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It was the teeth she noticed first, she was ashamed to say. It wasn't her fault. Her parents had drilled into her how important good teeth were to the point she had become as obsessed as any dentist, and so, was unable to rebuke Harry for saying Marcus Flint must have troll blood in him.
The older Slytherin’s attitude didn't exactly endear him to her either. He was a prejudiced and violent bully. But worse: he was a moron, which be proved to the world at large when he failed his NEWTs, officially making him a full troll.
Surprisingly, he came back to repeat his year. Hermione hadn't even known that was possible, and she had to admit it took some guts to face your Professors and sit amongst the younger students with failure written all over you.
He was taking his studies seriously too, which is how she found him in the library, cursing amongst the rows at the back where the more complicated and dusty volumes were kept. She froze, wondering if he was going to curse her since there were no witnesses around.
“You're that smart chick,” he said without malice.
Hermione forgot to be offended by his choice of words, fascinated as she was by his teeth which were no longer crooked, oversized or yellow.
“Yes? I suppose… Your Head of House says I'm an insufferable know-it-all anyway.”
Flint laughed and somehow roped her into helping him find the books he needed, then tutor him, then make him one of her special planners her own friends hated so much… His Slytherin prejudice against muggleborns seemed to wane the more they talked, and over time, despite everything, they became friends. Good friends. Even if they were smart enough to keep it a secret.
They kept in touch after he graduated and started working at the Ministry. His letters full of anecdotes about his scatterbrained secretary and how he was slithering his way from one promotion to the next. During her year on the run, she knew he had tried to contact her. He thought she should have left the country instead of “shacking up” with two wizards. Ridiculous, but she still felt guilty for not sending him word that she was alive. She couldn't trust anyone, however. Not even him.
When Marcus found her in the hospital wing after the final battle, he hugged her, then scolded her for being such a Gryffindor. For her part, Hermione was just glad she had someone who cared for her. Harry was hiding, the Weasleys were grieving, and she felt like the most selfish person in the world for being so happy in such a dark time because someone was there for her. Just her.
After graduation, she was hired at the Ministry and saw Marcus more regularly. She thought she might have unwittingly fallen in love with him years ago, but she wasn't brave enough to act on it. She could be wrong about her feelings, or it could be unrequited, and she might lose a friend she cared very much for…
It wasn't worth it.
So she pined for him in secret and focused on her career instead.
But temptation to give in to her feelings was overwhelming when Marcus leaned against the door to her office with that cocky grin of his showing off his perfectly aligned teeth.
“Still working over hours?” he asked.
“You know how Gordon is.”
“You're too good for the work he's making you do.”
Hermione shrugged and stamped another parchment before filing it, but Marcus persisted.
“You should come work in my division. I won't waste your time with idle paperwork. You'd be of real use there with me.”
Hermione frowned at the insinuation that what she was doing was useless. It wasn't vital, granted, but it was work and she did it perfectly.
“I will get there eventually. Gordon promised me a promotion as soon as this project is done.”
“Didn't he say that two years ago already?”
Hermione sighed.
“I can do this on my own, Marcus. On my own merit. I don't need you to pull strings for me.”
Marcus stepped into her office and closed the door behind him, so Hermione stopped fussing with her paperwork.
“You won't make it. I'm sorry to tell you, Hermione, but if you're not willing to use your connections, this is as far as you go.”
“What?” she spat in outrage, rising from her seat.
She felt as if she was standing on the edge of a cliff while strong winds howled around her.
“It's not your fault. I'm not questioning your capabilities. It's because of your status… you know…”
“My status?” she repeated, stunned.
“Well, you know. For a witch, you’ve been doing very well, but between that and you being a muggleborn… Outsiders never make it very far here. I did try to tell you in my letters. Don't tell me this is news to you.”
Hermione gaped at Marcus. How could he believe such misogynistic, pure-blooded views? It was as if she didn't know the first thing about him. The very fact he considered her like an outsider to the magical world after all this time was like a slap in the face.
“You believe the shite you're spouting right now?”
“You just have to look around you, Hermione. I'm not making it up, I'm simply stating the facts. It's the way things are. Always will be.”
Hermione toppled back into her chair, the roil of emotions churning her insides shifted into a brooding storm of epic proportions. Maybe she had known all along. Maybe she had wanted to believe the best of the wizarding world after everything she had sacrificed. But she'd show them. She'd show Marcus how much a woman could accomplish on her own, and how far a muggleborn could go based on their merit alone. She would make him eat his petty words with his perfect teeth if it was the last thing she did.