I hope you like it. Reviews would be greatly appreciated.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the plot.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Hermione Granger sat on the plush crimson sofa, staring into the fire. It crackled and hissed a biting taunt. She rubbed her eyes tiredly, making them blur and double the fireplace in her vision. What was she going to do? She knew what she should do, but what she could do was a whole different case. She tucked her hand into the inner pocket of her robe lining. Hermione counted off the reasons why she was in a sticky situation, even thinking about the possibilities.

She knew that the Ravenclaws used it regularly and sold it to other fifth and sixth years.

She knew it wasn't a poisonous, illegal, or banned by school rules or the Ministry. Just frowned upon.

She knew she should have taken the item directly to McGonagall for testing and confiscation.

She knew that it was now her badge on the line, since she hadn't reported the item immediately and if she went now, someone was bound to question the timing reason.

She knew no one would know, considering she put a mild confundus charm on Harold Dingle.

But here she was, feeling guilty. Her body felt tainted, sticky with dread and anticipation. This could be a good thing. No one would ever notice, her grades would be above what studying could do. And technically, this was boosting her brain, amplifying the knowledge already there…not cheating.

Hermione Granger never cheated on anything in her life. She was a hard-working muggleborn, struggling to change the viewpoints of bigots by competing with the brightest from the bottom up. She was here to make an impact, change lives in the future and hopefully reform the ministry one day to be more forward-thinking and open-minded. High hopes, but her Head of House had already worked out her career paths and felt she'd make the most impact by working in The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures by redefining the definitions that categorize the three divisions as well as merging the liaison offices for Centaur and Goblins by being more understanding and considerate of their society's culture. She was here to do more than get house elves paid. She wanted werewolves to be seen as beings, not beasts that were classified as dangerous. She wanted half-breeds to be taught at a young age about their two cultures, and the social stipulations attached to being someone who is not purely one breed. She wanted spirits to be exorcised humanely, not forcibly ripped from their attachments, covered in sorrow and anchored to a place they begin to haunt angrily.

She fished out the item, so small and engulfed by her black, velvety robes.

A silver claw, the side of a lizard's foot, gripped a glass orb. In that small marble was a finely crushed powder, white as Scotland snow. Hermione's body shook a quiet tremble, rippling a wave of exhilaration through her bones. This would be a good thing. She'd be helping others more than helping herself. Harry would understand, and she already knew Ron was all for it. Being a pureblood, he did not see magically enhancing his senses as cheating, like muggles did for steroids. But Harry would understand, because she wasn't doing this to be selfish. This was about ensuring the future of magical London as a haven for magic, like it was so long ago, when the muggles persecuted witches and wizards. She could singlehandedly change the very nature of the streets of Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade by slowly incorporating compassion into the laws that bind the viewpoints of the people they dictate. This was for them. It was only for one test, to secure the knowledge she already possessed. Hermione compared it to felix felicis, except the nauseating dangers of side effects such as delirium and recklessness were almost nonexistent in dragon claw powder. Felix felicis also had the unsavory possibility of addiction, a deep dark yearning for the unattainable glory and thrill of controlling one's fortunes.

She lifted the small dragon foot replica to her face and twisted the orb slowly, carefully to not spill the powder. The claw glistened in the fire's glow, burning a flashing silver, beckoning her. She had read carefully, thoughtfully. She knew the usage, the side effects, the methods of application, the dosage, probably more than any Mediwitch or Healer at St. Mungo's. Harold had said he preferred dabbing the dust behind his ear, at the soft nape below his earlobe. It apparently caused a pleasant chill that soothed the headaches caused by over-studying. He also said that some of the Ravenclaw boys preferred sniffing the powder, saying it smelled like amortentia in the early brewing process.

She looked around, darting a glance in all directions of the barren common room. She raised the glass marble to her nose and inhaled deeply as fast as she could with a puff. The powder was so fine it burned a trail of ice down her nose. She could taste the bitterness, like meat smoked with brimstone, in the back of her throat. A cough. She muffled it with her robes, eyes watering and nose dribbling onto the cloth. She choked out a few breaths, and a few minutes of labored breathing was enough to get her situated correctly. There was no lingering saccharine smells of syrupy love, just a nauseating blizzard in her nasal passage and stale thestral breath after devouring half-rotted pork chops on her tongue.

Hermione Granger went to bed immediately. Her scalp tingled with expectation, nostrils blazed icy hot lava, and her head hurt like a bludger collided with it. She didn't dare go to the Hospital Wing that night, not even when she woke up to run to the bathroom and purge the Brunswick stew she had for dinner. She wept on the cobblestone floor, from agony and regret. Sleep came furiously once her stomach ceased the tumultuous roaring.

She eventually woke up an hour later than expected. When she did manage to make her body sit upright, her room mates were gone and the common room was empty. She shook herself into overdrive, hurriedly preparing her books and throwing on a wrinkled robe. She rushed into the stone halls, feet making a frantic pattering as she made her way to Double Potions in the dungeons.