He was late for their lesson but Hermione had far too much homework to do to waste time. A casual wave of her wand lit the torches in the classroom and she spread out on her usual desk, starting work on her charms essay.
She checked the clock again. He was now quarter of an hour late, so on the off chance that he had returned by floo, she knocked on the door again. Still no answer. She returned to her homework.
Half an hour later he arrived, whooshing through the floo with at roar of fire loud enough to be heard from the classroom. She finished her sentence, meticulously dotting the i's and finishing with a perfect diamond shaped full stop. Then she packed her books away and slung her bag over her shoulder, knocking on the door. She heard his surprised silence, followed by a muttered curse and the door swung open.
He was dusty, his robes shredded and smelling strongly of smoke, along with the acidic smell of dark magic. He was bleeding, minor but enough to mix with the dust to form a brownish smear across his hand. She forgot all about the lesson.
'Where have you been?' She asked incredulously.
'I thought I'd stir things up a little.' He said with faux casualness and she managed to choke out a laugh. 'Couldn't let Voldemort get too comfortable in Malfoy Manor.'
He let her slip past him into the room, and followed her to the desk as she took a seat. She peered at the pile of essays on the desk, noticing that the top five had all scored a D. Surprised, she shuffled through the stack and found all bar three had received the terrible score. Gellert stripped off his outer robe, depositing it in a pile on the floor, then he took off his waistcoat, dropping that in the same place. His shoulder had bled like a blossoming rose across his back and Hermione dropped the homework she had been reading (it wasn't excellent but it was better than a D).
'I'll heal that for you.' She decided, stopping him before he could retreat into his room to get a clean shirt. Knowing him, he would have left it bleeding all over his shirts because he was too proud to admit he couldn't reach the spot. He hesitated, then seemed to give in, reluctantly stripping off his shirt.
He was very strong, smooth skin sliding over wiry muscles in his back and making the scars look alive. She surveyed they injury carefully – it was just a nick, perhaps he hadn't even felt it, but it had bled a lot. She siphoned the blood away with her wand, revealing the injury, and the rule he had carved – or more likely had someone else carve into his back. It was a necromantic one, so that the bearer didn't need to draw out the ritual each time they raised the dead, and fortunately the injury hadn't damaged the delicate lines. A quick episkey fixed the cut, leaving only a pale line, before she allowed Gellert to retreat into his room and get fresh clothes.
She went back to the desk and took out the essay again, borrowing his pot of red ink and jotting down a couple of corrections. She added a line into the D, changing it to a B. That was a much more reasonable mark. She had started the next by the time Gellert reappeared in clean clothes.
'Did you actually read these?' She asked critically and he peered over her shoulder.
'Some of them.' He flicked his hand dismissively, requesting tea from the elves. A pot appeared on the desk, along with a plate of cookies. He poured them both a cup, stirring in the perfect quantity of milk.
'It's important to recognise them for their work.' She scolded lightly and he sneered. She used her wand to erase the edge of the D on a paper, changing the mark to a C. The next was a T, the handwriting so abysmal that she couldn't even read it.
'Don't you have an appointment tonight?' He asked and Hermione's stomach suddenly felt like lead.
'The Slug club.' She replied sullenly; he tutted disapprovingly.
'It seems tonight's lesson will be on the importance of networking. Have you got dress robes?' She replied in the negative and he gave a frustrated sigh, then gestured for her to stand. A moment later she stood in a floor length, red satin gown and he twirled his wand to add detailing. A snap of his fingers and Winky the house elf appeared, clapping her hands with glee as she was let loose on Hermione's hair. As the elf worked, yanking on the strands and pulling her head this way and that, Gellert lectured Hermione on pureblood manners – something he assured her was relevant in modern wizarding society if she wanted to mingle with the upper echelons.
He changed his own clothes, a smart set of black dress robes flowing from his shoulders. Winky finished with her hair and pointed her fingers at her master's clothes, creases magically disappearing.
They arrived at the party fashionably late, Hermione feeling like a princess on Gellert's arm. The thought of Cormac McLaggen was somewhat less intimidating on the arm of the dark wizard. Slughorn stumbled slightly as he greeted them, initially nervous but then a glint appeared in his eyes. He introduced them to everyone in the room, almost entirely ignoring Cormac when he arrived, before finally allowing them to take their seats to his right at the head of the table.
'Why does he like us more than the others?' She asked, confusion colouring her tone. From what she had heard, Slughorn favoured the influential members of pureblood families and muggleborns were incredibly rarely invited.
'Because your dress was worn by Artemisia Lufkin to her first public appearance.' He answered smugly.
'Why does that matter?'
'Because Artemisia Lufkin was the first woman to be minister for magic.' Hermione's mouth popped open.
'That sends a message.' She tried to sound disgruntled, but secretly she was rather pleased. She vaguely remembered Lufkin had been the one to create a department for international cooperation. With Cormac's arrival (he arrived out of breath and late, one of only a couple still in their school robes.) it seemed everyone was there, and food appeared on the table. It was a cut above the usual Hogwarts fare –delicious as ever but a touch more refined.
She made polite conversation with Ernest Firewheel, a supplier of wood to the company that made the Firebolt but they had nothing in common. He was certainly a step below average intelligence and clearly rarely left his farm, despite being incredibly wealthy. Gellert on the other hand had turned his charisma up to full as he charmed a Vampire king across Slughorn. She was glad when the meal was over, although she gained at least some amusement from watching Cormac flounder when Grindelwald mentioned his DADA scores.
She was glad when the dinner was over, although she hadn't made a useful contact, Gellert had probably managed to talk that vampire out of his castle.