~ this picks up where part 1 left off ~

When Hermione arrived for her Thursday night Potions tutoring Snape was bent down over a stack of essays, writing rapid comments in a tight hand. "I can't quite decide," he said to her without bothering to greet her, "whether I am more disturbed by the utter ignorance your school mates display or their flagrant disregard for conventional spelling and punctuation. Once you have passed your O.W.L., Miss Granger, I have every intention of making you mark these wretched things."

He pushed the stack away from him with a sigh and she was shocked to see that he looked more tired than irascible. "Are you okay, sir?" she asked, her voice hesitant.

He rubbed his head and huffed out a laugh as he looked at her. "I do believe, Miss Granger, that you might be the first person to ask me that in over a dozen years." He leaned back and shut his eyes and when he opened them he looked sadder than she'd ever seen him. "While I do thank you for your concern, you remain a child and I would like you to try to stay focused on the concerns of childhood, at least while you can."

"'What are we waiting for, assembled in the forum'?'" she murmured and he nodded.

"Yes, but the barbarians are not quite at the gates yet, Miss Granger, so take my advice and hold on to childish things for as long as possible. In adulthood, you see, you can find yourself alone in the dark wood, the straight path long since lost." He shook his head as though to clear thoughts from his mind and she watched him, worried, as he set aside his moment of openness. "After reading these essays I feel I simply cannot endure watching you mangle ingredients tonight. Let us tackle the ongoing problem of your Patronus. I assume you remain unable to produce one, despite having worked on it for over a year?"

She smirked at him, delighted to have a chance to show off what she'd been afraid to share with her classmates; being able to do this was a trifle obnoxious. She held a happy thought in her mind, called out "Expecto Patronum," and watched in delight as her Patronus emerged from the end of her wand, a sparkling animal in silver light.

Snape looked at it for a moment. The white cat - too large to be a housecat, certainly, so perhaps a snow leopard? – was not fully grown but it sat, its paws still too big for its body, and batted at a dust mote. When it pounced on nothing it looked embarrassed, licked one of those giant paws and began to swipe at an ear as though nothing had happened.

"That much?" he asked her quietly.

She didn't pretend not to understand the question. "Yes," she said.

"The problem with kittens," he said, watching her watch her own Patronus, "however adorable they may be, is that they grow up into lethal predators."

"I know they do," she said. "I've met his father."

"Yes, I suppose you have." Snape regarded her for a moment before adding, "Predators kill things, Miss Granger."

"I know," she said again, her voice quiet.

Snape nodded. He suspected she did.

"I must congratulate you," he said at last. "I am very proud of you, Miss Granger. To produce a fully corporeal Patronus at the age of fifteen is a remarkable feat." He looked back at the essays with a sense of despair. One brilliant student in a sea of mediocrity made the others seem even more painfully dim. She followed his gaze.

"If you wouldn't mind, sir, perhaps I could help mark the errors in the first and second year essays for my tutorial tonight? Reviewing basics like that might help me?"

He looked at her placidly disingenuous expression; kindness was not something he expected, not from anyone, and certainly not from one of the wretched students he abused.

He handed her a pile of essays on the uses of dittany. "Try not to faint if any of them consist of anything more than pointless rambles lacking any formal structure or logical arrangement of ideas."

She smiled at him. "I'm sure they can't be that bad."

They were.

. . . . . . . . . . .

When she got back the common room Blaise was surrounded by all the boys in their year and quite a few who weren't. She heard, as she walked by, was "…so then the triplets and I…" and so she stopped to look at him, eyebrows raised.

"What?" he said, cutting off his story at her expression. "It was before I met Luna."

She just shook her head and went the rest of the way to her room.

"Is Blaise still telling the story about the Italian triplets?" Daphne asked.

"I…." Hermione just shook her head. "Boys," she finally said in a tone of absolute and utter disgust.

. . . . . . . . . .

"I like the new Care of Magical Creatures teacher," Draco said loudly as he leaned against the school building. He had slouched in a way he'd never admit to having practiced at home and was running his fingers through his hair where it had artfully (another thing he'd never admit to having practiced) fallen into his eyes.

Hermione, who was sitting at the table near the wall and had her Runes homework spread out in front of her, was too head down in her work to appreciate his posturing but several other girls smiled at him as they walked by so his efforts were not wholly wasted. "Mmmm," was all she said. "What did she do a lesson on?"

"Bowtruckles," Draco drawled and, looking up Hermione realized who this performance was for. Potter and Weasley were in the yard, both looking furious. "I was talking to Father, Hermione, and I guess the Ministry is really determined to finally crack down on substandard teaching at this place."

"That's good," Hermione said, finger on one rune in her book while she flipped through a dictionary trying to find the translation for it. "Hagrid's been a disaster since first year when he was still just the groundskeeper. You know my opinion, though."

"No one will ever be as good at Care of Magical Creatures as Hagrid," Potter said loudly to the derisive snorts of several students in the courtyard; everyone at the bowtruckle lesson knew that Professor Grubbly-Plank was clearly a better teacher.

Lavender Brown, one of Potter's fellow Gryffindors, actually sneered at the boy. "So says the boy who thinks the Dark Lord is coming to get him."

"He's a nutter," Parvati Patil agreed and both girls marched past Potter and into the castle.

Greg sat down next to Hermione. "Do you have the essay for Potions done?" he asked.

With a sigh, she pulled it out of her bag and passed it over to him.

"Hey," Draco objected, distracted from his mission to annoy Harry Potter. "You wouldn't let me copy it."

"She's tutoring me," Greg said with an innocent look.

"Not fair," Draco said and Hermione shrugged.

"I thought you wanted him to be eligible for Quidditch," she said and Draco folded his arms across his chest and stared at her, lower lip thrust out. "And you're cute when you pout," she added.

He slid behind her on the bench and wrapped his arms around her. "How much longer are you going to be working on Runes?" he asked and she leaned her head back against his shoulder.

"A bit," she admitted and he sighed.

. . . . . . . . . .

Greg absolutely insisted she join the Slytherins at the Quidditch pitch Saturday afternoon. "You know how much you love Quidditch," he said and she rolled her eyes.

"I do, and so do you, which is why I want to know why you're dragging me out there when it's not even a game."

"You actually don't want to know," Vincent said. "But if we don't take you, you might get mad and we both need you to pass Potions so you are not getting mad at us."

"Plus," Draco said with a grin, "it'll be fun."

"You… you're all planning to do something to Potter aren't you?" Hermione huffed at them as they herded her out of their common room and out towards the pitch.

"We won't lay a hand on his messy little head," Draco promised and, after they'd settled onto some of the benches and he'd pulled her onto his lap, they watched the Gryffindor team come out to practice.

"Nice broomstick," Draco called out and then glared at Hermione as she snickered. "Did your mother just put a flying spell on an old mop from your hovel or something?" he added and the whole lot of them burst into laughter, though, admittedly, it was more at the way Hermione was laughing at Draco than at Ron Weasley's broom.

The Gryffindors started passing a ball from one player to another and Hermione watched Weasley drop it over and over again, each time to increasingly loud, raucous laughter from her friends. "How did he even get on the team?" she asked loudly. "Did his father cover up some scandal for the captain's mother or something?"

"Any messages coming from your scar, Potter?" Draco called out. "Maybe some playing tips you could pass on to Weasley?"

Hermione laughed as the Gryffindor team fumbled more and more balls in what should have been just an easy warm-up. "We are going to crush them this year," she chortled and Greg laughed in delight at her enthusiasm. "This might actually be fun this year," she added.

By the time the Gryffindor Chaser had to go to the infirmary for a weirdly persistent nosebleed the entire audience of Slytherins were chanting, "Gryffindors are losers! Gryffindors are losers!"

"We," Hermione said as they headed back to their common room, "are a bunch of right bastards, you know that?"

"Yep," Greg said cheerfully. "Can I copy the rest of that Potions essay now?"

. . . . . . . . . .

Draco slid a letter he'd gotten from home over to Theo who started to read it. Hermione leaned over and read it as well.

Dearest Son,

I am pleased to hear from your teachers that you are doing well this year. Professor Snape, in particular, has praised your diligence thus far and, though I know he is your godfather, I suspect he wouldn't hesitate to tell me if he thought you weren't preparing to take on your future responsibilities.

I wanted, however, to give you more than congratulations but also to pass along a little advice. When your father was at the Ministry earlier this week the Minister let drop a few tidbits of information. There will be some changes at Hogwarts coming soon, coming from the Ministry, and it would behoove you to become a champion of those changes. The enemy of our enemy is, after all, our friend and only a fool fights a war on two fronts.

Give my love to Hermione. I look forward to seeing her over the Christmas break and hope the rest of your friends will be able to visit as well. Some people may have trouble seeing past her parentage, but never doubt that your father and I are not so limited and, in the end, those who seek to malign any one of ours will live to regret it.

Your Loving Mother

"For your mother, that was blunt," Theo said, handing the note back. "I take it we're to do whatever Umbridge wants for now?"

"They're setting the Ministry and Hogwarts against one another," Hermione breathed, sounding impressed.

"They?" Draco asked and she laid her hand, almost idly, on the inside of her forearm before lifting it to brush some hair out of her face.

"Do you think it will work?" Theo asked and Hermione shrugged.

"I can't say I like the idea of kowtowing to Umbridge," she said, "but…"

"If she hauls that fucking quill out again you can tell her where to shove it," Draco muttered and she laughed.

"I think she and I will just have to come to a détente. I won't challenge her and she won't break the law to punish me, but just… be careful." She looked at Draco who was making a face. "I mean it, impulsive boy. Control yourself and kiss her arse. She's got it in for Potter so it should be easy enough for you, but she's a – "

"If she goes for you, she's dead," Draco said stubbornly.

Hermione tapped his mother's note. "Eventually. For now just… I'll stay out of her way and you suck up, okay?"

Draco gave her his snake-mean smile. "I can do that."

. . . . . . . . . .

Hermione passed Potter in the hall and caught a glimpse of an irritated red mark on the back of his hand. She hissed and grabbed it and, before he could jerk it away from her, saw 'I must not tell lies' written on the back of his hand.

"Umbridge's detention," she said, "you fucking did it? Are you a total idiot? What the hell is wrong with you?"

He tugged his sleeve back down over his hand. "What the fuck do you know, Granger?"

"I know enough to bloody well refuse to allow myself to be tortured by that cow," she snapped. She squatted down and began digging through her bag, finally hauling out a vial of dittany. "Here. Use this. It'll control the pain and lessen the scarring."

He didn't take the vial and she shoved it towards him. "I'm not trying to hurt you even more, loser. It's dittany."

"Why do you just carry this around?" he demanded, still not taking it.

"Friends with Greg," she said shortly. "Vincent too. They do get cut up a lot, the tossers. And I'm in special Potions. I have access."

He begrudgingly took the vial and dropped it into a pocket. "I wish I understood you," he muttered. "You're bitchy and awful and then you turn around and do shit like this."

"You owe me, Potter," was all she said as she hoisted her bag back onto her shoulder. "Some day I may collect."

. . . . . . . . . . .

They all discovered what Narcissa Malfoy had been alluding to the next day when the Prophet arrived. The Minister of Magic had appointed Dolores Umbridge as 'Special High Inquisitor' with the power to inspect teachers. Lucius was quoted as saying how reassuring he found the Ministry's increased oversight of the school.

"So," Theo said, setting the paper down and looking at Hermione. "It begins. That woman does have a flair for the medieval. I mean, 'Inquisitor'?"

"Not very subtle," she said, frowning at the paper before she began to grin, then giggle, then hold her hands over her mouth as though she might be able to physically contain her mirth.

"What?" Draco asked, staring at her.

"Wait until she inspects Snape," she said and they all begin to grin wildly and Hermione mimicked his voice, "'If you are quite done with your insipid observations, Dolores, I'd like to try to begin teaching these maggots.'"

Blaise picked up the thread. "'Surely you don't call your students maggots, Professor?'"

"'I was referring to subject of today's lesson, Dolores, which if you had bothered to do the readings I sent you to prepare you to have the faintest hope of following my class, you would have known. I see the students are not the only ones in the room who simply cannot be bothered to follow instructions.'"

Greg picked up his books and said, "Well, maybe she'll be there today. We do have double Potions."

Dolores Umbridge did not, however, inspect their Potions class that day. Instead, Snape handed back their essays on the properties of moonstone.

"I have graded these as if they were O.W.L. work," Snape said, looking around the room as though he couldn't even be bothered to sneer at them any longer. "Most of you will probably find your failing grades an unpleasant surprise, though I cannot imagine why as your incompetence should hardly be news to you. However, if you cannot improve your performance I shall start passing out detentions to people who earn Ds on their essays. Perhaps that will inspire you."

"People got Ds?" Draco said. "Wow."

"Miss Granger, I'd like to see you try to work on your tendency towards excessive verbiage," Snape said as he handed her back her essay. "You needn't always use the longest synonym possible and concision is not the enemy. While I was impressed by your ability to write a 15-line sentence that was not, technically, a run-on, if you do it again I shall mark you down simply for being irritating."

Weasley sniggered and Snape handed the boy his own essay, the red 'P' clearly visible. "Oh, Mr. Weasley, would that your problems were as simple to fix as you knowing too many words and having a flair for the subordinate clause." Weasley shoved his essay into his bag without looking at it.

"I'd think Weasley'd be good at anything subordinate," Draco sneered and Weasley flushed and glared back.

"Nicely done, Mr. Goyle," Snape said and Greg looked at his 'Acceptable' with a sigh of relief. "I was pleased to see you edit Miss Granger's regrettable tendency towards wordiness down to a reasonable essay. If you can simply remember what you write out you'll pass your O.W.L.s." Snape passed Harry Potter his essay. "Alas, that happy fate seemingly does not await all of you."

. . . . . . . . . .

The Defense Against the Dark Arts class once again consisted only of reading the tedious text and watching Harry Potter insist the Dark Lord was back, thus earning himself another detention.

"You're an idiot," Hermione hissed at him as they walked out. "It's like you want to martyr yourself or something."

Draco glared at Potter as he walked away and Hermione sighed at him. "Don't be so jealous," she said. Draco hooked his arm around her and made grumbling noises that might have been 'not jealous' and 'stupid Potter' but she ignored them and leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "You know I'm ridiculously fond of you," she said and he huffed but stopped grumbling.

Back in the common room she pulled her Defense book out and stood there and looked at it while biting on her lip.

"You're thinking," Theo said, watching her from a couch.

"I want to pass my Defense O.W.L.," she said, hefting the book in her hand, "and I don't see how that class is going to get me there." She settled next to Theo and Draco sat on the floor and leaned up against her legs. After setting the book to the side, she began to idly run her fingers through his hair. After a few minutes, she asked, very quietly, "Does the Ministry not want us to know Defense? Does… if I asked Draco's mother would she tell me that perhaps not learning Defense was a good choice?"

"The Ministry… I think yes," Theo said, his voice even lower than hers. "I think they see this school as an… as the other side and they don't want that side too well armed."

"I see," she said. "And?"

"I think Draco's mother would say that you can never know too much," Theo said and Hermione nodded, her eyes narrowed in thought.

"Remember when you told me you'd learn to do a Patronus charm with me?" Hermione asked and Theo snorted.

"You mean forever ago? There's no way we can learn to do that, Hermione. I looked it up. Most grown wizards can't even do one."

"Oh, really?" She pulled out her wand and smirked at him though he noticed the smirk had a tiny bit of worried hesitation behind it.

"You didn't?" he breathed, watching her. "Show me."

"Expecto Patronum," she said, her voice quiet but firm and her adolescent snow leopard leaped out of her wand and, in a trail of silver light, began gamboling around the common room on its big paws. Every student in the room, from first years on up, turned to watch the creature until it chased an imaginary fly through a wall and disappeared.

"I think," Hermione said, "we should form a study group to pass our O.W.L.s."

"I want to know how to do that," a seventh year said, pointing at the wall where the Patronus had disappeared.

"Yeah," said a fourth year. "That was amazing."

Pansy watched the Patronus with a sullen frown.

"It took me over a year of steady practice," Hermione admitted. "I mean, it's not something like levitating a feather you can get at once."

"It took me a long time to levitate that feather," Greg muttered.

"Still," Theo said, "Patronus Charm aside, I think you're right. I think we need to put together a group to start practicing what we need to know to pass that Defense exam in secret."

Daphne made a coughing noise and they all looked at her. "I don't think we should just study Defense."

The whole population of the common room, their attention having been caught by the Patronus, was shifting over to the couch where Hermione was sitting. "She's right," Millie said.

"Which one?" asked a third year.

"Both," said a sixth year. "That Umbridge isn't going to get you through your O.W.L.s. And…." They all looked at one another, a room full of students communicating via glances.

"Not Unforgivables, of course," Hermione said and glances were passed and someone said, "Well, of course not those."

"We need a name," Daphne said and, at Hermione's look, she flushed. "Branding is important," she muttered. "Plus, it would be helpful to say, 'we're having a meeting of' whatever it is and actually have a name to use rather than calling it 'you know, the thing.'"

"'Dark arts study group' probably not something we want to openly post on the message board," Pansy said with a snort.

"Slytherin Dark Arts Group," someone quipped and from the suggestions got more and more inappropriate and blatant until Blaise said, "Delle arti."

Hermione looked at him and he shrugged. "Of the arts," he said, "in Italian."

"All in favor?" Hermione asked and a general rumbling consensus passed the motion.

"Slytherin only?" someone asked and Blaise made a slight coughing sound.

"What?" Theo asked.

"I'd like to include Luna," he said quietly.

"She's not one of us," Draco objected.

"She will be," Blaise said. "She's… almost totally outcast in her own House and – "

There was a sound of disgust at that from several of the assembled students.

"I know," Blaise said, his voice grim. "They steal her stuff, make fun of her. She has to sleep in her shoes or they disappear. It's…"

"Her own House?" someone said, sounding aghast. "I mean, I know she's weird but…"

"I know," he said again.

"Still," Theo said, sounding worried. "It's one thing to bring her over to hang out; she's your girlfriend so no one's going to object to that. But, Blaise, a Dark Arts study group… that's… that's not a secret you can trust her to keep just because she's besotted with you."

"A contract," Hermione said and everyone turned to stare at her. "We all sign a magical contract binding us to secrecy with some kind of jinx built into it."

"That would make me feel better," Draco admitted. "It's not that I don't like your girlfriend, Blaise. I mean, I don't begin to understand her and I think she might be daft but she's nice enough, it's just…"

"She's not Slytherin," Blaise said, his voice a mixture of resignation and protectiveness. "I understand."

Hermione pushed herself off the couch and hugged the boy. "Does she know how lucky she is to have you?" she asked him and he shrugged self-consciously.

"Who knows," he muttered. "I know I'm lucky to have her."

. . . . . . . . . .

Their next Potions class was inspected. Hermione slid into her seat next to Greg and watched Draco try to rile Potter up with a resigned sigh. "Does he have to always be poking at that loser?" she muttered to Greg who laughed.

"The more you defend Potter the more Draco's going to try to make him look like an idiot; you do know that, right?"

Hermione made a frustrated sound as Draco said, his voice carrying throughout the room as they waited for Snape to arrive, "I wonder how long it will be before someone carts Potter off to St. Mungo's for evaluation? I mean, he's not quite stable. Can't say I feel totally confident he won't just go round the bend one of these days and mistake someone's book bag for a Dark wizard. Father tells me they have a special ward for people whose brains were fried by magic." Draco's mean tone took on an aura of false concern. "I'm just worried about the Boy Who Lived. Such a sacrifice he made. He should really get the best care available, don't you think?"

Neville Longbottom lunged out of his seat towards Draco who pulled back in clear shock before laughing as Potter grabbed Longbottom and held him back. "Don't, Neville," Potter hissed. "It's what he wants."

As Neville continued to pull against Potter, struggling to reach Draco, Greg stood up and casually walked over towards the struggling figure, as did Vincent. Hermione covered her face and cringed, waiting for the almost inevitable bloodbath as Neville spluttered almost incomprehensibly. "Not funny," he was gasping out, and "You bastard,"as Snape walked into the classroom.

"Fighting, Longbottom? Potter?" Snape looked almost delighted. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Release the boy, Potter, immediately, or you'll find yourself scrubbing cauldrons for me again."

Harry Potter released Neville Longbottom who stood, panting, still eyeing Draco with loathing.

"Sit down," Snape said. "Mr. Goyle, you as well. In your seats. Now."

Hermione pulled her books out and was setting out her things as Professor Umbridge walked into the room. She had another one of her remarkably unflattering pink suit jackets with an enamel kitten brooch pinned to one lapel. She held a clipboard in her hands and smiled at the class, a little simpering grimace that looked rather like she'd had too much frosting and the sugar was making her mouth pucker. Daphne turned around and made eye contact with Hermione and both girls looked from Snape to Umbridge in anticipation.

"As you can see, Dolores Umbridge has deigned to grace us with her presence today," Snape said. "I would request that you show her your best work, but I suspect that would cause her to retreat to her office and sob inconsolably for hours at the utter degradation of the Hogwarts curriculum your incompetence has necessitated, so I shall merely request that you attempt to refrain from blowing things up. Longbottom."

"Yes, sir," the boy stammered, still flushed from his fight.

"Take your things out, if it's not too much trouble," Snape said and, dropping only his book and only one time, Neville Longbottom complied.

"You will be working on your Strengthening Solutions today," Snape continued and with a nod Hermione sent Greg to fetch their cauldron and began gathering the ingredients they would need. As she measured the salamander blood and added it to the cauldron she watched Umbridge make notes on her clipboard. After about thirty minutes the woman stood and walked towards Snape, who was bending over Dean Thomas' cauldron and explaining the importance of using the correct ingredient, not simply one that had the same colour as the correct ingredient.

"This class seems fairly advanced," Umbridge began but Snape cut her off without even looking up from Thomas' cauldron.

"You are quite mistaken. I would normally expect a group of fifth years to be considerably more successful than this group has been. I am sure, however, that neither you nor the Ministry would want me to dilute my course simply because celebrities such as Harry Potter find it difficult to keep up. Or, ma'am, are you in the business of catering to the famous?"

"I am surprised," she said in a lilting voice, "that you would have them work on a Strengthening Solution. Perhaps the Ministry would prefer that be eliminated from your curriculum."

Snape straightened at that and looked at the woman. His eyes lingered for a moment on the kitten brooch and his lips curled in a sneer. "If the Ministry would like this potion removed from my curriculum, then it should not be on the list of things students are expected to know for their O.W.L. exam, Ms. Umbridge. Even in the face of intransigence and relentless stupidity I, at least, cover all the topics of that exam."

She made a note.

"How long have you been teaching?" she asked.

"Fourteen years," he said, his voice lacking all expression. Hermione carefully added the next ingredient and began to stir her potion, batting Greg's hand out of the way when he tried to help.

"You applied for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position?" Umbridge asked and Snape nodded. "But you did not get it?"

"Obviously," the man said. "Do you always ask pointless questions?"

"Well," Umbridge said, "I just find with your background that it's quite… fascinating… you would want that particular position."

"Simple minds are easily amused," Snape said. "Now, if you're quite done grilling me on Dumbedore's staffing decisions, I would like to return to teaching."

Umbridge smiled sweetly before turning to Pansy and asking her questions about the class.

"I didn't know Snape wanted the Defense job," Hermione said to Greg. "Other way," she added as he started to stir in the wrong direction.

"He's applied for it every year," Greg said. "Never gets it, of course."

Hermione scratched the inside of her arm with a questioning look and Greg nodded.

"So instead we've gotten incompetence, a madman, and this woman," Hermione muttered.

"Former… you know… can't be hired a lot of places," Greg said under his breath.

"Discrimination," Hermione snapped as she began ladling their sample into a flask. "It's not right." She watched Umbridge question Pansy and thought about how much she'd know about Defense if she'd had a consistently competent teacher and tried to push down the bitterness. No one was going to listen to her opinions on how this school should be run and she knew better than to expect anyone outside of Slytherin to be at all sympathetic to the employment problems of a supposedly former Death Eater, even if he was the best teacher she had.

Not the nicest, perhaps. But the best. The one she trusted.

. . . . . . . . . . .

At their first DA meeting they pushed the furniture out of the middle of the Slytherin common room after everyone signed the paper swearing them all to secrecy including Luna who said, as she signed it, "That's a nice jinx you worked in there, Hermione."

Several people turned to look at her at that, but she was already staring at their ceiling and leaning on Blaise who looked smugly pleased that she was so perceptive.

They started with Expelliarmus. "I know it's basic," Hermione said, sounding somewhat apologetic, "but I think sometimes something simple done well works better than something flashy you're likely to mess up when you're nervous."

Knowing they were working on learning Defense, as well as the jinx she had rigged into the paper, made Hermione feel better about sitting through the pointless classes with Umbridge. She'd smile blandly at the woman and consider how best to turn the theory in the book in front of her into practical exercises. Daphne got copies of the last ten years' exams ("Don't ask," she said, so no one did.) and they cross-referenced what were the most common practical exercises students were asked to do and began learning them in that order.

One night after they'd shoved the furniture back into place and Hermione was curled up on a couch with him, her eyes closed as he twined her curls around his fingers one at a time, Draco said, "You know, I wouldn't want to be on any side of any conflict that opposed you."

"Why?" she asked sleepily.

"Because everyone else just grouses about what a bitch that woman is," he said softly, "or does that idiotic defiance thing like Potter does that lands him in detention after detention, but you just came up with a way to get what you wanted with no one the wiser. You're so practical it's a little scary."

. . . . . . . . . .

"You're going to make me go, aren't you?" Hermione said as Theo, Daphne, and Millie stood, tapping their feet and waiting for her to be ready to go out to the pitch. "I mean, it's Quidditch."

"Exactly," Theo said, but they all knew her objection was merely pro forma. She'd cheerfully taken part in the campaign to intimidate Weasley all week, mimicking him dropping the Quaffle and asking if he were sure he didn't think a kiddy league would be more his speed. If some of the intimidation had gotten a little more physical, well, no one had technically touched the boy even if they'd gotten very close to him while enumerating the myriad injuries he could look forward to during his first game on the team. She'd helped Blaise distribute the green crown pins he'd made for the whole House. She'd even helped Pansy with the rhymes for the 'Weasley is our King' song the girl had written, though she'd refused to go to the rehearsal.

"I think I can manage to sing along in the stands without practicing," she'd said.

Now she had on one of Draco's green jumpers, a green scarf, a green and silver crown and a pin reading 'Weasley is our King.' She looked like a proper Quidditch-mad student and she hadn't even slipped a book into a pocket; Blaise had patted her down to check.

Luna joined them as they made their way to the stands. Rather than wear one of the crowns she'd made a large hat that looked like a green snake about to eat her head. "You look… umm… that's a really interesting hat," Hermione finally said after staring at it for a long and uncomfortable moment.

"My Housemates told me it looked ridiculous," Luna said, tucking her hand into the crook of Blaise's arm.

"As long as you like it," Hermione said with a shrug and Luna smiled.

It was cold and the game seemed as boring as usual, even with Greg and Vincent on the team. Hermione cheered for Draco – cheered for all of them – and joined the entire Slytherin section as Pansy led them in singing the song she'd written mocking Ronald Weasley. He really was a terrible Keeper and Hermione yelled and jeered along with her Housemates as he let Quaffle after Quaffle through the hoops.

The problem, of course, was that, thanks to the absurd scoring system, if Potter managed to catch the Snitch they'd still lose. She clenched her fists and could feel herself willing Draco to find the thing first.

He didn't.

Potter spotted and was swooping downward toward the tiny golden ball as Draco followed, his fingers reaching out helpless to grab at something Potter had already caught and Hermione almost screamed with rage. Vincent had sent a missile towards Potter a moment too late and, while it did ram into the wretched boy and send him off course he already had the Snitch. They'd already lost.

Again.

Hermione couldn't hear the confrontation, though Draco relayed it in detail later, but she watched him fly down and taunt the winners. She could tell by the way his shoulders were set he was trying not to cry in disappointment at the unexpected loss. This was supposed to have been their year. Whatever he said goaded them into lunging at him and taking it past verbal taunts into a fistfight; Potter and one of the Weasley twins both started pummeling him.

She stood up and had her wand out and was about to start casting when Theo grabbed her arm and said, voice low, "Don't."

"They're… it's two on one…" she sputtered.

"Don't be a fucking Gryffindor about it," he hissed. "Hexing them in broad daylight like this? Have you lost your mind?"

She slowly put her wand away. "Which twin is it?" She asked and Theo looked at her in some confusion. "I would hate to go after the wrong one."

At that he nodded. "I'll find out."

Madam Hooch had broken up the fight and was marching the miscreants off to the castle while Draco lay on the ground, curled into a tight ball. Hermione raced down the stairs of the stands and toward the crowd. Someone grabbed her arm, but she shook them off. Shoving her way past a couple of Gryffindors, she was only dimly aware that Vincent was in front of her, clearing her way as she dropped to her knees at Draco's side. His nose was bleeding fairly heavily and he was whimpering and Madam Hooch was looking down at him with concern. "Get him up to the infirmary," the woman said and Hermione nodded and, with Vincent on one side and herself on the other, they began helping Draco up and into the castle.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," the boy muttered through a swollen lip and – had those fuckers actually broken a tooth? – she tightened her grip on his arm.

"You have nothing to apologize for," she said, trying to staunch the flow of blood from his nose with a handkerchief she had had in a pocket.

"I did kind of say stuff – "

But she cut him off with a furious tirade. "I don't care if you told them they fucked goats and zebras in their parents' beds! 'Fighting words' aren't a legal excuse, haven't been since – oh, I don't know - and for both of them to go at you at once is…"

She trailed off as she searched for the right word and Vincent offered up, "Unsporting."

"That works," she agreed with a sharp nod. "Or cowardly."

"What are 'fighting words'?" Vincent asked as they made their way into the castle and down the hall right as Draco said, "I thought you had a soft spot for Potter."

"'Fighting words' are things you say on purpose to get someone to react, to start a fight. Used to be you could claim it was okay you went after someone, even killed them, because 'them's fighting words.' Not true anymore, not in the legal sense anyway." She stopped to readjust Draco's arm to make it easier to support him and he waved her off.

"I think Vince'll be enough," he said and she nodded but stayed right at his side.

"I don't think she has a soft spot for Potter anymore," Vincent said, watching the grim and concerned look on Hermione's face as she looked Draco over.

"No," she agreed, "I don't."

. . . . . . . . . .

The rest of the fall had mixed good and bad news. Potter and both Weasley twins had been banned from Quidditch.

"Both?" Daphne said in confusion as she worked on a small Dark hex she'd been practicing. "Why both? Only one of them beat up Draco."

"Maybe she can't tell them apart either?" Theo suggested with a shrug. "I think you're pronouncing it wrong. Try putting the accent on the third syllable."

Daphne shrugged and followed his advice than squealed with pleasure when the orange she'd been practicing on exploded.

"Next time," Theo said, wiping juice off his face, "warn me what it's supposed to do, okay?"

If the Gryffindor Quidditch ban was generally considered good news in the Slytherin common room, the return of Hagrid was less so.

"Oh NO," Greg said when he heard the Care of Magical Creatures teacher was back. "I don't think I can take any more of his monsters!"

The actual class, however, ended up giving hope to the ever increasing number of students who didn't care for Hagrid and who had much preferred Grubbly-Plank. The half-giant hauled the class back into the remarkably poorly named Forbidden Forest and showed them Thestrals. Umbridge, who had been doing his evaluation, was not amused.

"What are Thestrals?" Daphne asked later as they were doing essays at a table in the common room and Greg and Draco were complaining about the class.

"Basically invisible horses that eat raw meat," Hermione said with a shrug. "Seems kind of weird to me, though, to do a whole class on an animal hardly anyone would be able to see."

"I can see them," Theo said, quietly. "I've always been able to."

Hermione reached a hand out across the table and rested it on his arm. He looked up, his eyes a little wan, and smiled at her. "Thanks," he said and she sighed.

"Not to mention," she added, "asking who's seen them basically means asking who's had some kind of trauma in their life."

"Why?" Vincent asked.

Draco rolled his eyes and said, "Weren't you paying any attention? Because you have to have seen someone die to be able to see them."

"Oh." Vincent looked at Theo and muttered, "Sorry, man."

"It's a totally inappropriate lesson," Hermione muttered, "And probably not even on the O.W.L. exam so a waste of time too. I hope that horrible cow gets rid of him."

"I don't think her evaluation will be positive, no," Draco said, leaning over to nuzzle Hermione's neck.

And then the term was almost over and it was time to go home for break. "I'll see you the day after Christmas," Draco said to Hermione. "Theo and Daphne will be there so – "

"So I don't need to worry about it seeming like we're committing some awful impropriety, I know." Hermione rolled her eyes.

Draco looked up at the mistletoe someone had hung and nudged Hermione over until she was standing under it. She looked up and laughed and twined her arms around him and they kissed goodbye until Pansy muttered, "Get a room, you two."

. . . . . . . . . . .

A/N – Thank you, again, everyone for all the wonderful thoughts and feedback you sent my way. It's such fun to read everyone's ideas on where this is going. :)

Hermione quotes 'Waiting for the Barbarians' by Constantine P. Cavafy, a poem that ends "And now, what's going to happen to us without barbarians? / They were, those people, a kind of solution." Snape references the beginnings of Dante's Inferno in response. Make of that what you will.

Thank you so much, Irianna Marie. She drew a picture of Hermione in her Yule Ball dress. www . pinterest pin/519813981966989387/ (also hotlinked off my profile, along with a link to Irianna's profile)

As always, I try to respond to all logged in reviews to this personally. If I missed you it's because I made a mistake this morning. Some comments to my lovely guest reviewers: General Mac (Thank you!) fallen-panda-21 (Thank you!) dracosgirl007 (McGonagall may have been trying to nicely steer Hermione away from getting used by a boy from a Death Eater family. Umbridge, well, she's just awful.) RebelAngel2796 (Here you go!) Gemma (Yeah, they're never going to be exactly buddies.) Guest (Oh yes with the Bluna. And Harry did do a detention with Umbridge.) Lisanda (That you have to deal with crap like that sucks and, as Hermione would say, isn't fair.) Guest (Things are going to become significantly less canon compliant as the years progress.) LoveYourStory (Thank you for your lovely review. I confess I might be planning on making the Dark Lord not a slavering psychopath.) Chocolat (Ne vous excusez pas pour votre anglais! Ce est mieux que mon français ! Vous devriez revoir en français pour me faire pratique :)) Lindsey (Thank you!) maya (Thank you!) Moshi (Hah! I write pretty quickly, and my beta proofreads pretty quickly, but there's no way I can get 6-9,000 words up every day.) Lunah (Poor Harry. I actually originally got into fanfic because of how annoyed I was at his awful life.) SicklySweet (Well, it can't please everyone. Thank you for sharing your thoughts.) Guest (Pansy eventually, in Year Seven, gets a beau.) moodybluepapaya (Thank you.) Slythindor (EXACTLY like an Eton mess.) Ale (I'll probably write a pureblood!Hermione some day as I joke that I'm going to hit all the clichéd tropes before I stop, but this isn't that story. And your English is excellent!) alli (Thank you!) Guest (here you go :) ) guest (I think the first think I have the Dark Lord saying to her is something like, "Well, you're a quandry.") JennyFelton (No reasonably emotionally healthy person is going to put up with literal torture during a detention. That Harry does is a sign of just how sad his own life is, I think.)