A/N: Merlin help me… this is only part of the First Year. I haven't even made it to Halloween yet.
Also, when you read the books JKR makes it pretty clear that both Durmstrang and Beauxbatons have co-ed students. I have no idea why they changed it for the movie.
Beta Worship: Auntie_L beta'd this chapter. Any remaining mistakes are, of course, mine. Chocolate and hugs to her for being amazing. :D
/\/\/\/\/\
April 1991, Black Estate
It was tacitly understood that Hermione was the Black family's last, best hope for continuation. Everything about her upbringing had been decided with that in mind. Cassiopeia had been very strict with her daughter, but the results spoke for themselves. Arcturus found himself enchanted with the little witch. She was such a clever, bright little thing, and she was so curious and eager to learn. When he spent time with her, he was always comforted about his House's future. There was only one thing that marred his enjoyment of her presence.
"But… he is your grandson, isn't he?" Hermione pressed, worry writ upon her small face.
Arcturus grunted and waved a hand at her. "You know that he is."
"And Mother says that family is family," the little witch continued doggedly.
"Yes, yes," Arcturus grumbled.
"I don't understand how you can just abandon family," Hermione protested.
"I didn't abandon him," Arcturus snapped, and scowled at Hermione.
"He was sent to Azkaban without a trial, Cousin Arcturus," Hermione reminded him stubbornly.
"Fine!" Arcturus bellowed. He stood up and towered over Hermione, glaring at her all the while. "I'll call my lawyer in the morning and demand that he figure out how to get Sirius a trial. Satisfied?"
Hermione stared up at him unblinkingly. Then she gave him a cool little smile. "No, Cousin, but it is a good start."
Arcturus stared at her for a minute and then snorted in amusement. "Bless me if you didn't just manipulate me," he grumbled, but a smile tugged at his lips. He patted Hermione on the head. "All right, little one. I'll see if there's anything we can do for him."
"And you'll reinstate him?" Hermione asked boldly.
Arcturus sighed. "Yes, yes. I'll have Sirius reinstated."
"Thank you!" Hermione ran to him and almost barreled him over with the force of her hug.
"Don't get so excited just yet," Arcturus cautioned her. He patted the top of her head. "I'll do what I can, but the evidence is pretty damning, Hermione."
Hermione tossed her head arrogantly and sniffed. "Sirius is a Black," she told him haughtily. "There is no way that he did what they say. Mother says that he was no Death Eater… that should be easy enough to prove. He won't have a Dark Mark."
Arcturus smiled fondly at the young witch in front of him. "We'll see."
/\/\/\/\/\
June 5, 1991
Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire
Every year, Lucius and Narcissa threw a lavish party for their only child, and they invited the children of all of their friends and acquaintances. Adrian Pucey hadn't wanted to attend, but his mother had insisted.
"I'm not having you snub the Malfoy family," she had snapped coolly.
"I've seen the brat at dance class often enough," Adrian had protested. "Their class is just before mine, and he's an arrogant little git."
"He could be a tap-dancing Erumpet for all I care," his mother had sniffed. "You're going."
Reluctantly, Adrian had hung out with the older children who were already attending Hogwarts. Marcus Flint was always quiet, and Adrian preferred his company to Graham Montague's. There were rumors that Montague was a half-blood since his mother had mysteriously 'died' without anyone ever having met her. Montague had a huge chip on his shoulder, and a burning need to prove himself and his blood status, which made him a pompous ass to everyone around him.
A slightly chubby wizard was hurrying by them, and he tripped and accidentally fell into Montague.
"Watch where you're going," Montague snapped. "You almost made me drop my punch."
"S-sorry," the boy muttered, flushing, and he tried to hurry away.
"Not so fast," Graham drawled, smirking. "Apologize."
"I just did," the boy said with a confused frown.
"Properly," Graham told him coolly. He poked the boy in the stomach with his wand. "Surely you know how."
The boy flushed. He automatically straightened his spine, and bowed deeply.
"I apologize for any slight I have given," he said clearly.
"Mr. Montague," Graham prompted.
"I apologize for any slight I have given, Mr. Montague," the boy repeated stiffly.
"Better, but I think I'd like to see you do it again… on your knees," Graham drawled.
"What's going on?" A furious voice demanded.
Adrian turned, along with everyone else, to see an angry little witch. She had thick black hair pulled back from her face into a complex French braid that could only have been accomplished by a house-elf. Angry pink spots on her cheeks gave her pale skin a delicate flush, and her brown eyes snapped with fire.
"What's it to you?" Graham taunted her.
The witch's spine snapped straight at that, and an arrogant toss of her head put her little nose in the air.
"As Draco's cousin, I am helping Cousin Narcissa with hostess duties," the little girl snapped. "That includes making sure that gentlemen behave as they ought. Neville, your Gran is looking for you."
The chubby boy turned to give Hermione a polite nod and then scurried away.
Draco's cousin… that would make the girl Hermione Black, Cassiopeia Black's daughter. Everyone knew about the little Muggleborn that wasn't, and everyone had an opinion about it. Adrian's Mother and Father were both very well-read, and they considered Hermione to be Cassiopeia's pureblood daughter. They had explained everything to Adrian, and had cautioned him to be polite to the little witch when she started Hogwarts this coming fall.
Graham sneered at her.
"I'm surprised they allowed you out to mix with real wizards and witches," Graham drawled.
Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I would watch my words were I you, Montague," she told him in a cold voice.
"You should learn not to talk back to your betters, Mudblood," Graham spit.
Several people gasped and Flint choked on his tea. The little witch pulled a wand out of a pocket in her robes and turned it on Graham. She muttered something under her breath and performed an intricate movement with her wand. As he started screaming in pain, she turned sharply on her heel and marched passed them.
Curious, Adrian followed her.
"Miss Black," he called to her.
The witch ignored him and kept marching.
"Hermione," he tried again.
The witch kept walking.
"Hey, imp," Adrian called to her.
Hermione turned back and looked at him with a haughty, arrogant expression that did nothing to disguise the tears trembling on her lashes.
"What?" Her voice was tight and she exuded impatience.
"Um, I just wanted to tell you 'good show'," he muttered lamely. He honestly couldn't explain what had possessed him to follow the witch. "Where did you get a wand, anyway?"
"Thanks." She gave a wet chuckle. "It's one of the family wands."
"It's no guess I'll see you in Slytherin, then." He shoved his hands in his pockets.
"I guess so," she agreed. She bit her lip anxiously. "If I'm Sorted there."
Adrian smirked at her and nudged her shoulder with his arm. "An imp like you? Where else would you go?"
Hermione smiled at him, a bright smile that lit up her eyes.
/\/\/\/\/\
July 31, 1991
Diagon Alley
"Cousin Narcissa, can we go into Flourish & Blotts first?" Hermione begged.
"I want to look at brooms," Draco demanded.
"We can't even take brooms, Draco," Hermione reminded him scathingly.
"Draco, you will go to Madam Malkin's to get fitted for your robes," Narcissa decided with pursed lips. "Once you are done, you may join your father at Quality Quidditch. Hermione, you and I will go to Flourish & Blotts. Remember though, your mother said that you are only allowed three new books aside from your school texts."
"What if I buy them with my allowance?" Hermione tried to negotiate.
Narcissa shook her head and gave her young cousin a regretful smile. "In this, I actually agree with Aunt Cassiopeia. Only three books, Hermione."
"Yes, Cousin Narcissa," Hermione sighed.
In the bookstore, Hermione dawdled, browsing. Luckily, Narcissa loved books just as much as she did and they both perused the shelves happily. Cassiopeia had very firm opinions about the sorts of books that young witches should read, and she didn't believe in what she called 'frivolous' books. A tendril of danger twisted through Hermione as she edged closer to the bright, colorful display of bestsellers.
Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More) by Vindictus Viridian looked especially promising. Hermione spared a dark thought or two for that wretched toe-rag, Graham Montague. She reached out for the book at the same time as another, and she pulled back her hand in surprise.
"Oh, I beg your pardon," Hermione apologized. "I didn't see you there."
A young wizard with messy black hair blinked at her from behind spectacles. He seemed oddly familiar, and Hermione found herself drawn to him.
"It's okay," he said with a nervous smile. "I didn't see you either."
"Are you getting your Hogwarts' things?" Hermione asked politely.
"Um, yeah," the wizard muttered and flushed.
"Me too," Hermione told him with a smile. "I'm shopping with my cousins. Mother was in the middle of an important Potions experiment and couldn't leave it."
"Oh," the boy seemed to deflate. "Are you from one of those old wizarding families then?"
"Oh yes," Hermione said proudly, her chest puffing out. "The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."
"Oh."
"There ye are," A giant of a man boomed. "I wondered where ye got off to. C'mon, we've got loads left ter do."
The boy went with him willingly, leaving Hermione behind, frowning to herself.
"Hermione?" Narcissa stood in front of her with a slightly disapproving expression. "You're not getting that are you?"
Hermione sighed and shook her head. "No, Cousin Narcissa."
"Good girl," Narcissa praised her. "Besides, the Black libraries have much better spells."
"I know," Hermione said and nibbled on her lower lip. "It's just… this is what all the other kids will have, right? I should know the countercurses, at least."
Narcissa nodded slowly. "That's true," she murmured at last. She grabbed two copies. "Don't tell your mother," she muttered as they moved toward the register.
"Of course not," Hermione scoffed.
"Now, let's go get you fitted at Madam Malkin's," Narcissa said with a wicked little smile.
"Really?" Hermione bounced in excitement. "How did you convince Mother to let you?"
Narcissa smirked. "I didn't even try. I just had your mother agree to let me take you shopping for your Hogwarts things. That includes the robes, she just didn't think of that."
"That was brilliant," Hermione sighed happily, her encounter with the strangely familiar black-haired, bespectacled boy temporarily forgotten.
"And then we can both go to Quality Quidditch and see if we can't drag the boys away from the latest display," Narcissa added with a little smile.
/\/\/\/\/\
September 1, 1991
Platform 9 ¾
"Mother, we're going to be late," Hermione whinged.
"We are not going to be late, Hermione. And don't whinge," Cassiopeia added as they made their way to Platform 9 ¾.
"Neville!" Hermione called happily and hurried to hug her friend. She pulled back. "Where's Trevor? Does he like the carry-case we got you for your birthday?"
Neville held up the little carry-case that Hermione had ordered for Neville for his birthday. Trevor was sitting in a small pile of grass, watching the commotion about him with all the equanimity a toad could muster.
"It works a treat, Hermione," Neville said excitedly. "Thank you."
Hermione grinned back at him and then turned to make her curtsy to Mrs Longbottom.
"How do you do, Aunt Augusta?" Hermione asked.
"I'm very well, young lady," Aunt Augusta told her sternly. She gave Hermione a once-over and then turned to look at Cassiopeia. "Is that what young ladies are wearing to Hogwarts now?" She asked in a scandalized voice.
"Apparently so," Cassiopeia sniffed derisively.
"Absolutely shocking," Augusta murmured. "You can practically see her knees! Why in our day, the skirts hit mid-calf."
Hermione scowled down at her new pleated skirt. "It's not that short," she protested.
"Just you make sure that you don't roll your skirt any higher," Cassiopeia told her darkly. "If I hear reports that you've got your knees on display for all and sundry, you'll be in Durmstrang so fast your head will spin."
"Yes, Mother," Hermione sighed.
"You'll need to get your things on board," Cassiopeia said, looking at her watch.
Hermione hurried forward and hugged her mother tightly. Then she turned and gave her Aunt Augusta a hug as well. Both women hugged her back.
"Here." Augusta pulled out her wand and waved it over Hermione's trunk, and then Neville's. "The Featherlight Charm will help you get your trunk on board. Now get along. Make sure you write and let us know how you were Sorted."
"Yes, ma'am," Neville and Hermione chorused.
They waved excitedly and then hurried toward the train with their trunks in tow. Everywhere was full, and Neville and Hermione pushed through until they found a boy struggling with his trunk in an empty compartment. Hermione and Neville automatically moved forward to help him. He huffed his thanks and then watched with wide eyes, as they easily hefted and stowed their own trunks.
"How…," he trailed off.
"Featherlight Charms," Hermione explained. "Neville's Gran did them for us so that we could lift them ourselves."
"Oh."
"It's you," Hermione realized suddenly. "You're the boy from Flourish & Blotts."
"Oh, er, yeah, I am," he said quietly.
"We were never properly introduced," Hermione told him with a frown. "I'm Hermione Black, and this is my friend, Neville Longbottom."
"Harry Potter," the boy said so quietly they had to strain to hear him.
Hermione gasped. "I should have realized! That's why you looked so familiar!"
Harry seemed to hunch in on himself. "Because I'm supposed to be famous?" He snapped with a frown.
Hermione frowned back at him. "No, because you're my cousin."
He blinked at her in surprise. "What?"
"Your grandmother Dorea was my mother's little sister," Hermione explained and then smiled at him. "I used to go to your Grandfather Potter's house when you were a baby."
"You did?" The stunned expression on the boy's face spoke volumes.
"You didn't know about us? About your family?" Hermione demanded. "Just wait until I write Mother. She'll be furious. She pestered Dumbledore about your custody. She's your great-aunt, and she wanted to raise you."
"She did?" An expression of wonder had taken over.
Hermione nodded firmly. "Yes. You would have been raised with me at Blackwell Estate."
"Wow." Harry appeared shocked.
"I hope you don't think me forward, but I'd like to invite you for Christmas break," Hermione told him. "Once Mother finds out about this, she'll insist upon it. You can come to Blackwell and we can show you pictures of your mother and father and your grandparents. Mother has a picture of you and me in the parlour."
"You have pictures, of my mother and father?" Harry asked.
"Of course. Mother can make copies for you at Christmas," Hermione decided. "You can choose which ones you want."
"I… I would like to come for Christmas," Harry said hesitantly.
"Excellent." Hermione beamed at him. "I'll write Mother tonight."
The door of the compartment slid open and a tall, red-headed boy came in.
"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing to the empty seat next to Harry. "Everywhere else is full."
Harry shook his head, and the boy sat down next to him.
"I'm Ron, Ron Weasley," the boy blurted out.
Hermione eyed him curiously. "Hermione Black."
"Neville Longbottom," Neville murmured.
"Harry Potter," Harry admitted reluctantly.
"Cor," Ron breathed, staring at Harry. "Are you really?"
"Why on earth would he lie about who he is?" Hermione demanded irritably.
Ron glared at her. Then he turned back to Harry with an expression of awe. "Have you really got the — you know…"
He pointed at Harry's forehead.
Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared.
"So that's where You-Know-Who —?"
"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."
"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.
"Really!" Hermione snapped with an expression of distaste on her face. "Could you be a little less excited when asking for the gruesome details of my cousin and his wife's deaths?"
Ron's face suffused with colour and he glared at her again.
"It's alright, Hermione," Harry assured her. "I really can't remember anything except a green flash of light."
Hermione and Neville paled, but Ron stared at him in fascination.
"I had heard that you were sent to live with Muggles," Ron murmured, as a way to break the tension.
"Muggles!" Hermione frowned at Ron, and then turned to look at Harry. "Why would you be sent to live with Muggles? You had family in the wizarding world that would have loved to have raised you."
Ron snorted. "They wouldn't have let the Boy-Who-Lived go live with the Blacks," he scoffed. "Everyone knows you're all Dark wizards."
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Then 'everyone' is a flaming idiot," she retorted.
"Look here," Ron growled when the door to their compartment slid open.
Standing in the hall was the older boy from Draco's birthday party. He was tall, even taller than Ron Weasley, and his blue eyes swept the compartment. His Slytherin robes were immaculate, his tie tied just so and his robes worn to their greatest effect. Hermione had heard the girls in dancing class swooning over Adrian Pucey's handsome face.
"Everything going well, imp?" He asked curiously.
Hermione nodded to him. "Yes, thank you, Pucey."
The Pucey boy eyed Ron Weasley for a moment and then turned back to Hermione.
"If you need help, just give us a shout," he said. He smirked at her and slid the door shut.
Ron snorted again. "No guess as to which house you'll be in," he sneered.
"Of course not," Hermione agreed. "Just as there is almost no question that Neville and Harry will be Gryffindors."
Harry blinked. "There isn't?"
"The Potters are always in Gryffindor," Hermione explained. "And your Mum was in Gryffindor as well."
A pleased smile spread over Harry's face. "They were?"
"Yes," Hermione told him firmly.
"You-Know-Who was in Slytherin," Ron muttered darkly.
"So what if he was," Hermione countered with a sniff. "Yardley Platt was a Hufflepuff, and Barty Crouch, Jr., was a Ravenclaw. House affiliation has nothing to do with whether or not a wizard or witch tries to declare themselves a Dark Lord."
Ron mumbled something under his breath and began to ignore Hermione. She turned to Neville who shrugged helplessly. Hermione huffed and pulled a book out of her robe pocket to read.
/\/\/\/\/\
Family. Harry had lived with his aunt and uncle, and his cousin Dudley, but he didn't really consider them family. They certainly didn't think of him as family. The serious-looking witch with her hair plaited into braids had said that she was his cousin. That he had a great-aunt that had wanted to raise him with this stiffly formal girl filled him with a strange, warm feeling. They wanted him to come for Christmas. The Dursleys never wanted him around for anything.
Ron, the boy whose mother had helped him through the barrier, didn't seem to like his cousin Hermione very much, but Harry almost thought he rather liked her. She was stiff, and a little sharp, but Harry knew that he could be like that upon occasion, as well.
When Hermione had said that he would almost definitely be in Gryffindor—that so had 'all the Potters' and his Mum—he'd felt a sense of relief, of belonging. He'd been so worried about the Sorting, but Hermione wasn't worried at all. She seemed completely confident about it, and that reassured him.
As they stood in the Great Hall waiting to be Sorted, Hermione flashed a smile at Neville and took his hand. Harry found himself slightly jealous of the close friendship between his new-found cousin and Neville Longbottom. That could have been him. If Hermione's mum had raised them together, he would be the one she'd be whispering encouragement to. She turned to him and flashed a bright smile.
"Abbot, Hannah," Professor McGonagall called.
The young witch hurried to the stool, put the hat on, and sat down.
"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.
One of the tables erupted into cheers, and Harry watched the girl go to that table and sit down.
"Black, Hermione!"
Whispers erupted at some of the tables, and Harry watched his new cousin's spine stiffen and her chin go up. She marched toward the stool, and Harry saw the blond boy that he'd met at Madam Malkin's give her a nod and a slight smile. He could see Hermione nod back and swallow before she took the hat and put it on her head. The hat barely touched her head before it called out—
"SLYTHERIN!"
"Thank Merlin," Ron muttered next to him.
The blond boy looked really pleased at Hermione's Sorting, but Neville seemed to slump a bit. Harry tried to give him a friendly nudge.
"Alright there, Neville?" he asked.
"Yeah," Neville mumbled. "I mean, I knew she'd go to Slytherin. She's a Black and all, I just… I'll miss her."
"Well, we'll get to see her again, won't we?" Harry asked, suddenly worried.
Neville shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so. It won't be the same though."
/\/\/\/\/\
When Millicent Bulstrode was Sorted into Slytherin, Hermione felt a wave of relief go through her. Millicent gave her a little smile and sat next to her.
"Oh great, we've got a Mudblood and a cow, Slytherin standards sure have taken a nosedive," Graham Montague said just loudly enough for Hermione and Millicent to hear him, but not loudly enough to attract the prefects' attentions.
Hermione concentrated on her breathing. She risked glancing at Millicent who was staring at her hands in her lap, her cheeks pink. The last couple years, Millicent had put on a bit of weight; that, coupled with the fact that she had a sturdy frame had made her one of the least popular dance partners in dancing class. Hermione silently reached over and took Millicent's hand, her eyes fixed on the Sorting stool, and squeezed. After a moment, Millicent squeezed back.
Once the Sorting feast was over, the prefects took them to the dungeons and showed them the Slytherin dormitories. Hermione bit back a gasp as she looked around. Large windows glimmered with a dim, green light. As something large swam by, she realized that they were under the Black Lake, and that their windows looked out onto the lake.
"The girl's dormitories are through here," the prefect said crisply. "First years have the first room on the right. Your trunks and things are already there."
The girls filed into the room silently and all eyed one another cautiously. Hermione knew Millicent, Pansy, and Daphne Greengrass from dancing class. Tracey Davis was not familiar to her. Hermione moved to stand near Millicent.
"We'll get him," Hermione muttered quietly.
Millicent caught her eye and gave her an almost imperceptible nod.
"Does anyone have a preference for where they sleep?" Tracey asked.
"Millie will sleep next to me," Pansy announced with a pointed look in Hermione's direction.
Daphne turned slightly so that Pansy couldn't see her and rolled her eyes at Hermione, who had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
"Then Hermione will sleep next to me," Daphne retorted imperiously.
"Fine," Pansy snapped.
"Fine." Daphne smirked at Pansy in triumph.
The girls settled their things, and then Hermione clambered into her bed and pulled out her collapsible writing desk.
Dear Mother,
As I'm sure you guessed, I was Sorted into Slytherin. I hope to make you proud of me, and bring honour to the Ancient and Noble House of Black.
Harry was on the train, as we thought he might be. I have invited him to come home with me for Christmas. I know that was presumptuous of me, but he didn't know anything about his own family! Harry was sent to live with Muggle relatives who have shared nothing of his family with him. It isn't right, Mother. I've promised him that we could get him copies of our pictures… I don't think he even knows what his mother and father looked like.
Also, could you send me my hexing journal? I foolishly left it in my bedroom. Beaker can get it for you. I miss all of you already. Try to remember to take regular breaks, and make sure that you don't skip meals. I love you, Mother. See you at Christmas.
Yours,
Hermione
/\/\/\/\/\
The first week of school had been… acceptable. Hermione was still feeling her way through Hogwarts, adjusting to the differences between private one-on-one lessons and classes with a room full of other people.
So far she loved all of her classes, except History. Hermione had always loved her History lessons with Cousin Arcturus, but this class—taught by a ghost—was utterly boring.
Herbology, with Professor Sprout had been lovely. She knew most of the plants that they had studied so far, but she had missed Uncle Roderick more than she'd realized. She wondered if Herbology would bother Neville, and promised herself to check with him sometime this week.
Charms and Transfiguration both promised to be quite interesting. Hermione paid careful attention to both professors and took careful notes.
Potions had been dismal. Professor Snape had been less than impressed with Hermione's desire to share what she knew, and for some reason he had a grudge against her cousin Harry. His distaste for Harry had been mild compared to his fury with poor Neville. Hermione had bit her lip. Neville had done so much better with Mother. Then again, Mother took the time to explain everything that she was doing as she did it, and why.
In her more charitable moods, Hermione was willing to admit that Professor Snape really didn't have the time to do that. There were over twenty children, and all of them were at different levels of Potions skills. Hermione and her lab partner Daphne turned in their perfectly brewed potions silently. Tracey looked miserably unhappy paired with Blaise Zabini, who was mostly ignoring her.
"What's with Davis?" Hermione asked Daphne as they walked to their dorms.
Daphne had shrugged carelessly. "How should I know?" she asked airily.
"Well, why was Blaise ignoring her then?" Hermione demanded.
"Honestly, Hermione, how on earth would I know?" Daphne asked her with wide eyes.
Hermione snorted. "Fine, I'll go ask Pansy. She always knows."
"She's a half-blood," Daphne blurted out, and then glanced around and flushed.
"So?" Hermione motioned that Daphne should continue.
"Blaise didn't want to partner with her," Daphne said with a shrug. "I don't know why, but I think it's because she's a half-blood."
"That's silly," Hermione muttered. "He partnered with Lisa Turpin in dancing class and she is a half-blood."
Daphne shrugged. "Then I don't know."
"I don't know the name Davis," Hermione admitted as they continued to walk.
"Her mother was a Bagshot," Daphne whispered.
Hermione blinked. "Interesting."
/\/\/\/\/\
Flying Class had seemed like a colossal waste of time to Hermione. She already knew how to fly a broom, and had for years. In addition, the school brooms were almost laughably bad. Hermione felt nothing but pity for the poor Muggleborn students. If this had been her first exposure to flying, she probably would have come away terrified of ever flying again.
Then Neville had been injured, and all of Hermione's protective instincts came roaring to the fore. She had gone with Neville and Madam Hooch to the infirmary, so she had completely missed Draco acting like an idiot.
Draco had been showing off like a prat the entire time leading up to classes. Hermione had tried to get him to tone it down, but Draco had become increasingly unreasonable lately.
"I don't see why you need to go meet Neville and Harry Potter in the library," Draco sulked.
"You know that Neville is my friend, and Harry, as you also know, is my cousin," Hermione told him for what felt like the hundredth time.
"I'm your cousin," Draco muttered.
Hermione sighed. "Yes, you are. But so is Harry. You're going to have to get used to it."
Draco mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like I don't want to, but Hermione ignored him. She turned away to see Millicent leave the Girl's dorm and head over to where she was sitting next to Draco on a low couch.
"Hermione, are you ready?" Millicent asked.
"Oh! Yes. I'll see you later, Draco," she said over her shoulder as she stood up.
His response was a sulky grunt.
The two girls left the Slytherin Common Room with their heads bowed close together.
"Did your mum send your journal?" Millicent asked once they'd left the Common Room.
"Of course," Hermione replied with a grin. "Let's find an empty classroom and we can practice."
Finding an empty classroom was the easy part. Practicing different hexes was harder.
"I can't wait to see his stupid, smug face," Millicent panted as she cast hex after hex on an old desk.
"Me either," Hermione agreed.
"How dare he call you a Mudblood," Millicent continued, scowling. "Everyone knows that Cassiopeia did the Sanguinem Familia spell. Everyone knows that you're a proper pureblood. You've been raised to it from the cradle."
"How dare he call you a cow," Hermione countered angrily. "So what if you're a bit… fluffy? I think you look just fine. Mother says that we're all growing and that in a few years we'll all look completely different."
"Pansy says that Montague is self-conscious," Millicent admitted when they paused for a break. "His mum supposed to be a pureblood, but no one knows who she is. That's never a good sign. Pansy says that he's tearing us down to feel better about himself."
"Pansy's probably right," Hermione acknowledged. "That doesn't mean we aren't going to make him pay for what he said."
"No, of course not," Millicent agreed.
They waited until the perfect opportunity. Millicent was very good at waiting. Hermione was not, but Millicent convinced her that patience was their friend. Finally, it was time.
Montague was a late riser, and he always came to breakfast late. Millicent and Hermione made sure that they were both seated in the perfect location to hex him. They had decided on a combination of the Steleus Hex, which made the victim sneeze, and a Sardine Hex, which made sardines shoot out of a person's nose. The result would be both repulsive, and horribly embarrassing. They had chosen those hexes because they were a little advanced, and no one would think to suspect ickle firsties of being capable of producing them successfully.
When Montague sat down at the table, he poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice. Hermione nudged Millicent who tried to hold her wand as unobtrusively as possible. She made the motion under the table and muttered the hex under her breath. Hermione followed almost right on top of her.
The result was… hideously entertaining. Montague was taken by a sneezing fit, and every time he sneezed, sardines shot out of his nose. The girls near him began shrieking in disgust and pulling away. The boys were all laughing and pointing. Everyone in the Great Hall was soon laughing and pointing. Montague jumped up from the table and fled.
Everything had gone perfectly. Once Hermione finished her breakfast she put her bookbag over her shoulder and left the table with a smirk.
Outside the Great Hall, Adrian Pucey was leaning against a pillar talking to Marcus Flint. He winked at her when he spotted her.
"Nice work, imp," he called as she passed.
Hermione raised her chin in the air, ignoring him, but her cheeks turned pink as she continued down the hall.