Anything (Male Reader x Hermione)

The Forgotten Prince

Hermione, Ron, and Harry stepped onto the platform at Hogsmead. The train ride had been less than pleasant. Malfoy had made them worry for Sirius. Harry was moody because Ron and Hermione had been made Prefects, but on the other hand, they'd met Luna, and she was nice, if not a bit strange. Hermione directed some first-years to one side of the platform until an owl landed in front of her. The bushy-haired Gryffindor took the note from the bird's leg and unfurled the small parchment.

Be careful this year.

Hermione scanned the letter three times over, looking for any other indication about the letter's owner, but she found nothing. The writing was practically perfect cursive in black, bold letters. She slipped it into the pockets of her robes and helped a first-year girl pick up her spilled luggage.

"ENOUGH, DRACO!" a loud voice boomed across the platform. Everyone turned to see a tall boy with jet black hair walking away with a crying first year, his shiny silver and emerald green Prefect badge glinting in the fading sunlight. Draco mumbled something to his cronies, and they chuckled before turning to find a different first year.

Hermione pushed her way through the crowd approaching the carriages. When she made it through, she saw Harry standing by Ron having a quick conversation. "Malfoy was being absolutely foul to a first-year back there. Did you hear the shouting? I swear I'm going to report him, he's only had his badge three minutes, and he's using it to bully people worse than ever. . . Where's Crookshanks?"

"Ginny's got him," Harry said, looking around the crowd for the girl. "There she is!" Harry said. Ginny emerged from the crowd, clutching a squirming Crookshanks.

"Thanks," said Hermione, relieving Ginny of the cat. "Come on, let's get a carriage together before they all fill up."

"I haven't got Pig yet!" Ron said, but Hermione was already heading off toward the nearest unoccupied coach. Harry remained behind with Ron.

"What are those things, d'you reckon?" he asked Ron, nodding at the horrible horses as the other students surged past them.

"What things?"

"Those horse —" Luna appeared, holding Pigwidgeon's cage in her arms; the tiny owl was twittering excitedly as usual.

"Here you are," she said. "He's a sweet little owl, isn't he?"

"Er . . . yeah . . . He's all right," said Ron gruffly. "Well, come on then, let's get in. . . . what were you saying, Harry?"

"I was saying, what are those horse things?" Harry said as he, Ron, and Luna made for the carriage in which Hermione and Ginny were already sitting.

"What horse things?"

"The horse things pulling the carriages!" said Harry impatiently; they were, after all, about three feet from the nearest one; it was watching them with empty white eyes. Ron, however, gave Harry a perplexed look.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about — look!" Harry grabbed Ron's arm and wheeled him about so that he was face-to-face with the winged horse. Ron stared straight at it for a second, then looked back at Harry.

"What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"At the — there, between the shafts! Harnessed to the coach! It's right there in front —" But as Ron continued to look bemused, a strange thought occurred to Harry. "Can't . . . can't you see them?"

"See what?"

"Can't you see what's pulling the carriages?" Ron looked seriously alarmed now.

"Are you feeling all right, Harry?"

"I . . . yeah . . ."

"Shall we get in, then?" said Ron uncertainly, looking at Harry as though worried about him.

"Yeah," said Harry.

"Yeah, go on . . ."

"It's all right," said a dreamy voice from beside Harry as Ron vanished into the coach's dark interior. "You're not going mad or anything. I can see them too."

"Can you?" said Harry desperately, turning to Luna. He could see the bat-winged horses reflected in her wide, silvery eyes.

"Oh yes," said Luna, "I've been able to see them ever since my first day here. They've always pulled the carriages. Don't worry. You're just as sane as I am." Smiling faintly, she climbed into the musty interior of the carriage after Ron. Not altogether reassured, Harry followed her. At the last minute, a man in Slytherin robes jumped in, evening out the carriage load. He quickly turned away from the group, covering himself completely in his robes.

The trio looked around after Umbridge's speech. Everyone in the Great Hall was in shock at the woman's nerve. "Now — as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held . . ."  Dumbledore began.

"Yes, it certainly was illuminating," said Hermione in a low voice.

"You're not telling me you enjoyed it?" Ron said quietly, turning a glazed face upon Hermione. "That was about the dullest speech I've ever heard, and I grew up with Percy."

"I said illuminating, not enjoyable," said Hermione. "It explained a lot."

"Did it?" said Harry in surprise. "Sounded like a load of waffle to me."

"There was some important stuff hidden in the waffle," said Hermione grimly.

"Was there?" said Ron blankly.

"How about 'progress for progress's sake must be discouraged? How about 'pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited'?"

"Well, what does that mean?" said Ron impatiently.

"I'll tell you what it means," said Hermione ominously. "It means the Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts." There was a great clattering and banging all around them; Dumbledore had obviously just finished his speech when he'd normally dismiss the school because everyone was beginning to stand.

"Hold on," Dumbledore's voice echoed through the hall. "We have one more student to welcome. (Y/N) Malfoy, our sixth-year Slytherin Prefect, comes to us from the United States. Welcome to the school." The Slytherin table erupted in cheers.

"Did he say Malfoy?" Ron asked. Harry nodded softly in response.

"You are all excused," Dumbledore said, and everyone began leaving. Hermione jumped up, looking incredibly frustrated.

"Ron, we're supposed to show the first years where to go!"

"Oh yeah," said Ron, who had obviously forgotten. "Hey — hey, you lot! Midgets!"

"Ron!"

"Well, they are, they're titchy. . ."

"I know, but you can't call them midgets. . . . First years!" Hermione turned and called commandingly along the table. "This way, please!" Across the other end of the Great Hall, every Slytherin first-year stood up at the same time and began following the jet-black-haired boy out of the room in a long two, wide column.

"So, if he's a Malfoy, why's he got black hair?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, "but I suppose we have another prince of Slytherin to deal with."

"Great," Ron groaned as they led the group out of the Great Hall.