Author's Note: I make no money from writing, and own no part of Harry Potter
I didn't realize, but when i first uploaded, i accidently left bits out and stuff, so here's the full bit
"Once is an accident, Twice is coincidence, Thrice is Enemy Action."
Hermione ignored Malfoy and Ronald's posturing, thinking of the different conversations she'd had over the summer. After 37 hours of reflection, stuck in bed with only disgusting potions for company, she had finally realized what she had done wrong at The Battle of the Department of Mysteries. Fifth-year Hermione thought this was a game, with points to win or lose, a big trophy and a pat on the head after. Both teams would shake hands when it was all over; say 'Good Game'. That girl believed there didn't have to be a decades-long war going on, that positivity and a can-do attitude could overcome centuries of systemic discrimination.
That a radical terrorist wouldn't do unspeakable things to her, regardless of her blood-status.
That they would hesitate to kill her once she no longer had a use.
Fifth-year Hermione was a fool.
Her sin, the most unforgivable thing about that girl, was her pride. Sure, she had saved Luna from being cursed by silencing Dolohov, but then what? Had she stunned the murderer? Oh no, that stupid bint actually lowered her wand and looked for praise. As if there was a bloody scoreboard she could reference! In an effort to run from it, she had become her own worst fear: a fucking casual.
Once she recovered, she had been so ashamed of her actions that she sat down with her parents, and told them more about what had been happening in her world than ever before, leaving out little things like the troll, or that Voldemort wanted her best friend's head on a pike. After that harrowing discussion, they agreed to help her with some conditioning exercises, and they went running as a family every morning.
After Harry had called her the first time, she would call him (knowing he would never do so on his own, with those damn relatives of his) and grill him on the finer points of 'constant vigilance'. She had spent hours perfecting the ability to draw her wand normally, covertly, and from every possible position; her parents would stage mock discussions trying to catch her at it after dinner. Since that day, Hermione had done everything she could to kill the ineffective mudblood that she used to be.
That's why the Malfoy scion's words no longer elicited the insult and outrage from her that it used to. She realized that Malfoy was probably under orders, either from his father or Voldemort himself, to keep tabs on his most hat-.
In a moment of illumination, she saw each of Malfoy's agitations through the years, saw them for the reconnaissance that they really were. He had been acting the fool for the enemy, in order to freely collect information. Meanwhile all suspicion could be avoided behind the facade of a posturing, thoughtless snob.