Slaughter

They call it the chaos theory. When a grain of sand lands on top of the pile and it either becomes part of it, or slides off and becomes an avalanche. The moment when that grain of sand hits the others, is pure potential chaos. I’ve always thought of us like the chaos theory, you can never be sure if we’re going to call each other names, or whisper sweet nothings. Fuck or fight. Although, knowing us, it’s usually some twisted mixture of the two. It’s exhausting, it’s been a year since this thing started, and I’m all worn out. It’s too hard, and I can’t do it anymore. We were never going to see each other after this year anyway, let’s not pretend there was ever any happy ending for us. We’ve got three weeks left until the school year is over, three weeks that I don’t want you to look at me, talk to me, or try to change my mind.

Love,
Hermione.

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“Come on boys we’re going to miss the train!”

She checked her watch once more, a frown creasing between her eyebrows as she noted that as usual the two hands with Harry and Ron’s faces on them were pointed firmly to ‘late.’ Finally wriggling away from Mrs Weasley’s tearful embrace, they sauntered over to her as if they had all the time in the world. As they walked over Hermione took the time to appreciate, purely from an aesthetic point of view, that they’d both grown up a lot over the summer.

Harry, who’d always towered over her seemed to have grown even more, and stood a good head taller than her now. He’d cropped his hair short sometime over the summer, and his infamous scar was no longer hidden by the choppy fringe that he’d clung to for the first six years of school. Ron’s always lanky body had filled out with lean muscles, his russet hair was shaggy as ever and he was almost as tall as Harry now. Judging by the admiring stares of the girls still clustered in little groups on the platform, she wasn’t the only one to have noticed.

Sweeping her up into his arms Harry spun her quickly around in a circle, making her shriek as she clutched her arms around his neck. Putting her down, Hermione stared up at him, brushing invisible fluff off of his shoulders. She’d always wondered why she’d never felt more than a fleeting attraction to the boys, it was clear lots of other girls did. She’d felt buds of attraction sure, a few late night fantasies in her bed, silencing spells hastily cast around the curtains, but never enough of an anything to count as real feeling. Hermione wasn’t sure she’d ever really felt anything for anyone before, not even Viktor in fourth year. They’d been friend’s nothing more, despite Ron’s opinion that the only way he had friendship in mind was if she just so happened to have it tattooed on her ass. Sometimes she wondered if she was even capable of those types of feelings, or if she was destined for a life with dusty tomes and worn scrolls as her only company.

She smiled at them both, noting that she so often felt like the boys substitute mother, and that they seemed to think of themselves in the role of fathers, all fiercely protective of each other. It made sense, in their way they were all as damaged as each other. Hermione the aggressively intelligent, yet plain mudblood, Harry the boy with the fate of the world on his shoulders, and Ron so enshrouded in anonymity that he was still so often only known as “Harry Potters Friend.” No wonder they’d all found each other, like attracts like.

“It’s good to see you again boys. Now come on.”

They walked onto the train, searching for an empty compartment. They eventually found Ginny and Luna sitting in one together, chatting over the latest gossip. Sitting down with them, Harry wrapped an arm around Ginny’s shoulder and giving her a wee peck on the lips.

Hermione was glad to finally see Harry happy, he hadn’t had exactly the easiest time at school, or anywhere else, she grimly concluded. And after the disaster that was his non-relationship with Cho Chang, Harry had been a wee bit relationship shy until he’d finally realised that it was Ginny his heart pounded for. Ron, the poor thing, still hadn’t exactly gotten used to it, and spent his time alternating between glaring at them, and uncomfortably watching Luna out of the corner of his eye as she stared at him as if he was a mildly interesting television programme, as she so often did.

It sounded a little bit mean, but Hermione had never been that fond of Luna, or Loony as she and everyone else had called her until she’d attached herself to the group and finally gained a little bit of reprieve from the constant teasing. Hermione so often got angry with the way Luna always seemed to have her world view tuned a little bit differently than everyone else. She sighed impatiently, absentmindedly answering questions from the group about her summer. Yes, she’d gone away with her parents, no, she hadn’t met anyone special. It was almost a relief when the train started up and the conversation focus switched off of her.

Crossing one denim clothed leg over the other, Hermione pulled a heavy book out of her bag, Dragon Cultures: Mating Rites and Societal Systems. She was just about to dive back into it when a throat clearing in the hallway of the train made her look up. Daphne Greengrass had come to collect her and Ron to go sit in their respective carriages.
Ron was to go join the other prefects in the prefects carriage, and Hermione was to go meet the head boy in the Head Prefect’s carriage. She’d been thrilled when she’d first gotten the letter informing her that she was to be head girl, jumping up and down in her kitchen while her parent’s looked on bemused. They’d always been supportive of her magic, not ashamed of it like some muggle-born’s parents were.

With a wink from Ron as he ducked into the prefects carriage, Hermione soon found herself sitting in a plush navy coach seat, much more comfortable than the normal carriages. ‘Ahh the perks of being brilliant.’ She thought to herself as she settled in and waited for the Head Boy to arrive. She pulled out the book that she’d been about to read before she’d been interrupted by Greengrass and had soon settled down into reading it. She’d just reached the chapter about dominance fights amongst Chinese Fireballs (apparently they operated in pack structures much similar to werewolves, with males fighting in blood circles for Alpha and the right to mate with a female) when she heard the carriage door being pulled open.

She looked up and felt a scowl settle instantly onto her features. Malfoy, it would be Malfoy. She’d briefly considered him as an option for Head Boy, but dismissed it, just assuming that Dumbledore would see through his brains and into his horrific, bigoted personality and realise that there was no way he could be a fair head boy.

“If it isn’t the Mudblood as I live and breathe.”

Hermione ignored him, turning back to her book and focusing her attention back on her book and forcing her face to become a calm blank mask. ‘Don’t let him see it bothers you, he just wants the attention.’ Reading over the words, letting the information soak into her mind calmed down her blood, which had reacted instantly at his taunting words. Her face was still an angry pink, but it was fading now, back to its normal milky hue.

‘... the Alpha Fireball will then mark and subdue it’s female who will in turn try to throw the alpha off, forcing him to prove his dominance...’

He’d shut the door by now, sitting in the seat opposite to hers, lounging with a feline grace that belied his brutish nature. He cleared his throat quietly once, shifting his weight in the seat. Hermione found herself thinking that Harry and Ron weren’t the only ones who’d grown over the summer. While she’d stayed a respectable 5’7, everyone else at school seemed to have shot up around her. As it was Malfoy looked as if he’d be at least a head taller than her, and he’d become fiercely muscled, reminding her in many ways of Viktor, except of course for the platinum hair that seemed to be the one part of his appearance that wasn’t kept in ruthless control, flopping rakishly over his eyes.

Realising she was staring at him through her eyelashes, and that worse, he’d noticed and was staring back with a kind of bemused disgust, she hurriedly turned her attention back to the book and read the same sentence for the about the twentieth time.

The bastard. Even when he wasn’t doing anything he still got to her.

The train ride passed for about twenty minutes, they must be nearing Hogwarts by soon, Hermione abstractly thought, having (almost) managed to block out Malfoy’s presence and keep her attention on the book. She’d almost finished it by now, and was flipping through the last few pages when he cleared his throat again, louder now, having spent most of the trip quietly watching her. Not that she’d noticed.

“What do you want Malfoy? I’m trying to ignore you and enjoy my last moments of peace before school rules force me to interact with you.”

“Mudblood, you couldn’t ignore me if you tried.”

With that he stood, and pulling the book from her hands (one solid tug was all it took), he walked out of the carriage just as the train pulled to a stop and he was surrounded by other students, making it impossible for her to follow him.

‘I should have hexed him third year when I had the chance.’

She thought as she followed the other students out of the train, fuming inwardly and ignoring Ron’s probing questions about who was head boy as he caught up with her from the prefects carriage.

The worst thing was that he was right, she’d never been able to ignore him.

He was like a pebble in her shoe that she just couldn’t get out no matter how hard she tried. The proverbial thorn in her side, stabbing into her awareness at every chance he got, taunting and insulting her. She’d spent six years being insulted by him, but this was the year that she wasn’t going to take it anymore.

Even as she thought it she knew it was a lie.