hidden places-fem reader x hermione

hogwarts express

Y/N's POV 

 I roll my luggage down past infinite trains. My mother is behind me, her hand circling my neck. It always is. Other parents hold their kids' hand. Mine hold my neck. Very tightly, just between holding and suffocating. My father is in the same position, close behind Draco. He reaches out with one pinky and I hold it. 

 He might seem mean, but he's so much to me. He cares, really. I'm the only one he's outwardly affectionate with, shamelessly, and he's my protector, my best friend. He seems mean because he has to be. He might say things I would prefer he didn't about or to other people, but he was raised like that, he has to. He regrets it, really. Draco is a really good person. But he's still a kid. A boy. Yet he tries to be an adult.

 And parents shouldn't encourage that. Right? A kid having the burden of an adult. Usually parents say, when their child acts like an adult, "you're not a grown up. Don't act like one." But our parents? It's "that's it. That's what you need to do. Remember, when you're older, all of our legacies are in your hands. Protect them well, and don't dishonor us." 

 Everyone loves Harry Potter, yet not Draco. Why? Simple reason.

Harry Potter is the boy who lived.

Draco Malfoy is the boy who had no choice. 

 Now, Draco is the boy running straight at a brick wall with a trolley full of luggage and his eagle owl, Fae. She's beautiful. I look at mine, an equally beautiful new eagle owl named Ares. I stroke her head gently with one finger and follow Draco nervously. I pass through, and so do my parents behind me.

 The platform 9 and 3/4 is bustling with movement. Hooting owls, yowling cats, squeaking rats and burbling frogs and shouting humans and screaming babies dragged along to cheerlead their older siblings off on their journeys when the older sibling in question would clearly rather be a pinata for a bunch of sugar-cracked baseball players than be here as they rush onto the train as fast as possible. 

 Draco, our pinkies still linked, leads me gently to the train, our blonde heads-his the same as last year, mine middle-parted, lifting before it curved out around my ears and then waved down to my elbows in squiggles. My pale skin and emerald green eyes with little aqua and golden flecks almost identical to Draco's, we board together, our parents shouting at us, yet as usual we blur it out. 

 We heave our trunks onto the luggage rack before he grabs Fae and heads to find a carriage. I grab Ares and follow him. Inside the carriage is a group of students in green uniforms identical to Draco's; all I'm wearing are the robes, without the house crest stitched on over the heart, or the colored tie and sweater. He sits down, lounging on a bench, his arm loosely beside him in an invitation. I smile, sticking my owl on the overhead shelf next to his and sitting down next to him. Some brunette bob-cut girl resembling a young Karen in every way pouts, sitting in between two gorillas. 

The C-shaped bench circling around all the walls except the door is now full. Draco in the middle with me on his left and a short gorilla on his right; next to that gorilla is the Karen and after her another gorilla between her and the wall. On my other side is a black boy, next to him a scruffy mop-headed boy, and between the mop-head and the wall is another boy. And then there are two more on either side of the door lounging against the wall-a brunette rather slim boy and a chubby brunette girl. All in Slytherin uniforms.

 "Hey, Draco, who's the new girl?" the black boy said. 

 "Ah, yes. Everyone. This is my sister, Y/N," Draco said. "Y/N, this is Vincent Crabbe-" the short gorilla-"Pansy Parkinson-" the Karen-"Gregory Goyle-" the not short gorilla-"Blaise Zabini-" the black boy next to me-"Theo Nott-" the mop-headed kid-"Pike-" the other boy-"Millicent Bullstrode-" the fat brunette-"and "Graham Montague." the other boy, the one by the door. 

 Each gave me a nod or a polite "hi" except Parkinson. 

 "Well," she sneered, "you might be Draco's sister, but you don't mean as much to him as you think, and especially not more than me!" I stared back at her, every bad thing going through my head. My parents' abuse, physically, emotionally, verbally. They'd beat me, cut me, choked me, screamed at me for so long that everything bad was my fault. I'd gone through so much, vape, drugs, self harm, suicide, depression, anxiety. Draco was the one who saved me from my suicide. 

 I had promised myself I would live, for Draco, because he cared about me enough to save me from slitting my wrist. I had the scar, but if it had gone a second deeper, a second longer, if he hadn't ripped the knife out of my hand and carried me to Dobby and told him desperately to save me, I would be gone. 

 That was my worst, and that was two years ago, the year after I faked my own death. I'd gotten out of it now. But to hear her tell me that I meant nothing to Draco after that? No. Cleverness was my most prized quality in myself. I knew words, and I would bend them to benefit me. My equally as important was loyalty. Fuck with my brother and you are gonna be dissed so hard you'd wish you never existed. 

 "Listen here, Parkin-slut. My parents always told me not to burn trash, but I'm gonna disobey that just once and roast your as-sorry, you. You have no ass, of course, you being flat as fuck and probably only ever able to handle a three-millimeter defeater. I hope you fucking choke on a spoon and die, and I hope you never say anything like that ever again to ANYONE, let alone me or my brother, understand? You are an idiot with a big mouth who yet remains to spit out something logical despite that big mouth which you'd probably only ever use to give a hickey to a fucking wall in your desperation. But darling, don't pull my brother into that desperation. You might totally be in love with him but he doesn't feel the same, which I can tell from the way he said your name when he introduced you. You might be oblivious to the tones of his voice, though, showing even more how much of a dumbass idiot you are. Shut that big mouth before I make you, because if I do the Aurors will be finding your body for two years and trust me honey you'll be alive for one and a half of them and wishing you weren't." 

 She looked stunned, before she wordlessly picked up her stuff and left. Draco looked at me proudly, long since used to my roasting, and knowing by now to just keep silent and maybe open his mouth a little if I was going particularly hard to rub salt in the wound of the person I was going at. Blaise looked at me in awe.

 "Nice, girl. Nice. She had it coming to her, honestly," said Blaise approvingly. 

 Theo nodded. "Absolutely. She's an annoying little rat, I'm glad you put her in her place." 

 Pike said, "she never shuts up," and Millicent added, "the whole House hates her." 

 Graham grinned. "EVERYONE." 

 I smiled and the door slid open, revealing a snaggly-toothed brunette tall guy. "Hey, Mark!" Draco said, laughing. "Guess who just got their guts roasted out of them by my sister?!" He turned to me and said, "Y/N, this is Marcus Flint, captain of our Quidditch team." I nod, giving him an uncertain smile. He nods back, looking at me approvingly. "Parkinson, I hope?" he said, taking her place between Crabbe and Goyle. 

Draco grinned and said, "nah, my sister's dubbed her Parkin-slut and that's her official name now." The entire compartment laughed, including me. "Hey, speaking of, d'you know what house you're going to be in? You don't have your uniform yet," Pike said to me. I hesitated.

 "Don't worry," Draco says, nudging me in the shoulder gently. "Whatever house it is, it'll be fine, and besides, I'm sure you'll be in Slytherin." I nod, and so do the rest of the Slytherins. I smile. "OH MY GOD, DRACO, YOU TEACHER'S PET," Mark jokes, leaning forward and brushing off Draco's prefect badge. Him and I have been practicing magic all day every day the whole summer and I've read about it and studied it my whole life, so I'm pretty experienced, but never had I imagined that he'd be so good he was a PREFECT.

 The rest of the compartment groans in mock sorrow and shakes their heads. "A loss of a good boy," Millicent said regretfully, shaking her head with the expression of a disappointed mother whose child has gotten into mild trouble. 

"Yes, yes... do not fret, my friend, you'll be remembered," Blaise says, grinning.

 "Oh, shut up," Draco jokes, laughing. "I've got it so I can dock Gryffindor points, duh!" he says the last word like it's the most obvious thing and we laugh again. Suddenly the compartment door slides open again, and it's Parkin-slut. But she raises her wand towards me and before I can block it with my own, she yells, "STUPEFY!" and then it all goes black.