Tainted - {d.m. & h.g.}

two - tea | sugar

don't forget to vote!   

song: sadderdaze - the neighbourhood                                

HERMIONE

Everything is the exact same as she remembers. It feels suffocating— almost smothering. Tall ceilings, stone flooring, lanterns littering the walls causing silhouettes to dance upon the corridor's dark stone, something she once thought was beautiful, now as haunting.

Everything was the same—except herself.

No, she was far different.

Headmistress McGonagall had requested her for a meeting in her office before the traditional welcome back dinner held in the Great Hall. She's trudging through the corridors, letting her shoes slap the ground, the echoing sound giving her something to focus on, something to settle her nerves.

The Headmistress is standing outside of the entrance waiting for her arrival at the top of the stairs, with a half-welcoming smile on her face. No words exchanged, McGonagall just simply places her small hand on Hermione's back and guides her up, letting the gargoyle spin them upward until they reach the opening that leads into the rounded office.

Once inside, Hermione immediately notices subtle changes. McGonagall has decorated the place with a much more feminine undertone, throw pillows littering the seating areas, two maroon and gold winged-back chairs sit in front of the large oak desk for visiting students to have a place to get comfortable. The paintings were all the same, hung on the wall in an orderly fashion, but now— there was one of Dumbledore in all his glory. Hermione feels her heart wrench and digs her fingernails into her palm to keep from letting the emotion paint her face. Just another agonizing reminder of the war.

"Sit, sit, child," McGonagall says in a hushed tone, motioning to one of the large chairs that sits in front of her desk.

Once seated, she spends a few moments awkwardly trying to decide how to not look ill-mannered, crossing and uncrossing her legs a few times, hands clasped and then unclasped because they're too clammy, fingers running through her hair. She's nervous. She's nervous because she doesn't know why she's here, and she hates not knowing things.

The Headmistress uses her wand to pour tea into a teacup, the steam spiraling out of the spout. She levitates it through the air, Hermione reaches out willingly to grasp the tea, thankful to be given something to occupy her hands. She quickly adds two teaspoons of sugar, stirring, watching the honey melt into the steaming liquid with an attentive stare. She feels awkward as the only noise in the room is the clanking of her spoon on glass, and McGonagall, she just watches Hermione with careful eyes, focusing on her fingernails which are painted a dark shade of crimson. Once finished preparing her tea, she sits back, deciding crossing her legs at her ankles is the most appropriate position for the occasion. She gives the Headmistress a knowing smile, letting her know she's prepared for whatever information she is going to throw at her.

McGonagall clears her throat, "Yes, Miss Granger, I have some good news," she smiles, pouring herself a cup of tea with a tilt of her wand, "but I fear I may bear some rather unfortunate news as well."

Of course, there's bad news.

There's always bad news.

"Good news first?" she voices feebly, her finger nervously tapping on the glass of the teacup at an alarming pace, "Please?"

She feels anxiety swell in her chest.

"Uh— yes, Miss Granger, of course," she replies, taking a long swig of the tea, eyeing Hermione over the rim, "you see Miss Granger, I have decided to place you in the position of Head Girl—"