hoping to do some good in the world (Muslim Hermione- fight me, jkr)
When a little muggleborn girl walks up to the Sorting Hat, a number of purebloods (and a number of muggleborns, to be honest) wonder why they can't see her hair- why her head and neck are covered by a dark blue headscarf.
In the ensuing months, they will learn the word hijab.
---
Hermione Granger is faithful and studious. She hates breaking the rules and is a perfectionist.
(She is also stupidly, irrevocably, wonderfully noble.)
In this universe, as in most others, Hermione Granger carries these traits close to her heart, in her spine and in her head. She holds faith in things that do not have a ready explanation, believes in heroes despite all evidence otherwise.
---
Hermione Granger finds a Summoning charm in her textbooks and figures it out how to perfect it before she even steps foot on the Hogwarts Express. If she is to complete her five daily prayers, then she will need a way to grab her prayer rug easily without having to carry it around all day (the Hogwarts blueprints show a school almost too large to be real- she’ll have to investigate that).
She leaves her first class and her lunch block for five minutes everyday. She heads out into the hallways, summons Abba’s prayer rug, recites a compass spell to orient herself toward Mecca, and recites her prayers.
---
This is not a story about heroes and villains. It is not a story about war and destruction, about magical spells and epic climaxes.
This is a story about the strength of a single girl’s faith.
---
Hermione knows fear. She knows the way that people look at her hijab with suspicion, look at her father like he’ll hurt them and her mother like she’s stupid (despite the fact that they’re both dentists, with their doctoral degrees and a wish to help others). She knows hatred, the way people sneer when they look at her and the way boys at her primary school would tug at her hijab, jeering names at her face.
She knows that Harry and Dean and Lavender and Anthony and Neville and the Patil twins all suffer from the same prejudice as she does, if for different reasons.
When Draco Malfoy spits mudblood in her face, when he curses her origins, she calls upon the spells that she can run past her lips. She summons up a righteous anger borne of years of absorbing others’ hatred, remembers pages and pages of spells. She whips hexes at prejudiced lips, smiles at the crunch of her fist against his face.
---
Hermione Janan Granger does not pray to flawed mentors and old men- she prays to Allah, and to herself. She is more than just a pawn, a fount of unfocused knowledge.
She wants to do good in the world, just like her parents, but she guards her trust close. She bestows it on those who have earned it- Harry, Ron, Ginny, Millicent, Anthony, Neville, Luna- but not on men who people seem to put blind faith in without proof.
Her faith is strong, but it is not without base.
---
She makes friends with Anthony Goldstein, who celebrates Yom Kippur and Hanukkah and the Shabbat prayers with the same devoutness with which she practices her own faith. In a rather secular, magical world, being able to find someone else who puts such effort into their faith is relieving to her.
---
During Ramadan, her mind grows sharp and her spells powerful even as her stomach growls. Her focus increases as her hunger grows, as her faith finds its way past the limits of her stomach and into her bones.
Her dedication to her faith becomes known, and respected. During this month of the year, she is unbeatable even as her skin grows a bit sallow and her stomach grumbles during classes.
(She heads down to the kitchens after sunset and is greeted by a feast. She understands that, magically speaking, it fulfills house elves to provide food for her, but her faith does not abide by slavery of any sort. It is hard for her to process their smiles whenever she asks for food.
So, instead, she thanks each and every house elf, mentions them all by name in her prayers. Perhaps this will help them.)
---
When Hermione tells Harry, the orphan boy, the forced hero of the story, that they are all heroes, she doesn’t mean that they are all saviors of worlds, leaders and princes. She doesn’t mean that they have to save the day, have to be courageous and beautiful and in love.
She means that they are survivors, and that this, in itself, is a heroic act.
---
Her caftan for the Yule Ball her fifth year is modest and beautiful. A long dark blue caftan, trimmed with dark blue lace and embroidered in gold, it is just perfect. Her hijab is dark blue to match.
Viktor Krum looks at her and smiles. “You look beautiful, скъп."
She smiles. “Thank you, Viktor."
Viktor Krum is nothing like the perfect Muslim boy she dreamed of as a little girl, but he is smart, and wonderful, and perfectly kind.
He respects her faith and her boundaries, calls her beautiful. He holds her hands, but does not kiss her. He is the perfect first boyfriend.
---
When she emerges from the lake, her hijab is sodden with water but thankfully still covers her hair and her neck.
---
Viktor leaves at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. Cedric won, Fleur placed second, and Viktor placed third. Despite his loss, he smiles and says, "It vas vorth it, Hermione, because I got to meet you."
Hermione returns his smile. "It was nice to meet you as well, Viktor. We'll continue to write, right?"
He nods. "Of course."
---
Hermione Granger is not meek. She is devout, and focused on her studies, but not meek.
She is full of faith for many things: Allah, education, and herself. She channels this faith into progress, into change.
---
Harry comes to her at the end of fifth year, stomach in his throat. “Hermione,” he says, eyes downcast, “I have something to tell you.”
“Yeah?” she asks, raising her eyes from her book.
“I...I think I like boys and girls.”
She looks at him. She’s suspected for a year or so, ever since his minor obsession with Cedric Diggory last year and the way he stares at Neville’s arse sometimes.
“Okay,” she says, and flips the page. “Tell me when you finally ask Longbottom out.”
Harry sputters, and she smiles.
---
Hermione’s sixth year, she breaks up with Viktor. It is an amicable split, no hard feelings between them. He wishes her luck with school and asks if she’ll mind if he comes to celebrate her graduation next year.
She smiles and says of course not.
---
She walks into the Room of Requirement (a fascinating discovery when searching for an answer to Harry’s Second Task two years ago) and finds Harry and Neville snogging in the middle of the Historic Legends section of the Great Hidden Library.
She clears her throat and they spring apart, looking like they’ve been caught doing something unspeakable. “Mind handing me the copy of the Upanishads, won’t you?” She gestures to Neville, who grabs a copy of the book that she’s seen him reading on the Express and hands it to her. “Thanks,” she says, and heads over to the Muggle Sports section (the far end of the library) so she can read in peace.
---
Hermione graduates top of her class, Susan Bones, Draco Malfoy, and Terry Boot right behind her.
The world is at her fingertips, and all of knowledge is within her grasp. She can change everything wrong with the world.
---
When Hermione Granger is eleven, she climbs a stool and puts a hat on her head. She is told that she will do well in either Ravenclaw or Slytherin, and she smiles.
I want to learn everything, she thinks, and the Sorting Hat shouts her House to the world.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/13706415
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someone to hold every night (quirrelmort snuggles)
A scar is a healing.
After injury, a scar is what makes you whole.
-China Miéville
It's not easy to survive with the scars of Azkaban.
Oh, it's not just the Dementors, stealing your happiness and your every lovely thought. They also use enchanted chains there, you know. Ones that leave scars around your wrists for the rest of your life, remnants of burns from where they prevented your magic from escaping. Those scars last until the day you die, as infinite reminder of the crimes you committed.
And Voldemort hates having to see those scars on Quirrell's wrists when they're sleeping together in their Muggle flat. It's been years since Quirrell got out of Azkaban and they moved to the suburbs of Muggle London. Though Quirrell's still going to therapy (and though Voldemort still really hates a lot about Muggles, he is so immeasurably thankful for the existence of therapy and how it has helped Quirrell), the nightmares haven't stopped. The panic attacks have abated a lot, but they're still there.
And Voldemort knows that it's all his fault. He's the reason that Quirrell has those scars on his wrists and his mind, why he constantly suffers from flashbacks, why he often has to be held through the night to prevent nightmares.
Voldemort's never felt guilty before. Not when he killed his family, not when he first killed Potter, not when he arranged for Dumbledore's death.
But with Quirrell? By wizard God, every regret he's ever felt was because of this beautiful, brilliant man.
He's never loved someone like he does Quirrell. Bellatrix was a fuckbuddy and he's never given a shit about his family. But Quirrell, with his flowers and books and his messy habits and his love of children- well, he's really fucking in love with Quirrell. And that's kind of terrifying.
Voldemort's never cared so much in his life, never consented to be this vulnerable before. And in some ways he hates it, the fact that someone as fragile and brilliant as Quirrell can make him feel this way. He hates that Quirrell can give him regrets, that Quirrell can give him butterflies in his stomach, that he wants to cuddle and hold Quirrell until he's smiling and laughing.
"Voldemort," comes Quirrell's voice, slurred by sleep, "You're beating yourself up again, aren't you?"
Voldemort straightens. "I would never," he says, automatically falling back into old patterns of bravado. He ruins the pretense of apathy, though, by ghosting his fingers over Quirrell's scarred wrist, over the bumpy flesh that will never go smooth again.
"Voldemort, you do know I don't blame you for what happened, right?"
Quirell's told Voldemort that a hundred times, but it's never quite sunk in. Because here's the thing- it doesn't matter whether or not Quirrell blames Voldemort for what happened, it was objectively Voldemort's fault. Voldemort let Quirrell take the fall for that Hufflepuff boy's death. He let Quirrell languish in Azkaban for months, only returning to him after Voldemort himself had died.
Yes, it was Quirrell's decision to ally himself with Voldemort, to do the things he did. But it's Voldemort's fault that Quirrell faced the consequences for what happened, that Quirrell had to go to Azkaban because Voldemort didn't protect him from the wizard cops.
"I know," Voldemort says with a sigh, "But it's just hard not to blame myself."
Quirrell's eyes open wide awake, undulled by sleep. "Voldemort," he says, voice ungentle in the way it only is when Voldemort's being hard on himself. "Do you need to go visit Dr. Zachary again?"
Voldemort's nose wrinkles as if he's bit into a lemon. "Your muggle doctor? The one who wants me to talk about my feelings? He helps you, and I'm grateful for that, but no thanks for me!"
"Are you sure you don't need help?" Quirrell asks, always concerned about Voldemort in the way that no one else has ever been.
Voldemort nods. "I have you, don't I?" He says, and Quirrell smiles that unburdened smile of his, the one that's fond and happy and that Voldemort calls his "lovesick" smile when teasing Quirrell (but that he secretly loves more than anything else in the world). He then leans over and kisses Voldemort. Quirrell's lips linger, gentle and warm, and Voldemort reaches up and places a hand on the back of Quirrell's neck.
All of his regrets center around Quirell, but so do all of his hopes and dreams. Every good moment he can remember centers around this gentle man in front of him, the man who loves gardening more than killing, who wants nothing more than to teach, whether that be wizardlings or the Muggles at the high school he currently works at.
Quirrell makes Voldemort happy like he's never been in the past, and by wizard God does he hope he can do the same for Quirrell.
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