A/N: This chapter may end up encompassing all three tasks, depends how much between them I can come up with. I'm writing this a while after the other recent chapters – I've been busy with real life calamities and work – and I've rather lost steam. I should still be keeping to the update schedule, but I'm worried about the quality of my writing going down.
Also, slight edit to the previous chapter - I accidentally put Dumbledore down as having killed Grindelwald, which was a mistake. And on further notes raised by the guest reviewer Heika: I never said Jasmine or Hermione is exclusively homosexual and, yes, unlike Jasmine, I am not fluent in several languages, and that Italian phrase was ripped from Google Translate.
Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING, property of respective owners etc.
Chapter 14
"This is ridiculous, you can't ask me to stop looking," Hermione stated as she set down the heavy book onto the table already stacked with them. "You're being forced to compete in a tournament against people with three years of experience on you; otherwise you lose your magic. There has to be a loophole somewhere."
"Hermione," Jasmine began as she sat down opposite her in this out of the way spot in the library. "Edward Tonks said to me recently that Wizarding law was like a sex manual written by a blind and deaf nun, and then translated into Russian by an irate Frenchman. It is near impossible to understand, even for the professionals, and it doesn't always necessarily make sense. I very much doubt you will find a way around the magical contract."
"But it just isn't right! People shouldn't be able to be forced into a binding contract without consent," she protested vehemently.
"Shouldn't? You're quite right, however the world is not perfect and it is possible nonetheless," she answered drily. "You're also forgetting one important fact."
"What?"
"I don't want to get out of the contract."
"Is this about the bloody Wizengamot seats? You'll still have those in three years, and even then it's a bloody stupid system of governance," Hermione said dismissively.
"It's not just that. As my own Head of House and a legal adult, I can do a lot I wouldn't otherwise be capable of. For one thing, I'm legal to apparate and I've booked my test for the holidays, and I can use magic whenever and wherever I want. Not to mention the variety of legal and social protections it gives me from various things – I'd like to see the Prophet try to print an inaccurate story about me now, I can sue for slander and as Head of an Ancient and Noble House, people are going to sit up and listen."
"Still…"
"And," she continued, "I control my own life, which is quite important to me as I've been operating independently since I came to Hogwarts, but now it will be legally." 'No more of the goat fucker trying and failing to control me.'
"I'm just worried about you," Hermione relented finally, seemingly looking through her with those piercing blue eyes.
"Hermione, I've fought a basilisk before now," she consoled, reaching across to rub the girl's hand soothingly, "I'm not scared of whoever has conspired to enter me into this bloody thing. All they'll have done is given me even more fame when I eventually win it."
"Win?" the Gryffindor replied dubiously.
"Do you really think I'm going home with anything less than first place?" Jasmine asked with a raised eyebrow. "If I'm entered into this damn thing, you better believe I am going to come out on top."
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Jasmine was snapped from a reverie of imagining a certain blonde's body writhing on top of her by someone calling her name. She blinked, and saw Ollivander looking at her expectantly after having checked the French girl's wand. With a snap of her wrist, she handed over her Holly wand which he rolled about in his fingers.
"Ah, one of mine, I remember this wand well," the old man stated, "Holly, eleven inches, and with a Phoenix Feather core. Kept in good condition, I can see."
"Naturally," she replied as he returned the stick to her. She barely noticed as Diggory and Krum had their wands examined by the old wand-maker, paying more attention to keeping the Veela out of her mind and watching amusedly as the two reporters in the room shot annoyed looks at each other. The Diagon Gazette had quickly become the second biggest Wizarding publication in Britain, and although it was a major loss as far as profits went, it was far more useful in other respects as a source which people trusted – as opposed to the Prophet's lies – and could thereby be used to push whatever angle she desired.
"Right, let's get onto the interviews then," Rita stated – for of course it was she representing the Gazette – as the small ceremony finished. "Youngest first." Jasmine nodded, and quickly followed the woman to a small room off to the side that looked like a disused office even as the Prophet's representative glared at them.
"Hello again, Rita. How's life at the Gazette treating you?" she asked as she sat down opposite the infamous reporter.
"Wonderfully," the bleach-blonde answered, "between you and me, it's a much nicer place to work." The woman was of course aware that Jasmine had a stake in the paper under her real name, which was likely the reason for her slight deference. In reality, she owned sixty-five percent of it between both her personas. "But enough about me; the world wants to know about you, the Girl-Who-Lived, youngest Triwizard Champion ever."
"Against my will, I might add," the ravenette replied, "I was entered into this dangerous competition against people with years of experience on me illegally by someone who did not have permission to act in my name."
"Do you have any idea who might have done it?"
"I'm afraid not, though our esteemed headmaster assures me he is working on it," her tone could not have been more sarcastic, and Rita grinned as her green quill scratched back and forth across its pad.
"And what are your thoughts on the competition itself? Do you think you stand a chance against your elder competitors?"
"I intend to win," she grinned as she leaned back in her chair, "they may perhaps have a greater knowledge of spells than I, but I have my own advantages."
"Oh, would you be able to share any of them?"
"Well, I say if you can't out-spell them, then out-think them. In a battle of intelligence, I believe I have the advantage."
"Creative thinking," the woman mused as she looked over what her quill was writing. "What do you think your parents would be thinking, were they here?"
"Well," she considered the odd question, "my father would probably be egging me on and placing some bets on me to win, while my mother would be entering me into a crash-course of training to help me survive if all that I've heard about her prowess is true. I like to think I follow in her footsteps."
"How so?"
"Well, she was a capable witch, who had a mastery in charms and was working on a potions mastery when the war broke out. I am personally aiming for a career in potions and spell-creation."
"Are those your strongest subjects then? And what you'll be using in the tournament?"
"Well, those and Defence are my strengths. And like I said, I'll be trying to use strategy to defeat my opponents."
"Very good, I think that will do. Is there anything else you'd like to add?"
"Only a message to whomever entered me in the first place; you've made a big mistake."
"Perfect, now let's see if Mr Krum is available," the woman took her quill and notepad as she stood.
"Interested in the Quidditch Star? Isn't he a little young for you?" she commented, making the other witch laugh.
As they re-entered the room, the man from the Prophet was just finishing up with Fleur it seemed. Upon seeing them, he immediately excused himself and made a bee-line for her.
"Sorry Mr Thwaites, I make it a point not to talk to publications that report inaccuracies, good day," she savoured the angry expression on his face as she walked away and out of the room. 'Of course, the fact that my interview will be exclusive to the Gazette helps.'
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'The Ministry's security really is appalling,' Jasmine mused as she looked over the numerous sheets of parchment in front of her. Her various sources within the Wizarding government had easily been able to get her information about the tournament from the mess of all the departments involved – from international cooperation to magical games and sports. 'I'm surprised that the Dragon conservationists allowed them use of nesting mother dragons and their clutches of eggs.' Four of the bloody things had been shipped over from a preserve in Romania; a Welsh Green, a Chinese Fireball, a Swedish Short-snout, and finally a Hungarian Horntail. Naturally, several books on dragons and how to deal with them sat upon her desk as she scanned the various notes and plans.
She cringed as she read over the riddle they were planning to give the competitors inside the eggs – it was not good poetry, and it also misled them into thinking that the person taken from them and sitting at the bottom of the lake would die if not found in time. Drama was one thing, convincing the competitors their nearest and dearest's lives were at risk was another entirely.
Of course, she had her plans for the second task, already being ordered and custom built for her needs. She'd probably need to scout out the lake herself as well, in order to make a map of things and know the exact location of the Mermen village.
And then the Third Task, which practically invalidated the first two. It didn't matter what kind of points you gained in the previous tasks, all they gave you then was a time bonus – of only ten seconds per point! It made for a better spectacle if they all had a similar chance of winning, she supposed, but it would be nonetheless aggravating for those who had massively outperformed others to get only a two minute or so advantage in the Maze.
It did concern her slightly that Hagrid was mainly responsible for stocking the maze, after the organisers had found out how many dangerous creatures he could get his hands on. Acromantula, those hybrids of his which would otherwise be illegal, not to mention the Sphinx being shipped in from Egypt! And of course, Sprout was adding plenty of traps in as well in the form of plants which were just as dangerous. Naturally, they were less of a problem since she knew which breeds would be planted there, if not where exactly.
That was the one thing she couldn't get: a map of the maze. Dumbledore and Sprout would apparently be personally responsible for growing it, and on the Quidditch pitch that was going unused this year no-less. She hoped that they at least returned the grass to its former state once finished.
'Still,' she thought as she took a sip from a cup of tea on her desk, 'I have all the information I need to plan appropriately. Time to out-think the enemy.'
And so, she leant back in her chair, and began to plan her way through this tournament.
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The day of the First Task dawned bright and early, and Jasmine made sure to eat a balance breakfast to prepare for the day. Further down the Ravenclaw table, she noted Delacour looking concerned as she played with a plateful of scrambled egg – clearly not particularly hungry. Krum, too, looked sombre at the Slytherin table, not eating anything it seemed. Cedric appeared unconcerned, however, as he ate his Full English while amicably chatting with his housemates. She got the distinct feeling that he had been the perfect Hufflepuff – believing in fair play and all such rubbish – and wasn't aware of the challenge involving dragons.
He was in for a shock, that was for sure.
He was also a bit of a moron if he hadn't read up on the tournament rules – which had no sanctions whatsoever for cheating, and it was informally regarded as part of the competition. After all, those who prepared the most and did best were those who had cheated the best. As she stood to leave the table, she stilled as one of her housemates – Morag – placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Good luck out there," she said in a quiet voice.
"Luck runs out, and is for those who are unprepared and unskilled," she answered as she pulled away and stood up fully. "I intend to win."
"You're that confident about it?" Padma inquired with a speculative gaze.
"I'd better be sure – I have a thousand galleons riding on it," she replied with a smile, walking away to leave the small group stunned. After all, a thousand galleons was the same amount as the eventual prize money – and no small sum either – and she was hoping to use that bet to make competing in this worthwhile, since she had been lucky enough to get in the bet on the day after the competitors were announced. The company had thought that the lone fourth year in the running stood next to no chance and had offered odds of thirty-two to one. Those odds had dramatically changed when her interview in the Gazette went out, interestingly enough. They were also likely to change again after today.
'Still,' she thought amusedly, 'it is quite likely to bankrupt them, they are only a small company after all, and we can step into the open space left in the market. It's surprising how little Wizards know about gambling.' She was already working on rectifying that situation – with plans that should be coming to fruition very soon.
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"Remember," Bagman said to the assembled champions, "you may only bring your wand into the arena, as well as your wits. I can only now wish you good luck. Mister Diggory, you'll be going first on the sound of the cannon." The Hufflepuff looked terrified as he stared at his blue, Swedish dragon. Jasmine, however, merely scowled at her miniature Horntail as she moved to sit down by the tent walls.
She had been hoping to get the Welsh Green, or maybe the Short-snout, but no, she got the most aggressive breed of dragon there was. And it was also a nesting mother protecting her eggs to boot. Just peachy.
Still, her strategy should theoretically work, as the statue was just as described; it acted and sounded just like the real thing. Her brief test of the spell she had planned to use worked like a charm, and she made sure to keep her small success to herself as the other champions gradually left the tent.
The noise was disconcerting, since she couldn't see the arena, but could still hear the noise from the crowd. One-by-one the Champions left until just she remained in silence, tuning out the world as she tossed about a few schemes in her head.
'Giants will be more difficult to get than trolls, and more difficult to keep safely, but they'll draw a much larger crowd,' she thought.
Finally, the cannon let loose its last payload, and Jasmine was torn from her musings as she stepped beyond the tent flaps into the arena beyond.
Her eyes quickly scanned the place, marking up where she was in its circular space and triangulating where beyond the rocky outcroppings before her, the Horntail would be based. She also noted that the crowd were now silent – a charm up to stop them giving her hints most likely – and the complete lack of sound was odd, not least when she knew an oversized lizard was waiting for her up ahead.
Moving into the lee of the nearest vertical rock face – which was taller than she was; they hadn't skimped on making the terrain difficult – and set about her plan. The miniature dragon was pulled from her pocket, and enlarged to the size of a chicken with a temporary charm. She then froze the growling beast with a quick spell and with a steady hand tapped the end of her still-glowing wand to the zipper of her grey hoodie – which matched her monochrome camouflage trousers and sturdy black combat boots that had earned her a few odd looks from the other magic-raised champions and the organisers. The action was part of sixth year charms work that her mother had elaborated on in her journal – normally, spells were linked to the caster's wand and were cancelled from there, but it was possible to link them to an object instead, preferably metal as they held the spell best, giving her a few minutes until it wore off naturally. That done, she casted first a sonorous charm on the still dragon, and then proceeded to lay herself with a scent-eliminating charm, a disillusionment charm, and finally a silencing charm. Once the shivers from the strange sensation had left her form, she briefly looked down at her hand, watching as it configured itself to match the grey rock behind it. Perfect.
She wasn't perfectly invisible, but she was mostly undetectable, especially as when the magic shifted in places, she was already wearing grey. The silencing charm limited what she could do massively, until she cancelled it of course, but the stealth benefits were worth it. Moving slowly, and sticking to the very edge of the arena where there were rocky walls keeping her from viewing the inside of the circular space, she started forwards.
Even at the edge, it was tricky terrain to traverse, and Jasmine found herself climbing upwards bit by bit as she moved around, hauling herself up the uneven rock. Finally, she reached a point where she could look up and see the judges table – which was disconcerting as everyone stared silently into the arena, Bagman gesturing excitedly as he commentated. Deciding that she should be behind the dragon by now, she hauled herself over the closest ridge to head inwards.
And there it was.
The dragon was facing the other way, but was identical to the small toy she had been given, and to the illustrations in the books she had read. Long, and sinewy, as well as very muscled under bronze scales. As it shuffled around, she could see clearly the way its front limbs functioned as wings, but with a claw on the second joint to climb things and rest on all-fours. Of course, the bony horns it was known for sprouted like a mane around its head and continued down its back until its spiky tail whipped around impatiently. That was something to avoid; spikes nearly as big as her arm emerging from the club-like appendage.
Still, she was in a good position, and there was no time like the present.
With her eyes closed and pushing her will outward, she touched her wand to the zipper of her hoodie. Seconds after, growls and keens from the unfrozen model echoed around the space, immediately making the real dragon look intently over towards the entrance – directly opposite from where Jasmine was hiding. Just like she planned, the dragon edged forwards away from its precious nest, giving answering keens to what it would recognise as a horntail – and being a nesting mother, would immediately associate with children.
With the dragon's attention focused elsewhere, Jasmine dropped the silencing charm on herself, and edged forward a bit on the rocky scrabble. Looking nearby, she concentrated on finding a suitable base for her next move. She grinned upon seeing a loose boulder not far from her, and held her wand up in preparation while bracing herself against the rock closest to her. She said the spell as quietly as she could while firmly picturing what she desired in her mind.
She closed her eyes after the spell left her wand, taking a deep breath as a slight wave of lethargy swept over her after such a large transfiguration. But, when she looked back where the boulder had been, the result was exactly what she needed. Altering the matchstick-to-needle transfiguration every first-year learned had been difficult, but she and Hermione's mathematical and Arithmantic skills, as well as the Gryffindor's better transfiguration ability had eventually won through. Resting before her was a three metre long metal spike, growing thicker along its length. It was as brutal as it was simplistic as far as solutions went, but there was nothing wrong with simplicity. Keeping an eye on the dragon that hadn't heard her spell and was edging forward towards the perceived cry of its young, she quickly incanted another spell to lift the spike into the air and begin spinning it quickly.
Moving around until she was directly behind it, she eyed the Horntail carefully. She would get one shot at this, and one shot only, and she grimaced at delaying it, seeing the dragon still hovering over its eggs protectively, reluctant to leave them – the Champions had been warned about losing points if the eggs were destroyed. They never said anything about the dragon itself, though.
After a tense moment, her model Horntail suddenly crawled its way over a ridge and into sight, and the mother could take no more – crawling away from her nest at the sight of the small drake.
Seizing upon her chance, Jasmine eyed the shot up carefully and casted the strongest banisher that she could. Her projectile slammed forward like the bullet it was designed after and impacted heavily into the back of the dragon's neck – right where the spine met the skull amidst many protective horns. Jasmine gave a grin of triumph as the beast slumped and gave a keen of pain; she had been half scared upon picking the Horntail that the spikes would deflect its path away from the little weak-point at the nape of its neck where its scales were weaker to allow the flexibility of its head, but they would otherwise play in her favour as the skin there would be thin around the protrusions.
"Depulso!" she shouted as she ran forwards, further slamming the spike further forwards, "Depulso!" With a sickening crack and a spurt of crimson, the metal forced its way inside the dragon fully, audibly breaking bones in its neck and causing irreparable damage. Jasmine approached carefully, moving a little around to the side as the beast weakly moved its jaw – the one thing it still had nerve connections to – as its serpentine eyes spun frantically before stilling as the light faded from them. She waited several tense moments before nodding with satisfaction; she finally cancelled the charms obscuring herself, and walked over to the dragon. Placing a foot upon its flank, she held her wand to her throat with a quick sonorous, "as slayer of this dragon, I do hereby claim this corpse by rite of conquest for the Ancient and Noble House of Potter!" That said, she walked over to the golden egg sitting innocently in the nest and grabbed it up. Immediately, the roaring of the crowd impacted upon her like a punch to her ears, the cheering deafening as she looked up and around at the people. "Bread and Circuses," she muttered as she headed over towards her little dragon statue to shrink it back down – it would make a nice souvenir.
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Jasmine surveyed the other champions with interest as they stood before the judges to receive their scoring. Delacour was limping and being held up by another girl from their school – her right leg bandaged. Krum had received a little burn damage to his shoulder, but was standing on his own. Diggory was another matter entirely, as he was almost entirely supported by his father while being covered in bandages for what was likely heavy burning.
"Well, what an exciting day this had been," Bagman began from his place with the judges. "But it is now time to announce the scores. In fourth place is Cedric Diggory, who did not retrieve his egg and sustained heavy injuries, and has thereby received twelve points." Immediately hovering above the heads of the judges were the scores they gave in numbers made of golden light, a pair of ones from the foreign heads, two threes from the Ministry employees, and a four from Dumbledore. "In third place, is Fleur Delacour, who did retrieve her egg successfully, but was injured by the dragon she had charmed to sleep, and receives thirty points." This time boos were heard from the French stands as the scores were shown; an eight from Maxime, a seven from Dumbledore, while Bagman gave a six, Crouch a five and Karkaroff a three. The Veela herself was fuming silently at what was likely blatant racism from the purebloods due to her creature heritage. "In second place," Bagman continued as the noise died down, "is Jasmine Potter, who did collect her egg without injury, but was marked down for killing her dragon, receives thirty-eight points." Jasmine scowled as the given points were unveiled; an eight from Maxime, tens from Bagman and Crouch, and then Dumbledore gave a six while Karkaroff gave a four. She had every idea just who objected to her killing the lizard – as did the crowd as they made their displeasure known quite vocally – and Dumbledore had likely encouraged Karkaroff to give a lower score by setting the bar at six. It took a while for Bagman to quiet the crowd before Krum's score could be announced. "And finally, in first place we have Viktor Krum, who demonstrated use of the conjunctivitis curse with only minor injury, stands at forty points." The ravenette's scowl deepened as she looked at the scores. Karkaroff being a biased bastard of course immediately gave a ten, while Maxime proved to be relatively fair as she awarded another eight, coupled with another from Crouch, and a pair of sevens from Dumbledore and Bagman. "The next task will be held on February the eighth, and the clue you all need for the Second Task is contained within your golden eggs. You are allowed to use any method you like, and are limited only to what you can carry on you. Beyond that, good luck!"
Jasmine rolled her eyes at the overeager ex-beater who still insisted on wearing his worn Quidditch robes – he was really starting to grate upon her. Still, that was one task down, and she was only two points behind. It was no real bother, as she had the next task all sewn up.
She was musing when to begin mapping out the Black Lake while she hung back a bit from the other champions when she was grabbed and pulled into a small dark space, and then a hot mouth was on hers. Immediately, her eyes roved about, just noting the bushy hair as she relaxed into the kiss for a happy few moments. When they finally drew apart for air, she gave a smile to the flushed Gryffindor who had dragged her into what seemed to be a supply closet with a few flame-proof cloaks.
"Hello to you too," she stated with amusement.
"Sorry," Hermione replied as she pulled the ravenette closer, "that was just so nerve-wracking! I was so scared after the other three's performances, and then that damn Horntail…"
"Hermione, I'm fine, I'm still here, and I'm still alive," she moved a hand to caress the girl's cheek. "I told you; I'm going to win this tournament, and that requires surviving it."
"I'm allowed to worry about your safety, Jasmine," the girl replied, "this is a dangerous tournament; in a normal person's life, you would never see a dragon, let alone kill one single-handedly!"
"Mm, I'm a dragonslayer, perhaps I should be made a patron saint?" Hermione swatted her for that one.
"What was that thing about claiming the carcass?"
"Oh, well, dragons are not common creatures or easy to defeat ones. A corpse is worth a lot in potions ingredients, wand components, and protective clothing and such," she answered, "as I defeated it on my own, I'm the only claimant and the corpse is mine. It's one of many old laws based around conquest and defeating foes."
"So, you're going to sell it?"
"Well I'm certainly not stripping it down myself."
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"That was quite a performance you put on yesterday," Nadia stated dryly as she seemingly revaluated the ravenette. "I mean – killing a dragon on your own!"
"Proper prior planning prevents piss poor performance," Jasmine replied, "it's an old army saying."
"So is 'No plan survives contact with the enemy,'" Hermione commented with a smile.
"True, hence why I didn't engage the dragon head on, and I made it nice and simple," she countered.
"If you can't out-spell them, out-think them," Nadia quoted from a certain published interview. "What about the Second Task?"
"Don't worry about that – I've got that one in the bag," Jasmine assured the Gryffindor.
"You've already got the clue from the egg?"
"Safe be said, the organisers write poor poetry," the ravenette grimaced. "And that I'm a sure bet for first place."
"You said that last time," Hermione said with a slight smirk.
"Yes, well I would have been first if bloody Dumbledore wasn't such a Light-hearted fool and Karkaroff a biased bastard." It was testament to her effect on the two Gryffindors that they barely reacted to her insulting their esteemed Headmaster.
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The Winter Equinox – or the twenty-first of December – was the date chosen for the Yule Ball, and the castle was filled with excitement and expectation. Many had taken the special train back to Hogwarts that morning and would be leaving again the next day to resume their holidays. All through the school, the tenseness of the situation could be felt like the crisp feeling of the air before the clouds let loose a flurry of snow.
As Jasmine waited in a disused classroom, she considered all the idiocy and speculation of the previous weeks. Watching the various morons that made up the male population of the school try to convince significant others or even total strangers into accompanying them with sickeningly stupid acts of 'devotion' had grown quickly tiring.
Not least when they were used on herself!
Honestly, the sheer number of boys who she had never even spoken to that had approached her was phenomenal – and she was half-tempted to hex half of them as they acted like they were gifting her a huge boon by deigning to accompany her. Cormac MacLaggen had perhaps been worst; the boorish boy had taken four days and numerous attempts at courting her to get it into his thick skull that she would rather French-kiss a skunk than go with him, and then – and then! – he had tried to go for Hermione. Her Hermione.
He had suffered an accident a few hours later when he fell off a moving staircase onto the floor below, breaking both his legs. Tragic. It had taken all her will, in-fact, to not butcher each and every ignoramus who approached Hermione, marginally helped by the fact that she was fairly skilled in rebuking them. Their plans had been made up a long while before after all, and they each knew what they were doing.
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"So you want to go to this ball then?" Hermione asked as Jasmine sat down beside her on the bushy haired girl's bed.
"Not particularly, but it will be essentially expected of us – everyone from fourth year and up is invited and expected to attend, and I imagine people will notice our absence," she replied, "which leads on to how we're going to play this."
"What do you mean?" the other girl asked in confusion.
"Well… homosexuality is generally frowned upon in Wizarding society," she affixed Hermione with a careful look, "generally among the upper echelons, its overlooked if a lover of either gender is taken in arranged marriages once an heir is produced – in-fact, it's almost expected that a man have a mistress in order to show off his wealth – but having a public relationship? Especially between two women? It's heavily disapproved of."
"Why especially women?" Hermione asked in confusion.
"Because we live in a society that is more heavily weighted in men's favour – in some pureblood families, they have rules dictating the heir is the next male in line and so on – and it shows them up by saying we don't need them for even the most basic of things like reproduction, whereas the reverse is not true."
"Reproduction?" the girl blushed while saying it, looking away for a moment.
"Yes, er," actually, Jasmine herself felt slightly awkward talking about this, "there used to be covens of just witches living in the wilderness – still are in a few rare places on Earth – and magic exists to… procreate without needing a man."
"Right."
"Yes," Jasmine decided to move swiftly on, "and generally, women are looked down upon more as baby-makers and wives rather than anything else, of course depending on the family and political ideologies. The truly Ancient families have less of a problem with this, as do the more progressive recent ones, but the majority in-between come from more sexist times. So, a coupling between them is discouraged, and is of course also viewed as unnatural."
"Of course," Hermione frowned. It was only recently that that opinion had been held by muggles, after all.
"And, it gets a little worse due to your… heritage."
"Because I'm a mudblood?" the Gryffindor scowled fiercely, anger simmering in her blue eyes.
"Basically, yes; the public will likely see you as corrupting me or being a harlot or some such, especially as I'm member of two Ancient and Noble Houses and the bloody Girl-Who-Lived to boot. Tolerance is not something they're known for."
"Bunch of racist old bigots."
"Quite. However, like I said, it poses the question of what we're going to do about it as time goes on," Jasmine leaned back until she hit the white wall behind her, running over the options in her head. "Our relationship is something we have to handle carefully. We've got the option of keeping entirely secret from everyone for the rest of our lives or I can get married to some man as a show and have you as my mistress, or a combination of those two, or… we can take the Gryffindor approach."
"Meaning?" the Gryffindor girl said with a raised eyebrow as she shuffled by her headboard.
"We act brazen – announce it to the whole world and damn the consequences," the ravenette smiled a little, "I have enough political clout to deal with the majority of problems, though I imagine my standing will suffer a great deal, and of course we'll have to suffer the slings and arrows of those who will hate us for it."
"You sound oddly in-favour of such a 'Gryffindor' plan," Hermione stated.
"Yes, perhaps you're rubbing off on me," she replied, "the reason I'm not all for it and hang the consequences is… well, the consequences. You're the one who's going to be worst hit; I know you already deal with Slytherins due to your blood status, but this is going to be worse. We're also both going to have to deal with our housemates' objections, and likely they'll be against sharing a dormitory with us after they find out our 'proclivities.'" Hermione frowned and looked out of the window at that comment – Gryffindor definitely had its faults, and this issue would likely stir up some of the people. "We don't have to decide now, of course, the idea of marriage and everything else is a few years away – at least until I'm seventeen and I start getting flooded with marriage requests. What we do have to decide on is the Ball."
"And whether we go together," Hermione surmised.
"Exactly. We have the choice of going alone, or 'as friends,' but it will be looked upon nearly as oddly as if we don't attend at all – which is also still an option, mind you. The other option is of course finding some boy to take each of us who will understand we're not interested in them."
"Or the Gryffindor option."
"Yes, or that."
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Jasmine sent a worrying look out of the window at the rising moon – how long had she been waiting? Gods above, why was she this anxious? She was merely waiting upon her date.
With an absent hand, she smoothed down her immaculate dress of finest green. She was quite a sight in her dress – she had originally wanted to make an impact after all.
Her body was draped in long, viridian green fabric inset with swirls of slightly different shades reminiscent of the forest with each stitch of fabric. It was draped over her right shoulder leading down to her wrist, and golden Celtic stitched in swirls swept up the sides in a line to her arms and another band around her waist. A thin green band of similar fabric wrapped around her forehead underneath hair, with an emerald inset within a little gold. Her neck was further graced with the precious metal, as a golden torque made of entwined snakes ending in dragon heads on either side of her throat rested above her sternum, while a spaulder-like web of golden Celtic knots graced her left shoulder, intricately weaving across pale skin and matched by a design on her forearm leading into torcs on each wrist in an effect reminiscent of vambraces. For anyone who knew of or had seen her portrait – of which very few remained, having been mainly destroyed by Merlin – she was a dead ringer for Morgana Le Fay. The underlying threat was as subtle as it was bold as the ensemble mixed the elegance of a lady with the hint of war in what her delicate 'jewellery' was reminiscent of.
Finally the door to the room opened, and Jasmine spun to lay eyes upon her Arthur Pendragon. Hermione looked truly beautiful; her bushy hair was tamed flat and brushed onto her left shoulder, touching upon the top of her dress. Said dress emphasised the girl's growing form in a way that left the ravenette practically stunned; rich, royal scarlet fabric clothed her from wrist to shoulder with a few ruffles showing a hint of shiny gold, before hugging her upper body like a corset and then filling out past her hips in red ruffles that nearly touched the floor, and when jostled, showed the golden dragons seemingly running upwards weaved into the fabric and looking incredibly lifelike. And what was more, she knew that upon the girl's back once the strings were covered up was shown the golden dragon roaring its way up her back.
Of course, if anyone looked closely there would be those who would perhaps get the Morgana and Arthur association, which Hermione so far had not.
"Sorry I'm a bit late – Nadia was giving me some last minute help with my makeup," the girl apologised with a light blush.
"Well, whatever she did, it worked," Jasmine replied while taking in the subtle work on Hermione's face. "I feel quite plain in comparison." Not least with the way Hermione's dress emphasised her burgeoning 'assets' in a way she hadn't expected, and made her feel conscious of her more athletic form and her slimmer fitting dress. She was also glad that Hermione still had Nadia as a good friend – Hermione needed people like the pair of them to reel her back into reality upon occasion, like with her idea about taking every optional module last year.
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"Well, this is the final part of your first within-the-rules Hogsmeade outing – butter-beer at the Three Broomsticks," Nadia declared as they tapped glasses and drank the strange drink that was so warmth-giving.
"Tastes like melted butterscotch with a hint of ginger beer," Jasmine mused as she swirled her bottle, taking another sip. "It's nice, but I fail to see what everyone gets so enthused about." That was much her opinion of Hogsmeade in general, really. She had visited the town before, albeit briefly on business, and the only real locations she had much interest in were the local bookstore and Honeyduke's. Wizarding confectionary was quite something, and she would perhaps confess to occasionally enjoying some tooth-rotting wonders and chocolate delights.
"Jasmine," Hermione began, breaking her from that train of thought, "do you have the, er, thing?"
"You want to do this now?" she queried with a raised eyebrow, indicating the full pub around them.
"I think so."
With a shrug, the ravenette pulled the small slate disk from a pocket and activated it before placing it in the centre of the round table.
"What's that?" Nadia inquired curiously.
"Runic matrix for a silencing ward," Jasmine replied.
"There's something Jasmine and I need to tell you Nadia," Hermione stated.
"Alright," the brunette replied, placing down her bottle and adopting a more serious expression.
"I don't know quite how to say this. Over the summer," the other Gryffindor continued, "we've been getting… closer to each other. In a, er, romantic way."
"Oh, that," Nadia relaxed and took a swig from her bottle, "I was wondering when you would get around to telling me."
"What?" spluttered Hermione, "you knew?"
"Of course I did," she replied with a roll of eyes, "I'm your best friend, Hermione, and I'm not completely oblivious. I also do pay attention when you two are 'deducing' things, and occasionally learn something. I had my suspicions around the time after Jasmine was forced into the Tournament, and the way you acted at the first task clinched it. I've just been waiting for you to tell me."
"Well…" the bushy-haired girl appeared speechless.
"So you don't have a problem with it, I'm guessing?" Jasmine asked.
"Nope; you want to fall in love, be my guest, just spare me any details that I don't want to know about," the brunette replied, smirking as the pair blanched. "In all seriousness, go with whatever makes you happy. The Longbottom family is not one to denounce others based on what they are, rather than who they are. Although, I would advise you two to be careful around those who think otherwise."
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"Speaking of her, where is she?" Jasmine inquired as she took Hermione's arm in her own gilded one.
"Last I saw she was heading to the hall with Simon Appleby," Hermione replied.
"Gryffindor, muggleborn, our year?" she asked in confirmation.
"That's the one."
The hallways were practically deserted – most everyone already seated in the Great Hall – but they did not hurry, instead taking a leisurely stroll to their destination. When finally they did, the door opened with a blast of chilly mid-winter air before they stepped within the space of the charms that heated the area and prevented the wind having effects.
With a slight smile, Jasmine pulled out one of the two chairs on the small circular table for her date, which Hermione seated herself in after a small blush. Settling down opposite her, the ravenette picked up and rang a small silver bell.
Immediately, a pair of house elves with black pillowcases monogrammed in gold thread with the name of the company Jasmine had hired them from appeared. One carried two plates containing their starters, while the other held a bottle from which he loudly pulled the cork before pouring a measure of orange liquid into their champagne glasses.
"Thank-you," Jasmine said to the pair as they finished, making them beam from ear-to-ear as they popped away.
"I still find them strange," Hermione stated, eyeing the empty space.
"We've had this discussion already – they're happy as they are, and to be otherwise would have bad effects," Jasmine said amusedly. That had been an interesting day when Hermione had discovered House Elves. A conversation with Nadia pertaining to some pertinent facts – such as that they survived on magic from their owners, and that most of them were perfectly happy as they were – were all that had stopped the girl going on an all-out crusade.
"Yes, yes, I know," she replied, "doesn't mean I can't find it odd, though."
"Let's just enjoy ourselves – after all, we have the pleasure of fine food, fine company, and a view to die for." Indeed, the sight of Hogwarts at night from the top of the tallest tower was quite something, and from their little table, all could be seen. From the Great Hall and the light spewing from it, to the small rose garden beside it that had been grown for the event. "We won't even miss out on the dancing," Jasmine added, pointing over at a record player resting in the corner."
"You did think of everything, I guess," Hermione replied, picking up her glass to take a sip. "What is this? This is alcohol."
"Bucks' Fizz. Basically champagne diluted with orange juice," the ravenette replied with a devious smile, "so yes, alcohol, but not much."
"That's breaking quite a few school rules."
"Hang the rules, and the damn school. This night we can forget about all the bigoted bastards downstairs. This is for us."
"Jasmine, that's almost romantic."
"Almost?" the girl replied with mock incredulity, "I bring you to the tallest tower in Hogwarts, with a sumptuous three course meal and dancing to follow. What more must I do to be considered romantic?"
"I don't know; propose?" Jasmine's eyes boggled and nearly shot from her skull at the comment, wringing a laugh from her counterpart, "that was a joke, Jasmine. It's lovely, really. And I appreciate that you're blowing off the rest of the school for me." A hand reached across the small table to clasp her own in its warm embrace.
"A night with a bunch of morons staring at my scar and mentally undressing me while I pretend not to be dreaming up ways to kill them slowly, or a night with the most incredible woman in all the British Isles. It was a hard choice, let me tell you." The carefree laugh that wrung its way from Hermione's mouth made it all worthwhile – despite the effort involved, the wasted effect of their dresses and entrance, the heat from Dumbledore and the tournament organisers it would bring, it was worth it.
Just to see her smile.
"Don't worry about it," Hermione stated in a faux-soothing voice, "I'll keep the nasty fans away from you."
"Oh, and how will you do that?"
"Kick in the groin normally works."
It was Jasmine's turn to laugh as they whiled the night away in each other's company – heedless of those who were probably searching in vain for them in the castle. The small Fidelius cast on a little wardstone under the table amongst various other charms should keep them from interfering.
A/N: And calling it there. I changed the ending after originally writing it; I had them going to the Ball as a couple, and thereby kicking over an ants' nest, but I just didn't know how to write the subsequent events. I think I prefer this version – I can imagine them simply having a more quiet and secluded moment, with middle finger upraised to those who would protest. Anyway, long chapter; don't expect them all to be this big, I'm just trying to push through Hogwarts.
