DISCLAIMER: Characters and places all J.K.'s.
I used hp-lexicon for all my potion and books stuff, and the poem mentioned is Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice.
A/N: I was amazed that I had a story idea that complied with all of Deathly Hallows! I figured my HP fanfic days were done, but I guess not! However, this story is going to be pretty hard for me to pull all together, so posts will take way longer than usual for me, and I'll need all the advice and comments I can get from you readers out there to make it as good as possible. It will be my first time trying to write three different perspectives. This chapter will be Hermione third person omniscient.
This idea came from a collection of many different inspirations. One I'll share with you now is how much it bugged the crap out of me that Rowling talked about O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T's throughout the whole series and then Harry himself never ends up taking them.
This story is about an odd series of events that transpires while the golden trio are at the school overnight during the summer in order to take their N.E.W.T.'s and finish all the requirements to earn their diploma and graduate from school.
Some of it will be pretty dark and farfetched, but I hope you'll bare with me. Hermione will do some pretty out of character things but it's almost unfair to call it OOC because Rowling never put her in a similar situation so we don't know how she'd react. Plus she's older and now had the time to address certain issues she was otherwise too busy to.
Warnings: light non-con, multiple pairings and angsty (and thanks to me, very longwinded) emotions. It may seem a bit femslashy at first but that's as far as it goes.
Anyways, on with the 1st chapter!
… … …
Wiping the humidity away with the palm of her hand, Hermione gazed worriedly at her own reflection in a small circle of the foggy bathroom mirror. She hadn't gotten a lot of sleep, having stayed up most hours of the night at Ron and Harry's insistence of last chance adolescent frivolity, and it was obvious.
However, the worst part, in her opinion, was that the faint bags under her eyes weren't the most noticeable blemish on her otherwise flawless complexion. It was the purple hickeys up and down the left side of her neck that stood out like a giant at a tea party.
"Bugger…" she muttered to herself with frustration as she clutched her damp towel to her sternum and leaned further over the bathroom countertop, trying to see closer in the mirror, wondering what the hell she was going to do about the embarrassing marks. Hadn't she told him to take it easy?
There were three swift knocks, "Hermione?" she heard Ginny call through the door, "That you in there?" she asked.
Hermione paused her inspection, "Yes?" she called back, assuming Ginny was only wondering how much longer Hermione would be before it was her turn to use the shower.
She was proven mistaken when Ginny opened the door slightly and slid in, completely unscathed by Hermione's exposed backside.
"Don't mean to be pushy," she said, pulling her night shirt up off over her head, "Mum's freaking out of course, didn't think she'd ever have to wake you all up to make the Hogwart's Express again…"
Hermione froze a little, wobbled wearily and then thought better of it. They were both girls after all, and nearly both adults, and Ginny was obviously comfortable with nudity anyways. Why her initial reaction to situations like these was always nervousness she didn't know, but if her younger friend could think nothing of it then she should be able to too.
Ginny smiled at Hermione through the mirror since Hermione had her back to her.
Perhaps sensing Hermione was already in a poor mood or maybe even the brief moment of tensing up, Ginny asked, "You okay?" in a somewhat concerned tone, drawing her left hand to her mouth and using her teeth to wrench a ring off her finger. "Can't lose this," she added jokingly, setting it on the counter next to the toothbrush holder.
Hermione eyed the diamond engagement ring suspiciously, as if it were a living thing… preying on her when she wasn't aware, eager to jump onto her finger as well, latching on with little diamond and sterling silver teeth…
"Holy hell, what has my brother done?" Ginny remarked with a laugh upon noticing Hermione's neck, stepping out of her shorts and panties.
Hermione drew her shoulder up to her ear in shame trying to hide it, "Is it that noticeable?" she pleaded.
Ginny, her grin unmoving, decided not to say anything, which only made Hermione sure of the answer.
"Damn it," she moaned, "Any day but today…"
Ginny, despite now being stark naked, opened a bathroom drawer and began rummaging nonchalantly. "I shared this bathroom with twins. There's got to be some Bruise Removal Paste in here somewhere, does wonders for me…"
Hermione peered over to her friend from the side of her face. She hated to admit it, but sometimes… not very often, of course… but at least, lately… she wished Ginny would just… go away a bit. She was so fiery and free, she had always been. But all of the sudden Hermione felt this indescribable pressure.
Pressure to rush things. Get certain things over with. To be, so it seemed, more like Ginny.
Ginny with her perfect fiancé. Ginny, with her confidence and grace. Ginny, with her sparkly engagement ring. Ginny with her decided future. Ginny, who knew who and what she wanted and had for a long time. And knew how to get it.
"And of course she could get it," Hermione thought pessimistically to herself, assessing Ginny's waif frame and small perky breasts. Her skin was white as milk and she had long legs and slight hips she had to jut out to emphasize her sensuality with a stance. That flicker of fierceness was always on her pretty face, strong and seductive. What man wouldn't go crazy for a girl who didn't mind walking around naked? She was a woman and proud of it.
Hermione returned to her own reflection, slowly lowering the towel she had been clutching to herself, testing to see if she really could handle being naked to naked.
She was fuller in every way; lips, hips, breasts… But she was slender as well, and a little taller. She had been down this path of thoughts before, and already knew she was being silly. She was just as much of a woman as Ginny, despite their different varieties. She just didn't control it, didn't own it like Ginny did. A fact that had become awkwardly clear ever since Harry and Ginny lost their virginities to each other.
She thought she could talk to her best friend Ron about anything… well, almost anything. Ron could still be ridiculously obtuse, but it wasn't ever intentional. But now… well Ron wasn't exactly her best friend any more. She didn't know what the hell he was actually. They've never really talked about it… just one more thing plaguing her.
If they couldn't even talk about whether or not they were "boyfriend and girlfriend" how were they ever supposed to talk about sex? Something she was certain they were both thinking about. How could they not with their other best friend and sister now going at it?
She knew she was being ridiculous, that she should just talk to him. It was Ron after all! But that's just it… it was Ron. She was pretty sure she knew his opinion on intercourse already just by judging the evidence left after snogging. Not to mention how handy and focused he was during. Wondering how he felt about engagement… about MARRIAGE… well that just freaked her out!
So damn Ginny and Harry for making it a relevant topic!
"Found it!" Ginny said triumphantly, drawing Hermione back to the present. She dabbed the thick, yellow paste on Hermione's neck and rubbed it in.
"Thanks," Hermione muttered with a twinge of guilt from under appreciating a good friend.
"No problem," Ginny said with a flip of her ginger hair as she spun around and stepped into the shower.
Hermione resumed drying her hair with her wand, pressed now to get a move on. She supposed Mrs. Weasley was right to worry, they were probably running late. How many times had she and Harry imposed upon her and the Burrow now? And they always did cut it so close…
"Hey Hermione?" she heard Ginny call from within the raining faucet.
"Yeah?" she answered, rinsing her mouth of toothpaste and looking for her mascara.
"Sorry if I gave you a bitchy look last night," she said, "I was being stupid. I think I'm getting my period or something… thank god," she added.
Hermione gave a small laugh but was a little confused, "What are you talking about?" she inquired.
"At Sirius's house, when we were over there rearranging Harry's new furniture."
Hermione still did not recall "a bitchy look", "Yeah?" she said with an elongated inflection.
"You know," Ginny insisted, "When I found you two alone together by that family tree…"
"Oh," Hermione answered, not realizing that Ginny had glared at her at all. "Ooooh," she said again, finally catching on, "Ginny! Never would-"
"I know, I know," Ginny interrupted with a laugh, "I already said I must be PMSing!"
Hermione heard the water shut off and a feminine arm appeared from behind the curtain as she grabbed for a towel, reappearing as she dried herself off.
"Just Harry and I hadn't had a "Hermione" talk yet," she continued matter-of-factly, "Don't worry though, I took care of that."
Hermione was back to being confused, "A "Hermione" talk?"
Ginny looked at her skeptically, but then seemed to find her confusion genuine, "Oh c'mon, Hermione," she drawled impatiently, "You know you're were one of the prettiest girls in your year. And most popular. At least everyone had a crush on you at some point."
"They did?" Hermione asked, her surprise too funny and cute for Ginny not to find humorous.
"Um, yeah," she insisted.
Hermione couldn't help but feel flattered, she had always known Ginny as the prettiest and most popular in her year. Not that what other people thought really mattered of course, but still… it was nice..
"I mean, of course I trust you and Harry," Ginny went on conversationally, "but I just, you know, had to make sure."
"That he didn't fancy me?" Hermione spat, "Harry? Like me? That's ridiculous."
Ginny now had her hair flipped over, performing the same siphoning charm Hermione had just done. "Well I'm sure you always knew but it's not like anyone else could tell. You guys were inseparable after all. He was so possessive of you. It was either going to be him or Ron who would try to go after you, or even in the most scandalous speculations, both."
Hermione scoffed with disbelief, she never would have guessed she would be the subject of any rumors or speculations. But she couldn't help but smile shyly. Mere moments ago she felt inadequate and immature when compared to other girls, but now she was feeling much more at ease. "So you had a "Hermione" talk," she repeated again.
Ginny flipped her hair back up, "Yup," she answered, "He said I was being insane and that he loves you like a sister, always has."
Hermione smiled, having always thought of Harry as a brother as well, "That's sweet," she said.
"Makes sense too," Ginny managed to say with a cheek full of toothbrush, "Since he also said you remind him of his Mum."
Hermione's smile quickly turned into a disenchanted frown.
… … …
"Look a little more pathetic, mate," Ron insisted to Harry as they stepped off train at Hogsmeade Station.
Harry merely glowered, but he was still pouting. He had complained the whole ride about how much he already missed Ginny. Ron did not take kindly to their very public, and graphic, kisses goodbye.
If only there had been more people around to distract them, Hermione might have been spared their bickering. It was so odd though, the train being practically empty.
"Well get used to it, she's still got a whole year of school left," Ron went on, "The new term starts next week and then she'll be the one getting on the train. That means you won't see her till-"
"Hey look," Hermione pointed up the lane, eager to distract an irritable Ron from a moody Harry, "Neville and Dean."
The old friends joined up, slapping hands and chattering while climbing into a carriage together. Ron, who wouldn't admit he was put off too, had to help Hermione up. Her first time seeing thestrals made her uneasy.
"I liked it better when they were invisible too," said Neville kindly.
"That's nothing. Practically the whole school will be able to see them now. I've had to deal with them since 5th year," Harry said.
"There he goes, bragging about how special he is," goaded Ron jokingly.
"Bigger celebrity then ever now though, eh Harry? Maybe I should get you to sign one of my many Prophets you've been the bloody cover of for the last three months? Might be worth something," teased Dean.
"So that wasn't you I saw giving an interview in the muggle section then?" Harry rebutted smugly, "Your life in hiding with Goblins and Ghouls?"
"Now, now boys," Hermione said, eager to put her own memories of life in the limelight behind her and trying to settle them. They were practically graduates after all. They shouldn't be seen acting like first years, and they were almost to the castle.
"I read your editorial for "Teen Witch", Hermione, it was really good," said Neville calmly.
Hermione smiled sheepishly as her attempt to use her newfound fame for something good, urging teen witches to keep current with the politics and welfare of the world, was called out. But luckily Dean distracted everyone with his laugh.
"Ha Ha! What are you doing with a copy of Teen Witch?" he guffawed.
Neville was mumbling something about his Grandmother's subscription when Ron interjected how beautiful Hermione looked in her picture for the story, causing her cheeks to glow pink.
Dean and Neville fell silent and surveyed the two blankly, most likely wondering if they were finally an item.
"Where's Seamus?" Hermione asked quickly, trying to gloss over any awkwardness.
"He took them on the first make up session," Dean answered.
"Oh yes," Hermione said, forgetting that's what most of her year did when the original test date was ruined by the Battle of Hogwarts and everyone was sent home a few days early.
"Battle of Hogwarts" she thought oddly, still not fully believing that's what the newest edition of history books would call it, and that her name would be mentioned.
So would everyone's name in the carriage she was in actually… how weird, making history. But a full blown attack on the school was probably the only reason the Wizarding Examinations Authority would accept for cancelling N.E.W.T.'s and offering a make up session. Well, two make up sessions actually. One for the students who had been in their N.E.W.T. classes all 7th year and therefore ready to take them in the "Beginning of Summer Session."
But the only other reason they would allow anyone to take N.E.W.T.'s anyway, despite committing the heinous crime of dropping out of 7th year, was because they were somehow involved in the fight against the most evil wizard time had ever revealed or hiding for their very lives because of said wizard.
Hence, the "End of Summer Session" was born and was reserved for those who had otherwise been too occupied with Ministry investigating and questioning and "much needed recovery time," as the papers put it, to attend the first session, and very few qualified to sign up for it. "A special exemptment for very extenuating circumstance," was the official statement from the Wizarding Examinations Authority.
It had taken the Ministry, mainly the Auror office, nearly two months to complete their reports, during which they showed no restraint in requesting needed details and information from anyone acutely involved in how and why Voldemort ended up at Hogwart's that night, and most importantly, what finally and officially killed him.
If Hermione never had to talk about Horcruxes and Deathly Hallows again she would die a happy girl. Such miserable business. Thankfully, the Ministry was about to declare the case closed, only a few more loose ends, periodic Ministry owls wanting to confirm a date or time growing more and more rare.
Unfortunately, despite the legal and judiciary interest waning, the public's was not. Mr. Weasley decided to put back the protection around the Burrow, just to keep the Paparazzi and reporters away from his family and his famous houseguests.
"I'm so glad none of the press got wind of this," said Hermione conversationally, referring to their unprecedented invitation to Hogwarts during the summer holiday, just days before the school was about to start it's new year.
"No kidding," contributed Harry, "Have they been all over you two too?"
Dean and Neville nodded.
"I got bombarded by Rita Skeeter after coming out of the Ministry of Magic," told Neville, "She wanted to know why I was there instead of at the first retake. I had to tell her a million times it was confidential Ministry business. I didn't want to tell that leech I was the one keeping the DA alive, didn't want her thinking she found herself someone she could use for a public interest piece."
Hermione gave an empathetic nod.
"Wow," Dean said as the carriage pulled up to the main entrance, "It's almost done. Blimey, it almost looks like nothing ever happened."
He was right. The Castle was almost completely repaired, only two or three scaffolds on the east side filling in a few more brick holes. A funny feeling erupted in Hermione's stomach. She underestimated how much she loved the place, how excited she was to be back, even if for just a few short days, challenges for her mind awaiting.
"N.E.W.T.'s ov'r here!" bellowed a familiar voice.
The trio smiled at each other.
"Hagrid!" beamed Harry.
" 'Allo, 'Allo," he ruffed, "Did they give you any time to study? Can't believe 'em, making you take 'em so soon."
"They have to Hagrid," defended Hermione, "They want to send all the scores back at once, and those who are already done are eager to apply for internships and jobs."
"Still," wavered Ron, "We've been through something traumatic. Can't possibly have studied right? They should've compromised and just given us all E's."
"Just because you didn't study doesn't mean that it wasn't possible," said Hermione icily.
"Hagrid," broke in Harry, "We wanted to visit the cemetery. Is that okay?"
"Sure, sure," answered Hagrid, "Of course. Meet us in McGonagall's classroom. C'mon then," he referred to Dean and Neville, "I'll take you lot."
The group parted ways as Harry, Ron and Hermione headed off the green grassy slopes of Hogwart's grounds as Dean and Neville followed Hagrid up to the Castle.
It was an undisputed and unanimous decision to lay those who died that night to rest next to Dumbledore. Sadly, it was now quite a full little cemetery.
Fred's grave was first along their path, although they passed many tragically familiar names. The bold "W" etched into his handsome headstone made Hermione's stomach clench and her eyes burn. "Beloved Son, Brother and Friend; Your memory shall forever live on in the sound of laughter," were the heartbreakingly true words engraved beneath the impressive letter. Ron laid down the bouquet of Sunflowers his mother had sent with him, his face bright red and tight.
Hermione took his hand. He gave her a small but genuine smile and his shoulders seem to lower. It made her feel good knowing she comforted him.
They made their way silently down the row to Lupin and Tonks, who laid side by side under a single elongated headstone. Hermione reread the poem she had loved, and found so perfect for the couple.
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
Here we will sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears, Soft stillness and the night
Becomes the touches of sweet harmony
It was then that she let the tears drop, slow and quiet. How bitterly wonderful it was to think of Lupin, the moonlight that had unceasingly haunted him finally sleeping, forever with Tonks on an endless and beautiful night, music in the air and eternal peace between them.
It was only then, when Harry bent over to change withered flowers for fresh ones did they notice a photograph propped up against the stone.
Ted Jr., Harry's godson, wiggled at them, rolled up in swaddling blankets, a mere few months old.
Harry's brow was furrowed, and Hermione was sure he too was wondering who brought such a touching gift to the parents. Perhaps it had been Tonk's mother Andromeda, but it was strange no one had mentioned she made another visit to her daughter's grave since the funerals. Surely the Weasley family, who had all but adopted the now lone widow, would've joined her…
"We better get going," Ron said, breaking the solemn quietude.
The longing and eagerness to be at Hogwarts faded speedily once she crossed the threshold of the vast doors. She didn't even have the mental capacity to notice how strange it was for the school to be so lifeless and empty, as she had never been there while it was still summer holiday before. She noticed something else instead; the pounding of her heart thundering through her body, how it was suddenly hard to breath, her breathe shallow and desperate. She was overcome with a surprising anxiety attack.
She always grew anxious before tests, and while this was the most crucial test of a wizard's life, she had never felt this physically sickened before.
"Hermione?" Ron inquired, putting his arm around her, trying to stifle her shaking, "Are you okay?"
"Yes," she insisted, wiggling out from Ron's grasp. She felt claustrophobic under his heavy arm.
She guessed he would've otherwise felt wounded by her rejection of his comfort attempts but was probably too distracted by her ghost white face.
She knew it. She knew it! She knew something like this was coming. It had been biting at her heels all summer. Well… once the shock of what had happened between Harry and Voldemort finally seemed to dissipate and she actually had a second to consider anything else outside of saving the world as we know it, it had been pecking at her. She knew what "it" was before it even introduced itself. And she slammed the door in it's face. But much to her dismay, it seemed now to be sneaking in through a window.
Not now. She didn't want to deal with that now…
But she couldn't fight it, it came like an avalanche anyway.
What the bloody hell was she going to do with herself now that there was no more Dark Lord?
The goal that had defined her, motivated her, focused her… Who was she without that? What was her purpose? What now?
These tests, these bloody tests. They would determine everything. And Ron, the man next to her, so would he. And Harry, who dictated who she was as well with how he portrayed her to the public, he had a say as well.
Sorry Granger, too many chefs in the kitchen already. We'll let you know what we decide. No, no, thanks but no thanks, we don't need any more input. What's that? It's your life? You should have a say?
Her ears filled with the sound of imaginary laughter. She wasn't ready for these tests, despite making three copies of the preparation workbook she received by owl after signing up and completing each of them, and reading every help manual she could find on N.E.W.T.'s, probably studying more than anyone who had actually been in attendance all year.
But what would they say about her? What area would she score highest in? Who would review her grades and offer her a job? What career did she even want?
It was all coming at once now. Her envy of how easy her peers had it. It just wasn't fair! They had had guidance counseling and practice tests, time to think about what they really wanted to do after Hogwarts, time that she had to dedicate to keeping herself and everyone she cared about alive, packing that abyss of a pocket book and relocating her own parents. And not only were her impending career options terrifying her, what about healthy social development? Chances to live an average teenage life, laugh with many different friends, have romantic trysts with a variety of compelling suitors? What if Ron was only interested in her because she was the only female there was to choose from these last long months? What if the only reason she responded so well was because she too believed there was no one else. Were they being stupid not realizing there's a whole sea of fish they had barely dipped a toe in? If they had other options… would they still end up fancying each other?
All things seemed to conclude that she would never get to know.
How horrible, she didn't want to be with someone solely because she never got to know anyone else, and him latching onto her simply because no one else was around wasn't exactly a fairytale either. She was so angry with him sometimes, like it was all his fault they were isolated together. But then came the guilt. Ron was a wonderful guy, who had always been there for her. She was being a wench. She felt so bad... But now she had gotten so emotionally carried away that she was bracing herself against the wall of the entrance hall.
"Ms. Granger?" came the familiar shrill voice of her favorite teacher. She felt oddly comforted, then instantly embarrassed by Ron and Harry surrounding her worriedly.
"Are you alright child?" McGonagall inquired.
"Yes Profes- er, Headmistress," Hermione said eagerly, "I'm fine, just didn't realize I grew out of breath from the walk."
McGonagall smiled warmly. After all these years she had grown quite fond of the three of them, it was obvious.
"Very well then," she said, returning quickly to her strict and professional poise, "Professor Flitwick is in the Transfiguration room, aiding Mr. Thomas and Mr. Longbottom in the rules and regulations. Please join them Weasley and Potter, Ms. Granger, if you'd please come with me…"
The boys looked over at Hermione invasively, but all she could do was give a small shrug indicating she didn't know what was going on either.
"Quickly now," rushed McGonagall, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder steering her around and giving the boys a small waving off.
Before she knew it she was in front of the two gargoyles that guarded the Headmaster's office.
"Ten-pin bowling," McGonagall said, and escorted Hermione up the moving staircase.
The office was just how Hermione remembered it when Dumbledore occupied it, except for one startling difference.
Severus Snape lifted his nose and shoulders slightly with a barely detectible sneer of haughtiness as Hermione approached the grand oak desk. His portrait hung to the right of Dumbledore's and had caught her completely off guard.
She never expected to see the dark penetrating eyes or cloaking raven hair that was his image ever again.
But of course, he had been a Headmaster of Hogwart's … and, as it astonishingly turned out, an accomplished and useful double agent who put himself in considerable and constant danger due to the request of Dumbledore himself.
She hadn't had time to give Snape much thought since the truth about him was revealed, other than his was a life of tragic emptiness. It was odd now to realize that she, along with everyone else, owed him so much gratitude.
It was hard though, for he had been such a demanding and impossible to impress instructor, taking what seemed like extra pleasure in taunting her genuine and heartfelt efforts to master the art of potions. Never once was any of her hard work acknowledged.
"Well I suppose you're wondering why I require your private audience," McGonagall spoke finally, breaking Hermione's thoughts as she sat importantly down in a large lush chair behind her desk.
"Oh… yes," said Hermione, refocusing her attention and taking an arm chair herself.
"Unbeknownst to anyone but the teachers here, I entered your name for nomination as Head Girl in the middle of your 6th year, when such things are started to be considered."
Hermione's mouth dropped. She had forgotten all about anything like that.
"Professor, I'm…" suddenly she didn't know what to say next… was this a lecture for dropping out? Surely McGonagall understood why. Had Hermione let her down anyway? Embarrassed her by not even showing up after McGonagall stuck her neck out for her? "Well, thank you so much for thinking of me," she went on nervously, "I would've been so honored-"
"Well, you probably don't know either, that this last year," McGonagall seemed to pause for a deep breath, as if just thinking about last year was exhausting in itself, "was the first year in Hogwart's history to go without a Head Boy and Girl."
Hermione frowned, as McGonagall was, wanting to do anything that showed she may understand what her point might be.
"Severus," she went on, saying his name plainly, "as you can imagine, wasn't really interested in such customs by then."
Hermione nodded, but she didn't know why.
"He didn't touch many Headmaster duties actually. Busy of course, with his other assignment. Him being Headmaster was merely a guise for Voldemort, to go along with the muggle wrangling..."
Hermione nodded again, this time understanding but still failing to see any relevance.
"Even this office was left all but the same as when Albus was here," she went on, her voice softening slightly. "In fact, I found these-" she said, pulling out a bundle of stacked parchment from the desk, "-completely untouched."
Hermione stared at the letters, wondering strangely if she finally knew where this was going…
"I examined them. It appears every member of the faculty had turned in their ballots and Dumbledore must have gone through them just days before his death. I recounted the votes just to be sure. You were Head Girl Ms. Granger."
Hermione swelled with pride and joy, her smile went from ear to ear. "That would've been so wonderful," she said, thinking of the opportunities that would've opened up for her, all the honors and awards she would've received, what that would do for her résumé…
Suddenly she felt very irritated. She could've used clout like that to really take her time with things, feel offers out, get into various different fields, change her mind if she wanted even, get recommended somewhere else if need be.
With Head Girl under her name she would've been an instant hire for any position, anytime, anywhere. It was maddening, knowing she was left to fend for herself without what should have otherwise been rightfully hers after six years of excruciating work!
McGonagall must have detected her growing scowl. "So, despite you not being in attendance for 7th year to fulfill your title, a special Head Boy and Head Girl N.E.W.T. is always allotted and sent along with the standard set of exams, and this year was no different. You are still eligible to sit the advanced version and potentially earn the extra credits and awards, as there was no other Head Girl named after you by Snape."
Hermione's whole face lit up and she flashed a look at Snape's portrait, suddenly finding it easy to be thankful and warm towards such a standoffish person. She never imagined she would be glad he was too busy pretending to be a Death Eater.
There was a soft knock on the door.