Changing Times

Jack Ryan

Rating: R
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 05/03/2004
Last Updated: 05/03/2004
Status: paused

This is an AU fic, in which Hermione transfers from Beauxbatons. It's pretty good...so please read and review!

Chapters

1. The Transfer

1. The Transfer

Disclaimer: There are drug references and sex in this story; remember this is an R-rated fiction. Go back if you don’t like that kind of stuff. All characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

Note: This is just a fic I’m starting to distract myself from Green Flame Torch and my other longer, spy novel about Harry that you will probably see later this year. I’ve been having severe writer’s block for both stories, so this story is mainly to take some time off from them. Updates will be irregular and totally at random. Do review, though! I’ll be more inclined to add more if you all like it!

Chapter One---The Transfer

“Be careful, my dear, and keep your grades up!”

Hermione Granger kissed her mother, knowing that a new chapter in her life was starting. Her father had died after a long battle with cancer at the beginning of the summer and they had moved from France to England, where her mother had found a job at the Ministry of Magic. It was not high-paying, but it was enough for them to survive on.

“You’ll be wonderful, dear,” Mrs. Granger added, kissing her daughter again. Hermione smiled lovingly at her mother before stepping onto the Hogwarts Express. This was going to be her first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her previous four years had been spent at Beauxbatons Academy, a fine school in France. But she couldn’t help but be excited at the prospect of going to the best wizarding school in the world.

She found an empty compartment and sat down. Hermione was not very outgoing; she had had no friends at Beauxbatons. She liked to be by herself, preferably with a book, and simply read. She was very smart, first in her class all four years so far. Hermione was planning on being first in the class this year too, but it would be new material, and new competitors. She would have to work harder than ever.

Hermione looked out the window as the train began moving, the English countryside beginning to pass by her eyes. England was beautiful; in a harsh, charming sort of way. It was very different from the pleasant, relaxed atmosphere of France. Hermione wasn’t sure which one she liked better.

She knew that this was the year in which they tested O.W.L.S. Hermione was looking forward to that. Her mother had promised her that if she got an Outstanding on every test she would buy Hermione a new set of encyclopedias.

Hermione pulled out The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5 and began reading it, her mind thinking of her mother’s proud face if she got all those O.W.L.S.

***

“The weather sure is fucked up today,” Harry Potter observed dryly to his two best friends.

It was only mildly cold and they were in the relative heat of the train, but all three were used to comforts. Draco Malfoy was the richest of the three and lived in a gigantic manor. Ron Weasley’s family was well-off too and Ron lived in a warm part of the country.

Harry lived with his annoying aunt and uncle, but after his first year at Hogwarts, they had gotten so scared of him that he pretty much got whatever he wanted.

“I hate England,” Draco said, “when I’m out of Hogwarts, I’m moving to Hawaii.”

“Lots of beautiful babes there,” Ron pointed out.

All three shared a smirk at that one. They knew that they were the three most sought-after wizards in the entire school. Ron was lanky, with deep-blue eyes and fiery red hair. When he wasn’t screaming his face out at you, his easygoing grin could charm the most righteous girl. Draco had silver-blond hair with sparkling silver eyes and had also bedded his share of girls.

But, to most eyes, Harry was the most eligible man at Hogwarts. Unruly black hair that tugged at every girl’s heart, with beautiful green eyes that could always get him what he wanted, Harry had slept with a seventh year when he was twelve years old and hadn’t stopped since. According to Blaise Zabini, their other friend and statistician, who was currently attending a meeting of prefects (Harry, Ron, and Draco had all gotten a laugh out of that one), Harry had bedded over thirty girls.

Every girl that dated the trio, and for that matter, Blaise as well, ended up dumped within a week. Each simply got tired of their bodies in about that time, and moved onto another girl. And there was always a willing customer.

“Who you gonna go after to start the year?” Ron asked Harry, “Gonna give yourself a challenge?”

“Yeah, what you did to Patil last year was hilarious,” Draco added.

“Bloody bitch had it coming,” Harry commented, “hanging all over me---expecting me to actually act like her boyfriend or something! Idiot…how could they not realize that we’re just using them like we use every other girl?”

“It’s just our devilish charms,” Ron said, “they convince themselves into believing that they’ll be different from the other ones. That we actually love them.”

They snorted. Love. A foreign concept.

“I think Patil learned her lesson though,” Harry said with a smile.

“‘You’re the animal that spread her legs before I even asked her to,’” Draco quoted, smirking, “don’t think she ever recovered from that one.”

“Anyway, who’s your challenge this year?”

“I don’t know, maybe some Gryffindor. They’re always the funniest to dump.”

The Slytherin boys laughed. It was definitely a lot of fun when the noble Gryffindors got rejected by their cruel, heartless Slytherin boyfriends.

Blaise Zabini strolled in, quickly chucking his prefect badge off the wall, “Stupid thing.”

“So what happened at the goody two shoes meeting?” Draco asked, sliding down to make space for their friend.

“I don’t know,” Blaise reported, “I was asleep for the first half and for the second half, I was staring at Paquin’s legs.”

Harry, Ron, and Draco nodded appreciatively. Keira Paquin, the Head Girl was the incredibly hot seventh year whom every guy from fourteen on up wanted to bed. But she was taken, much to the anger of the Slytherin foursome. And it wasn’t by someone they respected either. It was actually Cedric Diggory, the perfect, handsome Hufflepuff Head Boy. The Slytherin four hated him with a passion bordering on loathing. Cedric didn’t seem to mind, though, always being civil with them, which only seemed to add to their consternation.

“God, I’m bored,” Ron said, “let’s go torture somebody.”

Draco nodded and stood up, “Come on.”

The four walked out of the room, intent on finding someone they could harass. The first compartment they walked into was empty, save for a couple that was making out on the ground. Harry just sniggered at them, but they decided to leave them alone.

The next compartment looked empty, until they saw someone in the corner of the room, buried in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5.

“Who’s that?” Ron whispered, “I don’t remember anybody from last year who reads that stuff.”

“Who the hell are you?”

Hermione looked up from her book and saw the four handsome, but glaring youths staring at her.

“That’s not a nice way to greet someone,” Hermione said.

“That’s not a nice way to greet someone,” the one with green eyes mimicked, “I believe I asked you a question.”

“My name’s Hermione Granger,” she said, looking back at her book.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Ron asked, in his typically charming way.

“I happen to be a transfer student,” she said coldly, her eyes flashing, “now would you leave me alone? I want to read.”

“What are you, a fifth year?”

“Yes, now leave me alone,” she said.

Harry had immediately classified her from the moment he had seen her. Nerd. You could tell just from the way she dressed. Unlike most fifteen year olds, she did not wear tight or revealing clothing. Her clothes seemed to fit her just right and she obviously wasn’t wearing any make-up.

“I don’t know,” Draco said, sliding into a seat opposite her, “I don’t feel like leaving just yet. What about you, boys?”

The three other Slytherin bullies laughed, taking seats themselves. Here was a perfect opportunity to teach this newbie that they were not to be trifled with. Hermione put down her book and smiled politely at them. What the hell? Harry thought.

“Okay, since you obviously aren’t going anywhere,” she said wryly, “I might as well be polite to you. What are your names?”

“Ron Weasley, red-head extraordinaire,” Ron announced, as he had since their second year.

Draco rolled his eyes before saying, “Draco Malfoy.”

“Blaise Zabini.”

“Harry Potter,” Harry said, his eyes locking onto Hermione’s at that moment. Her eyes were warm; a deep chocolate-brown. Harry shook his head. His own eyes were cold and unreadable most of the time. He never wanted weakness to show.

They were surprised when she didn’t even do the obligatory look-up to Harry’s scar, even more so when she didn’t ask any questions. Was she dumb? Didn’t she know who he was? Harry actually didn’t mind, it was much nicer this way, but his friends were in a state of shock. Never had Harry introduced himself to someone in the wizard world and not been met with instant praise, questions, and general idiocy.

“Come on, Draco,” Ron said, bored, “let’s go.”

They left the room, their robes swishing behind them.

***

Hermione stared at their retreating backs, unbelievingly. She had met arrogant boys before, but these four were definitely the cream of the crop. But Harry Potter was certainly interesting. He had seemed surprised when she hadn’t asked him the questions about his scar; Hermione didn’t believe in making anyone uncomfortable, and she was pretty sure that was what Harry would be feeling when people asked him those same old questions.

She looked back at her book, her mind getting lost once more in spells.

***

“What a dork,” Ron observed, once they were back in their compartment.

“Tell me about it,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“She didn’t ask about your scar,” Blaise noted, “that was kind of surprising. Maybe she’s just stupid or something.”

Suddenly, Draco was grinning. A smile was spreading across his face, and the other three looked at him warily. The last time he had had a look like that on his face, the four had ended up in the Forbidden Forest, six werewolves chasing after them.

“What is it, Draco?” Harry asked suspiciously.

“I think we all disagree on something,” Draco said, “and that is, of course, the question of who is the man here who is the most appealing to women.”

It was true. Each thought that they were God’s gift to women. Harry had bedded the most, but Draco had gotten the hottest girl any of them had been in bed with, a girl who had graduated last year, with long blond hair and a full body, Draco liked to say. Ron had gotten his fair share, and Blaise wasn’t shabby either.

“I have a bloody fucking good idea to figure this out once and for all.”

“What?”

“Which one of us can seduce the girl back there,” he said, jabbing his head in the direction of Hermione Granger’s compartment, “she’s probably still a fucking virgin and she’ll be tough game for all of us. All you have to do is get her in bed before the rest of us.”

The other three boys thought it over. Ron was already grimacing at the idea of having to sleep with that bushy-haired freak, but he consoled himself with the idea that if he got her into bed that he would be the unquestioned champion of the four boys. Harry couldn’t refuse a challenge; he knew that he was the most eligible. Now he had to go prove it. And Blaise was willing to as well, knowing full well that he had the charm to win.

“Wait a minute,” Harry said, “we get to go with other girls in between too, right? You know, give ourselves a good lay every now and then? I doubt that the girl will fall in a few weeks.”

Draco nodded, “Of course. We have our needs. So is it agreed upon?”

They all shook hands on it, smiling at one another.

“We shouldn’t start now,” Ron observed smartly, “all four of us can’t do it at the same time. Let’s say that the game starts once the school year starts; tomorrow.”

There were nods around the compartment and the four most popular boys in the school, except for the possible exception of Cedric Diggory, began playing Exploding Snap, being careful not to get too close for fear of anything singeing their perfect eyebrows.

***

“We have a transfer this year, Miss Hermione Granger,” Dumbledore announced, “she has transferred from Beauxbatons and I would like for all of you to make her welcome. Now, Miss Granger, if you would please put the Sorting Hat on.”

Hermione walked up to the stool, her legs quaking underneath her. The whole class of first years had already gone ahead of her, and now, she felt as if she had a spotlight on her. It seemed as if every eye was turned in her direction. She gratefully disappeared under the brim.

“Well, what do we have here? Hmm…a very strong mind, lots of talent, oh yes. Great determination as well…bravery…yes, I think you would do best in GRYFFINDOR!”

The table applauded politely and she took a seat next to a short, round boy with a freckled face.

“Hello,” she said, “how do you do?”

The boy shrugged, evidently more of the quiet type. Her eyes roamed around the hall, finding the Big Four of Slytherin, their arrogant faces smirking at everyone around them. She turned to the Headmaster, who was finishing up his welcoming speech.

“As you know, the Forbidden Forest is still, well, forbidden. Thank you and eat up.”

Food appeared on the plates and Hermione began to eat. The quality wasn’t as high as Beauxbatons, but it was good nonetheless. The boy next to her made no attempts at conversation and Hermione didn’t mind. She preferred to eat in silence, anyway.

***

“Going to the party?” Seamus Finnigan asked loudly to his girlfriend, Lavender Brown.

The Gryffindors were back in the common room and Hermione had attempted to read by the armchair, but there was endless activity going on in the Tower.

“When is it?”

“Eleven, remember?”

She nodded and hurried off with her best friend, Parvati, to get ready. Seamus and Dean Thomas were relaxing in soft couches, waiting to head up.

“Hey, why don’t you come?” Dean asked Hermione, “It’ll be a good way to make some friends. You don’t want to end up like Neville over there.” He jabbed his face in the direction of Neville.

“No thanks,” she said, “I don’t really like parties.”

“Suit yourself,” he said, shrugging.

Hermione watched as Lavender, Parvati, Seamus, and Dean left twenty minutes later presumably to head out to their late-night party. She closed up her book and went to bed, intent on getting some rest before tomorrow’s lessons.

***

“I can’t feel my body,” a drunk Harry moaned.

Ron shook his head, unable to comprehend him. It was three o’clock in the morning and the back-to-school party was still raging in the Room of Requirement. Blaise had passed out an hour ago, some girl naked on his body. Ron was actually currently entertaining a sixth year brunette, who was sitting on his lap.

“Oh, Harry, come here,” Padma Patil said. Harry obeyed, deciding that a good fuck would be in his best interests. They stripped right there, and Harry had sex with her on the floor, dancing students all around him, some drunk and some stoned.

“Harry, here’s some more,” Draco called out, Pansy Parkinson groping him as he gave Harry a cigarette to smoke marijuana.

Dean Thomas, a Gryffindor, but a good guy overall, was their buyer of drugs, getting them every summer when he went back to his Muggle parents. Occasionally, his brother would send him some when they ran out.

Harry took several puffs, the high hitting him at the perfect time. A few minutes later, he passed out.

***

“Fucking hangover,” Harry groaned as he sat down at the breakfast table four hours later.

“I feel like I’ve got a fucking elephant trampling around my head,” said Ron, who had always been eloquent with words.

Many of the students around the hall were bleary-eyed from the party just a few hours back. Harry could still feel the after-effects of the marijuana and the alcohol on his mind.

“Why does everyone look so tired?” Hermione asked Neville.

Neville shrugged, “It’s that party. They all get drugged and drunk.”

Hermione was shocked. This had never happened at Beauxbatons. How could Dumbledore allow it? She had thought such things were only the problems of Muggle schools. Evidently, she was wrong.

She looked over at the obviously out-of-it Slytherin boys. Harry had fallen asleep on his jam, the grape smearing on his face. Hermione couldn’t help but giggle. Served him right.

Dean Thomas was laying his head on Parvati’s shoulder, while his hand played her with breast. Hermione chose to ignore that. She had seen some of that at Beauxbatons. She shuddered. She would never throw away her virginity until she was with the one that she loved. And that would probably never happen.

Herbology was her first class and she had it with the Slytherins. Hermione groaned. She didn’t want all those stoned boys taking away from her learning. Unfortunately, Professor Sprout didn’t seem to care.

They were assigned sixty pages of reading, but Hermione was already far ahead of what they were doing. Not only had she read up on all this stuff over the summer, Beauxbatons seemed to be far ahead of Hogwarts in this subject.

Next class was Potions, also with the Slytherins. Harry, Ron, Draco, and Blaise took seats in the far back, while Hermione took a seat in the front. She smiled eagerly. Potions were neglected at Beauxbatons and she wanted to see what the subject was like at Hogwarts.

Professor Snape stormed into the room, his cape billowing behind him. Hermione immediately knew that this man was easily angered. She kept her mouth shut. She didn’t want him to dislike her on the very first day.

“This is the year of your O.W.L.S.,” he said, “thankfully, some of you will be leaving my teaching this year.”

His eyes lingered on Parvati Patil, who had a glob of some milky substance on her mouth. Hermione shuddered. That looked suspiciously like something that had come out of Dean’s lower half.

“This year, we will be doing a project. It will require long hours of research in the library and I fully expect this to be the best you can do. This project is due in December. In January, we will begin reviewing and learning new bits of information for the O.W.L.S.

“Your project is to create your own potion; one that will be useful. You will also create its antidote and write a fifteen foot essay on your method of creating, doing, and studying this potion.”

There were groans throughout the room. Even Harry Potter, Snape’s favorite student, looked unhappy. This was going to be work. A lot of it.

“You will be working with partners.”

Instant relief spread. Dean and Parvati smiled at each other, and Harry and Draco were already doing their secret handshake. No one could stop them. Hermione looked around the room nervously. Who’d want to work with her? Maybe that Neville kid.

“I, however, will be assigning your coworker,” Snape said, with a smile. There were no more smiles.

“One of you go sit next to your partner after I read out who it is…Dean Thomas and Lavender Brown. Ron Weasley and Parvati Patil. Draco Malfoy and Seamus Finnigan. Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini. Neville Longbottom and Millicent Bulstrode.”

Hermione’s hopes sunk. There was no way she could work with Neville now. He seemed to be the only decent person in the entire room.

“Harry Potter and Hermione Granger…” Snape kept reading off names, but Hermione no longer heard him. Her mind was in a state of shock. Harry Potter?! He was arrogant…not to mention, a druggie. How could she count on him to do any work?

“Now, begin working with your partners. Move!”

Harry had no intentions of getting up, so Hermione came and sat next to Harry, taking the seat vacated by Ron who had gone off to flirt with Parvati.

“Hi, remember me? I’m Hermione Granger,” she said politely, in case he had forgotten.

“I know,” he said in a bored voice, “whaddaya want to do?”

Hermione shrugged, “I was thinking that we could maybe research first.”

Harry frowned, “When?”

“Tonight? I mean, if it’s all right with you.”

Harry was about to vehemently argue, but he remembered Malfoy’s contest. He had to go for it. This was a good way to do it.

“All right. I’ll do it. Meet you there at eight.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Like it?

P.S. If you think that Cedric was in his seventh year in the fourth book, you’re wrong. He was actually mentioned as being a fifth year in the third book. A mistake by JKR? Nope, actually he was probably just seventeen before the Goblet of Fire age line drawing. So that’s why he’s a seventh year in this novel. And yes, he’s alive, as is Sirius.