Over the next week, rumors about Hermione Granger spread like Fiendfyre. In History of Magic, Slytherin girls whispered loudly about how she was caught with a love potion in hand. The next row up, their Hufflepuff classmates nearly bent backward craning to hear them better. The news spread to the Ravenclaws, who tittered meanly in the library how that couldn't possibly have been the only cheating Granger was involved in. Boys in the hallway used her to stroke their egos, claiming casually that she came onto them all the time. No one called them on it; after all, everyone knew she was that kind of girl. Didn't you hear? She just threw herself at Draco Malfoy!

Pansy Parkinson was greatly pleased with this tactic and no one put more effort into it than she did. The Draco Malfoy Story was one of her finest pieces of work, if she did say so herself; she had even managed to infiltrate the Gryffindors with it. By October, her hard work even had the Elite nodding approvingly! Breathing a sigh of relief, Pansy sunk back into the shadows. There, she watched safely as her poison dispersed among the populous. No one was talking about her anymore, she thought contently. Hermione Granger was the new social pariah. No pureblood or half-blood would get within three feet of her and even the other muggleborns shot her disgusted looks.

Glancing up sharply as a fresh wave of snickers broke out to her left, Hermione Granger sighed. She was horrified that some of the rumours came so close to the truth but a comforting letter from Molly kept her hopes up. She was still destined to be the next Lady Prewett. She just had to keep her head up and be smart, Hermione thought. She smirked to herself – no problem.

At the Slytherin table, Neville narrowed his eyes at the smirk on Hermione Granger's face. He couldn't deny the bloodlust anything but her abject misery stirred in him. Had he been anywhere but the middle of the Great Hall, Neville wasn't confident he could have resisted sending a hex her way. However, the Slytherin Elite had decided that the Granger Situation was to be dealt with clandestinely. Tortured screaming wasn't especially subtle and that was really the only sort of hex Neville bothered with anymore. Besides, the mood was quite jovial among the assembled courts and he didn't much want to wreck it. Deciding to write off the bitch's moment of fortitude as a fluke, Neville was in the middle of a story about his recent battle with a cranky Venomous Tentacula – poor dear was teething – when the mail owls flooded into the Great Hall.

As usual, everyone's attention was caught for a moment. However, this time it was kept by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls.

Privately, Neville grinned. He would recognize the shape of that package any day. From the blooming smile on Ron's face, he did as well. Still, Harry managed to look frankly amazed when the owls soared down and dropped the package right in front of him, knocking his eggs to the floor. Those six had hardly flown out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel.

Neville had to actively resist an 'I told you so!' as he watched Harry carefully open the letter. Harry had been utterly sure he would have to wait for second-year to try out for the team without McGonagall to pull strings. Apparently, he had forgotten the ambition of Slytherin's Head of House.

It would be nice to see Harry truly in the air again, Neville thought. It had been too long since Harry had been on a broom for anything but war. Flying lessons, Neville thought, couldn't even come close to the rush a game could provide. Especially with Granger there during the lessons, attempting to molest Ron like a particularly poisonous slug.

Now, Neville had never considered himself an especially violent person – rather, between the three of them, Neville had thought himself the most reasonable one. That being said, Neville was also a gardener. His eye for weeds and malignant growths was precise, his mercy for such pests nonexistent. Perhaps that was why he had such an affinity for Gryffindor's sword. The blade was rather like a beautiful, ornate pair of shears, slicing through the aphids and wireworms of their world. Neville would rather like to slice it through Granger's throat but alas, not everyone saw the world so clearly.

Sucking back his displeasure, Neville tried to let the table's mood influence him. In rare moments like these, you almost couldn't notice the tension he and his husbands carried. Everything was still not quite right between them, Neville thought. He found his gaze catching often on the fake edges of Harry's smile or the shadows under Ron's eyes. He often felt similar eyes on his own person; worrying, assessing, wondering. However, the love potion threat had, for the moment, trumped all. Both Neville and Harry had taken to sticking as close to Ron as propriety would allow and, within their own dorm, as close as their pajamas permitted. Thank Merlin they were small enough as eleven-year-olds to fit comfortably in one bed. With an active threat against Ron, Neville knew neither he nor Harry would have been able to sleep without counting his heartbeats.

Presently, Harry ripped open the letter, leaving the anticipation of the package to build. Which, reading over his shoulder, Neville thought was lucky, as the letter said:

DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.

It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand. Welcome to the team, Potter. Let's put your talent to good use.

Professor Snape

PS:

I will be picking up Ron's rat later this evening.

Hm, Harry thought. So Pettigrew hadn't been picked up yet. Did Rita know or was Minister Bones pulling the wool over everyone's eyes? Deciding to brush that thought to the side for now, Harry didn't bother hiding his glee as he handed the note to Ron. He was back on the team! The thought of flying in a game again nearly made him giddy.

"Congrats, Harry!" Ron grinned, pulling his love into a tight, reluctantly appropriate hug. 'Get the marriage contract signed' bumped up even higher on Ron's list of things-to-do.

On Harry's other side, Neville also gave his congratulations. "I knew you were too good for Professor Snape to ignore," Neville added winningly. The rest of the Slytherin Elite took turns offering their well-wishes, Lavender going so far as to snap a picture with a camera no one had any clue how she'd procured.

"For the newspaper," Lavender added sweetly. Absently, Neville wondered if he'd be able to convince her to throw a few copies his and Ron's way. Merlin knew they hadn't had any slice-of-life photos the last time around – no time to take any if they weren't in some way propaganda-driven.

"I'll see you on the pitch at eight, Potter!" Marcus Flint called, slinging his arm around Oliver Wood. It was quiet, still, but no secret that they had signed a contract over the weekend. The obsidian Flint Heir's ring glinted darkly on Oliver's finger, a place keeper until the pair could pick out their own set – a very romantic gesture. Neville couldn't help but envy them a little. "There's no way Gryffindor is beating us this year," Marcus laughed.

"Of course not," Cassius Warrington added. "We stole all their best players and best of all, the announcer." He grinned roguishly at Lee Jordan, who smiled back through a vivid blush.

Neville raised an eyebrow: how interesting. He didn't remember that happening in their last life. If he remembered correctly, Lee had managed to escape to muggle Northern Ireland during the Purges, where he had continued to run his rebel wireless show and organize various escapes from Wizarding Britain. Cassius Warrington had left for the Magical United States following the Final Battle - with the MUSA having no extradition treaty with Wizarding Britain, he had remained one of the few uncaught Death Eaters. When the Purges began, he had helped numerous Dark magicals into the States.

As far as Neville knew, they had never so much as shared a conversation. Now, they were toeing the edge of pureblood propriety. For Cassius, at least, that must be a big deal. Just another sign how much we've already changed the world, Neville mused.

Oblivious to Neville's reflections, the Slytherin table roared with laughter. Or, at least, the original Slytherins did. The transfers, the former-Gryffindors especially, all felt a little bad. Angelina and Alicia still weren't speaking to the twins or Lee – not even using Arthur Weasley's insistence on the resorting was enough to sooth the girls' feelings of betrayal. Oliver Wood, who had no such excuse, seemed to be dead to them.

Biting his lip against the sudden awkwardness, Harry plucked the wrapped broomstick from the table and stood. "I better get this back to the dorms before classes start," he announced. Pulling a grin, Harry added teasingly, "Anyone who wants to come admire it before first period is welcome to join."

Laughing, the Quidditch-conscious Elite gathered their things and quickly left the hall, eager to snatch a look before their first classes. However, halfway across the entrance hall they found their way barred by Hermione Granger.

Hermione upturned her nose, "You'll be in for it this time, Potter. I know first-years aren't allowed broomsticks."

Before Harry could put Hermione in her place, his eyes flashing dangerously, Professor Flitwick appeared at Draco's elbow. "Now, what's going on here?" he squeaked.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Hermione quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. "Professor Snape told me all about the special circumstances, Mr. Potter. Tell me, what model?"

The Slytherins shared a smirk, watching with predatory glee as Granger's jaw fell. Harry all but preened, more from the disgruntled look on Granger's face than any sort of personal pride.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir," Harry answered, fighting back laughter.

Professor Flitwick waved them on cheerfully after that, tactfully ignoring the strangled cackles that floated his way once the gang had turned down the hall. Shaking his head fondly at the eccentricities of teenagers, Flitwick began the walk back to his classroom. Swept up in his own thoughts, he missed the look of black rage that swam across Hermione Granger's face.

The rest of September drifted by quietly. Pettigrew had been handed over that very night, stunned while still in rat form. Harry had itched to bring up the delay, but was hesitant. No one was quite sure what methods Dumbledore had to keep tabs on the school but the returned all agreed that Hogwarts was not a safe place to discuss their more, er, time-sensitive plots. Even the Granger Situation, technically a problem unique to the entire Slytherin Elite, not the returned, was handled with a gag-order.

The way they were operating, Harry thought, the worst Slytherin could be accused of was malicious bullying. Not strange, coming from Slytherin House. Not a particular concern of the staff, either, judging by what he and Malfoy had pulled on each other during their Hogwarts years. Pansy Parkinson had also done a hell of a job with her rumours. When Hermione Granger finally did die, the entire student body would be implicated. Singling out one group who might have had problems with the departed Miss Granger would be virtually impossible.

There was an evil beauty to the setup, Harry would admit. No honor or dignity, but Harry couldn't stir himself to mind. Whatever kept Ron the safest, he would throw all his power behind. Harry had been sickened to realize that many of the Elite involved were open to killing Granger because they knew her death would make them stand out in the Dark, but even that had lost its sting. He caught the way Granger looked at Ron, as though he were an animal to hunt. Harry was determined to have her head mounted before she had a chance to take a shot.

Abruptly, Harry found himself pulled back against a soft chest. Arms wound around his waist and when Harry snapped his eyes up, they met Neville's twinkling brown ones in the mirror. The mirror he had been staring into for the last fifteen minutes, Harry thought with a blink. Neville pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

"Figured I should come save you from the mirror before you fell into another world," Neville teased. He had rested his chin on Harry's shoulder, seeming to take as much comfort from the hold as Harry was.

Harry hummed absently, letting his head flop back. He was coming to live for these scattered moments of quiet in their dorm room. "I think we already managed that."

Neville grinned, quick and wicked, and planted another, wetter kiss on Harry's neck. Harry couldn't stop a squawk of surprise, kicking off a string of warm chuckles from Neville.

"That we have, love," Neville chirped winningly. "Now, let's get a move on. Ron's already waxing poetic about tonight's feast. If I have to listen to one more awful rhyme for 'pumpkin pasty' I'm going to scream."

Laughing, Harry straightened the last of his uniform and was soon winding his way to the Great Hall with the rest of his court. Halloween morning had dawned cold and curt on the school, but the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors was enough to warm even the bitterest attitude. Even better, Professor Flitwick had announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly. They had all been dying to try since they had seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the classroom last lesson. Ron's glee had been obvious; his shouts of "Kill it, Professor! Kill it!" had rung out joyfully over the general rumble.

Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. Harry partnered with Seamus Finnegan, more on a lark than anything else. At the desk beside him, Neville set up shop with Dean. Harry was just looking to see who Ron had wound up with when Professor Flitwick started giving instructions.

()()()()()

"You know, Ronald," Hermione Granger started once Professor Flitwick had quieted. She couldn't believe her luck that they had been paired together! Lord knew that Ron would have never accepted it if they hadn't been pushed together by Flitwick as the last ones left. "You can't believe those vicious rumors going around."

Ron, who was obviously hated by any and all celestial powers, grunted. It was hard to tell if Ron had ever been angrier at his luck. Rolling his eyes as she twittered on, he turned his back and forced himself to focus on something that didn't stir homicidal urges.

(Like how adorable Neville looked trying to coax Dean away from flirting with Seamus long enough to spit out the charm they had been assigned. Or Harry's snickers as Seamus 'accidently' lit Dean and Neville's feather on fire. "Sorry, Nev," Seamus grinned, "Looks like you got nothing left to work with. I'll handle Dean while you find a new one."

"Oh, you'll handle him all right," Neville snarked, "Probably all night long if we didn't share a room."

The group burst into laughter.)

Noticing how Ron was paying not one whit of attention to her, Hermione glared. Catching herself, she shook away her blooming irritation and smiled. God, she hoped Molly was right and her idiot son would be more tolerable once Hermione got the potion in him. She wasn't sure she could handle his tasteless attitude for much longer. "You know," Hermione said sweetly, "I think spending more time together is a good idea for us." She let her voice drop lower. "It would certainly give you a chance to see the real me."

Ron grunted disinterestedly.

Apparently the boy was too dense to catch what she was offering, Hermione thought despairingly. A girl could only flutter her lashes so much and her blouse already showed the edge of her bra. Perhaps she should have followed Molly's first suggestion and dosed him right off the bat. Tonight, Hermione swore, she would do it tonight. While the school continued with their mockery of her, Hermione had worked hard to get the devotion of the House Elves. Once she had figured out that the pathetic little things enjoyed being overworked, it was easy. She had already done a test run with a dose of watered-down Pepper-Up; she just had to switch it out for the real thing.

She would probably have to miss the rest of the day's classes, she thought with a grimace. The Amortentia would need to be babysat through the last phase, then she could bottle it. If all went well, she could have the House Elves add it to dessert. Unfortunately, that meant spending the rest of her afternoon listening to Moaning Myrtle whine on, but such sacrifices must be made for love. Even the false, more efficient sort.

Sighing, Hermione turned back to their feather. This spell, at least, had been no problem. Just another example of her ability once she had the proper instruction, Hermione thought, still bitter over her Potions embarrassment. "You know, even your mother, who I've been talking to, thinks we'd make a charming pair," she added idly.

Ron spun to face her, his mouth twitching angrily. "Listen carefully, you narcissistic, arrogant girl," he hissed at her. Hermione stumbled back in shock, her rising feather floating uselessly to the ground. "I don't care what my bitch of mother thinks," he carried on. "She is not allowed within twenty feet of me or my brothers. So you can take whatever she said to you and go to hell!"

With that, he flicked his wand and snapped, "Wingardium Leviosa!" Their feather rose from the floor where it had fallen and hovered about four feet above their heads.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Mr. Weasley-Prewett's done it!"

Ron shot her one last sneering, ugly look before turning on his heel and storming away. Hermione made to follow, but the other Slytherins surrounded Ron like debris about the eye of a twister. She daren't go closer lest one of those barbarians try to curse her.

Huffing, Hermione flopped down at her desk and glared out the window. Soon, she thought, you won't be running from me, Ron Weasley. Soon, you won't ever want to leave me.

Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class. "Honestly, it's no wonder she has to resort to love potions. She's a fucking nightmare to be around," he snarled.

Someone knocked into Harry as they hurried past him. It was Hermione. Harry couldn't catch a glimpse of her face — probably in tears, just like last time. How pathetic, he thought amusedly.

"I think she heard you," Daphne sneered.

"So?" said Ron. "All the better if she decides to leave me the fuck alone."

Hermione Granger didn't turn up for the next class and wasn't seen all afternoon. On their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, the court overheard Angelina telling Alicia that Hermione was crying in the girls' bathroom and wanted to be left alone.

The Slytherins looked gleeful at this but a moment later they had entered the Great Hall, where the Halloween decorations put Hermione Granger out of their minds. No one managed holidays on the same level as Hogwarts, Harry thought. A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. Across the ceiling swirled a mass of dark clouds, parting periodically to show an eerie full moon and a sky full of stars. Thunder rumbled menacingly and Daphne grinned as a bolt of lightning temporarily lit up the room.

Dean was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the Hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll — in the dungeons — thought you ought to know." He then sank to the floor in a dead faint. Just as he had the last time, Harry thought, barely holding back a roll of his eyes.

The uproar was instantaneous, also as it had been last time. As the noise rose, Ron, Harry, and Draco shared pointed looks. They couldn't have asked for a better opportunity to do away with Granger – now to convince the other Elite of that.

Once again, it took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence. "Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to your dormitories immediately!"

Percy sighed. He hated to admit it but he really missed being a prefect. At least he could take comfort in knowing that Adrien took just as much pride in his position as Percy had. He looked rather fit doing it, too, Percy thought. About as much as Graham did, strutting around in his new Quidditch uniform – he had just made the team. Idly, Percy wondered if Adrien looked just as smashing in his.

Wait, Percy frowned, since when had he-?

"Follow me!" Adrien called, breaking Percy from his thoughts. "We head to the library! I repeat, we head to the library, not the dungeons! And make sure to stick together! The last thing we need is for someone to pull a Gryffindor and end up meeting the troll."

Harry and Ron shared a look. Ron smirked. Pull a Gryffindor, did he say?

"How could a troll get in?" Milli asked as they climbed up the stairs.

"Don't ask me, they're supposed to be really stupid," said Adrien. He was at the front of the column, using a simple mirror charm to check the halls before making the next turn. Logically, he knew that he would smell the creature before he would see it but it never hurt to be careful.

"Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke," Graham grimaced. He stood at Adrien's side, wand in hand. Even as rivals in love, he would hardly let his best friend accidently stumble onto a troll without him. The thought made him feel sick. Adrien gave him a little smile which Graham returned happily.

They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions. As they jostled their way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs and into the library (Honestly, Adrien thought, Dumbledore was something else: the Slytherin dormitories were in the dungeons!) Harry grabbed Ron's arm. Pulling him into a conveniently empty alcove, Harry gestured to the other Elite he spotted.

When a sufficient number of them had gathered and the appropriate silencers had gone up, Harry said, "I've just thought — Granger."

Celeste Yaxley eyed him, "What about the mudblood?"

"She's in the girl's bathroom, first floor," Harry answered. "I overheard the Gryffindor girls going on about how she'd been in there crying all day. She'll probably meet up with the Troll."

"And?" Celeste asked.

Neville, who had been mostly quiet in planning Granger's demise, stepped forward with a dark smile, "And, let's make sure she does."

There were dark smiles all around.

Quietly as possible, a group was selected to seal the deal. Ron, as he was the one Hermione had threatened; Harry, who had presented the plan; Draco, from an Ancient and Noble Dark House; Celeste, Slytherin's Queen; Percy Weasley, as Ron's eldest brother; and lastly, Cassius Warrington and Marcus Flint, for firepower. If they ran into anyone, the story went that Ron, Draco, and Harry had become confused and gone to the Slytherin dormitory (as told by Dumbledore!) and the elder years had gone to retrieve them. This decided, they crept silently through the deserted corridors, the three first years in the middle for credibility.

As they crept closer to the bathroom, Cassius held up his hand, stopping the others. "Can you smell something?"

Harry sniffed and a familiar, foul stench reached his nostrils. Then he heard it — a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Peering into the darkness, he narrowed his eyes until he spotted it. Tapping Cassius' shoulder, Harry pointed — at the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving toward them. They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight. It was just as awful as before. Still, Harry couldn't help but love the terrible creature as it stumbled dumbly into the girls' room. They were just in time.

Harry smiled. "Granger's in that bathroom."

Ron eyed the door, "And the key's in the lock," he muttered. "We should lock it in."

"Good idea," Percy murmured. He moved forward to do just that but was blocked by Celeste.

Celeste smirked, "I know you were in Gryffindor for three years but Slytherins do things a little differently."

They watched as she pointed her wand at the door. With a silent locking spell, the heavy door slipped shut. "I've keyed it so that it will unlock itself if a teacher gets within two feet of it," she finished smugly.

Celeste turned around and motioned for them to go. Draco held up a hand, "Should probably cover the spell residue," he murmured. "If she lives and says the doors were locked, you don't want to leave the staff anything to trace." Celeste blinked. She hadn't counted on Granger living but she supposed it couldn't hurt. She should have expected such caution from Lucius Malfoy's son. With a quick spell, she erased her magical signature.

Flushed with their victory, the seven began to make their way back. However, as they reached the corner they heard something that made them all grin widely — a high, petrified scream — from the chamber they had just locked up. Goodbye, Hermione Granger.

Hiding their giddiness, the group made it back to the library in record time. Their mission had taken all of fifteen minutes and there was still plenty of chaos for them to slip in unnoticed amongst. Making a beeline for the alcove claimed by the Elite, they managed to slip past the silencing wards before the first adrenaline-spiked giggles broke free.

The faces of the remaining Slytherin Elite greeted them.

"So?" Neville asked eagerly. His eyes glittered wickedly in the dim light.

Percy Weasley gave a blood-chilling smile, "Miss Granger's being handled as we speak."

Returning the grin, Neville withheld a cheer in the stead of pulling a pair of quick, congratulatory hugs from his husbands. Job done, the Elite settled down to wait for the all clear, just like all the other innocent students in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Um, hello dears! So sorry for this being up so late - I was on vacation with no reliable wifi to speak of. Anyway, I hope you liked this! I changed Hermione's reason for being in the bathroom, mostly to make her a better villain. Other than that, I don't have any other notes? As always, feel free to ask any questions you have! One of the highlights of my day is chatting with you guys! I swear, I have the best reviews. Thanks so much guys, including those of you I can't reply personally to!

Also, if anyone feels like betaing this, feel free to shout. Mine haven't replied back to me in weeks, now :(

*Whispers* Also, Bill/Fenrir should be in the next chapter. I think. Hope. Will try to manage. Only reason it won't be is if I go over my word limit for chapters (around 5000). Also, this chapter has been edited recently (8/20/2017), FYI.

I can't wait to hear from you! Ttyl!

Sincerely,

BlackRoseGirl666