There was some kind of unspoken agreement : One did not simply touch or speak to Harry Potter. And Hermione was just fine with it, she could not understand why everybody was so obsessed with him in the first place.

CHAPTER I

An Arithmancy Paper

What was happening ?

Hermione's eyes were almost straining looking at the familiar figure of Harry Potter, pulling a chair from her chosen library table and seating in front of her. He let his bag fall from his shoulder onto the ground in a disinterested and habitual movement before taking place, passing a hand in his dark and messy curls. She had noticed his arrival as the ambient quietness had transformed into this shallow silence saturated with excited whispers and gasps. But she had been prepared to ignore it, like she always did.

But it was him alright. The black messy curls, the strong jaw, the effortlessly charming smile, loose Gryffindor tie and far-too-green eyes. She was not used seeing him from such a small distance. Almost no one was. Being in the same House meant nothing. There was some kind of unspoken agreement : One did not simply touch or speak to Harry Potter. And Hermione was just fine with it, she could not understand why everybody was so obsessed with him in the first place.

"Granger, right ?"

Hermione blinked, opening and then closing her mouth several times while furrowing her brows before settling on a quick and dry nod of her head.

He smiled, in an unnervingly bright way, and his teeth were of this blinding white that was expected of any hero. The witch was almost tempted to snort in an unbelieving and derisive way in front of him : his entire persona was so perfect that it was almost ridiculous.

"Hum...I'm Harry Potter, we're in the same year, Gryffindor-" he started while pointing an unnecessary finger on the lion embroided on his robes.

As if anybody, literally anybody, could possibly not know who he was.

"-I don't think we have had the occasion to talk to each other."

The snort had finally escaped her, and just as inelegantly as she had expected it to. Seeing his surprised expression, she cleared her throat and said, her tone maybe a little bit too amused "We do not...exactly run in the same circles, yes."

That was an understatement.

Hermione would not call herself or her life especially boring.

But if she had to compare herself to him. She was in fact the dullest kind of bland. Muggleborn, daughter of dentists whose most special day was the anouncement that she was a witch. Well, one could still count as a particularity, and a proud one, that she was the best student in Hogwarts.

But Harry Potter was...

He was...

She could not even begin to define him. Hailed saviour of the wizarding world at one year old, raised and magically-fathered by the star auror, eternal bachelor, seventeen times sexiest wizard voted by Witch Hebdo and rebellious Heir Sirius Black the third, awarded the Wizarding World Best Duellist award, Gryffindor's Golden Boy, Seeker and Captain of the Quiddich Team. There was a good reason why men were not deified or mythified while there were still alive, and the fact that the almost totality of the wizarding society considered Harry Potter, a seventeen-year old boy, as the embodiement of the ideal wizard and the reincarnation of Godric Gryffindor at the same time could not bode well.

She just did not get it. And at the same time she understood it quite well.

From his looks to his pedigree and...circumstances, Potter was legend material. Not only did he survived the most dangerous madman in History but he actually seemed to fulfill every hope and expectation in the most unexpected way. Heir of Two Houses, it was not one but two signet rings that he wore, he had started to assist to the Ministry sessions when he was fifteen, and if one counted the Basilisk he fought at twelve and the Triwizard tournament he won at fourteen, it was only too logical, too evident to consider Harry Potter as some kind of second-arrival of Merlin.

She did not. Not because she didn't think that Harry Potter was not destined to do great things ; in fact, she sincerely believed that even if he had proved himself to be the most mediocre wizard Hogwarts had ever known, he would still have obtained a position in the Ministry simply for that smile of his (she did get that theses cheekbones and thesesdimples should just not happen on the same human face). But Hermione was also a firm believer that the precocious deification of a man was good for nobody, neither the chosen idol nor its worshippers.

"Did you want something ?" she calmly asked.

"Oh...yes." Harry ducked under the table for a while before putting in front of her a set of parchments with a book of Arithmancy. "I was told that you were the best in Arithmancy and...I have to admit that I just can't understand a single piece of the paper professor Vector gave us. I was in divination until last year, I never thought that I would have to choose Arithmancy but I was told that it would be more useful for my...future career. So I-"

"I don't think that this is a good idea" cut Hermione raising a hand "I am a good student but I am afraid that I am not exactly a very...patient professor. I am quite difficult."

"I think I can handle it." answered Harry, and a profoundly amused smile danced over his lips.

Hermione cleared her throat to prevent another snort, but she still couldn't stop herself from saying, her tone a little bit too sharp "And is there anything you think you can't handle, Potter ?"

He was surprised. His eyebrows rose high on his forehead, and his mouth opened in a wordless voyell as Hermione slowly closed her eyes. Her mother had always told her that her mouth would be the end of her. And now she would meet her end at the hands of the murderous crowd of Potter's cult. What she didn't expected was his laughter. Or how nice it sounded.

She opened her eyes again. Ah...There were the dimples. He had one of his arm on the table while the other pulled at his curls, his eyes shining more than when he had first arrived. Strangely, being the cause of that kind of reaction was not...unpleasant.

"Well..." he started, his voice lowering in the mischevious tone of a teasing confidence "I have to admit being raised by Sirius Black did not do much for my humility."

"I can imagine that." she continued, and sadly the sharpness had already left her tone, as if her own voice was betraying her. "And I suppose it did not make you able to accept no as an answer, either ?"

"Not exactly, no." he continued on the tone of fake contrition. "I am afraid I would have to take it upon myself to make you change your mind."

His green eyes were still shining with amusement, but there was something else, this famous competitive light that was lurking not so far behind. God, he just could not bear to loose, could he ? Hermione looked at him for a while, weighing her options and wondering which solutions would permit her to return to a Potter-less and quiet life. On one hand, she could just refuse, and tell him to piss off but she knew he just wouldn't. This could go bad, and he could, worst of worst start talking to her in public, and often, and making her a target. Or...She could accept of helping him once, just look at his homework, correct them quickly, and never talk to him again. Yes, she could do this fast, after all how bad could he be ?

"Well, dead for dead. Give me that." she said imperiously while outstretching her hand.

His smile still playing on his lips, he gave her the small pile of papers. She immediately spread them before her, taking her quill and reviewing each line, furrowing her brows more and more as she red. God...She stopped on the fourth line. She had just burried herself. He was that bad. She would never be able to fix this in one session.

"How...How the hell did Professor Vector let you integrate the advanced class ?"

Potter started to laugh again "That bad, huh ?"

"I mean...I would like to say you have an elementary level, but you...you do not have a level." continued Hermione while pinching the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes and trying to breathe. "Didn't she evaluate you before letting you enter ?"

"Not really." said Potter, passing his hand on his chin in a thoughtful way "She was quite enthusiastic in letting me enter the course, to be honest."

Hermione opened her eyes again and looked at the wizard with an incredulous gaze but then he smiled again, and she understood the situation all too well "Enthusiastic, right ? I bet she was..."

"Well...You can help me, can't you ?" he stretched his long arms on the wooden desk "Come on, Granger, I was told that you were the brighest witch of our age."

"Brightest...Listen, Potter, Rowena Ravenclaw was the brightest witch of our age, and to be honest I am not even sure that she could help you-..."

"Please."

"It wouldn't take a few hours. I mean, you are literally asking me to teach you the equivalent of three years of Arithmancy-"

"Yes...Speaking about that...I think that if you could also give me some help in Potions and History of Magic, it would just be great."

What ? Her quill fell from her frustruated grip. "You're kidding me, right ?"

"I am really not. But if that reassures you, this" he tapped on the papers in front of her "this is my worst subject, I'm not that bad in Potions and History but...you know, bad enough."

"Okay, I definitely don't-"

"You think you can't do it ?"

"What ?"

"Is that too big of a task ? Too much even for you, Granger ?"

Hermione stayed silent for a while, before she breathed an incredulous and low exclamation. "Really ? You're baiting me ?"

Potter lowered himself upon the table, dark curls coming to shade his eyes. "Is it working ?"

The witch still looked at him without speaking for a while. What...What exactly was...God. She passed a tired hand in her hair. "Since when...Listen, Potter. You do not even need to pass theses subjects. You could literally fail your entire way through half of your courses and you would still have every door opened to you. You've received enough awards for you not to need letters of recommandations, and with a name like Potter-Black, no one will ever even look at your grades."

The Gryffindor hummed thoughtfully and Hermione was grateful that he did not try to deny that, or to play the card of fake bashfulness and modesty. He was one of the best seeker Howgarts had ever known, so much so that he had already been proposed sponsorships as well as invitations by some of the best professional quiddich teams in England. If he did not want to have a career in sports, he could always fall back on his three awards of Wizarding World Best Duellist, and go professional in the field. If he still did not want any of thoses, he still had a place in the Wizengamot, and would inherit the seats of the Black and Potter House at his majority. With theses, entering the highest level of the Ministry was a given, since he was almost already a Lord. And even if he decided that he did not want any of theses options he could just be a rich heir, drink and gamble his fortune and be a part-time wizard top-model.

"I won't deny that." he finished by saying, before suddenly grimacing (how could he not look bad when grimacing ?) "But...One person does look at my grades. Well, let's say that my grandfather has received my last grade report and was not very pleased at his heir performance."

His grandfather...? Oh. Arcturus Black, so technically his great-grandfather. She had never seen him beside in pictures of the Gazette, but he was well-known, and his silver gaze made you feel cold even through the paper it was layed on. The Black patriarch had been very present in Harry's education, being the iron wall and the foundation behind Sirius Black's laid back and extravagant rearing. Since the blood adoption of Harry by his grandson, Sirius Black, he had made it very clear that Harry was his own, and he was the reason why Harry had haunted the Wizenmagot since he was fifteen and also the one who had signed him in the Wizarding World Duellist Competition at fourteen (the youngest contestant and the youngest winner in history). She seriously doubted that a man as brilliant, shrewd and cold-blooded as Arcturus Black believed even for a second the naive whispers of his adoptive grandson quasi-divinity, but being a more than able politician, he would not be above trying to use them. That meant that Harry had to be perfect. And he had started very well, he looked like a Black, some said he even looked like Ephraim Black, one of the greatest patriarch of the House, his magical prowess was absolutely extraordinary...Hermione could see very well how annoyed Arcturus had to have been seeing something that wasn't an O on his grandson grades report, a stain on this otherwise absolutely impeccable image of perfection. Harry was very precious to his grandfather, which in other words meant that Arcturus Black did not tolerate to be disappointed and he certainly did not even phantom the idea of his dearest grandson failing.

She sighed and looked at the furrowed brows on the face of Potter as he glared at the Arithmancy papers. Now this was the main reason why she was absolutely not envious of his place as the object of the blind worship of the wizarding society. She absolutely did not want to be Harry Potter, and to be honest she also could not even begin to imagine what it was like to be him. This perpetual and unyielding pressure, theses permanent stares, theses continual whispers...Harry Potter had been in the wizarding papers since he was one year old, and since then appeared at least once a month. He was legend material, but then again a Damocles Sword was always above him, making it clear that he couldn't be anything else. The large number of his worshippers meant just as many hopes and expectations that he had to carry on his shoulders.

As she looked at him, for the first time, Hermione felt sorry for him.

She closed her eyes and pulled her hair back. Oh Lord, she knew she should not do it...

"When are you free ?" she finished by asking.

Potter raised his head and his dark and pensive expressive immediately melted away as he sent toward her the most dazzling smile she had ever seen on his face. Ah...there were the dimples again.

"Merlin, thank you Granger ! You won't regret it."

Oh she doubted that, she seriously did.

§§§

"Granger !"

This had to be a nightmare...

The class of Potions was one of the least favored by Hermione. And this was not because it was a joint-course with the Slytherins, it was not even because their Potion professor Severus Snape, a bat-like entity that also was the most abrasive person she had ever met... it was that she was partnered with Lavender Brown of all people. And this actually meant listening to her nonsensical chatter for two hours as she had to do all the work and assure herself that Lavender did not do any major catastrophy.

Most of the topics of Lavender's chatter were : her boyfriend, how dreamy and untouchable Harry Potter was, how nice her nails looked, and whoever was talked the most in the Witch Hebdo of this precise week. And then she circled back.

She had long prayed to be free of Lavender, just for one lesson, just one, and as she looked at Potter smiling at her, and waving his hand across the room, she could not help but think that the Heavens had a very mean sense of humour.

He was just as he always was, messy dark curls falling on his eyes, tie loosened, smile worthy of a commercial...it was Potter, alright. He also entered the room as he always did, closely surrounded by his court. Directing it was Draco Malfoy, his cousin, and also one of the fiery beast keeping everyone else away, motivated by his strong conviction that Harry being his parent, he belonged to him. He too, was as he always was, blond hair lightly pushed back, cold silver eyes lightened by constant condescension, his pretty boy face twisted in a sneer. There was some kind of strange familiarity in his and Harry's features. They couldn't be more different, and yet one saw a similar tilt in the curve of their mouth, in the sharpness and strenght of their jaw and in the highness of their brow. Following them closely were two other Slytherins, Zabini, with his almost extravagantly good looks and then Nott, and a little behind them, quite a large group of Gryffindor directed by Dean Thomas, Lee Jordan and Seamus Finnigan.

As Potter called her, every eyes, and she meant every single eyes turned toward her. Malfoy rose an elegant and pale eyebrow, looking at Zabini for an answer as Potter made its way to her table. When he arrived, he stopped and looked at Lavender, offering her his most charming smile "Hey...I'm sorry to ask you that but...Can I take your place for this lesson ?"

"What ?" answered Lavender, eyes big and looking on the verge of screaming in excitement, fainting and entering in a state of shock.

"Granger is my tutor" explained Harry "right, Granger ?"

Hermione looked at him for a while, not answering. Was it really happening ? She had thought it obvious that they would not talk to each other apart for the private meetings they had agreed to have in the library after his Quiddich Pratice. But of course, Potter just could not do things half-way. Lavender looked at her with such a betrayed gaze that it was almost as if she had just confessed killing puppies in her spare time. Well, dead for dead.

"Right." she finished by sighing.

There was an almost comical silence after that, and then whispers broke out. "Well" continued Harry, unperturbed "Can I sit ?"

"What ?" repeated Lavender, apparently in a deep state of shock.

"Oh for God's sake, he is asking you to move, Brown." intervened Malfoy as he took place on the table the closest to them, shooing the two Gryffindors there with a lazy hand gesture.

"Be nice, Draco" said Harry in an almost absent-minded automatism as Lavender took her bag and left as if she had dementors after her.

"What are you doing here ?" asked Hermione in a low-tone as he let his bag fall close to his new place.

"I won't be able to be here tonight, there has been development in the trials of Rookwood and McTavish and my grandfather has obtained permission for Draco and I to be present as guest auditors. So I thought we could have a little practical session during the lesson ?"

Hermione tried to ignore the eyes fixed on her as she took her notebooks out. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breathes before she turned toward Harry who was preparing his side of the table. "Are you even conscious that you just designed me as the person to kill ?" she finished by asking, praising herself for keeping her tone even.

Harry smiled and once again Hermione was relieved that he did not try to deny the fact that he had rabid fans ready for murder. "Yeah...Some people can be a bit much. Don't worry Granger, if you die, I'll give you the permission to haunt me whenever you want."

"I am flattered." the witch answered as drily as she could.

"You should be. I don't just propose that to any ghosts." answered Harry, his lips curving in a teasing expression. His unnatural green eyes were as bright as they always were, and Hermione lowered her head, finding her throat dryer and dryer as she looked into them.

The rest of the class was more bearable when Professor Snape arrived. Immediately after he was here, the staring diminished by half, and could only be furtive. It could not be in any other way with Severus Snape as a professor, he would not bear for his class to be distracted by Harry Potter of all people. He had to be the only person of Hogwarts not to be part of Harry Potter's cult. But sometimes Hermione thought that the strange hatred he seemed to bear for Potter made him just as obsessed as the others.

She did not think much of her first "pratice lesson" with Potter. He had not been wrong, he was not as bad with Potions as he was with Arithmancy, and she was reassured to see that he was a fast learner.

"You're not as bad as I thought" she said, looking at him grinding a dried bat ears into powder.

"I am flattered." he answered on the same tone she had, but his eyes were still shining with amusement.

"You should be. I don't just say that to every failing students."

At that Potter started to laugh, this warm and charming laughter, that she was starting to like maybe a little bit too much. She closed her eyes : Don't cross the line, Granger.

§§§

"Well ?" said Hermione, as she stopped in front of Draco Malfoy. The corridor was almost entierely empty beside for the two of them, but Hermione had expected to be cornered at some point of the day, and she could not say she was very surprised that Malfoy had called dibs.

The Slytherin put his hands on the pockets of his pressed pants. "Well, what ?"

"I don't know, I suppose I am awaiting for the warnings, threats...You know the usual fire and brimstones."

"Please, Granger, we're both adults we do not need to loose our time with that kind of things. Am I that frightening ?" the blond finished on a mocking tone, perfect blond strands falling in front of his pale eyes.

"Not really, not." Not yet, was what she wanted to say. Draco Malfoy, was laughingly wealthy, handsome, vicious and had a distinct mean streak. But for now they were just both seventeen year old students, what he would become when he came to his inheritance...That she didn't really wanted to think about. "But you do seem quite committed to keep Potter in an ivory tower, far, far away from us eveyday populace. So...can't exactly blame me from being wary."

"On the contrary" started Malfoy, his lips raising in a joyless smile "I do understand the desire of the masses to have a glimpse into what they cannot have. And a king cannot only have knights and lords around him, peasants and fools have their utility." The blond stopped as if, searching his words before saying "I am just doing some filtering. I just can't bear the smell of loosers, and I just hate it even more when they don't know their place. But, good for you Granger, you don't really smell like a looser."

"I am flattered." she said for the second time, during the day. But this time, her tone was as cold as it could be.

"Of course, you are." continued Malfoy, his tone patronizing "You worked very hard not to be trash. And now you arrived to the point where even your...unfortunate circumstances and poverty stricken background can be forgotten."

"Poverty stricken-... ? Both of my parents are medical professionals, Malfoy."

The Slytherin's smile widened and he gave her the most condescending gaze she had ever seen "Oh, right. I forgot the brave working class folks had their own kind of little class system...Would you prefer me to use the term of upper-middle class, Granger ? How cute."

Oh, how she wanted to punch him...

"What do you want, Malfoy ?"

The smile disappeared from the face of the wizard, and he took two steps toward her, bending slightly so they could be at eye-level. Maybe Malfoy was a little bit frightening she thought as she looked at the unforgiving and icy expression that had come upon his face. "Harry is my blood, Granger. Do you get it ? He is blood. We've known each other since we were two years old and we will be burried in the same family burial ground. My mother has been his mother, and his father has been mine. Do you get that, Granger ? Do you get it when I say family and blood ?"

His eyes were burning with an almost mad light and passion...Hermione weighed her words carefully, before deciding to go for honesty. "I don't think I do Malfoy."

At theses words he rose from his position, and some of the ice had melted from his expression. "Of course, you don't" he started, and his usual lazy drawl had returned in his tone "but I appreciate you knowing it. You know what...Let us be honest for a bit. You make as curious as you piss me off, Granger. Your cocktail of self-righteousness, desastrous lack of ambition and horrific hair choices is just the perfect glass of annoyance I don't need. And yet part of me wonder just how high your busy little hands could take you if you could just stop shooting yourself in the foot."

He smiled once more, but it was this stange smile that one would imagine in the face of an impatient predator. "I really would like to tell you not to cross the line. But I am very bored and very rich, so...please do. Who knows...Maybe you'll learn to use a brush, gain wits, become the Minister and get out of poverty."

"You do not make me very eager to break your boredom, Malfoy."

He swept at her remark with an annoyed hand gesture in the air "Yeah, yeah, my boredom is one thing and Harry another : I am narcissistic not unfilial. I am a Malfoy before anything else, and that means that I have the eyes for opportunities and hidden talents. What I mean in common words, is that if you're useful to the family Granger, I can forget and pass many things, but if you aren't...I swear I'll make a bonfire out of your hair and watch them burn."

Useful for the family ? What the hell did he mean ? Hermione furrowed her brows and refreigned from pinching the bridge of her nose as she already felt the arrival of an headache. "I am just a tutor and you are psychotic, Malfoy."

"If you are involved in any way with Harry Potter, you are not just anything. And the word you are searching for is not psychotic but loving have many, many things to learn Granger."

He started to leave, stepping back without leaving her eyes for one moment, his smile still full of a mirth that made her uneasy.

"Well, Harry does want you at his tutor, and...he is quite spoiled, you know ? No one quite manage to ever tell him 'no', not even me. So what Harry wants, Harry has. I think we will see each other quite often, Granger."

To be continued...