possibly surprise you.” She gestured awkwardly around herself, her frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

Hermione swallowed hard. “I’m not necessarily going to get approved for surgery anyway.

I’m just going through the preliminary interviews. If I do get approved and decide to go that route, losing my magic isn’t a sure thing.

It’s just an associated risk.” 

Pansy snorted, arching her eyebrows. “I admit, I’m not studying NEWT-level Arithmancy, but I think I understand enough to know that an eighty percent chance of never managing even a basic household charm afterward sounds pretty certain.”

Hermione jerked her chin up defiantly.

“I don’t see why this is any of your business. The fact that you went through my school bag and read my medical correspondence doesn’t give you the right to have an opinion about my life choices, Pansy.”

Blaise crossed his arms, looking Hermione up and down as if reevaluating her.

“So, let me get this straight. You’re dating Draco now, but if it doesn’t work out by graduation, your plan is to become a Muggle?” He rolled his eyes.

“That is the most Gryffindor thing I’ve ever heard.”

Hermione felt her face grow hot. “I’m sure it is.

So, what now? Are you two planning to tell Draco?” She glanced between them.

Pansy looked strangely subdued, while Blaise remained contemplative, staring at her. She let out a deep sigh.

“Despite the fact that neither of you likes me and you spend most of your time treating me like I’m trying to entrap or ruin your friend, I’m actually trying very hard not to. So, by all means, tell him if you think he should know.” 

With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, completing the rest of her patrol route without Pansy.

When she finished, she headed back toward Draco. Standing outside his door, she paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before she muttered the password.

Draco was buried in Charms homework when she walked in. He looked up from his essay, a hint of surprise on his face.

“Hey,” he said. “Hey,” he said, echoing her greeting.

“How were rounds?” she asked. “Dull.

Not many students breaking curfew, except for Blaise and Daphne snogging in an alcove.” Draco didn’t seem surprised to hear Daphne was involved with Blaise. “Was Pansy alright?” 

Hermione shrugged as she settled onto the couch beside him.

“She’s Pansy. Her main insult was that I might be a worse person than she is.

I can’t help but wonder what her mother must be like.” 

Draco set down his quill. “Iphigenia Parkinson is a nightmare.

Her whole life revolves around marrying Pansy off. The woman tried discussing betrothal contracts with my father when we were fourteen.” 

Hermione felt her stomach drop.

“Betrothal? Is that still a thing in the Wizarding world?” 

Draco shrugged.

“Sometimes.” 

“You aren’t—” 

Draco snorted and gave her a long look. “No, Hermione.

I don’t have a fiancée waiting in the wings that I’ve forgotten to mention.” 

Hermione twitched her shoulder. “I just figured I’d ask.

It turns out there are huge aspects of Wizarding culture that no one bothered to mention to me.” 

“Well, I don’t think anyone expected you,” Draco said as he pulled her closer. A small smile tugged at Hermione’s lips before she leaned in to kiss him.

Slowly. She tried to memorize the sensation of their lips touching.

Her jaw trembled. Draco drew back, concern etched on his face.

“Is something wrong? Did Pansy—” 

“No.” Hermione ducked her head and shook it sharply.

“I’m just emotional sometimes. These hormones have me crying all over the place.” She traced her fingers along his jaw and looked into his eyes, hesitating for a moment.

“In case things end badly with us, Draco, I just want to make sure I tell you that I’ve really liked this.” 

Draco’s expression shifted, his eyebrows furrowing. “Why are we talking about things ending badly?” 

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I’m not saying it’s going to end badly. I just want to make sure you know, just in case.

I’ve really enjoyed dating you. I didn’t expect it to be this much fun.”

Draco stared at her for a moment, then a playful glint sparkled in his eyes.

“Well, I am exceptionally fun. If by fun, you mean someone who thinks Ancient Runes translation is an acceptable form of pillow talk.”

Hermione choked and scooted back with an indignant huff.

“That was only once!”

“Right,” he replied, tilting his head back. “Normally it’s Charms, and last night it was the potential uses of boomslang for burn victims.”

“That— that was because your body heat is so high!

Afterward, the idea just suddenly came to me. I didn’t mean— I’m sorry about the timing of that,” she said, drawing back.

Draco moved closer, stalking her down the couch until her back hit the armrest. “No, no.

You have to tell me. Just maybe not as the first words out of your mouth after I shag you.”

Hermione buried her face in her hands.

“Sorry! I swear I wasn’t thinking about it while we were… you know.

It just hit me afterward, and I wanted to know what you thought.”

Draco gently peeled her hands from her face and loomed over her. “Don’t hide.

I’m completely game for academics as pillow talk. It’s part of my natural charm and—fun.” He smirked wryly.

“Now stop talking like you expect our relationship to explode any day. If you try to break up with me, I have no intention of taking it lying down.

I gave you several outs before we became official. I’ve used up all my nobility.

You’re trapped now.”

Hermione let out a low laugh and smiled for a moment. “Alright then.”

Draco studied her intently.

“Rounds were alright? You seem a bit… down.”

“They were fine,” Hermione replied, looking up at him and trying to will herself to perk up.

After a moment, her shoulders dropped slightly. “I just—talking to Pansy.

It made me want to…”

“I just wanted to make sure you knew how much this means to me. I thought my school year was going to be a disaster after September, but now...

it’s really turned around. I’ve never dated anyone before, and honestly, it’s a lot more fun than I expected.”

Draco smirked slightly, but then his expression shifted, and he leaned back in his chair.

“What’s on your mind?”

Hermione studied him closely. “Oh, I’ve just been meaning to ask something.” His gaze dropped momentarily, and he swallowed before looking back at her.

“When we... during your heat.

Did I—were you—?”

“Virgin? Oh, gosh, no.

I’d been with someone before.” Her cheeks flushed, and she glanced down. “After sixth year, I thought it might not be the best idea to stay a virgin during the war.

It felt urgent at the time, even if it was a bit irrational.” She let out a nervous laugh and noticed Draco flinch. She quickly lifted her head, feeling a bit squirmy.

“So, I asked my Muggle neighbor. He was a couple of years older, and I thought he might know more about how to...

you know. But he wasn’t bad.

It wasn’t uncomfortable; it just happened pretty quickly. So that was that.” She shrugged lightly.

“It probably would have been better if we’d known each other a bit more.”

Draco stared at her, looking somewhat dazed. “Wait.

So you went home for the summer, modified your parents' memories, sent them to Australia, packed supplies to live in a tent for seven months, and just... shagged a Muggle?”

Hermione gulped and fidgeted with the hem of her robes.

“I had a lot to manage. It’s not easy to give people new identities and move them to Australia with less than a month’s notice.

There were finances and paperwork—I had to close their practice, cancel all their appointments, and everything. It was efficient, you know?

I knew him a bit; we’d talked before. My parents lived in an—”

Hermione continued, “It was an older neighborhood, so my choices were pretty limited.

Most people were significantly older. At that time, I thought maybe Ron and I would eventually get together, even if we weren’t ready yet.

I figured it would be better if it wasn’t someone he knew, which narrowed my options even more.”

She glanced up, noticing the mix of horror and devastation on Draco’s face. “But really, it was fine,” she quickly reassured him.

“After that, I assumed I wasn’t the type for casual encounters. I thought it would be better if my first time was with someone I had real feelings for.

Looking back, I think it might have also been tied to being an Omega, since sex for us is pretty emotional.”

Hermione looked down, studying her knees. “That’s why, when I first presented, I didn’t want McGonagall to just send for the first available Alpha, even though she wanted to.

I had promised myself I wouldn’t do anything casual again.”

Draco shook his head, his expression somber. “That is the most depressing thing I have ever heard.

Good god.” He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. She buried her face in his shoulder, letting out a small laugh.

“It’s fine, Draco. It was a long time ago.”

“I don’t care.

That’s terrible,” he insisted. “Well, just think, if it hadn’t been that way, maybe I would have considered having Anthony with me during my heat,” she said, shuddering at the thought.

“He probably would have bitten me, and then I’d be in Azkaban for murdering my soulbond mate.”

“I would have murdered him for you,” Draco replied, a glint of determination in his eyes. She let out a doubtful laugh, shaking her head.

“Being liquefied in a cocoon feels appropriate. Speaking of which, how has he not finished pupating yet?

I keep expecting to hear he’s emerged from that cocoon.”

Draco's eyes sparkled with mischief. “By spring, most likely.

I was pretty annoyed at the time.”

Hermione stared at him, her mouth agape. “Goodness gracious, Draco.

What is he going to emerge as?” 

Draco’s mouth quirked into a teasing smile. “A Swallowtail butterfly.

Mostly. He’ll still be human, but he’ll have wings and be a bit… furry.

Then he’ll molt after a month or so and be back to normal. Serves the bastard right.”

Hermione shook her head in disbelief.

“Where on earth did you learn a spell like that?”

“The manor has a fairly large library. I spent a lot of time going through the books during the summer.

It’s a seasonally influenced hex. If it had been earlier in the year, he would have only pupated for a month.

I have to admit, I hadn’t remembered it would last this long when I used it, but once I did—well, it just made it better, I think.”

Hermione smiled. “I’m not complaining.

It doesn’t seem like anyone else is either.”

“No, they haven’t. I guess I’m not too bad at the nobility thing,” he said with a smirk as he drew her face toward his.

Hermione let out a low laugh against his lips. “I guess not.”

He kissed her.

Later, Hermione was in Herbology when a fifth-year prefect found her. “Granger, the Headmistress asked you to come to her office.”

Hermione’s heart jumped into her throat.

Had something happened to Draco? To Harry or Ron?

She grabbed her book bag and bolted back to the castle, racing up to the gargoyle. She hurried up the stairs and burst through the door.

“What’s—?”

Harry and Ron were both sitting at McGonagall’s desk in their gray Auror trainee robes. Hermione stared at them in bewilderment.

“Has Draco been hurt?” she gasped. “Mr.

Malfoy is in History of Magic, Miss Granger,” McGonagall said, quirking an eyebrow. “I called you because your friends are here.”

Hermione pressed her hand against her pounding heart, feeling her knees threaten to give out from relief.

“I thought someone had been hurt. How are you two here in the middle of the week?”

Harry stood up, shrugging.

“We were going to come on the weekend, but we got assigned to tag along on a…”

“It's a case in Wales, so we decided to come early,” Ron said, standing quietly behind Harry. Hermione glanced at him, noticing he was studying her with an oddly placid expression.

“I’ll leave you three to talk,” McGonagall said, rising from behind her desk and stepping out of the room. Hermione looked between her two best friends, folding her arms.

“I’m assuming this is about my letter, since neither of you wrote back.” 

Harry lowered his head and shoved his hands into his pockets. “We thought it might be better to talk than write.” 

Ron remained mysteriously subdued, prompting Hermione to study him closely.

“What happened to Ron?” 

Harry snorted. “Ron didn’t take the news very well when we got your letter.

Molly made him take a triple dose of Calming Draught before she let him come.” He scratched his head and adjusted his glasses. “I don’t think you’re supposed to take that much.” 

“Malfoy is a wanker,” Ron said in a detached, cheerful voice that eerily resembled Arthur Weasley.

“An absolute bastard. Any Alpha would be better.

Mione, what are you thinking?” 

“That’s really quite creepy,” Hermione replied, staring at him. “I know,” Harry said with a grimace.

“I had to apparate him here.” 

Hermione took a deep breath, looking away from Ron, who seemed to need a hefty dose of sedation just to be present without losing his temper. “So, we’re doing this then?

Having a fight about whether or not I can date Draco?” Her voice was sharp as she glanced between Harry and Ron. “No.

Not necessarily,” Harry said, raising his hands in a calming gesture. His tone was soothing.

Hermione arched an eyebrow. “Harry, if you try to use Auror negotiation tactics to calm me, you will be hexed.” 

Harry dropped his hands, looking awkward.

He ran a hand through his hair. “Right, sorry.

Um, so you’re really dating Malfoy? That is a thing that you are actually doing?” 

“How can you date someone who watched you get tortured?” Ron asked, his tone calm and contemplative.

Hermione turned away, her frustration palpable. “I’m trying to move on from that, Ron.” She took a deep breath, hands on her hips, chin lifted defiantly.

“And yes, I am dating Draco. We’ve been seeing each other since before the last Hogsmeade Weekend.

At the time, it was new, and I didn’t want to deal with a scene from you two.” 

“Are you sure about this?” Harry asked, concern etched in his eyes as he studied her. “He’s—he’s just not someone I’d advise trusting, even in a general sense.” 

Hermione bristled at his words.

“Draco hasn’t done a single thing this year to make me distrust him. He’s been incredibly careful to respect my boundaries.” 

“This year, as in the last three months?

That’s enough to erase the last seven years for you? After everything—the Room of Requirement, Malfoy Manor?

That wasn’t even a year ago. Dumbledore?

The Inquisitorial Squad? I was willing to testify for him, but this is different.

This is you, Hermione. You’re one of the most important people in my life.” Harry took her by the shoulders, his gaze intense.

“He could be using you. His family is disgraced.

I know this Omega thing has come on suddenly for you. I don’t want someone like Malfoy taking advantage of you because of it.” 

Hermione stepped back, feeling a knot form in her stomach.

“If he is, he’s doing a pretty bad job of it. He didn’t even tell me he was being attacked and harassed by the other students until I caught them in the act.

I’m the one who asked him out. Unless he’s a much better mastermind than anyone realizes, I doubt he planned all of this.” 

“So, he’s sorry?

He apologized for everything he did to you?” Harry studied her carefully. Hermione nodded, her expression resolute.

“He has. He’s apologized again and again.”

“...keeps apologizing, as if he can’t help himself.

I’ve accepted his apology.” Hermione took a deep breath. “I like him, Harry.

I like him a lot.” 

Ron’s face revealed his hurt. He opened his mouth, then closed it, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts before looking away and rubbing his eyes.

With a sigh of frustration, Hermione shook her head sharply. “You can’t be offended by this.

You were both trying to convince me to soulbond with Charlie last month. You can’t be upset with me for wanting to be with someone I actually like.” 

Harry stepped closer.

“But Charlie’s safe, even if he isn’t your first choice. You know he won’t hurt you or try to use you.” 

Hermione inhaled sharply and stared at the floor.

“Soulbonding is not a marriage of convenience,” she said. “It’s extremely personal.

It’s extremely intimate. It’s not just a marriage bond; it’s a bonding of magic, of the soul.

You’re literally mixing your souls together.” 

“That’s why Malfoy seems like a questionable choice for that,” Harry replied, touching her hesitantly on the shoulder, as if he expected to be bitten or hexed. Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I’m not soulbonding with him right now. I’m dating him.

I’m getting to know him. I’m not forgetting the last seven years.

I don’t know how I can, since every time I turn around, someone helpfully reminds me. I’m not going to force it to work.” 

“And if it doesn’t?” A sinking sensation welled up inside her chest.

Her mouth twitched as she looked up at Harry, then over to Ron, before giving a small, seemingly careless shrug. “Then we’ll break up.” 

Her throat felt tight as she said it.

She rubbed her wrists together and glanced away. “What happens then?” Ron asked.

Hermione looked up and found his eyes searching hers. Hermione shuffled her feet, looking contemplative.

“I’ll go with plan B. Draco isn’t the only option I’m considering; I have backup plans.

I just want to give this a try. I need to know if it’s a real possibility.”

“Is there someone else you’re thinking about?” Ron asked, his voice filled with hope.

Hermione’s expression twisted slightly. “No.

I don’t really want to go through that again. It’s too much.

I don’t think I have it in me to pursue another relationship this year.”

“Then what’s plan B?” Ron pressed. Hermione shrugged.

“Medical options. I’m currently in the interview process with St.

Mungo's for surgery. If I can remove the physical aspects of the presentation, it would solve most of my problems.

But I’m not sure if I’ll even qualify. If I don’t, I won’t have any choice but to try to make it work with someone.”

“Really, Mione?

Surgery is your choice after Malfoy?” 

Hermione felt her face grow hot, but she glared at him. “I already told you—I really like him.”

Harry stared at her for several seconds.

“It sounds like you feel a lot more than just like him, considering how you’ve laid out your options. There’s a reason medical options aren’t usually seen as a choice, you know.

Molly never considered that.”

Hermione dropped her gaze. “There are potential side effects from an ovariectomy, but I’m more concerned about getting trapped in a soul bond I don’t want.” She lifted her head.

“I’m trying not to get overly invested in making things work with Draco, which I hope you’re all pleased to hear. It’s just… he makes me feel like I’m not alone in this.

Not that you all haven’t been supportive, but there’s a lot that’s hard to explain to anyone else.”

“What about Neville? Aren’t there a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws too?

Or even that other Slytherin, Nott? Aren’t they worth considering?” 

“Neville is not an option.

And Theo is—he’s very nice, but he’s…”

"Draco is a really close friend of mine," Hermione said, her voice tinged with frustration. "It would be awkward to pursue anything with him.

I value my autonomy. I’m not interested in jumping into a lifelong relationship that binds my soul to someone I’m uncertain about.

There’s a reason why Molly was hesitant about these things.” She took a deep breath. “I’m dating Draco.

I won’t date someone else just because you like them better.” 

She sighed, feeling a heavy weight on her chest that made it hard to breathe. “This is my future, not yours.

I would appreciate your support, but even if you can’t give it, I’m still going to date Draco.”

Harry sighed and turned to Ron. “Well, if you’re sure.

We’re not here to yell or anything; we’re just trying to understand. We’ll be here for you, whatever you decide.

Right, Ron?”

Ron gulped and nodded slowly. “Whatever you do, Mione,” he said, offering a weak smile.

Hermione stared at them for a moment before bursting into tears. “Oh God!” she wailed through her sobs.

“I always cry now! These stupid hormones are still rebalancing, and—"

“It’s alright,” Harry said with a wry smile as he pulled her into a hug.

“You always cried before too.”

“I didn’t!” Hermione protested, trying to wipe the tears from her face but failing as they continued to flow. “I was just really worried when you didn’t write back.

And then—”

“Well, this is definitely more tears than usual,” Harry said, patting her shoulder. “Sorry.

We didn’t know what to say in a letter.”

Ron’s lanky arms wrapped around both Hermione and Harry in a tight embrace, and she clung to them for several minutes while she cried. Eventually, her sobs subsided to sniffles, and she wriggled out of their arms, noticing the tear stains on their trainee robes.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, feeling a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. She flicked her wand, banishing the tears from their clothes.

“Don’t worry. Mum warned us there would probably be loads of tears this time,” Ron said, his voice a bit less eerily calm but still remarkably detached.

“I didn’t cry at all last time,” Hermione replied, shooting him a sharp glare as she wiped her face. “Well, you made up for it this time,” Ron said with a small grin, twisting the sleeve of his jacket to reveal a wet spot she’d missed.

Hermione flicked her wand again, but nothing happened. She scowled and shook it.

“Come on, you horrid thing.” With another flick, Ron’s sleeve dried. “Right.

So, I didn’t yell, which means I get to threaten the ferret. Where is he?” Hermione's eyes widened.

“Wait. What?” 

Harry ran his fingers through his hair and looked away.

“I told Ron he could be the one to threaten Malfoy with spectacular doom if he promised not to yell at you at all.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “No one is threatening Draco.” 

“Sorry.

Auror duties require it. No choice, really,” Ron said, straightening up.

“We didn’t wear work robes here for fun, you know,” Harry added, adopting a mock-serious expression. “I’m well aware you wore them because Ginny likes them,” Hermione replied, smirking.

Harry blushed scarlet. “Well, there’s that too.

But I’m also here to support Ron. Auror intimidation is part of the training.” 

Hermione sighed.

“Things are actually rather tense here. If the students see you threatening Draco, they’ll take it as a sign they can do it too.

Mostly everyone has been too surprised to act, but if you make a scene, it could escalate quickly. And—” she eyed them meaningfully, “—if he’s getting attacked, I’ll be the one who has to defend him.” 

Ron gave a disappointed sigh.

“Fine. McGonagall said we could have lunch here.

I’m—”

“I'm starving. Savage had us flying an obstacle course for three hours straight this morning.” Hermione shuddered, grateful she hadn’t chosen to become an Auror as they descended the stairs from the Headmistress’s office.

When they reached the bottom, they found Draco standing in the hallway. Hermione felt Harry and Ron tense up beside her at the sight of him.

Draco’s expression was unreadable as he stared back at them. “Potter.

Weasley.”

“Malfoy,” Harry replied in a tight voice. “Ron and I just stopped by to check on Hermione.”

The corner of Draco's mouth twitched.

“Come to save her from the evil Slytherin? Here to pack her off to the Dragon Reserves?”

Hermione studied him, noting the carefully closed expression and resigned look in his eyes.

“I wish,” Ron muttered under his breath. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs before stepping closer to Draco.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said firmly. His eyes flashed with relief as she slid her hand into his.

“Our Arithmancy project is due next week,” she continued in a light tone. “You can’t really expect me to let anyone drag me from the castle after all our work on it.

Harry and Ron just came by for a visit to see how I am.”

“Hermione is our best friend, Malfoy,” Harry added, glaring daggers. “Really?” Draco’s drawl returned, dripping with sarcasm.

“Somehow, I missed that detail.”

Hermione jabbed him playfully in the ribs, causing him to flinch. “I mean—if I hurt her in any way, you two will be first in line to torture whatever remains of me after she’s done with her turn,” Draco said with a thin smile.

Harry nodded sharply. “You can count on it.”

“Glad we’ve clarified the obvious,” Draco replied, rolling his eyes.

Hermione shook her head in disbelief before an idea struck her. “Harry and Ron are going to have lunch here before they leave for a training mission.

Why don’t we all eat together?”

A bright voice cut through the tension. “Sure, Hermione,” Draco replied, though his words felt forced.

“That sounds—fantastic.” 

“Yeah, that’s exactly what we had in mind,” Harry added, managing a strained smile. Ron remained silent until Hermione shot him a sharp glare.

“I’ve changed my mind about lunch. We should head to Wales now, Harry.

We don’t want to be late. I’m not even hungry.

All that flying, you know. I’m full of—oxygen.” His panic was evident, even through his calm demeanor.

Hermione slipped her arm into the crook of Ron’s elbow, pulling him closer. “No, no.

We should all have lunch together. It’ll be a great way to showcase inter-house unity.

I’m sure the DA members will want to join us too. It’ll be good for the school if they see us all eating together.

We need to move forward.” 

With determination, she marched toward the Great Hall, dragging Ron and Draco along, while Harry followed behind, looking like a martyr. She kicked the doors open and scanned the tables for one with enough space.

It was hard to tell who looked more horrified as she made a beeline for the Slytherin table, plopping herself down across from Theo and Pansy. “Do you mind if we join you?” she asked in the clear, confident tone she usually reserved for class.

“Harry and Ron are here visiting, and we thought it would be nice to have lunch as a group. Harry, Ron, this is Theo Nott.

He’s an old friend of Draco’s. You both know Pansy.

She and I are partners for Prefect rounds.” 

With that, she pulled Draco and Ron down onto the bench, flanking her on either side. “Parkinson, Nott,” Harry mumbled as he took a seat beside Ron, who was already piling food onto his plate, choosing to ignore the awkwardness of their surroundings.

“Potter. Weasley,” Theo greeted, his tone cool but curious.

Theo's eyes sparkled with amusement as he welcomed them. “Welcome to the Slytherin table.

Just a heads-up: don’t use the salt. We tend to poison it out of habit.” 

Ron quickly jerked his hand away from the salt shaker he had been reaching for.

Hermione, meanwhile, was scanning the entrance of the Great Hall intently. When she spotted Ginny and Luna walking in, she raised her arm high and waved them over.

Ginny’s expression was a blend of excitement and concern as her eyes landed on the Slytherin table. “Granger, are you trying to ruin our reputation?” Pansy asked, her face twisted in distaste as Ginny and Luna settled down beside Harry.

Hermione chuckled. “Yes, Pansy.

That’s exactly my plan—surround you with Order of Merlin recipients to ruin your reputation. You’ll never recover.” 

Pansy sniffed, her attention shifting to her lunch.

She meticulously began slicing her green beans into tiny, precise triangles. “So, Harry, Ron, how’s training going?” Hermione asked when it became clear that no one else was going to speak.

Just then, Neville approached, carrying his plate from Gryffindor, and took a seat next to Pansy. “It’s going well.

Finally starting to get interesting. The first couple of months were all about drilling protocol and DMLE regulations.

But we wrapped that up two weeks ago, and now we’re diving into basic field training. We’re mostly flying right now—over eight hours of active flying yesterday.

It’s pretty fun.” 

Hermione felt Draco shift beside her, glancing down at the table. She reached under the table and intertwined her fingers with his.

He responded with a gentle squeeze and began twirling his fork on his plate. As Ginny and Neville fired off more questions about Auror training, the conversation shifted to Quidditch.

Hermione only half-listened, her thoughts drifting as she traced her fingers along Draco’s hand. “How’s school going for you, Hermione?” Harry asked, pulling her back into the moment.

“It’s going well,” she replied, meeting his gaze. “Draco and I are working on a project for Arithmancy and DADA.

We got our equation approved with such a good accuracy margin that we’re…”

"We're set to perform the countercurse in class next week," Hermione said. "The charm work has become so complex that we've been collaborating with Flitwick on it.

It's a nice surprise that we're going to earn a bit of extra credit. I think I mentioned in my letter that the amulet is cursed with the Gemino curse.

Analyzing it has been quite interesting, especially after experiencing it firsthand."

"I still have nightmares about that bank vault," Ron chimed in. "And that bloody dragon we rode."

"Wait, what?" Draco turned to Hermione, his curiosity piqued.

Hermione ducked her head, feeling a bit shy. "I told you I robbed a bank, didn’t I?"

"I had a concussion.

I thought I hallucinated that part. You three actually robbed a bank?"

Hermione shrugged awkwardly, avoiding the astonished looks from Draco, Pansy, and Theo.

"We needed something from the Lestrange vault to defeat Voldemort. So I impersonated Bellatrix, and we broke in.

It was a high-security vault—there was a Flagrante curse, a Gemino curse, and, well, a dragon. The goblins are a bit peeved about it, so we try not to talk about it too much."

"Peeved?" Pansy repeated, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"The goblins are peeved because you managed to rob Gringotts? No one robs the goblins!"

"That's exactly why we don't discuss it much," Hermione replied, looking down at her lap.

"For the record," Draco muttered in her ear, "casually bringing up a bank heist during lunchtime conversation is a perfect example of why you're scary."