It was Wednesday. How Hermione had managed to make it to the middle of the week without answering for her rulebreaking or going mad during the wait, she was unsure, but it had been two days since Malfoy was released from the hospital wing, three days since she had a proper meal, and three nights since she had slept more than an hour or two. Still, she had not been reprimanded—not by Zigg, not by McGonagall, not even by Professor Slughorn.
The incident in the Forbidden Forest had changed something within her, and based on his actions, it had changed something in Malfoy too. No longer did he meet her gaze or jeer at her during class. He did not even shoot her a glance when her failed brew of Dortilute burned a hole in her sleeve or when she confused the incantation for the Blinding Curse with the incantation for the Shredding Curse. Once upon a time, his lack of insults would have delighted her. Alas, this time, she was befuddled.
Hexing her childhood bully was a mistake, and Hermione recognized as much as soon as she had done it. She had joined him for their meeting after a rather terrible argument with Ginny, and since she was already quite heated, it only took his utterance of "Mudblood" to push her over the edge.
War was a criminal—a criminal that had robbed her of her appetite, her sanity, and apparently, her sense of self-control.
Perhaps in a moment of uncharacteristic intuition, Hagrid had noticed this, as he had given her the job of Stunning and bucketing fish for the day. Hermione, who would usually cringe carrying out such a barbaric request, gladly obliged. By the time the third smelt lay motionless, she decided that the experience was oddly cathartic.
There was, however, a problem: the stink of the job did not drive away the classmate that she was avoiding.
"Still mad at me?" Ginny asked, plopping onto the ground beside her.
Rather than acknowledging her friend, Hermione kept chanting "Stupefy!" at flopping fish after flopping fish. It was the first time that year that Hermione was truly appreciative of Care of Magical Creatures.
"Look, I'm sorry. I was just upset. I didn't mean it."
"Oh, so you don't think I'm pathetic?" Hermione challenged, chucking a smelt into the bucket, forcefully.
"Of course not."
"If you didn't mean it, you shouldn't have said it."
She hit one of the fish with such a violent Stunning Spell that its eyes popped out. Ginny grimaced.
"I was just mad at Buhlman for bollocksing up that scrimmage," the Weasley girl explained. "Then you were on about my brother and I sort of..."
"Sort of insulted me," Hermione finished for her, sourly.
With a heavy sigh, Ginny said, "Yes, and I'm sorry. If you still want me to, I'm writing Harry today so I can have him ask."
"No, don't fuss over it... I don't think I'm going to go on that trip, anyway." Hermione tossed the last fish in the bucket and stretched her arms out behind her, sinking her palms into the grass. Weak apologies were a Weasley favorite, and despite her better judgment, she always ended up accepting them. "I assume Slughorn invited you to the Slug Club meeting tonight?"
"Unfortunately. He promised he'd get me in touch with Gwenog Jones and Elsia Twitt, though. Are you going too?"
"I think so," Hermione said, plucking a blade of grass from the earth. She threw it back at the ground, but the wind carried it away before it could land. "I really want him to let me and Malfoy off. After I—oh I didn't tell you!"
"You're the one who hexed him."
Hermione flushed. "I—how did you—well, he deserved it, Ginny, he really did... He called me a—"
"Don't have to justify it to me. I'm just shocked it took you so long. I would've hexed him ages ago." With a smirk, the redhead pulled her wand from her robes and gave it a dramatic swish. "Personally, I would've gone with the Bat-Bogey, but poison boils are good too."
"Acidic boils," Hermione corrected her through a giggle.
"Even better."
And with the grievances aired, Hermione sat with her friend for the rest of the morning period, wishing that the rest of the world could find resolve as quickly as they could.
The Slug Club was not Hermione's idea of a respectable extracurricular activity. Unlike the academic clubs she had been a part of in primary school, it was a place solely to schmooze and be schmoozed, which was, perhaps, adequate training for the world as it was, but Hermione detested such notions; to her, careers should only be possible through merit, not the connections one made.
Nevertheless, Professor Slughorn was expecting her, and if she were absent, there would be no escaping her weekly meetings with Malfoy. After the sheer embarrassment of losing her temper, she would do anything to be rid of the obligation, even if that meant enduring an entire evening with Slughorn and his insufferable club members.
The journey to the Potions master's office was familiar in the worst of ways. Peeves cackled as she passed him by, asking her if she was "joining Sluggy-Wuggy's poshy-woshy party", Filch's cat followed her for several minutes, and as she approached Slughorn's door, a nearby portrait said, "Your handsome boyfriend isn't with you this time? Nice jawline, that boy had". The woman in the portrait was speaking of Cormac McLaggen, a boy that Hermione had no desire to remember.
Bubbles and glittering streamers greeted her as she begrudgingly opened the door and stepped inside. She recognized most of the faces at the large, round table, sans a few students that seemed to be much younger than she was. Jezebel Twitt and Melinda Tatting were sipping butterbeer, Ginny was having a seemingly acrimonious conversation with Dewey Blunk, and Imogene Fortescue was hunched over a book with a set of twin boys that Hermione had seen only in the halls.
"Miss Granger!" Professor Slughorn exclaimed, beckoning her. "Welcome, welcome! May I offer you a refreshment? Plenty of butterbeer to go round—or tea if you prefer it..."
Hermione respectfully declined and eyed the table. There were only two seats left—one by a boy with long, chestnut hair and the other by Imogene Fortescue. Reluctantly, she sat next to the stranger, inwardly praying that Malfoy would not show up and claim the empty seat beside her.
"You're Hermione Granger," the boy said, pointedly, holding out a hand.
Hermione shook it; his firm grip took her by surprise.
"I am—and you are?"
"Tobias Quincy."
"Of the Quality Quidditch Supplies Quincys?"
The Heirs and Heiresses of Diagon Alley, a book that was collecting dust in the bottom of Hermione's wardrobe, mentioned the family a number of times.
"Those're the ones."
"You must know an awful lot about broomsticks."
"More than most," he replied, swirling the butterbeer in his mug. "I'm not too interested in the family business, though. Always fancied the idea of breeding toads, actually."
Professor Slughorn coughed loudly. Tobias Quincy did not seem to think much of it, but Hermione had a feeling that he would not be receiving an invitation to the second Slug Club meeting.
"Well, that sounds like a fascinating profession," Hermione lied, fighting an amused smirk as Melinda Tatting pounded a still-choking Slughorn hard on the back.
"Does it? Most girls think I'm absolutely mental when I tell them that. It takes a lot of work though, breeding toads, especially once you get into magical species..."
Tobias described toad-breeding in enough detail to make a round girl complain of queasiness, but Hermione had stopped listening. Her focus had been drawn to the doorway, where Malfoy was suddenly standing, looking extraordinarily out of place.
"Oho! Mr. Malfoy! So glad you could make it, dear boy," Slughorn said, gesturing the single open seat. Thanks to Melinda, he had regained his composure. "Come, come. Can I get you a butterbeer? Or perhaps a nice glass of mead?"
"No thank you, Professor." Malfoy sat down beside Hermione, careful not to acknowledge her. "I prefer to stay sharp for my Thursday classes."
"Respectable, very respectable," Slughorn said, waving his wand. His goblet levitated towards the wooden keg, which quickly began releasing its frothy, golden liquid. "A better man than I, as you can see..."
"That's debatable, sir," Malfoy replied, smoothly.
Professor Slughorn chuckled and took a long swig from his goblet as soon as it returned to his hand. "So, Miss Twitt, I was wondering if you could provide me with your sister's contact information. Miss Weasley and Mr. Blunk here are both fine Chasers and I was hoping to help them get in touch with a few league figureheads..."
Ginny and Dewey Blunk stopped arguing. Much like the twins beside Imogene Fortescue, they had clearly shown up for the club's intended purpose: connections.
Hermione, on the other hand, had no interest in befriending more famous Quidditch players. Perhaps this was why she seemed to be the only one that was vaguely aware of Tobias, who was still giving an in-depth lecture on toads. His slow, droning voice was like the annoying buzz of the Muffliato Charm—mere white noise in comparison to the distraction of Malfoy's arrival and Slughorn's overbearing hospitality, yet still irritating, like a mosquito beating its wings.
"...and then the stink gland opens up and that'll get her good and ready to mate. Then, the male sort of climbs on her back. It's quite a process, really."
"Amazing," Hermione said, disinterestedly.
"Well, if you think that's amazing, you won't believe what the Russian Ice-Spitter does during winter..."
Tobias's voice was miles away. Hermione kept eyeing the boy on her other side—the one that, inexplicably, told nobody that she attacked him in the Forbidden Forest.
"...then once it's frozen, the female..."
The blond was still silent. Even the Slytherins at the table hadn't made an effort to converse with him, and he made no effort with them either. On his other side, Imogene was pointing at a moving portrait in the large book she was poring over. The mousy heiress had drawn her elbow quite close to herself, careful not to touch Malfoy, yet she had not made as much of an effort to avoid the pucker-faced twin on her other side. To her, the boy was poison, and Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that Imogene was not alone in feeling that way.
"...but, of course, you're Muggle-born, so you may not be familiar..."
The sudden statement surprised Hermione, and apparently, it caught Malfoy's attention too. Quickly, he turned to Tobias, a scowl on his face and his silver eyes as sharp as his tongue.
"You better watch it, Quincy. She's been known to hex wizards that talk about her parentage."
Frazzled, Tobias glanced from him to Hermione.
"But he meant nothing by it! 'Muggle-born' is certainly not the term you used and you know it, you treacherous little snake!"
"Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger—is there a problem?" Professor Slughorn asked, concernedly.
Everyone was looking at them, sans Ginny and Dewey Blunk, who had continued their heated discussion. Accusations of a cursed broom seemed to be fueling the rivalry between the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch players, yet that was, apparently, much less fascinating than Hermione and Malfoy's disagreement.
"No, of course not!" Hermione said, smiling tightly. "We were just having a bit of a debate on—" Her eyes darted to Tobias as she gripped her wand under the table. "—mating patterns in toads."
Tobias blinked, still clearly quite confused.
Professor Slughorn stared at her, calculatingly, before finally taking a long drink of butterbeer and deciding against challenging her. "Well, by all means, do carry on..." He turned back to Ginny. "Now, Miss Weasley, not to interrupt you and Mr. Blunk, but a little birdie told me that you may know a thing or two about Harry Potter. A good friend of mine, he is... Would you happen to know how he's doing?"
Under the table, Hermione flicked her wand twice. Tobias suddenly continued his story right where he left off, which was exactly what she intended for him to do. He, like the rest of the club members, would no longer be able to hear her and Malfoy's conversation, though eventually, someone would notice their lips moving. Nevertheless, Hermione was not worried about that. She planned to be finished with the snarky boy far before drawing any unwanted attention.
"Listen, just because you didn't tell on me doesn't mean you get to act like an absolute prat," she hissed. When Malfoy narrowed his eyes, she added, "They can't hear us."
"...frozen sperm melts..."
"We can hear them, though, unfortunately."
He stared at her for a long moment before saying, "I think you're missing out on some important information, Granger. Sounds like your new boyfriend is getting to the good part."
"...her eggs will start growing tadpoles..."
Malfoy raised his brows. "Compelling stuff. You looking forward to having his tadpoles?"
Hermione scowled and lifted the charm. Tobias seemed a bit taken aback when he caught a glimpse of his wristwatch and realized he had been discussing his strange hobby for nearly thirty minutes, innocently unaware of the fact that Hermione had cast a curse upon him.
Silence blanketed Hermione, Tobias, and Malfoy for some time. Occasionally, the clunk of Tobias's mug colliding with the table would break the tension, but to Hermione, it was not nearly often enough.
"Speaking of relationships, Miss Granger, I must ask if you have a lucky young man in your life?" Professor Slughorn asked. "I do hope you'll excuse me, but rumor had it that you and Ronald Weasley were a bit of an item."
In a span of no more than ten minutes, two men had made unwelcome comments about her relationship status. Though she would never admit it, she much preferred Malfoy's facetious jeering to Professor Slughorn's honest curiosity.
"I prefer to keep those matters private," she said, thickly.
"My apologies, my apologies..." Professor Slughorn said. His eyes awkwardly pinballed from side-to-side before settling on the twins beside Imogene Fortescue. "And what about you, Ardif and Arlin—still seeing those two young ladies from Beauxbatons, are you?"
Hermione had lost her nerve. No longer could she muster asking Slughorn for a favor again, as he was sure to turn her down after her refusal to spoonfeed him the information he craved. Plus, she would have to speak to him alone, and at that moment, a private conversation with the Potions master seemed just as gut-wrenchingly difficult as destroying a Horcrux.
So rather than concocting a plan, she sat silently for a long while, occasionally nodding at Tobias, who had decided to move onto a new topic: the widespread mistreatment of amphibians. Between his rambling, the stress of thinking of Ron's radio silence, and Malfoy being inches away from her, she could not stand it by the time the clock struck eight.
She stood and tried to walk away quietly, but Professor Slughorn looked up at her.
"Dear girl, is everything alright?"
She smiled weakly, hoping that he did not see through it as she suspected he might. "Yes, of course, Professor. It's just getting a bit late and I have a Charms assignment to complete."
He frowned, not in a way that suggested he disbelieved her, but in a solemn way: a way that said he regretted losing the presence of his star club member. Malfoy must have noticed too, because he rolled his eyes.
"Yes, well, alright. Studies come before socializing, of course..."
"Thank you, Professor. I'll see you tomorrow."
Anxiously, she hurried out of his office, well aware that everyone was likely watching her. She hoped that Ginny might follow in an effort to comfort her, but she didn't, so, completely alone, she cried quietly and went back to her dorm, wondering why Ron abandoned her and how on earth she was going to get out of another disastrous meeting with Malfoy.
Author's Note: Thank you so much for your support! I love reviews and they definitely keep me going. If I get enough on this chapter, I may get another up before the holidays! xx