Love and thanks to beta-extraordinaire LightofEvolution!
And huge thanks to In Dreams for inspiring the topic of this particular chapter :)
Her eighth year at Hogwarts is shaping up to be, unequivocally, the best year of Hermione's life.
All those years of war: Of Basilisks and deadly riddles and Dementors and Umbridges….Hermione was so young when it all started, she never stopped to think what 'normal' might look like. The sort of normal other people take for granted. The sort she hasn't seen since she was eleven years old.
This is what normal is, she muses to herself, looking around the Hogwarts grounds. Hermione had grabbed her familiar, a small box of Honeydukes chocolates, and a book, and is now enjoying a crisp autumn day by the Black Lake. A warming charm keeps her toasty, and Crookshanks is sunning himself on a flat stone nearby.
For seven years she was the swot. The teacher's pet. The bore and the killjoy. It never occurred to her friends, she supposed, that it might seem like all she did was study, but that was because she had so little time to spare. Did they never consider how much of her free time had been spent on trying to keep them all alive? Did they imagine that "oh, it's a basilisk in the chamber" just came to her in her sleep? No, thank you ever so, it did not. She'd dedicated countless hours researching chambers and the founders and Nicholas bleeding Flamel for years… always at the detriment to her study time.
And now the result? Hermione is completely caught up on her studies for the weekend and it's only Saturday morning. She can sit here for hours, if she so desires, doing nothing but reading and relaxing and being content. She could be at Hogsmeade right now with the perfectly nice and perfectly acceptable Justin Finch-Fletchley. She could also be tutoring a fifth year Ravenclaw who has been too lazy to keep up on her schoolwork and asked for her help. Or she could have visited her ex-boyfriend and met 'Cindy', Ron's new flavor of the week.
There is no greater joy, Hermione has discovered, in saying a polite but firm 'no'. Justin is nice enough, but not really of any interest to Hermione. All those years of being the wallflower, the ugly duckling, she has come to understand was more about her own lack of confidence as anything else. Ron Weasley may not have been the one for her, but he had wanted her, and it is amazing how much that has done for her sense of worth. Now she sees wizards looking her way and feels, for the first time, the luxury of being able to choose.
And speaking of Ron Weasley, she will love him until the day she dies in some detached way, but his new habit of parading witches in front of her to make her jealous, or maybe make her regret breaking off their relationship, is nothing she wants to be a part of. He has Harry if he craves that show-and-tell nonsense.
As for the Ravenclaw? Please. Hermione didn't get where she is by being lazy, and she is not responsible for the grades of everyone around her. She can also thank Ron Weasley for that life lesson.
Why did she date him again?
Hermione breathes a happy sigh and lets her head and shoulders lean against the large tree behind her. She slips a marker into the tome on mid-century advancements in the potions field and closes her eyes, basking in the mid-morning sun and letting the faint purr from her kneazle lull her into a comfy dozing state.
She's nearly there, blissful and content, when a body flops down beside her, and a voice scares the living fucking daylights out of her.
"Good morning, Granger."
Hermione squeaks, and her body jumps involuntarily, before she realizes where she is. One hand pressed to her chest above her heart, she pants and glares back at him. "Malfoy! Just what do you think you're doing?!"
The git has the nerve to chuckle, even as he offers a weak apology. "Sorry, didn't realize you had nodded off."
She settles back into place and picks up her book, opening it and trying very hard to look disinterested in the Slytherin beside her. Her last contact with Draco had been odd enough: Asking about Harrods and escalators and her trousers…
"Is there something I can do for you?" She tries to sound haughty and dismissive, keeping her eyes firmly on the pages of her book, but, of course, not reading a word.
"Just thought I might be polite and say hello. I was on my way to Hogsmeade."
With a miniscule shake to her head, blinking back disbelief, she tries for a flippant, "Well… hello then, I suppose. Best run along now."
Draco shrugs and makes no move to stand. "Maybe I'll stay at the castle today. I've really no need to go." There is a beat of uncomfortable silence until he asks, "What are you reading?"
"Hmm? Oh, umm, it's Hayley's 'Twentieth Century in the Cauldrons'.
He waves his hand around dismissively and seems to note she is only at the beginning of the book. "I wouldn't waste your time. He completely ignores the advancements of the nineteen twenties and thirties that led to the changes. I found it to be incomplete and underwhelming."
She cocks her eyebrow at him. "I didn't realize you were so well-read."
His grin must be deceptive, she thinks. It's far too honest to be meant for her. "I'm probably smarter than you give me credit for."
Too honest to be sincere. Too friendly not to be cryptic. Hermione narrows her eyes at him in suspicion. He is smart, she would do well to remember. He fixed a broken Vanishing Cabinet, after all. "What do you want, Malfoy?"
"Nothing, like I said. Just being sociable. I suppose I should let you get back to your reading." He moves to stand and seems to notice her cat for the first time. 'Seems to notice' in a wholly obvious and put-on way, doing an almost cartoonish double-take.
"Oh, why, is that your kneazle?" It's so wooden, so stiff, he sounds rehearsed. Badly rehearsed.
She lets her eyes flick to Crooks briefly and then back to Draco, suddenly not trusting to take her eyes off of him. "I'd think that much is obvious."
"I'd heard he was lost for a time. Bet you're glad to have him back," he prods, with all the subtlety of a hippogriff in a potions shoppe.
She scoffs, "Of course I am. He wasn't lost, I just left him here while I was with Harry on the run. I found him after the battle."
"That's good, that you were able to find him. That he survived. Now you never have to part with him."
"Right…" She has no idea where he's going with this.
"I mean, kneazles have a long lifespan, so you'll probably have him for years. And then, you know, you can… oh, what is it muggles do with their pets? Taxi- something?"
Hermione furrows her brows. "Taxidermy?"
Draco offers a smarmy point/wink combo, grinning at her. "That's it. Taxidermy. Do you imagine you will have that done, when the time comes?"
"I… what the fuck, Malfoy?"
"Oh, I'm sorry." And he seems to be. Genuinely sorry, and she watches as he backpedals. "Was that too personal a question? Forgive me, I don't understand all of muggle culture. Of course the decision is yours, and I certainly don't mean to pry. I just think it's… interesting. I mean, how precisely do they do that, without magic and all?"
"What the fu-… taxidermy? I mean, I'm not entirely sure. They basically just remove the organs and treat the hide with chemicals and stuff it with… I don't know… sawdust? Look, I'm not an authority on all things muggle. I don't know the inner workings of the preservation industry."
"Why do people do it, do you think? Is it because they don't have portraits? Do they taxidermy people as well."
Horrified would be the apt word for her expression, and she screeches, "No! Oh my God, Malfoy, of course not! It's just a way to… to… show off hunting trophies or remember a pet. You don't… what in Merlin's name is wrong with you?!"
She stands to face him, fists balled at her side and starts on a proper tear. "You know, muggles are not barbarians, in spite of what you may think. Muggles are people just like anyone else. Just like wizards and witches but with no magic. Just because they don't have portraits and stasis charms doesn't mean they do things just to be morbid! I mean, you don't stuff your loved ones to display in your house! Of course there is the embalming process for burial, but that's a completely different thing!"
"Embalming?"
"ARGH!" She's run out of words for just a moment and settles on a growl. Hermione takes a breath, and, always unable to resist explaining things to the ignorant, calms herself and answers, "Embalming is the method of removing the blood and then refilling the veins with a fluid that helps preserve the body for burial."
"Like a stasis charm without magic."
She nods. "Right. The fluid keeps the body from decomposing for years."
"But that's not taxidermy," he asks, clarifying.
"No, it's different." Though, in her head now, she's hearing everything played back and realizing maybe her disgust at the idea of taxidermy being used on people was perhaps a bit of an overreaction. Without knowing anything about muggles, which he doesn't, it seems like a fair question.
Not that she will admit it to him. "Look, Malfoy, I don't know why you're so interested in the death rituals of muggles-"
"I'm not," he says, too quickly. "I mean, just basic curiosity, Granger." He flashes her a winning smile that does nothing to calm her, and instead makes her more suspicious than ever.
Why does he want to know about muggle death practices?
"Whatever," she dismisses, reaching down to pick up her familiar, more protectively than might be necessary. "I'm going inside. Enjoy Hogsmeade."
Hermione walks quickly back toward Hogwarts, finally looking back once she has halved the distance to find Malfoy staring after her. She shivers a little, finding his gaze too intent for her liking. She realizes she hasn't seen him around much in the past few days, since their odd conversation late at night in the corridor, and can't shake a foreboding feeling that she should be paying more attention to his odd behavior.
"Today, boys and girls, we have a very challenging quest." Draco looks around and raises an eye at Pansy, daring her to take issue with the way he addressed the group.
She doesn't seem to even notice his comment, as she is distracted with balancing her character's monetary funds, making deductions for her lavish lifestyle. The look on her face reveals her disappointment with the total sum.
Blaise, meanwhile, is doodling on the parchment on his section of the table, seeming to be enhancing the breast size of his character sketch. Theo is picking up and rolling the same die over and over again absently.
"I hear that's bad luck," Pansy comments, not looking up.
Theo seems to instinctively know she means him. "Oh, yes? Why is that?"
"Imagine how angry you'll be if you roll a perfect twenty right now, and then completely blow a check roll later."
"That doesn't even make sense. It's not like the die is magically loaded with a series of numbers… right, Draco?" Theo seems suddenly unsure, and checks with the MM to be certain.
"No, they're not magic. It's completely chance," Draco confirms.
"Well, then there's no logic behind it," Theo nods, assured.
Pansy rolls her eyes and continues organizing her funds and stats.
"So what's this challenging quest, then?" Blaise is adding what appears to be the jut of nipples to his character's shirt.
"We," Draco begins with dramatic flourish, "have been tasked with collecting game animals to be sold to a taxidermist." And he waits, smug and confident with his knowledge. Blaise doesn't disappoint.
"What in Salazar's Sack is a taxidermist?"
"It is a profession that specializes in non-magic stasis charms on dead animals for display. He is contracting to pay us each one hundred 'Dollars' for each animal we can bring in."
Pansy wrinkles her nose. "Ew, like a fox hunt? I'm not riding a horse. I'd have to take off my Armani and I'd lose my bonus. And anyway, we don't have hounds."
"No, it's different," Draco explains. Pureblood knowledge of hunting is, as with many muggle things, relegated to practices from centuries ago. He had anticipated a lot of questions, reading every scrap of information in his Master guide, and then, of course, consulting with Granger. "They use muggle guns over there and just shoot the animal. You'll need a subterfuge roll for tracking and a dex check to take the shot, but we can work as a team and let the member with the highest stat take point."
"Why do they display dead animals?" Theo is wrinkling his nose in a way that reminds Draco very much of his also present ex-girlfriend. "Is it because they don't have portraits."
Their MM nods sagely. "I believe so. As I understand it, they use this practice for trophies as well as to commemorate pets-"
"Ew! Dear Merlin, they keep dead pets in their houses?! Do they do this… taxi-thing to people, too?!" Pansy looks appropriately aghast.
He is so glad he asked Hermione about this before they started the quest. Levelling Pansy with a look, Draco scoffs. "Of course not. They're not barbarians. They have completely different rituals for human death, obviously."
Pansy looks a bit chastised and Draco plunges forward, lest they ask him too many detailed questions he can't answer. "Alright, so how are we travelling to the hunting grounds?"
There is a short argument in which the other three want to volunteer Theo's vehicle, and he wants to negotiate a fare for its use. They agree, finally, on giving Theo a 31% cut of their payment from the taxidermist, leaving the other three to evenly share 69%.
The mission goes mostly in their favour. The team brings in five mallards, a whitetail deer, four rabbits, and two pheasants. They only miss three shots due to bad rolls, and spook one flock of geese when Draco rolls a piss-poor three.
"Nice going, Mr. Accountant."
"Fuck off, Teddy."
It's nearly one in the morning by the time the session ends. It was one of the most interesting, if Draco does say so himself. Perhaps in part due to his more complete understanding of their objective. The players all seem content with their advancement of character, even hitting level 8 as a group.
"Next week, we can level our stats."
They groan collectively and Draco smirks. They all hate the leveling process. Though he knows they won't complain when their numbers go up.
Pansy and Blaise have already snuck out, and Theo is helping Draco put away the rest of their game paraphernalia.
"I must say, I think the missions are getting better. Did you order some new materials?"
Draco raises a brow in question, which is completely a front on his part. He's fully aware that his details have been more apt tonight, mostly thanks to his brief conversation with a bushy-haired little witch, but he's not sure he wants to reveal that just yet.
"I do know some things about muggles, Nott."
He snorts. "Since when?"
Draco busies himself folding up his remaining parchments and resolutely ignoring his friend.
"Fine. Don't tell me. Regardless, I just think… thanks for putting the time in, you know? We can tell you put in a lot of effort."
This time, when Draco looks up, it's Theo, unused to showing much sincerity, who won't meet his gaze. He appreciates the comment, nonetheless. A pack of pureblood heirs pretending to be muggles is a very strange thing indeed. Dangerous even, during the war years. Forbidden in their homes and their lives, they are all now free to explore the curiosities of their youth with no judgment from home. If the other students knew, he imagines they would judge them in a different way. Likely, they would be told they have no right to enjoy anything muggle after their bullying and bigotry.
It would be a fair point, even, but those students don't have to know. No one has to know except Draco and his friends. And, possibly, at some future point if Draco can grow a pair, Hermione Granger.
The next mission that the Master guide lines out is an outing at a "Frat Party". He wonders if Hermione has ever been to one and is already thinking how he might subtly ask her about it. He was pretty smooth when he asked about taxidermy, after all. He doesn't think there is any way she could guess his real reason for the sudden interest. Plus, and he might have imagined it, but she seemed to be giving him some pretty heated looks. He's giddy just thinking about where this could go with the pretty little swot.
Feeling quite fine indeed, Draco says, "Thanks, Theo. I'm glad you're enjoying it."
After Theo bids him goodnight, Draco stays in the Room just a bit longer before sneaking back, imagining running into Hermione in the corridors once again. If only life could be scripted as easily as a game. He could roll for charisma right into her knickers. It will be more difficult in real life, but he is starting to think it would be worth it.
He whistles back to his dorm, hoping not to get caught, but fantasizing…role-playing… the whole way about drawing the attention of the witch that is increasingly in his thoughts.
Big, big thanks to all of you for reading and an extra big hug for the follows, faves, and reviews on chapter 1! I really stepped out of my comfort zone digging deeper into humor. I hope you enjoyed this installment and would love to hear what you think!