Chapter Text
I roughly swallowed and felt my burn scars start to throb in pain.
Before I could respond to that in a fashion I knew was suitable for the mystifying Beta, the Potions classroom door flew open to reveal Professor Snape.
Severnia Snape was the Potions Professor and had a mastery in the subject. She had been vying for the Defense Against Dark Arts position for ages, but Headmaster Dumbledore seemed to want Professor Snape to teach Potions. It vexed her to no end, but she always acquiesced.
“You foolish sixth-years.” Professor Snape sneered. “Are you going to just loiter in front of my classroom door or are you going to grace us with your presence?”
“S-Sorry Professor!” Longbottom stuttered in a high-pitched voice.
“It was my fault, Professor Snape.” I said, speaking up.
Professor Snape’s void-like eyes snapped to mine and she seemed to soften those hard edges she was known for. We were close, closer than what a Professor and student should be, but she was the only one who I could rely on when I had first come to the lovely school. She was my Head of House and instantly took me under her wing when she saw how I was being treated by my classmates. She had told me she wasn’t the most popular witch when she had gone here when she was younger and felt compelled to help me in any way she could.
It was quite odd because I had only heard rumors about Professor Snape when I was a first-year, but she was nothing like what those rumors had described…
“Miss Granger…” Professor Snape drawled. “I see you have finally presented… An Alpha no less! Ha! Do you think you are larger than life now?”
I snorted at this and stood taller, my back ram-rod straight.
“Maybe we could duel and see who is better?” I shot back, a wry grin now plastered on my face. “Or I can brew any potion you desire, Professor.”
Professor Snape’s eye twitched at that rebuttal and challenge.
“Just get in the classroom!” Professor Snape hissed back. “Now! All of you!”
I internally chuckled at ruffling the Potion Professor's feathers and we all made our way into the potions classroom.
Luna, Longbottom, and I sat in close proximity to one another near the back of the said classroom. We watched as Professor Snape strode into the classroom with a purpose, black robe billowing in the wind, door still wide open, and looking just as angry as ever. The need to be devious crawled under my skin, the desire to see my Head of House even more out of sorts strong, but I held myself back…
…for now.
“I am Alpha Severnia Snape and since this is a new year… Salazar help me to retain a shred of sanity while teaching you chits… I will explain once again my expectations for this class.” Professor Snape snapped. “This is the Potions class you know, the one you have been coming to, but at the same time also different. There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. You all know this or you should know this. I have no hope for some of you. As such, I don’t expect many of you to appreciate the subtly and exact art of potion-making. However, for those select few…” She said, her eyes drifting to where I was sitting, her hands closing her cloak. “...who possesses the predisposition…” She said and I could feel Malfoy’s anger at being overlooked by the Alpha Slytherin Professor. “... I can and will teach you many advanced techniques that will build upon the fundamentals you have already learned.”
“But- I’m the best! The horror is just a stupid mud-blood who gets lucky!” Draco sneered as his anger was unleashed, his outrage exploding in a moronic way that was sure to get him in trouble.
“Mr. Malfoy…” Professor Snape responded, her voice colder than Antarctica “...The boy who acts above his station.”
“Boy? Above my station?!” Draco yelled, the students in class eyes widening at his tone. “I am a pure-blood! A Malfoy! My Mother is a Black and our two families are a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight! How dare you say such dim-witted things!”
With those words from the soon-to-be dead little dragon, you could hear a quill drop…
The Alpha Slytherin Professor irritatedly sighed as if this was the worst situation he could imagine being in.
“Your Mother, Narcissa Black Malfoy, was one of the best… Besides me, of course. She also has a Mastery in Potions just like I and yet her progeny is so… untalented.” Professor Snape replied, calm and collected as ever, but her eyes bore venom that could turn witches and wizards alike to stone. “You may think yourself as important, that your lineage and family gives you the right to do and say whatever you desire, but… It. Does. Not.”
“I am still better than that- that thing!” Draco hissed back, not backing down even though his better was on the other end of this confrontation.
Gaia, Malfoy keeps talking…
“Are you, Mr. Malfoy?” Professor Snape asked, her lips turning into a sly smirk that reminded me of the cat who caught the canary. “Tell me, what potion would I brew if I added: Ashwinder eggs, Murtlap tentacles, Occamy eggshells, Horseradish, Squill bulbs, Tincture of thyme, and Rue?”
“I… I don’t know…” Draco answered, his teeth clearly gritted, his pheromones leaking from his person because of the situation.
No talent and no control…
Pity.
But I can’t quite tell what his dynamic is because of all the new scents…
“How about if I added: Powdered asphodel root, Wormwood infusion, Valerian root, a Sopophorous bean, and Sloth brain? What would that make, Mr. Malfoy?” Professor Snape posed, one eyebrow lifted and waiting for an answer from the unprepared Malfoy heir.
This time the Beta Ravenclaw raised her hand, a gleeful expression on her face, and the Omega Gryffindor sank lower in his seat at the attention she was drawing.
Everyone looked at Luna like she was mad, but she genuinely seemed excited to answer Professor Snape’s question.
I didn’t care though.
I was used to the attention.
“I don’t know!” Draco spat back, his pheromones leaking even more at the continued distress, my nose scrunching up in disgust.
Beta, perhaps?
Or perhaps I just dislike him in general…
“Pity.” Professor Snape huffed, clear disdain in her eyes as he stared at Malfoy. “Clearly your blood status isn’t everything… Loathe as I am to do this, Ten points deducted from House Slytherin. And get those blasted pheromones under control, boy. I can already feel the young Alpha’s in here shifting uncomfortably.”
Young inexperienced Alpha’s…
The twit doesn’t affect me at all…
“That was… intense…” Longbottom whispered as he leaned over so no one would hear him.
I nodded in agreement, but when was Professor Snape not intense?
“Now, if that will be all?” Professor Snape cooly said in Malfoy’s direction. “I would like to get on with this class so I can start imbuing you all with the knowledge you will need to pass this class…” She continued, tapering off, her eyes now looking at Luna. “...Miss Lovegood. You have continually had your hand up while I was disciplining Mr. Malfoy, so I assume you know the answer to those two questions?”
The Beta Ravenclaw perked up at this.
“I do!” Luna exclaimed with a wide smile. “The ingredients for the first potion will make Liquid Luck and the ingredients for the second potion will make Draught of Living Death!”
“That is… correct.” Professor Snape drawled, not surprised at all that Luna had answered correctly. “A Ravenclaw will always be a Ravenclaw, I suppose. Ten points to Ravenclaw for Miss Lovegood’s correct answers.”
The Ravenclaws in the room clapped and I patted Luna’s knee in acknowledgement for the well-deserved points.
The Alpha Slytherin Professor was about to open her mouth to no doubt unload more information on us, but the magical chime that signaled the end of classes rang and everyone started to get out of their seats to head for the door.
“Just because the chime rings does not mean I have dismissed you from class!” Professor Snaped snapped sharply and everyone froze. “Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?”
All of the students in the class nodded their heads at a stern-looking Professor Snape and she huffed at them, waving her hand for them to vacate the class now. I had remained in my seat, as well as Luna and the Omega Gryffindor, so I assumed the reminder wasn’t directed at us.
But now that the Alpha Slytherin Professor has given us permission…
...I slowly rose from my seat, head held high - what was left of my coppery curls bouncing in the wind - and strolled to the door so I could get to my next class in time.
This was a large school and students were late on a number of occasions because they easily get led astray.
Especially overachieving first-years.
The Beta Ravenclaw and Longbottom were right behind me, making sure to keep in line with my limped stride, and I appreciated the consideration.
“Are we going to History of Magic now?” Luna asked, the sound of shoes clicking on the stone apparent in the vast space of the hall adjacent to the Potions classroom.
“It should be our last class of the day because of the presenting ceremony right?” Longbottom added, his breathing labored, but his form was still beside us.
“We are and it is.” I confirmed as we rounded the corner, just a few steps away from Professor Binn’s class now.
“I don’t know why we’re still taking this class… Godric, we’re sixth years now!” Longbottom whined.
“That is because if the wizarding world doesn’t learn from our history, then we will be doomed to repeat it.” I replied a little more coolly than I intended, but his words were daft.
“The wrackspurts said you stole that.” Luna said, giggling.
“I didn’t steal it… I just borrowed it from the good Mr. Churchill.” I tutted, rolling my eyes. “I’m sure he won’t mind.”
“Why won’t he mind?” Longbottom asked, none the wiser to what we were talking about.
“Because he’s long dead, Longbottom.” I answered, scoffing at the Omega. “It seems Hogwarts needs a Muggle History class. The wizarding world could learn many things from our history.”
“Muggle History class?” Luna repeated, her voice flitting like she was in thought. “That might not be a bad idea, you know? Maybe you can talk to Headmaster Dumbledore about it. The two of you are fairly close right?”
We were fairly close…
Professor Snape might’ve taken me under her wing, but Headmaster Dumbledore had gifted me the opportunity to be at this school. He told me that he had personally sent me my letter because he knew I had potential. He said he knew what it was like to lose someone close to him. He told me of his sister, confided in me that her death left a hole in heart, and that he didn’t want a girl like me to go through life alone. He wasn’t a moron and knew what would’ve happened to me if I didn’t attend Hogwarts. The Muggle world wasn’t kind to orphans so he begged me to accept and I did so without much thought. I was one to overanalyze any situation, but his plea won over my charred heart. He checked in on me regularly and treated me like family. He tried to minimize the bullying, comforted me in private like a grandfather would his granddaughter, and was one of the most genuine people I had ever met at the time. It was very harrowing at first, letting anyone in because of my parents' deaths, but the old wizard was persistent…
“We… are.” I answered and left it at that as we continued to walk the distance to Professor Binns class.
“You’re… close with the Headmaster?” Longbottom asked, his Omega pheromones making it known that this question was asked in apprehension.
I breathed in and out to steady myself before answering.
“He’s… like a grandfather to me, Longbottom.” I answered, my eyes flicking to the door that was the History of Magic classroom.
“But… the b-bullying?” Longbottom stuttered.
“The bullying… was inevitable. I know how I look, I know what I am, and his interference would’ve added petrol to the fire that had started with my coming to Hogwarts. I asked him to not do anything to avoid that scenario entirely and endured the bullying.” I replied, my voice even, but my Slytherin tendencies made me want to hex those who had ever wronged me.
I had even looked into blood magic, but…
Well, my magic core wasn’t sufficient because of its state, so I put those ideas aside…
“Pet-rol?” Luna repeated, her tone making her confusion at the foreign words clear. “Is that where you try to pet a rollie pollie?”
I chuckled a bit at Luna’s guess and stopped in front of Professor Binns' class.
“Why not?” I replied and then opened the door so we could all go in.
I didn’t want to be caught by Professor Binns too.
“Welcome! Welcome!” Professor Binns said, her ghostly eyes trailing us as we found our seats. “I was formerly Beta Professor Binns. We are missing a few students, but no matter. In today's lesson, we will cover a truly thrilling event. The Witch Trials of 1692…”
The ghostly Beta Professor started on this specific topic, but my eyes swiveled around the classroom. It wasn’t as dark and brooding as the Alpha Slytherin Professors. It had windows that actually let in light and didn’t feel like a dungeon. It also smelt of parchment and ink whereas Professor Snape’s classroom chamber smelt of pungent ingredients she often used in the potions brewed.
“...And what did the Muggles do?” Luna asked, her voice and question drawing me back into the lesson.
“The Muggles hunted witches and wizards alike in the New World. The Salem Witch trials were a very traumatic event for the wizarding world. Many Muggles who were either religious or thought of magic as evil sought out those who had magical capabilities and held a trial for them. I say trials my dear students, but it was nothing of the sort. The Wizengamot holds trials for those they deem to have broken the law, but these Muggles declared witches and wizards guilty without real proof of any wrongdoing. Or they used antiquated and misguided measures for detecting who was a witch. Witches and wizards, but mostly witches because Muggle men had the power, were burned at the stake in alarming amounts. We had to go into hiding, something we hadn't done in ages, and still feel the effects of that horrendous event till this day.”
“Is that why Gellert Grindelwald did what he did?” A classmate asked.
“In part, Grindelwald may have done what he did because of these trials, but he and his acolytes also held the belief that those who held magic within themselves were better than Muggles. He wanted to rule over them, build a hierarchy so Muggles were put in their place, and bring magic to the forefront. We can only hope that these sentiments are washed away with history…” Professor Binns answered, but his ghostly eyes told a story that he didn’t believe that would be possible.
History repeats itself if we don’t learn from it…
With those words, I could see a few students who had pure blood in their veins look uncomfortable. I reveled in their current states because the views they held were nonsensical.
Their family and their forefathers held the belief that they were pure because of their family line, but where did that line come from?
Did they descend from the likes of Merlin, Morgana, Nimue, or Circe?
The gods themselves?
What made them so pure?!
If it was none of those options, then the pure-blood nonsense they so desperately clung to was nothing but nonsensical hierarchical and patriarchal shite.
Family magic made pure-bloods stand out from half-bloods and muggleborns - many citing this as the reason why pure-bloods are at the top of the food chain in the wizarding world - but who's to say we can’t learn that magic?
Has anyone tried?
“Calm down, Hermione.” Luna whispered, her calming presence behind me. “You're leaking Alpha pheromones again.”
“Salazar's snakes…” I cursed, shaking my head and taking a deep breath so I could calm myself.
The Omega’s - and some Beta’s - in the classroom wearily looked my way, but I was calming down from my bout of anger so they all turned back to what the ghostly Beta Professor was saying for which I was thankful. Usually this only happened a week or so after the day of presenting, new dynamics still figuring themselves out, but I didn’t want to make them uncomfortable. I didn’t want to be like the haughty and self-righteous Alpha’s who thought themselves better than the other dynamics. This too was nonsense and I would have no part in the stone-age ideologies those types still held.
The chime once again sounded, signaling the end of the class, and I let out the air I was holding.
“That seems to be the end for today.” Professor Binns said. “I would advise you all to read a few passages of, ‘The Scars of Salem: essays of the Witch trials of 1692.’ You will have to write your own essay on the topic and having extra information at your disposal will only help your overall final grade for the assignment.”
With that, the three of us got up so we could leave the class. It was the last class of the day because of the presenting and I was delighted that the day was finally over. I had been so frazzled about what dynamic I would get, the bullying from the two morons, and the sinister feeling I felt from Professor Quirrell…
The older wizard was our D.A.D.A. Professor, but he had grown even more abnormal and mad than usual…
Speaking of the Professor…
The twitchy Professor was down the hall, mumbling to himself, as our group filed out of the class and our eyes met. His eyes that were usually a dull green flashed a brighter green that seemed to swirl with malicious intent.
Merlin, what-?
As soon as that transpired, my burn scars began to throb, my head started to pound, and I stopped in my tracks in the middle of the hall because of the pain. Fellow students and classmates were looking on at me like I had a second head, but I couldn’t think about them right now.
I glared at Professor Quirrell and he shortly scurried off after, but the agonizing pain still coursed through me and my robes, currently unhelpful.
“Hermione?” Luna said, concern radiating from her voice. “Are you all right?”
“No.” I snarled, the urge to rip someone's throat out in the forefront of my mind. “B-But I will be…”
“Was that, Professor Quirrell?” Longbottom asked, the Omega pheromones pumping out of him instinctually because I was in distress, and that was helpful.
“It was…” I answered through labored breaths, the pain slowly receding. “He’s even more of an oddball this year than he was the previous years.”
“I did notice more nargles swimming around him and they looked positively sinuous…” Luna added, a worried look on her face that had me on edge.
“Wonderful…” I rumbled, huffing through my nose.
Luna never seemed to be distressed about much so her being this way was something to take into account.
“Shouldn’t we all be heading to our respective common rooms?” Longbottom asked. “The last time I was late I got detention for a whole week…”
“You’re right. We should get going.” I replied and then turned to the two. “I don’t say this often, and don’t expect it, but thank you two for being by my side. I don't do… friends, but I will put up with you two.”
The Beta Ravenclaw beamed at my person and the Omega Gryffindor looked positively gobsmacked.
“I knew we would be friends!” Lune replied, clapping softly in excitement.
“I- I… S-Sounds good!” Longbottom stuttered out.
“With that, I bid you both a good day.” I said, inclining my head, and started the journey to the Slytherin common room.
Why was the “Brightest Witch of her Age” not going to the prefects rooms?
Because I turned down the role when Professor Snape offered it to me.
I knew what the role entailed.
How could someone like me greet new students?
How could I be the face of House Slytherin?
It was foolish of me to even think that I could, so I politely declined.
“Stick to the shadows, Hermione…” I mumbled, as I limped up the marble staircase and to my destination. “Just like always…”
When I got to the Slytherin common room, I stood in front of the door that was guarded by a snake. The animated snake was the guardian of the entrance and would only uncoil when the right password was spoken. The password changed every fortnight and the password was…
“Pure-blood.” I deeply intoned with a slight growl, grimacing at the word.
The carved serpent stirred at once, its emerald eyes glinting as its stone coils slowly loosened. With a soft grinding sound of ancient mechanisms and magic working together, the door slid aside and admitted me into the Slytherin common room.
Would be wondrously beautiful if it wasn’t built upon supremacy, discrimination, and systemic bigotry…
The chamber opened before me in a long, low-ceilinged expanse of dark green stone, its walls curved in the fashion of a subterranean hall. Lamps suspended in wrought-iron brackets burned with a steady, greenish light that reflected off polished black tables and deep leather armchairs clustered around the hearth. Banners bearing the silver serpent of House Slytherin hung between the tall windows, their fabric faintly stirring in the cool underground air. Those windows were the room’s most unusual feature: thick panes of enchanted glass set into the stone, looking directly out into the shadowy depths of the Black Lake, where dim waterlight rippled across the ceiling like shifting green silk. The effect gave the entire room a hushed, aquatic gloom, as though we studied and lived at the bottom of the lake itself…
It was a setting that suited the reputation of the house founded by Salazar Slytherin rather perfectly.
It was cold, unfeeling, but that was exactly what Slytherins enjoyed.
I just wanted to head to my bed and decompress, but I was stopped.
And who was it…
It was none other than Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode.
My eyes roamed over my fellow Housemates and I couldn't help but appreciate their style even though they both were complete shites. The predominant black wardrobe Pansy always sported matched my own garments, but her shirt was slightly open this evening, her tie loosely hanging around her neck, and it took everything in me to not blush. Milicent was more masculine in her attire, her sleeves rolled up to show her larger arms which sent a twinge within me.
They both narrowed their eyes at my limping form, but I didn’t flinch under their gazes.
I tiredly sighed.
Today of all Merlin-be-damned days…
“And what would the both you… like from me?” I rumbled, my spine straightening as the question flowed from my lips.
“I still don’t know how a muddy shite like you is a Slytherin.” Pansy spat.
“Pansy… We talked about this…” Millicent harshly whispered to an upset Pansy.
Morgana, how were the three of us ever together…
“You weren’t spouting such vileness when we were…” I started to say and Pansy quickly moved in front of me, gently covering my mouth.
“Will you shut up?” Pansy hissed while Millicent strolled up to us.
“Maybe we should go somewhere else to… talk.” Millicent offered, her eyes searching if anyone was watching us.
I sighed again.
Louder this time.
I roughly took Pany’s hand off my mouth and glared at the now Alpha.
I could scent them when I titled my nose to the air, Alpha and Omega, two who also just gained their dynamics.
Pansy the Alpha.
Millicent the Omega.
“I don’t have the energy for this tonight.” I snarled, baring my now sharp teeth at the pair. “I’m tired and I hurt. You both are the ones that made a mess of this. Not me. Now if you would excuse me…” I finished while walking away and not bothering to look back as Pansy yelled at me.
I needed sleep.
And I wouldn’t lower myself to those who didn’t respect me.
But…
There were holes in my heart, two to be exact, and I longed for something that smelled of…
…Parchment?
Lavender…
And something more specific in nature, but my Alpha hindbrain couldn’t quite grasp it.
In my research on dynamics, I had read that the hindbrain was the most primitive stratum of our dynamic. It was a vestigial but potent layer of instinct that existed alongside ordinary thought rather than beneath it. It was not a separate consciousness, as some sensational books liked to imply, but neither was it merely emotion. The hindbrain was closer to a biological imperative given voice. An Alpha’s hindbrain governed territoriality, protective drive, and the instinctive calibration of dominance and restraint in the presence of others, particularly Betas and Omegas. When it stirred, it did so with the immediacy of an animal’s reflex - quick to bristle, quicker still to guard - yet it remained inseparable from the mind that housed it. One did not battle one’s hindbrain - one integrated it and moderated it - and, ideally, educated it through reason and experience. In essence, it was the ancient, evolutionary echo of what a dynamic once needed to survive, persisting inconveniently within the thoroughly civilized architecture of modern society of both Muggle and magical human beings.
Nevertheless, I could feel that throb once again as my mind lingered on incorporeal scents and I would have to just take care of myself tonight.
“An Alpha…” I whispered. “Who would’ve thought?”