A/N: Eek! Thank you for all the support you've shown this story, everyone. It is very much appreciated!


Third Year - Part One

Theo walked with a mild sense of excitement to his first Magical Ballet class alongside the rest of the third year Slytherins – well, most of them. Draco still hadn't returned from the Hospital Wing after the previous day's brutal attack from that oaf's beastly hippogriff. It had certainly been a dramatic introduction to Care of Magical Creatures, and Theo couldn't help but feel that Draco had been fortunate to escape with his life: from what he'd seen, it looked like the hippogriff had been about to stamp its hooves right onto Draco's face! Knowing Lucius Malfoy quite well, Theo doubted that Hagrid would be a Hogwarts teacher for much longer.

The incident was all anyone had been able to talk about for the last twenty-four hours, but he and his friends finally moved on from the subject in the build up to their first ballet class. He had never considered not taking on magical ballet: it was expected of him and he was happy to fulfil the obligation. He had been to various society functions over the years and seen first-hand the role dance played in those circles - from the traditional dances performed at family celebrations, balls and galas, right through to evenings when prestigious magical ballet companies would perform in the opulent Merlin Theatre in London - the peak in the social calendar for pureblood families. On one occasion when Theo was a small child, he had been fortunate enough to watch the Ballet du Monde company - arguably the best company in the world. And on stage that night, in leading roles, were the two dancers that were now to be his instructors. Francesco and Katriona Vittozzi had been Principal dancers with the distinguished company and performed in magical communities all around the world. Theo didn't have any idea how Professor Dumbledore was able to convince them to teach at Hogwarts after they retired, but it was an honour to receive dance instruction from such legends of the art. Theo aimed to do his very best under their tutelage so that he wouldn't let them, his father or his mother down.

He felt a painful stirring at the thought of his mother, but he quickly shoved it aside as he followed his housemates into the rehearsal studio. It was a room not much bigger than many of the other classrooms at Hogwarts, but the three walls without windows consisted of nothing but mirrors from the floor to the ceiling, giving the impression that the space was larger than it really was. The interior of the castle was typically quite cool but the temperature of the dance room was rather warm, and Theo felt happy to shrug off his outer robe without worrying about becoming cold. Signor Vittozzi brusquely instructed them to put their belongings to one side, change into their dance shoes and then gather at the front with their wands.

All the students hurried to obey his instructions and Theo was one of the first to take his place before the legendary dance instructor. As he waited for the others to fall in beside him, he glanced around to see which students from the rest of the houses had signed up. He wasn't particularly surprised to see such a small number of students from Ravenclaw (Boot, Brocklehurst and Corner) because he knew they tended to prioritise their studies over everything else. There was a larger group of Hufflepuffs (Abbott, Bones, Macmillan and a few others) who were probably trying to make up for being landed in such a dud of a house. Theo barely managed to refrain from rolling his eyes when he caught sight of Longbottom moving timidly over to the group, but his disdain for the inept Gryffindor was completely trumped by his utter astonishment at seeing Granger, the mudblood, hurrying self-consciously next to him.

Theo wasn't the only one to notice this utterly astounding addition to their ballet group. "What's she doing here?" he heard Pansy whisper sneeringly to the rest of the Slytherin girls. "I thought I could smell something disgusting and now I know why!" There was the unmistakable sound of sniggers being muffled by hands. Theo was still amazed that Hermione Granger was there taking ballet with them, pretending as though it was a totally normal thing. Didn't she know that only purebloods studied magical ballet? Had nobody told her that only those with such noble heritages could expect their body to be able to cope with the rigorous demands of the art? Perhaps, Theo thought, that was exactly what had happened: as far back as he could remember, Theo's family had explained very clearly all about how the purity of his blood made him so superior to most other witches and wizards and, particularly, mudbloods. Clearly, no one had done the same for Granger. Theo looked away from her quickly: it was almost embarrassing to have her there…

"We will begin the lesson shortly," signor Vittozzi said, raking his gaze over the assembled students, "but first I will outline the aims for this year – it is important for us to know where we are headed, no?" A couple of the students gave small nods in response but most just stood, waiting expectantly for him to continue. "The first year's study will actually involve little magic because you need to build up the strength in your body; introducing the magic into your body too soon can lead to serious injuries."

Theo already knew that because his father had told him over summer. Apparently it was normal to start off slowly so that the weaker students could quit before things got serious, and only the strongest remained. Theo's father hadn't said so explicitly but Theo felt sure (going by everything that his father had told him) that it would be the students whose blood was purest who would make the best dancers – how could it be otherwise? He highly doubted that Granger would last more than two weeks.

"So, much of our work this year will focus on building up that strength and learning the steps that underpin all ballet work," signor Vittozzi continued, his Italian accent rolling pleasantly off of his tongue. "But we will also learn the traditional dances that you might come across in society functions throughout Britain and Europe. There will be a graded examination around Easter, along with our showcase performance in front of the rest of the school at the end of the year. Now, let's dance."

Signor Vittozzi demonstrated how to perform the balancing charm for their hand, and a few minutes were wasted as some people struggled to perform the fiddly spell. Out of the corner of his eye, Theo noticed that Granger mastered the spell almost at once and she eventually had to complete it for Longbottom because he couldn't do it for himself.

Once that was completed, the ballet class truly began. They methodically went through the exercises in a similar order to their sample lesson from the previous summer. Signor Vittozzi demonstrated the finer technical aspects of the different moves before they began but, without the older students to model along with the music, a few of the third years struggled. Theo couldn't stop himself from glancing over at Granger periodically and he was surprised to find that, while there were certainly improvements to be made to her posture and technique, she was managing to keep pace with the steps. Longbottom, on the other hand, was receiving at least twice the amount of attention from signor Vittozzi as the rest of the students put together. Theo reckoned that the Longbottoms must have a direct mudblood ancestor that their family had long tried to keep quiet about…

Theo was so distracted by his discrete observations of the Gryffindors that he performed a completely wrong move in the middle of their fondus exercise.

"Focus your attention, Mr Nott," signor Vittozzi called to him and Theo's face flushed with shame. He resolved to push his unseemly interest in Granger aside for the rest of the class to ensure that he performed at the level he expected of himself. He was able to achieve this thanks to his natural ability to concentrate on whatever he set his mind to, and his satisfaction with his own performance levels rose as the class went on. There was no doubt that it was tiring work though and, as they moved through the exercises without the help of the balancing charm, all the students became sweaty and red-faced. Signor Vittozzi didn't take pity on his new charges. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying pointing out how much their fitness levels needed to increase if they were to see the year's dance classes through.

After the completion of a particularly gruelling exercise of jumps, signor Vittozzi looked somewhat amused as he announced, "We will complete that exercise five more times, without a break," much to the disbelief of his exhausted students. "Anyone who gets to the end will get twenty-five points for their house."

It was a substantial reward but Theo had no doubt that signor Vittozzi had named such a high figure because he doubted many – if any – of them would achieve it. Eager to make up for his earlier blunder, Theo resolved to get to the end. However, as he neared the end of the first set, his body told him that it wouldn't be possible. His legs burned as he pushed his body harder than he'd ever done before and he struggled to draw in enough breath. Signor Vittozzi barked his encouragement, telling them to jump higher, squeeze their muscles and keep going. Theo could sense the people around him starting to pull out of the challenge mid-way through the second run and his body desperately wanted to join them but he forced himself to continue. Somehow, he managed to complete the second and third set and he was able to take a tiny sense of positivity from the fact that he was now over halfway through.

"Up, up!" Vittozzi commanded eagerly, clapping his hands to correspond with their jumps.

Theo's breath was coming in noisy, ragged pants and he doubted he looked at all like a ballet student anymore with his technique suffering as a result of his exhaustion.

"One more set to go!" the dance instructor cried, looking excited, his eyes darting between Theo and what must be another student still in the running. Spots were starting to appear in front of Theo's eyes but he was so close to the finish that he refused to give in. Four more jumps…

"Bravo!" signor Vittozzi called loudly, applauding as Theo stumbled to a halt after his final jump. He crouched down, resting his hands on his legs as he sucked in a huge lungful of air after another, and tried not to pass out. "Very impressive feats of determination. I can't recall ever having two students be successful. What about you, my dear?"

It took Theo a few moments for signor Vittozzi's words to make sense in his exhausted mind and he realised that signora Vittozzi must have entered the room during their torturous jump session. Theo tried to look up but his head was completely drenched with sweat and some of it had dripped into his eyes, making them sting terribly. He swiped the moisture away roughly and forced himself to stand upright in the stance expected of someone of his breeding. Signora Vittozzi gave him the smallest of approving nods at his improved posture before she returned her imperious gaze to her husband. Theo noticed that her features didn't soften much.

"No, indeed," she agreed. "It's rare that we have any finishers at all." Her sharp eyes moved to a point behind Theo. "But two is most… unprecedented." It was obvious that there was more to those words beyond the obvious, and Theo shifted his still-aching body so he could see who else had managed to impress the Vittozzis.

His jaw dropped in complete disbelief.

No.

It wasn't possible, surely? And yet, there she was: red-faced, sweaty, panting and utterly dishevelled, but with a gleam of victory in her features.

How in Salazar's name had a mudblood come through such a gruelling physical challenge?!

Before Theo could recall all of his father's lectures on the deficiencies of muggles, Granger's gaze glanced up to meet his and his mind went utterly blank. He didn't think he'd ever looked into her eyes before – into the eyes of anyone of her breeding, actually – and all he could do was stare at her. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly and, with a shock, he realised that she was smiling at him.

Theo jerked his head back round to the front of the classroom and snapped his jaw closed hard enough to cause pain to flash along his lower face. How dare she smile at him as though they were equals? What a ridiculous notion!

Only a handful of seconds had elapsed since Theo had first glanced in Granger's direction and the Vittozzis were still looking at her.

"I'm afraid I don't know your name," the ballet mistress's tone was very curt as she spoke to Granger, but Theo refused to look around to see how the girl was reacting to the hostility.

"Hermione Granger, signora," she replied breathlessly.

Signora Vittozzi raised a delicate eyebrow. "Granger?" she repeated with polite confusion. "I'm not familiar with that surname."

Theo was fairly sure that he could hear the sound of stifled giggles coming from the Slytherin girls but Granger's confident reply was, "Really? I've found it's a fairly common name."

The signora's eyes narrowed. "Common in the muggle world?" she asked, her voice still overly polite.

"Yes," came Granger's defensive response.

"You have muggle parentage?" Signora Vittozzi inquired but Theo was pretty sure she already knew the answer to that. The atmosphere in the room was incredibly tense as the rest of the students watched the exchange in silence.

"I do," Granger replied tersely. "Is that a problem, signora?" She was trying to sound brave but Theo definitely heard a tremor in her voice; he wasn't surprised – it wasn't like Granger to challenge a teacher.

Signor Vittozzi looked displeased at the question but his wife didn't appear fazed at all. "It's certainly unfortunate for your chances of performing well in this art," she replied calmly. Theo's resolve not to look Granger's way crumbled and he watched a number of emotions flicker across her face at the ballet mistress's blunt words. "It's well-known that those born with a magical lineage that is passed down from their parents perform ballet better – some would say that it's in their blood, Miss Granger."

Granger looked utterly stunned at hearing a teacher state what was (to Theo, at least) a universal truth about mudblood inferiority. Obviously, just like he had predicted, no one had told her that she was unsuited to magical ballet.

"Some people say that about performing all magic but that's rubbish," a voice piped up and Theo was startled to see that Longbottom was the speaker. He looked terrified to have the attention of the room but he squeezed his hands into fists and said, "Hermione's top of our year – she can do anything the professors ask her to."

"I'm sure my wife meant no offence," signor Vittozzi said softly and raised a calming hand, obviously sensing the hostility emanating from the Gryffindors.

"Of course not," the signora added but she didn't sound particularly genuine to Theo's ears – and nor should she be seeing as she was simply speaking the truth about pureblood supremacy.

"Your heritage is a disadvantage, Miss Granger, but only because a lot of the old magical families grow up with the ballet as part of their childhood," signor Vittozzi explained. He looked around at the other students. "Who has been taken to watch magical ballet companies with their relatives?"

All the students except Granger raised their hand.

"They have been exposed to it from a young age," the dance instructor said simply taking a few steps towards her. His tone was almost kind but Granger watched him stiffly. "Many of them will have already received tuition prior to this class and will know the basics of a lot of the traditional dances. So, yes, you are at a clear disadvantage, but that does not mean you cannot succeed if that is your wish. Hard work, determination and a love of dance are the most significant factors in ensuring your progress in this art. Today has been a good start for you."

She watched him cautiously, still looking rather emotional. "Thank you, signor," she murmured.

He nodded and glanced up at the other students. "Class is over for today. You will return on Thursday for your next lesson."

He turned his back on the students, immediately dismissing them, but his wife's gaze lingered on Granger for a few moments longer before she joined him by the gramophone that had provided the music during their lesson. The students packed away their things quietly while they discreetly watched Granger and the Vittozzis. Granger was acting like nothing had happened but the ballet teachers were talking quietly to each other, both looking unhappy.


Hermione deposited her heaving bag onto the floor and then collapsed onto her bed with a soft groan. She knew it was probably foolish to indulge her exhaustion for even a few seconds when her ballet class started in just twenty minutes, but her eyelids pulled irresistibly downwards and she was powerless to stop them.

She was over two months into her third year now and her busy schedule was certainly beginning to take its toll. She couldn't complain though, because the chance to study all the different magical subjects was exactly what she had requested. It was only thanks to the time-turner that she was able to attend all her lessons, and she was so grateful that Professor McGonagall had gone to great lengths to provide her with one.

Of her new subjects, she found Ancient Runes and Arithmancy particularly fascinating and it was also intriguing to study muggles from the point of view of witches and wizards. After the dramatic events of their first Care of Magical Creatures lesson, that subject had become somewhat tame – not that she'd be telling Hagrid that. She knew that he had the potential to deliver interesting and educational lessons but the threat of Buckbeak's hearing hovered over him like a black cloud, and he obviously didn't dare try introducing any other animals that could harm the students, which was why they had been stuck looking after flobberworms ever since. However, Hermione heartily preferred spending time with Hagrid than in the stuffy Divination tower with Professor Trelawney. As far as she was concerned, Divination was little more than a waste of time, but she wasn't about to let the barmy professor be the first person to force her to quit something.

But Professor Trelawney wasn't rude or dismissive, unlike signora Vittozzi. The ballet mistress was careful not to say anything derogatory about Hermione's blood status but it was plainly written across her face every time she looked her way. At first, Hermione had been a little stunned that a Hogwarts professor could be so openly prejudiced against someone's heritage and she'd considered making a complaint to Professor McGonagall, but she could hardly complain that the signora looked distinctly unimpressed whenever she glanced Hermione's way, could she? Hermione had decided that the best way to respond to her ballet mistress's disdain was to prove her assumptions about muggleborns wrong, and it made her even more determined to become a good dancer. And, thanks to her hard work, she knew that she was improving week by week.

Hermione sighed and rolled off of the bed to get changed for her lesson. As she did so, she glanced through the notes she'd made from the previous few dance classes. Ron and the others thought that she couldn't apply her usual studying techniques to ballet and they were right, to an extent, but she was treating it like another academic class as much as she could. Over the summer, she had checked out a couple of muggle ballet books from her local library and made notes on the vocabulary for the different steps. Her mother had let her rent a couple of videotapes of muggle ballet productions from the local rental shop and she had even tried (very unsuccessfully) to copy some of the moves in her living room. However, her biggest effort during the summer months came from the disappointment she'd felt in her fitness levels during the sample class, and so she'd regularly gone out for runs and attended a couple of exercise classes with her mother. The result of her efforts meant that she was one of only two students to see the signor's jump series through to the end – something she was very proud of, even though it had brought her to the signora's attention. After each class, Hermione would meticulously copy down any new exercises they were taught and made note of improvements the Vittozzis made to her technique (of which there would be many if the signora was teaching).

Satisfied that she was prepared for her lesson, Hermione hurried down the dormitory stairs and smiled at Neville, who was waiting for her in the common room. The only person in their class who received more criticism from the signora was Neville and, by his own admission, he wasn't particularly skilled at ballet. However, after Neville had stood up for her in the first class, Hermione would never say a word against him. They had recently begun learning some of the traditional dances from magical society. Much of this involved partner work and Hermione had been paired with Neville. It was not an ideal partnership because he frequently forgot the choreography and had stepped on her toes more than once. She knew that the Slytherins were laughing at them but she didn't care – she'd much rather have a friend who had her back than a proficient partner that would drop her immediately in the name of self-preservation.

"Could we go over the steps to the gavotte before the start of the class?" Neville asked her as they made their way through the castle. "I can't remember what happens beyond the first few steps."

"Of course," Hermione agreed, more than a little used to these requests by now. Personally, she thought that learning the traditional dances was a bit of a waste of time because she couldn't really envision an occasion in the future where she would actually perform them beyond Hogwarts – it wasn't as though the Slytherins were going to invite her to one of their snooty balls! However, she knew that a lot of the Pureblood families had encouraged their children to sign up to magical ballet precisely so that they could learn these dances for their societal gatherings. And, what was more, a number of them had already received tutelage from signora Vittozzi since a young age. That was why they had all been so good and confident in the taster lesson the previous summer. Appearances were obviously very important to those old families and if they wanted their children to know the old-fashioned society dances then the signora would be foolish not to teach them. Hermione performed them to the best of her ability but she much preferred the work they did on pure ballet – that was what had driven her to sign up for the classes in the first place.

When they reached the corridor of the dance classrooms, they found most of the other students in their class waiting outside. This was a common occurrence on Thursdays because the class before theirs was for the senior dancers (those in their sixth and seventh years) and it was rare that they would finish a minute before they had to. Unfortunately, the thick wooden door was closed, preventing them from ever seeing the older dancers at work, but the third years would always quieten to a respectful near-silence when the talented dancers walked past them on their way out, their toned bodies sweat-drenched and faces red from their exertions.

There was still a few minutes until their class was scheduled to begin, so Hermione placed her and Neville's belongings to the side and started rehearsing the steps of the gavotte. When they had run it through, Hermione enlisted the help of Susan Bones and Ernie Macmillan to make a foursome that was more accurate to how the dance would be performed.

"You need to wait a couple of counts longer before you do the turning step, Neville," Hannah Abbott commented, watching the dance carefully so she could spot anything Hermione had missed.

"Let's try it again," Ernie suggested and the four of them retook their places.

Hermione's smile grew wider as they successfully moved through the dance; she loved that the students from the other houses were supportive of each other – well, most of the other houses, anyway. Right on cue, the Slytherins turned into the corridor and the friendly atmosphere cooled at once. Neville, concentrating hard on his steps, hadn't noticed and bumped right into Hermione, who had unconsciously paused at the arrival of the Slytherins. She stumbled rather inelegantly at the impact and there were a number of snickers at her expense, the heartiest of which belonged to Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy.

"She's awful, isn't she?" Pansy giggled, not bothering to keep her voice down as she turned to the rest of the Slytherins.

"I've only got one working arm and I can do it better than that!" Malfoy added.

"There's nothing wrong with your arm, Malfoy," Hermione accused bitterly before she could stop herself. She had always found him irritating and deeply unpleasant, but that had been magnified ever since he had done everything he could to jeopardise Hagrid's career after Buckbeak had wounded him. She, Harry and Ron were convinced that Malfoy had fully recovered from the injury so that he could make things bad for Hagrid and avoid doing as much work as possible. Hermione had been watching him closely in ballet to try and catch him out but, unfortunately, he was clever enough to make sure he didn't use that arm extensively when she was around.

Apart from her discrete observations, she would mostly ignore him and all of the other Slytherins if they whispered insults at her when they knew the Vittozzis wouldn't hear: it wasn't worth engaging them or becoming upset because that was exactly what they wanted.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed at her words and an affronted expression twisted his face. "How dare you speak to me?"

Blood rushed to Hermione's face as anger flushed through her body. She was so sick of this ridiculous fallacy that her parents being muggles made her inferior to everyone else. Would she really have to spend her entire life in the magical world proving bigots like Malfoy wrong? "How dare I?" she repeated as calmly as she could. "Easily. You're nothing special, Malfoy."

The Slytherins looked positively scandalised and the other students watched wide-eyed. Spots of pink blossomed on Malfoy's furious face. "You disgust me," he sneered vehemently.

"Tell that piece of filth exactly what she is, Draco," Pansy encouraged, glaring at Hermione.

Hermione found Pansy almost as irritating as Malfoy and she refused to be intimidated by the horrible girl, so she took a step forwards instead. "Say it," she challenged him and then shrugged. "I don't care. It hasn't stopped me before and it's never going to stop me from doing what I want or showing what I'm capable of."

If she thought Malfoy looked angry before, he looked apoplectic now. He took a step forwards and opened his mouth to give some sort of vitriolic retort when the atmosphere was broken by a loud, patronising sigh. "Look, Tam, the children are squabbling," a female voice said.

Hermione glanced along the corridor and saw that the advanced class had obviously finished because the dancers were emerging from the classroom. Embarrassment crept over her skin as each of the older students took in the confrontation before them. The girl who had spoken had shiny black hair that had been plaited into an intricate bun, and Hermione was sure that she'd seen her pointed nose and high cheekbones in a Slytherin uniform. As she turned to the tall, brown-haired boy next to her with a condescending, "How juvenile," the haughty air and roll of her eyes certainly indicated that house. Hermione stepped back so she wasn't going to be blocking the corridor but then she heard the girl gasp. "Oh, never mind. You know who that is, right? I think it's a disgrace they let her in, don't you?"

The girl's voice carried clearly down the corridor and Malfoy smirked victoriously in Hermione's direction. "Mudblood," he muttered and then turned smugly back to his laughing friends.

Neville put a consoling hand on Hermione's arm, but for some reason that made her feel more emotional and she could feel her eyes stinging for the first time since the start of her encounter with Malfoy.

The older students were almost level with her now, the black-haired ballerina leading the way, next to the tall boy whom Hermione was pretty sure she'd also recognised as being from Slytherin. Hermione was doing her best to ignore them but some sixth sense told her to glance up. The boy was looking at her. This wasn't particularly surprising as the pointy-nosed student next to him had been so intent on pointing her out, but the expression on his face was. Instead of the disgusted or sneering look she'd anticipated, he actually looked mildly troubled – as though he felt sympathy for her. Hermione would have convinced herself that she was imagining it but, as she stared at him, he half-smiled and jerked his lower face upwards slightly, as though saying to her, 'Keep your chin up.' No one else seemed to have noticed this astonishing show of support for they carried on as normal: the black-haired girl was gossiping loudly over her shoulder to someone behind her as the older students walked past and the third years were gathering their things for class.

"Hermione? Are you alright?" Hannah asked gently.

Hermione turned away quickly, realising she'd been staring at the older Slytherin boy's head as it disappeared down the corridor. "I'm fine, Hannah," she said, a strange mixture of emotions pulsing through her. She took her ballet equipment from Hannah, who had been kind enough to bring it over to her. "Thank you. Let's go in before Signora yells at us." Hannah nodded with a small smile and the two girls hurried towards their classroom, Hermione casting a last speculative look after the older students.


A/N Let me know what you think! Hopefully we'll have another relatively quick update if you like it.

Red