Hermione was late to breakfast. When she walked over to the Slytherin table, she couldn't help but gaze at Alphard a little longer than she looked at anyone else. He was Sirius, She thought to herself. And now he doesn't even remember. She sat down in the space Tom had created for her.
"You look dreadful," Tom said bluntly. Lyla giggled, and nodded. "You do," she agreed. Hermione scowled at them. "I didn't sleep well," she snapped, reaching for some toast and spreading marmalade over it as angrily as one can spread marmalade over toast. Tom looked carefully at her, and she knew he saw the puffiness of her eyes, the redness of her nose. Quietly, too quietly for anyone to hear, he asked, "Were you crying?" Hermione glared at him, and stabbed her knife into the marmalade jar, biting down into her toast savagely. Tom arched an eyebrow at this behaviour, waiting patiently for her to finish chewing.
"I don't see how it's any of your business," she snapped back, rudely. Tom turned back to his breakfast, shrugging. "I thought we were friends," he said, sounding sad. "Best friends," he added, sniffing dramatically, as he slowly cut up a sausage.
Hermione glared at him for a moment longer, inwardly snorting at his theatrics, before sighing deeply. Snapping at everyone won't help anything, she chastised herself. "Of course we're friends Tom. I'm sorry. I just had a bad dream, but I'm fine now." She said, reaching out to touch his arm reassuringly. He flinched, reminding Hermione of Harry and how he hated to be touched too—no don't think of Harry right now,- but turned and smiled at her dazzlingly. It wasn't one of the Slytherin smirks that Hermione found herself wearing far too often for her liking. It was a genuine smile that lit up his face, and Hermione found herself smiling back at him.
"Oy, you two, what are you grinning about? You look like a pair of clowns!" Alphard Black complained, turning away from Adrian Pemberly, a fourth year. "And what kind of manners are you displaying, Ms. Granger? No hello for your favourite Black? No good morning? Maybe Georgia was right about you," He stuck his nose up into the air haughtily, before looking over to her and giving her a wink." Hermione laughed.
"Oh, I've got your schedule by the way", continued Alphard. "We've got Potions with the Gryffindors—don't pull that face, Lucas—Astronomy with the Hufflepuffs-that's a first, we didn't have any classes with them last year did we?—Herbology with the Ravenclaws—wow all four houses covered—oh blimey, we've got Defence with the Gryffindors again. Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws, Charms with the Ravenclaws, and—blimey-History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs and the Gryffindors."
"Kill me now," Lucas exclaimed dramatically, dragging a hand across his forehead and falling forward onto the table, eyes closed and tongue sticking out. Alphard chortled. "It's not like we're jumping up and down about it either," came Septimus Weasley's voice from behind Hermione. She turned, arms outstretched in greeting, and was quickly gathered into a hug. "How've you been?" she asked, looking around for Drew and Augusta. "They're still eating," Septimus replied, having guessed who she was looking for. "I just thought I'd come by and say hello, seeing as we didn't see each other on the train yesterday."
"Well you've said it, so maybe you can go back to your own table now," Tom said, his voice polite but eyes glinting with irritation. Septimus ignored him.
"Come sit with us during History of Magic—Binns'll never notice if we're talking, especially if we sit in the back!" Hermione opened her mouth to protest that they really should pay attention, when Septimus turned, saw another red haired boy—Quintus, his older brother—gesturing for him to return to the Gryffindor table.
"Gotta go, Hermione. See ya later!" He said cheerfully, before heading back to the Gryffindor table.
"Honestly, Hermione, your friend should know better than to come to our table during breakfast," Lyla said, frowning. "I'm sure there's a rule about it."
Hermione suppressed her irritation. Her Slytherin friends had never liked her Gryffindor ones and vice versa, and it was very annoying to have to keep defending them from each other.
"There isn't," Hermione said shortly, grabbing her schedule from beside Tom, who looked unusually sour—no doubt he disapproved of Septimus and the others as well. "Double Charms first. I'm heading back to the Common Room to get my stuff. Anyone coming?"
Alphard and Tom both pushed their plates away from them and followed her out of the great hall.
"I wonder when Quidditch tryouts are," Alphard mused, running his fingers carefully through his hair.
"Quit fussing, you're just making it messy," Hermione scolded, slapping his hand, and reaching up to pat it back into place.
"Thanks, 'Mione," he said, grinning.
Hermione felt her smile slip slightly. "When did you start calling me that?" She asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
Alphard looked confused for a moment, before shrugging. "Just now I guess. Fits, doesn't it? And it's easier to say than Her-my-own-ee," he teased, eyes glinting with mirth.
"I prefer Hermione," Tom said from the other side of Hermione. "It's more… unusual."
Hermione gave a non-committal hum before frowning at the blank wall in front of them. "What was the password again? Devil's Snare. Honestly, why they pick such ridiculously easy passwords, I have no idea." She stalked into the common room, her brown curls swinging.
"It's probably because people like you wouldn't be able to get into the common room otherwise," came a sneering voice from one of the high backed chairs in front of the fire.
Hermione was not surprised at the antagonism. She'd been expecting to have to participate in some kind of power play with one of the older students. As the other Slytherins all believed her and Tom to be, at most, half-bloods, they often made biting remarks towards her. She'd shut them down last year by publicly embarrassing Avery, who'd been most vocal about his belief in her inferiority, but she supposed a few of them had grown complacent and forgetful over the summer.
You picked a bad day to mess with me, she thought grimly, turning to face Darin Mulciber and Nestor Nott. "By people like me, do you mean people with more than half a brain?" Hermione asked sweetly. Nestor's face darkened, and he made to step forward, but Darin held him back, lips twitching in cold amusement.
"Piss off, Mulciber," Alphard snapped, trying to drag Hermione over to the entrance to the girl's dormitory.
"Shut up Black. I'm curious, what does mummy think about you fraternizing with lowlifes? Does she know?" Mulciber said, smirking widely.
Alphard rolled his eyes. "Of course she does, you idiot. What, do you think Walburga's blind and dumb? She'd love to get me in trouble. But my mother hasn't got a problem with me being friends with the top students in the year, and if even she doesn't I don't see why you would. Now shut up and stop bothering us."
Next to her, Tom moved slightly, and she knew he had his wand out. His face however, betrayed nothing. If she didn't know better, she would have thought the polite expression he wore was completely sincere. "Is there something you wanted, gentlemen?" He said in such a saccharine sweet tone, that Hermione almost laughed.
Nott and Mulciber looked slightly off balance for a moment, but recovered quickly.
"Did we ask you, Riddle," Nott spat.
Tom raised an eyebrow. "How rude. Incarcerous." With a lazy flick of his wand, Tom had bound Nott's arms and legs together. "Petrificus Totalus," Tom continued, waving his wand. Nott wobbled unsteadily for a moment, before toppling to the ground, cursing.
Mulciber no longer looked amused. "Think you're such hot stuff, do you? A couple of half-bloods sullying the noble house of Slytherin? Furnuculus! Relashio!" he said, wand aimed at Tom, who dodged both spells with ease. Alphard wasn't so lucky. Mulciber's poorly aimed relashio sent him flying backwards and into the wall. He slid to the floor with a groan, and did not get up.
"That is it," Hermione said coldly, stalking forward.
Expelliarmus, she thought, flicking her wand at Mulciber, sending his wand flying through the air to land at her feet. "I am sick and tired of you and your friends trying to pull this utterly ridiculous superiority act every time you come back from a holiday. I have had an awful morning and I am not in the mood for this." She had advanced upon Mulciber and jabbed him in the chest painfully. He glared down at her. With a few waves of her wand he joined Nott on the floor. However, unlike Nestor, Darin Mulciber was not tied up. No, Darin Mulciber was no longer Darin Mulciber. He now resembled a large, five foot purple slug with orange polka dots dotting it, and a large tuft of pink fur running down its back.
Hermione stepped back and analyzed her handiwork.
"I like it," Tom offered from behind her.
Hermione nodded. "Yes, so do I. Let's see if Alphard's alright and go get our things, shall we?"
Tom nodded. "Maybe one extra little touch," he suggested, before conjuring a thin line of salt in a ring around the two Slytherins. Tom nodded, satisfied, eyes glinting with satisfaction and vindictive glee. Hermione was impressed—conjuring was very advanced magic, at least fifth year material, and Tom was doing it seemingly without even breaking a sweat. However, she said nothing, heading towards where Alphard lay crumpled on the ground.
"Ennervate," she intoned, pointing her wand at Alphard, who blinked slowly, and sat up. "Ugh, my head hurts," he said, rubbing at it with a wince.
"Do you want to go up and see Madam de Croix?" Hermione asked. Alphard shook his head, opening his mouth to reply, when the door to the common room opened and several students came in to pick up their things.
Upon catching sight of Nestor bound tightly and laying on the floor, and the large purple slug, conversation ceased. "Someone fetch Professor Slughorn!" a girl shouted. Hermione groaned.
"Quick, let's get our books and stuff, and try and get out before Sluggy gets here," Alphard suggested. Hermione sprinted to her dormitory and grabbed her backpack, shoving her charms book, transfiguration book and some parchment in, before rushing out into the common room to meet Tom and Alphard who were waiting for her. Just as they were slipping through the throng of students to get out of the common room, however, they heard Slughorn's familiar voice booming out from the corridor.
"What's going on?" Slughorn asked.
"Nott and someone else have been cursed professor, by a couple of second years—they're right there, look! Black, Granger and that Riddle boy," the same female voice from before replied. Hermione swore to herself to find out who it was and put itching powder in her robes.
"Tom? Hermione? Would you care to explain what's going on?" Slughorn said, making his way over to them.
Hermione opened her mouth to explain, but Tom beat her to it.
His face the very picture of remorse, his eyes huge and pleading, Tom said, "Please, Professor, I didn't mean for it to happen. It's just—Nestor and Darin were insulting Hermione, sir, and she was very upset, and I suppose I just lost control when they hexed Alphard. I only wanted to protect my friend. I'm very sorry sir, I know what I did was wrong, and I'll gladly submit to whatever punishment you think is appropriate for me to show my regret for my actions." Tom's eyes were wet with unshed tears as he gazed at the potions professor, and his lower lip trembled slightly. His voice however, was smooth and unwavering, washing over the listeners like honey.
He is the best actor I have ever met, thought Hermione dazedly. He could sell anything. Amazing.
Professor Slughorn blinked owlishly at the young boy before him. "Nonsense, Tom, I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding. Nothing a quick trip up to the infirmary won't fix. You there," He gestured to one of the onlookers. "Kindly levitate Mr. Mulciber to the Hospital Wing. Finite!" The ropes around Nott's body vanished, and he got to his feet, scowling. "Run along then," Slughorn said genially to the three young Slytherins, who nodded, and scampered out of the common room.
"Tom, you were brilliant!" Alphard exclaimed after they were far enough away from the common room to not be overheard.
A small smile ghosted around Tom's mouth. "Of course," he said, inclining his head in acceptance. Hermione was not pleased at how easily Tom had slipped into the role of innocent and remorseful orphan boy, and said nothing, except to ask if Alphard's head still hurt.
"Nah, I'm fine. C'mon, let's go to Charms. I want to nab the best seats in the middle," he responded, and they headed up to the Charms classroom.
A/N: As always, thanks to rpeh for being my beta and helping me "brit pick" (who knew Britons don't eat waffles?!) There was some trouble with random html stuff showing up with everything else- sorry about that, I'm not sure why that happened (I blame the Great Firewall) but it's fixed now! Hope you enjoy the chapter. As always, please review!
