I hope everyone had a good week! Now, because it is FRIDAY you get a new chapter!

Many thanks, as always, to the many people who reviewed. (100!) Also, thank you to bluefirefly5 (again) for helping me fix the French. (I fixed it!) I really have my little cadre of regular reviewers who leave such glorious long reviews and I want to squeal because I'm the author and I know things you don't. (Like how I'm super excited for Chapter Seven because THINGS HAPPEN)

Sorry. I'm excited. May I now present Chapter Six, in which the cliffhanger is resolved exactly the way it happened in the books, and the Trio attends their fourth year at Hogwarts, Moody is... not Moody, and we end at a bit after the Yule Ball.

Chapter 6

"It seems that you had an eventful summer, Miss Granger," drawled Severus, leaning back in the comfortable seat behind his desk. "The Quidditch Cup and Death Eaters? How charming."

Hermione laughed, relaxing in her own seat. She flashed her teacher a brilliant smile. "Charming isn't quite the word I'd use, Professor. Those damn Death Eaters are a bloody nuisance. Yourself exempt, of course." It was no secret to Hermione that Severus Snape was a Death Eater- he had explained this briefly to her in order to make her understand the importance of shielding her mind.

The man scowled at her as she laughed. "Impertinent chit," he grumbled, sending her into a fresh wave of giggles. "What is happening with Potter?"

"Well," Hermione started, all traces of mirth gone, "Harry is rather charmed by the prospect of the Triwizard Tournament. He knows he can't enter," she said hastily to reassure Severus, who had straightened alarmingly. "He can dream though. And he can't wait to have class with Moody. Who is probably going to yell at him and then teach him more than Quirrell and Lockhart together," she mused.

"Right you are," Severus agreed with a nod. "Please attempt to convince Mr. Potter that entering this folly of a Tournament would be both stupid and life threatening. Although we would all share a good laugh if he entered and died, I am sure Dumbledore would be peeved."

They were in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and Hermione was numb with fear. This was not the Moody she knew- he would never torture the spiders like that. He would not do it in front of Neville especially- as gruff as the old Auror could be, he didn't have any (well…many) sadistic bones in his body. He had been the one to mentor Frank Longbottom- there was no way he would do something like that to Frank's son. Moody was as tricky and paranoid as they came, but he was not someone who took pleasure in someone else's pain- unless they were Death Eaters, perhaps, but Neville was only a boy!

And now he was going to cast the Imperious on them. Oh Dear God, she thought. Oh Dear God let my defenses stand. She stood- hands braced on the desk, shoulders straight. "This is wrong," she said firmly. "As of yet, the Dark Lord has not risen again. There is no benefit to be gained in casting an Unforgivable curse on children." A few of her classmates bristled at the perceived insult, but their rustling in the background did not bother her. Ruffled feathers meant nothing if the chickens escaped the ax.

Moody's face stretched into a bitter semblance of a grin. "You sound like a Death Eater yourself when you talk, missy. You're up first, then. See if you can throw me off." He raised his wand, but with only a fraction of Moody's usual speed. "Imperio."

Start dancing. Move around. Put your hands up in the air, Miss Granger.

But I don't want to.

Too bad. Do as I say. Dance for me.

I really don't want to.

DANCE!

NO!

You will dance. Now!

No. Get out of my head!

"Impressive, Miss Granger," Moody said, breathing a shade harder than he had been earlier. For once, both his eyes were focused in one place- unfortunately, that place was her. Hermione felt an urge to cross her arms over her chest. "Where did you learn to defend your mind like that?" Moody taught me how to resist the Imperius! And he knows about my lessons with Professor Snape. What happened? Imperioused, Polyjuiced, Oblivated…

Hermione shrugged, nonchalant as she could be when her mind was racing with possibilities, plots, and plans. "I'm very organized. And stubborn." She could see some of her classmates looking at her in wonder, then nodding when she said she was stubborn. Still, it was almost unheard of for a fourteen-year-old girl to defend herself against one of the Unforgivables.

"Hrmph," Moody grunted, his one good eye telling her he was more than unsatisfied. "Longbottom. You're up next." One by one he went through her classmates, instructing them to do impossible things. Neville back flipped across the room, Seamus imitated various jungle animals, Ron started singing in a very nasal falsetto, and Lavender got down on hands and knees and barked like a dog. It was when she got to Harry that she protested again.

"Professor Moody. Think about-"

"I will think about what I want, Miss Granger. Potter, stand up." Harry shot a look at her, clearly asking her to stay quiet. He wanted his chance to prove himself. And so he did- he wavered back and forth for a few moments before falling forward and hitting his knee on the desk.

"Good, Potter, very good!" cried Moody, thumping his claw foot on the ground. "Again! With all the Dark Wizards out there, you need to be prepared!"

As soon as class was over, Hermione was dragging Harry and Ron out of the classroom by the back of their robes. "Merlin that was brilliant! I wish all the spiders in the world could meet Moody!" Ron was exclaiming, pushing off Hermione's hand. "Blimey, Hermione, what's the matter with you?" Of course, you don't care that a teacher just used a bloody Unforgivable curse on you, Ron. No matter that he may still be in the minds of one of our classmates, instructing them to act normal until given further instructions, such as to KILL HARRY!

"He had no right to do that," she seethed. "And Neville! Didn't you see his face when he tortured those spiders?" Guiltily, both Harry and Ron glanced over at their classmate, who was being shepherded into Moody's office. Before Hermione could do anything, the two had disappeared in to the small room.

Harry twisted out of her grasp as well, and she allowed him too, glad that the man (whoever he was), was no longer watching them. Or he is, with that eye. Good gods.

"I need to go to the Library," she announced, hefting her heavy bag higher on her small shoulders. "I'll meet the two of you in the Common Room after dinner." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a ripple in the air, the sign of a powerful Disillusionment Charm. Harry would be safe, no matter what happened. She needed to see Professor Snape.

She found him in his office, glowering angrily as he opened the door to her frenzied knocks. "Professor, it's urgent!" she whispered desperately. "It's Moody-"

"What about Moody?" Snape snapped. "He's here, he watching Potter for us like the paranoid little Auror he is. He's also teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts Position. Did I miss anything there, Miss Granger?" She pushed inside, shutting the door.

"Yes, you did," Hermione replied, with just as much snark. "Something's wrong with him. Either he's not the real Moody or somebody erased all his memories of the past two summers." She explained what had happened in her class, citing her reasons for not believing it was Moody.

Severus leaned back in his chair, surveying her with calm black eyes, face expressionless. "I see," was all he said, but at the same time he brushed back his lank hair and massaged his temples. "Well, you have presented me with an interesting situation, Miss Granger. If it is the real Moody, we are in dire trouble. No doubt whoever erased his memories managed to sift through them as well. But if it is a spy- an impersonator- we are in a much better boat."

"What do you mean by that?" Hermione asked fearfully. "I see the obvious benefit- if they are Polyjucing, they need to keep Moody alive. But other than that-" she stopped for a moment, eyes staring straight ahead, mind moving at miles a minute. "I see. We use him to feed false information to the other side. We orchestrate what he sees, so we basically write his reports for him, controlling what he passes on." Machiavelli's a genius. I knew The Prince would be useful one day.

Severus gave her a thin lipped smirk. "Exactly, Miss Granger. Finally, a use for your clever brain. Now I ask you- do we give this information to the Headmaster?"

"Not yet," Hermione said, running through various probabilities in her head. "Professor- this could be especially useful for you." Oh- this could be good. It's half impossible, but if anyone can do the impossible, it's Professor Snape.

"Oh?" Severus asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "In what way, Miss Granger?"

She flashed him a brilliant grin. "If you can pull it off," she began, "Moody will be perfect. Chances are he is feeding information to the Dark Lord- if you can convince him that you are still loyal the Dark Lord, you have someone putting in a good word for you."

Snape snorted at her. "So you are saying don't reveal that I know he's an imposter, but feed him information to give to his master. I have to show a man I'm supposed to think is an Auror that I'm still loyal to the Dark Lord? Keeping in mind I am controlled and calculating enough to never accidently show something like that to an Auror? Do you understand what you're saying, you infernal Gryffindor?"

"Yep," Hermione said cheekily, still grinning. "You are going to be dancing a fine line, Professor. The imposter can't know that you know he's an imposter. You have to treat him like an Auror while showing him you are a Death Eater. You have to show that you're guilty while still playing innocent, and on top of that you have to be very careful he doesn't think you are actually innocent."

Heaving a great sigh, Severus glared at her. "You are annoying little know it all," he told her frankly. "And quite mad."

"If anyone can do it, you can," Hermione said charitably, shrugging off the insults. "You're five times worse than I am."

Severus frowned at her. "And what if the imposter has already been through Moody's memories? And knows about you and your particular function? And more importantly, my role in training you?"

She hadn't thought of that. "What would that mean for you?"

"It would mean that as soon as the Dark Lord rises again, I'm dead unless I can weave a pretty tale," Severus said shortly. "But perhaps Moody's own prejudices can work for me, here. He's never quite believed that I'm loyal to Dumbledore- he would have made a special note of everything I've done in the past thirteen years that would suggest I'm truly a Death Eater, and dismissed all evidence suggesting I'm not."

"And memories aren't perfect!" Hermione exclaimed. "His memory is his perception of things, which is distorted by his prejudices. But I don't think he went through the memories, not yet, anyway. He would have acted more… normal around me, I'm guessing."

"Good work, Miss Granger," Severus said, panting hard. "Now I see how you managed to put three Aurors and three adult wizards on their backs. By the gods, you're getting fast."

Hermione, also breathing heavily, beamed at him. "I practice, sir." It seemed the long hours of tossing knives at increasingly infuriating targets, then going through the movements taught her by Snape until they flowed paid off. She had still lost though- Severus Snape was not a man to be tangled with.

Their fight had lasted for more than an hour- the first part had been magical, so the walls were showing the spell damage. The last quarter of the time had been when Hermione had lost her wand so she was fighting with a set of magically enhanced knives Snape had produced. They had long hilts, perfect balance, and running through the steel hilt was a wand core.

"It is difficult, but you can filter your magic though these," Snape had told her, showing her how to strap on the sheath. "It is similar to wandless spells, but easier, because of the core. You can guide the magic- but you will need to work on it to make sure your spells are at their usual strength."

Hermione retrieved her wand, standing still for a moment to acknowledge the warmth of the wood. Ollivander was right all those years ago- the wand does choose the wizard and every time she picked up her wand it welcomed her presence.

She returned to where Severus was on the other side of the room, shrugging on his teaching robes over his thinner under robe. Even though it was only September, the castle needed torches and warm fires to bring some comfort to the dungeons. "Thank you, Professor," she said slowly, almost regretfully. She didn't want to hand the knives over- but they were good ones. Probably ones from his own collection.

"What do you think you're doing, Miss Granger?" he asked, tone not softening the biting words.

She started, hands pausing on the straps. "Giving you back your knives?"

"They are your knives," he replied, giving her a little sigh. "Silly girl. It is your birthday, is it not?" She squealed, thought about hugging him, then thought again.

"Thank you, Professor Snape. Although I'm technically not fifteen today. I'll be turning seventeen in a month or so." The thought excited her- the trace would be removed, she could learn how to Apparate, and she could be inducted to the Order.

Snape however, just frowned. "Very well, Miss Granger. You should have something else to do now, correct?" He was right- she checked her watch and scampered to an Arithmancy lesson. She's growing up too fast. She won't be a child for much longer.

"It's time for me to go," Hermione said with a sigh, casting a quick Tempus in the air. She was still frustrated over the loss of her watch- it hadn't been anything special, but still. On her wrist all the time, until she needed it, looked at her wrist, and found it had disappeared. She needed one to keep up with her schedule and she would have to wait until the next Hogsmeade weekend to buy a new one. "I need to turn back three hours and go to dinner."

Severus nodded gravely, then held up a hand. "A moment, Miss Granger."

"Yes, Professor?" she asked, hefting her bag higher on her shoulder.

He held out a small box. "Open it," he ordered, looking as nonchalant as he possibly could.

Inside was a delicate silver wristwatch, thin and feminine with three dials on each side and three faces. One was the time- one had the time, one had the date, and the other had a series of symbols that she recognized easily. An small house with a three inside must be Safe House Three. The Hogwarts Crest, Hogwarts. A Potion's vial, Severus' office. A green eye, Harry. A knife, the practice room. A tower, Dumbledore.

"It's beautiful," Hermione breathed. "Is it-" she hesitated.

He sighed. "Yes, Miss Granger, it is for you. I have personally made it waterproof, fireproof, immune to most potions, unbreakable, unstoppable, resizing to fit your wrist, and able to weather your time shifts. It will heat if I tap one of the symbols on my pocket watch-" he withdrew his fob watch from a pocket in his frock coat. "And that symbol will light. The crest is clearly Hogwarts-" he eyed her. "I suspect you know what all of them mean. I've made them quite obvious to anyone with a brain."

"I believe so, sir," she said, smiling widely. "And if I need to warn you something?"

He gestured to her watch. "Try tapping a symbol, and concentrate on needing aid or assistance," he instructed. "The more desperate you feel, the stronger the watch will- ah. Burn. Careful, Miss Granger."

"Sorry, sir," she said, a bit sheepishly. "I was a little overenthusiastic, I think. This is brilliant, sir. Thank you!"

He gave an expression that might, on another person, have been a responding smile. "You're welcome, Miss Granger. It is tradition to give a witch or wizard a watch when they reach their majority, and as I am the only one who knew about your coming of age…" he let his voice trail off. "Well. Three and a quarter turns, should do it, what with the extra time?" Well. With that reaction, I doubt she's realized I was the one to Vanish her old watch two days ago.

"How did this happen!" Hermione shouted, brown eyes flashing madly as she shouted at Snape. "Professor Snape, tell me how did this happen?"

Surprisingly, Severus did not take her to task for her tone. "I don't know, Miss Granger," he said wearily.
"Professor Dumbledore thinks that someone Confunded the Goblet of Fire into thinking that there was a fourth school. Potter would have been the only person to enter for that school."

"He's too young!" Hermione whispered, tears pricking at her eyes. "He may have survived against Voldemort twice, but people have died in this tournament. He won't stand a chance against Krum, or Cedric Diggory. Even Fleur Delacour could be a feasible opponent." She snorted. "She's as much a fairy princess as I am." A small, pale hand came up and took a tear from her cheek. Severus pretended not to notice.

"Then it will be your job to make sure he survives," Severus said simply. "Miss Granger, we are placing the continued survival of the Boy-Who-Lived in your hands. Enjoy it." He reached below his desk, and drew out a bottle of Firewhiskey. "Care for a drink?" You've turned her into a weapon, no need to turn her into a drunkard as well. Bad idea, Severus.

"No," Hermione responded with a sigh, standing up. "My extra hour is almost up. I need to get back to the Gryffindor party before I'm missed. Goodnight."

In that moment, in the shadows surrounding them, Hermione Granger looked less like a fifteen year old girl and more like the seventeen she had just turned. Severus had never seen her look so weary; through the Glamour she always wore he could see slight bags under her eyes and worry lines. She was too young to have worry lines.

"Goodnight, Miss Granger."

She aimed a kick for his head, mentally cursing as he spun away. On the next one, she caught him in the belly, grinning savagely when she heard the slight grunt of pain he allowed past his lips.

"I see no difference."

He seemed surprised by her viciousness that day. She used him as her human punching bag- when she could get to him. Her now-perfect teeth were bared in an angry grin, her tightly braided hair flew behind her, and even though she wasn't using her knives or her wand she felt invincible. Mad as hell, but invincible.

"I see no difference."

After a while, he stopped fighting back. He blocked her blows, he stepped aside or ducked when she aimed a kick to his head, but that was all. Finally, she stopped too.

"Why aren't you fighting back?" she growled, body as tight as a bowstring. "Give me a challenge god-damnit!"

"What is the problem, Miss Granger?" he snapped. "Tell me, or allow me to spend my time doing something more important than serve as anger management therapy."

She stared at him for a minute, then turned around to leave, collecting her robe and wand from the bench where she had thrown them. Hermione stalked to the door, and tried to throw it open. It didn't budge.

"On second thought," Severus purred, voice as smooth as honey, "I think you should tell me. I wouldn't want you to go out there so angry you forget to keep a level head."

She whirled to face him. "It was nothing," she spat. He knew differently- their eyes met and in a moment he was through all her defenses. The sudden blinding pain behind her left eye made her stomach roll.

"I see no difference." His own face smirking slightly at her predicament, his silent laughter louder than the laughter of all the people behind her.

She turned on her heel, and ran to the Hospital Wing, crying.

He immediately felt sick, almost queasy. He didn't like seeing her cry, feeling her abject misery and embarrassment and disgust along with her. "Miss Granger," he said carefully. "I did not mean what I said."

She glared at him, fists clenched at her sides. "You had no right to look in my mind."

"Like it or not, Miss Granger," he hissed, "Not everything revolves around you. I cannot show that I have any interest or personal stakes in your state of mind. Keep in mind that there are two other Death Eaters roaming the school this year. Two other Death Eaters, and five children of Death Eaters that were in that hallway. What do you suppose Lucius Malfoy would say if Draco told his father I punished him for cursing a Muggleborn? Or if word got to the Dark Lord through whoever is impersonating Moody that I escorted you to the Hospital Wing?"

She flushed, tense stance relaxing a fraction. "I didn't think about that," she muttered.

"Obviously," he drawled, crossing the room to gather his own things. "I understand that you felt slighted, today, Miss Granger. But you are seventeen now. Act like it. There are things more important than pride, and as unlikely as it seems, Harry Potter is one of them."

His gaze softened, and unknowingly he allowed a sliver of sorrow to slip through. "Put away your wand and robes. You haven't finished what you started. And if I catch your mind undefended like that again and I will restart the Occlumency lessons."

"Potter barely survived the First Task," Severus stated flatly, staring grimly at Dumbledore. "As admirable as his performance turned out to be, Miss Granger spent the twelve hours before the Task teaching him the Summoning Charm. He would not have lived had it not been for her." I should give her a salve for those nail marks in her face. Wouldn't want it to scar.

Dumbledore chuckled happily. "Then thank the gods we had to foresight to choose Miss Granger as his protector. And the situation with Mr. Weasley? Did Miss Granger have something to report on that?"

Always worried about image, thought Severus. Dumbledore needs to be sure that all the staunch Pureblood supporters who are not as unconcerned with bloodlines as they claim still support the Boy-Who-Lived. What better way to do that then have his best friends come from the some of the purest, if poorest, blood in the land? Pure enough to be accepted, poor enough to be controlled with a rigged Ministry drawing. And should Harry Potter spend all his summers around Ginerva Weasley and fall in love with her, what could be better? "Resolved," was what he said. "He forgave Potter, per your… ah… suggestions." If that is what you call asking the boy to come up here then planting the idea in his mind.

"Good, good," was all Dumbledore had to say. "Make sure Miss Granger assists Mr. Potter with solving the riddle for the next Task. It would do him no good to go in unprepared."

"You look lovely tonight," Krum said thickly, offering her his arm. She accepted, thanking him with a blush and a soft smile.

When they passed Harry, Hermione was gratified by the shock on his face. It hurt a bit, to know that he was surprised she looked pretty, but it pleased her all the same. "Wow- Hermione! I- wow!" He doesn't know his shock is insulting. I'll forgive him.

"Close your mouth, Harry, you'll swallow a bug," she said, laughing. "Did Ron recognize me?" Her hair was up in a delicate twist, courtesy of Lavender, and several bottles of Sleakeazy's. The dress robes she was wearing fit her nicely, periwinkle blue (a bit young for seventeen, but perfect for a fifteen year old) and flowing. She wore very subtle makeup, again, applied with the help of her dorm mate. She had resolved to learn how to do it over the summer- one never knew when one might have to appear sophisticated or seductive.

"No," Harry said, mouth normal again but eyes still large. On his arm, Parvati looked put out, peeved that her date was paying more attention to his friend than to her. "He won't believe it. He's still upset that you turned him down." Harry saw the 'impending doom' look on Hermione face, and hastened to finish his sentence. "I don't agree with him, of course. You are totally a girl."

Parvati giggled, and Krum laughed, while Hermione glared at Harry. That wasn't something I needed my date to know about, Harry. Thanks. How would you like it if I told Cho about- no. That's mean.

Then McGonagall was ushering the Champions and their companions into the Great Hall, and they entered to soft music, splitting off when they reached the High Table to sit down. Hermione found herself with Krum on one side and Harry on the other.

Dinner progressed smoothly; the food was excellent, the conversation entertaining enough, and the noise level bearable. Hermione spent a short time teaching Viktor how to say her name, and the rest carrying conversations with him and Harry separately. Fleur was having much less luck with her date- Robert Davies was staring at her, drooling slightly out of the corner of his mouth. Cho and Cedric seemed to be having a fine time, much to Harry's annoyance. He glanced over at them more than he looked at Parvati- Hermione actually felt quite bad for suggesting they get together.

The dancing was the part Hermione was the most worried about, unsure about Viktor's dancing skills. She needn't have worried, as he was an excellent dancer. Andromeda Tonks had taught her well, and the two of them were easily the best dancers out of the Champions. Cedric might have had training, but Cho was content to be whirled around in a circle. Davies couldn't quite manage to look at Fleur's face, much less the floor- the poor Frenchwoman was cursing lightly in French as he repeatedly trampled her feet. Harry was hopeless- Hermione vowed to remedy that soon.

"You dance quite vell," Viktor told her, a slight pressure from his hand telling her to go left as he went right. "I am imprevssed."

"Thank you," Hermione said, just as courteously. "I confess I was worried about my feet, but I was pleasantly surprised."

"It is a pity," Viktor said disdainfully. "That the boys you dance vith frequently stomp your delicate feet." The waltz ended there, and soon the dance floor was flooded with people. They continued dancing for at least five more songs before they left the floor, Hermione to find a seat near Harry and Ron while Viktor to fetch them drinks.

Hermione was out of breath, cheeks pink with exertion. "Well?" she asked Harry (who was unaware that his date was staring daggers at his back). "What do you think so far?" She felt a slight pang of guilt- she wasn't paying much attention to the person she was supposed to be 'guarding.' But she managed to shrug it off quickly. It's not like anyone is going to leap out at him and try and murder him. They have the second and third Tasks for that.

Harry glanced wistfully at the dance floor. "I have no idea how to dance, Mione." Ron just glared at her.

"What's the matter, Ron?" she asked, sighing. She did not want to deal with him right now.

"If you don't know then I'm not going to tell you," the red head sneered. Like that's not childish at all, Hermione thought.

"I'm assuming it has something to do with Viktor Krum since you've been glaring at us all evening," Hermione said quickly, rising from her seat. "For your information, Viktor is not trying to get me to help him with the Tournament. He is not trying to get close to Harry. He likes me and I like him and that is all."

"You're fraternizing with the enemy!" Ron yelled. "You're betraying Harry!" His face was growing as red as his hair, a shade of mauve that managed to clash with both his freckles and his dress robes.

"I have no problem with Hermione and Krum," Harry said softly, but Ron paid no attention, as usual. When he flew into a rage, there was no stopping Ronald Weasley. As loyal as he could be, when he got jealous Ron would get jealous.

"You're a bloody traitor!" shouted Ron, just as Krum returned with the drinks. The internationally renowned Seeker could take in the situation in a minute- and he was not happy.

Even though he was duck-footed on land, or perhaps because of it, Krum was intimidating. He was also three years older than Ron, much taller, and had a glare worthy of Snape. "Herm-own-ninny is not a traitor. Vis Tournament is for international cooperation. I vill not have you insult her for veing more open-minded."

"I'd advise paying more attention to your date than mine, Ronald," Hermione said wearily, accepting the cup of punch Viktor had brought her. "I will not have you ruin the Yule Ball for me. Goodnight." Viktor placed one hand on the small of her back, steering her away. Inside, Hermione was seething with rage, inner thoughts toward Ron scathing at the very least. He has no idea how much I've sacrificed for Harry. How I've worked so hard for so long to keep him safe. He probably doesn't even remember that I was the one to throw myself between him and Remus.

She and Viktor danced for a while longer, then Hermione retreated to the sides while he once again left to get them drinks. That was when a contrite Harry approached her, apologizing for Ron.

"He doesn't really mean it," Harry insisted. "He's just jealous."

"Sounds a lot like what I was saying to you a month ago," Hermione retorted sharply. "Sometimes I can't stand him."

"We need you, Mione," Harry said, pleading with her using his captivating green eyes. "Ron will cool down soon enough. We'll make up, and it'll all be like it was before."

Hermione sighed, looking for Viktor in the crowd. He was talking to Dumbledore and Lugo Bagman, and from the expression on his face Hermione could judge that he would be a while with the two of them. "Thanks, Harry. Do you want to go outside and walk around a bit? It's a tad warm in here."

Harry agreed readily enough, and they left the Great Hall for the rose gardens the Hogwarts teachers had brought to life in the middle of winter. They were passing through the gate when Hermione bumped into one of the Beauxbatons girls.

"Oh, sorry," she said. "Pardon." She made to turn away, but something about the girl's innocently pretty face stopped her. Quidditch Cup, she remembered in a flash.

"Eet is no-" the girl stopped and looked hard at her. "You are zee girl from zee Quidditch World Cup. You 'elped me find Madame Maxine." Hermione nodded eagerly- yes this was the same girl, she remembered the curly hair and freckles.

"My name is Hermione Granger," Hermione said with a smile, offering her hand. "This is Harry Potter."

"Pleased to meet you," the girl said. "My name is Charlotte Baudoin. Zank you for what you did zat night. We were so terrified- and Madame was right where you said she was."

The two girls talked for a bit longer, promising to getting to know each other better after the ball. Then Hermione and Harry left for the snowy gardens and Charlotte for the music and the dancing.

"Where's Parvati?" asked Hermione after a moment, frowning. The small Indian girl had not been with Harry when the two of them decided to go out.

Harry shrugged, looking for pockets to stuff his hands into, but finding none on his dress robes. "She's dancing with some guy from Beauxbatons. I was really a pretty bad date."

Yes, Hermione agreed silently. "Oh, Harry. You needed to pay more attention to her. She wants to tell her grandkids that she spent the night on the arm of Harry Potter, not that Harry Potter ignored her for the entire dance. How many songs did you dance with her?"

"One," Harry said guiltily, ducking his head. "The first one." Hermione took his arm with a sigh, and led him over to one of the benches. Along the way they passed Fleur and an ardent Roger Davies, so with a huff of disgust Hermione passed a few more benches before choosing one.

She swept a small beetle off the seat into the grass, then used her wand to clear away the snow on the bench. "There," she pronounced, satisfied. She and Harry sat down, and she cast a small warming charm on the two of them. "Alright. Harry. You should go in there and apologize if you don't want Parvati to ignore you for the rest of the time we are in Hogwarts. Because she and Lavender are gossips, and Harry, if you ever want to get a date in this school again you need to go say sorry."

Harry slouched down in his seat, hair flopping into his eyes. "Why are girls so bloody confusing? I think that's why Ron didn't realize it sooner, Hermione. You don't act like a girl." He threw his arms up in frustration. "Why can't I just hang around you? Or better yet, why can't you write a- a guidebook for girls! There is only one girl I really want to date, after all." He gave her a look, which Hermione correctly translated to read, Cho Chang.

Laughing, Hermione patted his arm, brushing away a beetle. "I know. But… I can't-"

"I know," Harry said, sighing and leaning his head against the cold stone of the castle. "You can't do anything. At least you're always there, Mione," Harry said, standing up, and giving her a hand. "Best friends, then?"

"Best friends," Hermione agreed, giving him a hug. They walked back to the Great Hall, hands swinging- nothing romantic. Hermione was determined to make Harry more comfortable with touching other people (his awful relatives, beating him like that!) and she was fine with grabbing his hand. It was a feeling of safety for both of them.

"And who knows, Harry," she said, as they paused outside the door. "Maybe Cho will come around next year. Cedric will be gone, after all. And not many girls can resist the Boy-Who-Lived."

The first Potions class back was an experience Hermione never wanted to even think about ever again.

"What's this?" Snape asked, swooping in the grab the newspaper from her hands. "Hermione Granger denies the affection of Harry Potter for Viktor Krum?" His voice had a hint of incredulous disbelief as he read the headline aloud.

"A piece of trash," Hermione said firmly, hands shaking below the desk. "Rubbish. Drivel by Rita Skeeter."

Nonetheless, Severus Snape humiliated both Harry and Hermione by reading the paper aloud, pausing after each sentence to give the Slytherins an opportunity to laugh.

"Miss Granger, fifteen, accompanied Durmstrang Champion and Bulgarian Quidditch star Viktor Krum, eighteen, to the Yule Ball, a Triwizard Tournament tradition." Derisive laughter. "The Champion is said to be 'enamored' with Miss Granger, but he is not the only Champion with his heart in Miss Granger's hand." More laugher. "Harry Potter, fourteen, our own Hogwarts Champion and Boy-Who-Lived, was seen having an intimate conversation with Miss Granger at the Yule Ball, where he was reported to have told Miss Granger there was only one person he wanted to date." Laughter, aimed at Harry, who was turning red. "Miss Granger refused him, but they parted as friends, with a promise of 'one day,' and they held hands as they left the rose gardens." At this, Ron turned and stared at the two of them. "According to several other students, Harry Potter and Miss Granger are never far from the other, and 'the entire school has been wondering when they would get together.'" Harry and Hermione looked at each other, then turned away. Hermione knew she was bright red.

Snape finished the story, which ended with speculation on Rita's part on whether or not Hermione would find herself with Viktor or Harry. "What a perfect little love triangle," Severus spat when he finished reading the paper. "However, Potions class is not the place to speculate on your love life, Miss Granger." Could have fooled me, Hermione thought angrily. Reading that piece of trash aloud in here. "Please take a seat next to Mr. Malfoy- I don't want to find you and Mr. Potter holding hands when you need to be stirring your potion."

Blushing fiercely, Hermione gathered her supplies and moved. He's just pretending to be a Death Eater. He's just pretending.

Later that day, Hermione met Snape in his office. "Enter," he called out when he heard her knocking on the door.

She slipped in, and removed the Disillusionment as soon as the door closed. It would not be good for the star student of Gryffindor to be seen meeting triweekly with the Head of Slytherin. "Good evening, Professor," she said warily.

"Miss Granger," he said, with a nod of his head. "Please take a seat." She did as she was bid, fidgeting on the hard wood chair. On Snape's desk was a copy of the Daily Prophet, Rita's Skeeter's article headlined frighteningly on the front page.

Hermione frowned, and motioned to the page. "Is there a problem with this, Professor?"

"Yes," Severus said smoothly. "If you enter into a romantic relationship with Viktor Krum, then you will no doubt be distracted from your one important task. There are three Death Eaters wandering the halls of this school, Miss Granger. Only one of them has good intentions. Sirius Black proved that the barriers we have in place can be breached. Potter is in more danger this year than he ever has been before."

So they cannot run the risk of me getting distracted and letting something get to Harry, Hermione realized. They want me to break it off with Viktor and focus entirely on Harry. "And say the other story in the Daily Prophet is true and Harry has a romantic interest in me. What would Professor Dumbledore say if Harry and I started a relationship?"

Severus sneered at her. "As unlikely as that is, considering your brain and Potter's unfortunate lack of one, the Headmaster would not be against such a relationship." Because I would be even more invested in keeping Harry safe.

Hermione rose from her seat, crossing to the other end of the room. Severus followed her with his eyes, but let her move. "Viktor is the only person I can have an intelligent conversation with. Ron is immature and Harry tries but he-" She couldn't find the words. Tears rose up and she pushed them down- she did not want Snape, of all people, to see her cry.

"I know how you feel, Miss Granger," Severus said slowly. He did- he was remembering how lonely he felt after Lily abandoned him and how absolutely desperate he was for conversation of any sort. Hermione had been without true intellectual match for so long. Too long. "Is Viktor Krum really your intellectual equal? Or is he-"

"He's a Triwizard Champion," Hermione snapped, defending him. "He's a gentleman, and he reads. And we aren't really dating or going out or anything. The Yule Ball was nice, but I will break it off with him." She knew the futility of asking to use the Time Turner- someone would notice she was in two places at once and too many questions would be asked.

She took a deep, shaky breath. "We'll be just friends," she said. "I didn't like him that much anyway." Harry. It's all for Harry. Someone wants him dead. He's saved my life- and made me welcome in Gryffindor. One boyfriend who would be leaving in a few months anyway is nothing.

"If you should like, Miss Granger," Severus said haltingly, "I have a few books- rare books- that might be of interest to you. Come back tomorrow if you would like to pick them up."

Something clenched in his chest when he saw a small spark of interest in her eyes before they went blank and she nodded stiffly. "Of course, Professor. Goodnight."

And so ends Chapter Six.

I hate accents. Very much. I wasn't going to do them, but then someone pointed out to me that Rowling does them in the books and... ugh. So please don't hate on my for the accents. :)

ASHWINDER PEOPLE: Help. I was trying to post this on Ashwinder but it's not working and this is causing me a lot of distress. I keep adding the second chapter (after spending an age and a half putting in all the italics) and then it says it's there, but then it disappears and I didn't even get a rejection letter thingy. So. Confusion.

For those who are keeping up with my realtime writing of this story, Chapter Seventeen is nearly done and it's a lovely bit of plotting. This entire bugger is about 200 pages, now. Chapter Six starts on page 56, I think, so that's how much more you have to look forward to! In other news, you are 3/4 of the way through PART ONE. :)

Review, my lovelies, or leave me a message on tumblr. Hugs to you all. Next (Chapter Seven, one of my FAVORITES) will be up on Friday. Have a good weekend!