The Other Side of the Coin
--a fanfiction by las brujas chismosas
Disclaimer: Original story and characters
have been created by J.K. Rowling and are therefore hers. We're just borrowing
them like everyone else, so we better not get sued.
A/N: We're so sorry it took us so long!!! You must
realize that we both had to finish the semester from hell…AND one of us had to
graduate from college (oh yes, and then took a trip around Asia while I have
been desperately struggling with an internship and a night class!!! Oh, and did
I mention she'll be going to Germany soon too? But alas, I'm not a bitter
bruja). (Ok, you know, I have to speak up! I feel that I deserved that trip to
Asia, and I'm just going to Germany to visit family, so yeah. But yeah, really
sorry about the fact that it took so long. K) In any case, enjoy this latest
installment! - LBC
The soft breeze coming off the lake rustled Hermione's
ever-frizzy hair, blowing it in her eyes while she pushed it back. It was a
half-assed effort to control something in her life, especially since
everything else seemed to be spinning rapidly out of control. After all, Ron
had lately decided that it was a good idea to lose his mind and then share this
fact with everyone. Even Harry was acting really strange for what she knew to
be no good reason; she couldn't figure out what exactly moved him to attack her
like a lunatic this afternoon demanding what was wrong with her. Of course, she
had replied that nothing was the matter except beginning-of-the-term jitters
and that she desperately needed to go to the library to start some research.
Which was true. Sort of.
Harry, not convinced, had instantly grabbed her arm as she
turned to walk away. Forced to look at Harry directly in the eyes, Hermione had
been about to confess her troubles when at that very same awkward moment that
insufferable git Ron spotted them on his way out of Potions and then, true to
character, made an intelligible huffing sound and stomped off, completely
ignoring Harry, who had rushed off to talk to him.
Men. Ha! thought Hermione. Boys, more like.
Worse than all of that, however, was that she couldn't figure out why the stupid business with Draco and that girl kept plaguing her….
Hermione sighed, grabbing a rubber band to tie her hair
back, and then hugged her legs to her chest, absentmindedly watching the
serpent in the lake snatch the occasional bird from the air.
She wasn't normally one to explode in a fit of hysterics;
she hated melodrama, but she had never felt this glum before, or at least,
she'd never previously felt this glum and not known why. She'd been feeling a
nice big tantrum coming on, as if that were the key to returning things to the
way they used to be.
Everything was changing and she resented that. She hated not
being in control of her surroundings, merely a bystander to the traffic of
things happening, and changing.
Puberty and all that drama aside, her heightened awareness of Ron, and his shoulders, (which seemed to have broadened over the summer) and his eyes, (greener as of late) unsettled her to such a degree that she found she had to avoid him at certain periods of the day if she wanted to remain the Hermione everyone knew and loved. But the truth was that she was getting sick of that Hermione, ANYWAY. That Hermione didn't laugh, or cry; she wasn't anything remotely close to resembling a normal teenage girl, really, and certainly didn't indulge in emotions if she could help it. That Hermione was really just a smarter, more sensitive guy. At least, that's what she figured Harry and Ron thought. For some reason that seemed to elude her; everything Harry and Ron did lately just seemed to piss her off. She knew what they were thinking, but knew as well that they were too good friends to her to say it to her face. She knew that what she was suffering from wasn't PMS, but what exactly it was, she wasn't sure.
She'd been feeling restless all summer, as if there were
something she wanted to do, needed to do, but she couldn't place her finger on
what exactly that might be. It was already weird to have sprouted a good five
inches, so that she would have stood level with Harry and Ron, if they hadn't
grown some as well. Either way, the changes that her body was undergoing paled
compared to the riot going on in her head.
Everything was so confusing now that she'd returned to
school. Ron wouldn't talk to her at all anymore, and she had no idea why. She
thought he might be mad at her, but why? Harry was acting strange in his own
spacey way, though she often forgot to take into account the most recent events
of the past year. But, given that her summer had been strange enough, and the
fact that little had happened since Harry's latest encounter with Voldemort,
sometimes it was hard to believe things (in the greater magical community,
anyway) had changed at all. Either way, what with the new restrictions at
school (earlier school-wide curfews, no one on the grounds without permission,
no trips to Hogsmeade, and worst of all, no Quidditch) it seemed that everyone
at school was suffering from a protracted case of cabin fever. And school had
been in session for only three days now. It was going to be a long year, if
things kept up the way they were going.
Hermione exhaled once more, and rested her chin on her knees.
She'd have to go in pretty soon; Hagrid had said that she could stay by the
lake, in full view of his cabin, but only until twilight. As the sun sank
lower, into the woods behind the lake, Hermione became more and more agitated;
she didn't really want to go back into the castle, and run into people, much
less talk to them.
And this business with Draco…Hermione didn't want to think
about it, and actively tried not to, but she found that she couldn't help
herself, most of the time. She knew that she'd been thinking of him more often
lately than she ever had, but then he'd never figured so prominently in her
life like he did now. She smiled shyly, recalling her trip to Bulgaria this
past summer.
Initially, she had been surprised - hell, shocked and outraged
to discover that Draco was staying only a few towns over, with relatives. At
the time, it seemed like nothing could get any worse in her life, but that soon
changed, and she'd in fact learned a great deal, about herself, and about
others, that summer. All that, however, seemed to have gone down the drain now
that everyone was back at Hogwarts. After all, considering everything that had
happened this summer, she couldn't help but feel betrayed by his recent
"tryst" with that Slytherin girl.
Just thinking about her made Hermione mad. They'd shared the
same Potions class for four years now, and Hermione could tell that the
Slytherin tried to make herself inconspicuous. This confused Hermione, because
Alex was, empirically, rather pretty, and she was certainly very smart. They
might have even been friends if she were in a different house, and obviously if
she hadn't slept with Draco. Of course, Snape's biting remarks did not help
any; all the fifth-year Potions students seemed to hear about lately was "why
is it that Miss Saavedra can seem to do this when no one else can," and
"why don't you pay attention, Ms. Granger, you might learn something from
Miss Saavedra." Being singled out didn't appeal to either girl, and
Hermione certainly did not appreciate being told that her intelligence paled in
the light of another.
And certainly not someone who was caught shagging Draco
Malfoy in a closet.
Frustrated, she gave her hair one final yank. It was too
much to bear.
As the sun dipped behind the trees, Hermione dejectedly rose
to her feet. In the distance she saw Hagrid coming out of his cabin, Fang
yapping at his heels. It only took the half-giant two seconds or so to cover
the great distance between them, though this might have been because he was ten
feet tall, and had legs that moonlighted as tree trunks.
"And what is botherin' yeh, that yeh need to sit by the
lake alone, fightin' with your hair?" he said as he threw a huge arm
around her shoulders. Hermione looked up at him, and smiled. At least Hagrid
wouldn't change too drastically on her, if at all.
"Oh, just the usual," she replied with a smile.
"WHY, what did Ron do now?"
"Ha, nothing, and that's what's so annoying…He won't
even talk to me!"
"He'll start soon enough, trust me." Hagrid gazed
at the retreating sunlight. "Alrigh', off with yeh, get back into yer
common room, as they'll be doin' the countin' soon. It's getting late and I
don't want Dumbledore angry at me".
Hermione obeyed, thanking him for valuing her privacy. With
one last wistful look at the lake, she slowly retreated back to the Castle.
***
If it seemed like nothing was going right lately, then
obviously, it was due to the fact that Harry's best friends had been abducted
by aliens, and replaced with creepy, hyper-emotional clones. Ron didn't know
what aliens or clones were, but Hermione didn't appreciate the metaphor at all.
But that didn't matter, since the two were fighting, again, to the point of
avoiding each other, a situation that created a problem for Harry, who didn't
appreciate being stuck in the middle of a battle, again. And to top it all off,
Ron had actually gotten it into his head that somehow Harry and Hermione were
together.
Harry had to admit that the current circumstances did not
help any; in fact, they were probably just the thing that had given birth to
his best friend's theory. But neither he nor Hermione had asked for the
"privilege" of being on the special task force Dumbledore had set up
as of late; for Harry, in fact, it was simply necessary that he be able to protect
himself as well as he possibly could, against Voldemort or anyone else who
could and would try to hurt him.
Harry groaned. He didn't usually feel sorry for himself, but
lately it felt like things were even more out of control than usual. As a rule,
he never preferred being stuck with the Dursleys over being at Hogwarts, but
what with another generation of students entering Hogwarts - yet another 200
kids who'd grown up hearing the name Harry Potter spoken with complete and
total reverence - Harry wanted to go somewhere where he wasn't someone,
somewhere where it wasn't so obvious that he was a target. The pressure of
being The Boy Who Lived combined with a far more real threat of death hanging
over him was getting to be too much to bear, and both Ron and Hermione were so
wrapped up in their respective problems (whatever they might be) that they
didn't really have the emotional stamina to deal with Harry's problems.
Harry quickly sat up from his chair where he had spent the
after-dinner hours attempting to tackle the Potions formula Snape had assigned.
He scanned the common room for any sign of Ron or Hermione, but neither had
returned. Ron had gone off somewhere with his brothers and Lee and Hermione was
once again on one of her research crusades in the library. Without either one,
he had to admit that he did feel a bit out of place in the common room at
present, where groups of students were gathered talking animatedly to each
other. Glancing down at his blank scroll, Harry decided to make a quick run to
the library to find Hermione. After all, he needed to talk to someone and he
also had a feeling that she would have confessed something earlier today if it
hadn't been for Ron.
Hermione'll understand me, he thought, gathering up his
books. He had to acknowledge that Ron was never a swell hand at dealing with
things that weren't fun and games: especially after the Triwizard Tournament
last year, Harry knew that Ron regularly got jealous of all the attention Harry
received.
Knowing Ron, Harry thought, he'd chalk up
anything I say as a hero's useless worries.
With that, he left the Gryffindor common room without a backward glance.
***
Alex had been sitting in the library for what seemed like a
millennia. She was tired but satisfied. She was also happy, as no one had
bothered her while she had been there. Of course, the library had been nearly
empty during the afternoon, given that it was only the first day of term.
Sleepily, she looked around the room. She could see a
handful of Ravenclaws sprinkled among the shelves, avidly reading books to get
ahead in their classes, as always.
She smiled. Some things never change, she thought,
absentmindedly picking up a book in front of her. She was so involved in her
thoughts that she didn't notice anyone else walk in.
"Um…excuse me", said a voice behind her, easily
startling her.
"What is it?, she asked, annoyed that someone had
interrupted her silent reverie.
She slowly turned around. Harry Potter! Why is he talking
to me? She thought.
"Have you seen Hermione anywhere? She said she was heading here right after dinner?"
Harry searched the Slytherin's face. He hadn't known anyone
else in the library.
"Well, sorry to inform you, but she hasn't stepped foot
in this library since I've been here. And I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have
missed her if she came in; it's been so empty that Madame Pince has spent most
of the afternoon forlornly staring at the door."
"Poor Pince," Harry replied, smiling.
"Thanks, anyway."
"No problem". Alex picked up the copy she had
placed on the table and resumed reading.
"Um…Alexandra?"
Harry's voice startled her once again, especially since he
had addressed her so formally. Looking up, Alex realized he had not moved an
inch.
"Yes?"
"Do you think you could help me with this potions equation?
That is, if you don't mind, of course. Hermione usually helps me with these but
since she's not here and there is no one else around…."
"Oh, so that's why the high and mighty Harry Potter
decided to speak to me, then? Couldn't possibly figure things out on
your own like the rest of us, can't you?"
She cut him off before he could continue. She hadn't meant
to sound so bitter, but she had to admit that she was a little bit hurt. His
request had reminded her of how every single person who had ever spoken to her
before during her Hogwarts career always had an ulterior motive.
Madam Pince glared at them from her desk, a warning that
they were getting too loud for the three other people in the library to
concentrate.
"No need to get snippy, thank you," Harry hissed.
"Jeez, I was just asking for help, not a kidney. And you can quit with
that "high and mighty Harry Potter" crap right now, because it's
getting quite old."
Alex bit her lip. Harry was looking at her fiercely, as if
he wanted a fight. She sighed.
"Look, I'm sorry. I'm just sick of being used by
people, ok? I DO have feelings you know. Or, you don't know, because you don't
know me. But I do. And I'm sick of people assuming things," Alex replied.
Harry simply looked at her.
"So am I," he said.
"Well, let's try this again. Yes, I will help you with
your Potions homework…but on one condition: if you help me with my Muggle
Studies paper. I mean, I know you live with your muggle relatives, and might
have some insights. Because we all know that my housemates aren't what one
would exactly call experts on the subject…and my family isn't necessarily the
norm, you see."
Harry smiled wryly at her. "Oh, and mine is. Either
way, it's a deal. So, what's the topic, anyway?" he asked, sitting down
next to her.
"Well", she began, "I'm researching Road
Dahl's perception of magic. It is actually quite interesting, considering so
many Muggle children have read his books. And that so many of his books have
been made into movies."
"Yeah…I remember watching "The Witches" on TV
once, scared the crap out of me…though the BFG had it right, don't you think? I
mean, not necessarily with the BFG himself, but real giants are rather vicious.
I always liked the part where he described how people tasted, like how people
from Panama tasted like hats-"
"Yeah, and people from Wales tasted like boots…what
were some others?" Alex said, sitting back on her seat.
Harry shrugged. "I don't remember…but I bet people from
India would taste like curry."
"Yeah, and people from China would taste like tea. And
people from France would taste like…"
"Wine! Or cheese. Or maybe people from Denmark would
taste like cheese. Don't they make cheese in Denmark? A shrug from Alex,
"Either way, people from Germany would taste like sausages. And people from
Russia would taste like vodka…and people from Italy would taste like
olives."
"No, tomatoes. And people from Turkey would taste like
turkey…" Alex broke off, laughing. Harry by this time was almost on the
floor, rolling with laughter, drawing a razor-sharp look and a harrumph
from Madam Pince. They quieted down, returning to their seats.
"And people from America would taste like…yikes, what
would people from America taste like?"
"Girl-scout stew," Alex answered. In response to
Harry's quizzical glance, she smiled.
"In America, we have this group, called the Girl
Scouts. It's where girls get together and camp, and do crafts, and such. Except
when I was younger, and where I lived, we didn't so much camp as have
sleep-overs at someone's house, and all the girls would play with each others'
hair and sigh about NKOTB, and all."
"Sounds like Lavender and Parvati's kind of
party", Harry muttered.
Alex laughed at Harry's eye-rolling. "Right…either way,
girl-scout soup is where you take a bunch of different soups, and put them all
together, and cook it, and eat it."
Harry looked horrified.
"It's not that bad. It's not like you're mixing
gazpacho and borsht," Alex laughed. "Anyway, yeah…" she said,
sitting back once again. An uncomfortable silence settled down over the library
table, as though there were something each wanted to say, but couldn't.
"You know, I wanted to apologize for my behavior
yesterday at the meeting. I thought all Slytherins were out to get me, and
thus, sucked," Harry said, breaking the silence. Alex looked up,
surprised.
"All Slytherins do suck. I'm still not sure why I was
put in that house. Probably because I mouthed off to the hat, but still…I don't
fit in there at all. Especially since I'm not pure-blooded," she replied,
matter-of-factly.
Behind her blasé veneer, however, Harry saw a great deal of
pain, probably stemming from the troubles she'd had in her house. Harry
couldn't imagine living in a house where everyone hated him. Well, he thought,
at Hogwarts anyway. Having Hogwarts be such a trial along with the Dursley's
surely would have been his undoing. I guess I got pretty lucky, he thought.
"You know, I was almost put in Slytherin…" he
said. He realized that he hadn't told anyone his age about that until now,
something that shocked him.
Alex looked at him with shock, which was soon followed by
sadness.
"I wish you had. At least then, I would have had
someone to talk to," she said bitterly.
Harry looked away, feeling guilty for some reason.
"But your home life is ok?" he asked.
"Oh, gosh, the only thing that sustains me through the
school year is the thought of going home," she said, wringing her hands.
"My sister and brother would have probably come here too, but my mother
divorced my father, and so now they live in the States, and go to school
there," she added.
"…see, for me it's the exact opposite. This is the
place that sustains me while I live with my aunt, uncle, and fat ugly
cousin," he said bitterly. "They hate me, and the fact that my
parents were magical, and until I turned eleven, tried to keep that, as well as
the fact that I was a wizard, from me."
"Jeez. I honestly don't see how anyone could hate you.
Not kissing your butt here, but you're not a psychopath, or even arrogant or
pissy, even after all the hoopla…" Alex stopped, and shrugged.
"Well, they don't like magic, and are afraid of it, I
guess. So they took that fear out on me, especially after I started coming to
Hogwarts. The one thing I've found hard to reconcile is the notion that no one
is all bad, or all good. I'm certainly not, though everyone wants to think
that. The Dursleys, however, I can't think of even one redeeming quality about
them. They seem to be an complete waste of flesh."
"Well, the fact that you even tried to see the good in
them shows your superior character…you can always look at it like that,"
Alex replied. "I don't think I could be nearly that magnanimous."
"Well, Petunia's my mother's sister. Who likes to write
off family?"
"Petunia? Yikes." Alex said, grimacing.
"Yeah, I know. And she's exactly the way her name makes
her sound. Stuck up, prissy…"
"Jeez. How are you normal?"
"…I don't know... Am I normal?" Harry said,
grinning. Alex started laughing. More glares from Madame Pince, as learning
should not be fun, and ensuing laughter.
"No, I guess not…but then, no one who comes here
is…just look at Dumbledore. He has to be the craziest man I know," she
said, though certainly not in a derogatory manner.
"Yeah, but you know, the line between genius and crazy
is a very thin one," Harry said quietly.
"Sure. One he seems to negotiate quite well. Not like
other nutters we know…" Alex glanced at Harry to see his reaction, but he
was staring at her quizzically.
"You know, I was wondering, why didn't you cringe at
Voldemort's name? At the meeting, I mean. I thought I was the only one."
Alex shrugged. "I don't know. My grandmother says that
giving something a name makes it human, makes it real. Makes it weaker than if
you leave it without definition. Plus, the whole not-growing-up-in-the-magical-community-thing
really helped. I forget sometimes that I do it…even the kids in Slytherin don't
say his name…they're just as scared of him as everyone else, but most of the
time, only maintain their veneer of evil for their parents. That's how Draco
is, at least, how he is now, anyway."
"Draco? Oh yeah, that's right… you got kinda close with
him last night, didn't you," Harry said in a faintly accusing tone.
"Hey, don't get all accusing all of a sudden. I know
you don't like him, and I even know what happened last year in the train, but
if anyone has a reason to hate him, I do. He has humiliated me beyond belief
and now everyone thinks I'm a big tramp. And anyway, I didn't have sex with
him, not that I have anything to prove to you, so you can stop being mean about
it." Alex stood up, and started gathering her books. Harry simply watched
her, then caught himself.
"Look, I'm sorry. But Draco is constantly the bane of
my existence, and is the most arrogant wretch I know, not to mention a few
other things I wouldn't bring up in polite society…"
"Don't you think I know? I live with him. But I'm
telling you, something's changed. And Dumbledore wouldn't have put him on that
task-force-thingy if he thought that he couldn't be trusted," she said, sitting
back down.
"Jeez, You sound like Hermione."
"Then don't you think that she might be right?"
she said, softly.
"Please, she's lost her mind…"
"And I…what? Spent a night with Draco, so I'm
biased?"
"I didn't say that."
"You were thinking it."
"Was not."
"Were too."
"Was not!" he cried.
"Were too!" she yelled back. Madame Pince yelled
something unintelligible at them, and they quieted down.
"Oh yeah, what am I thinking now?" Harry
whispered, glaring at her.
Alex closed her eyes, and let the books fall from her arms,
startling Harry.
"You were thinking that I think I know everything, just
like Hermione does," she said, quietly. Harry fell out of his seat.
"You can read minds?" Harry asked, climbing back
into his chair.
"Only when I really concentrate. My grandmother can do
it without trying, but I'm not that good yet."
"You think that's why Dumbledore wants you on the team?
I've never heard of someone really mind-reading before. Other than on the
telly, but then, that's not real."
"Probably. But I'm also really good with
potions…Anyway, there aren't very many mind-readers in England. It's largely an
organic form of magic, if it's magic at all. The only people I've ever heard of
being able to do it are the indigenous people left in the Americas, and a few
of the tribes in Africa and the South Pacific. There's always the magic
practiced by Zen monks in Korea, China, and Japan, as well as the monks of
Tibet, but that's different, and is more about sensing emotions rather than
actual feelings…what?"
"What are you?"
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"I mean, where do you get all this stuff?"
"I read about it. Or my grandmother told me about it.
She's taught me everything I know. I learned some stuff from my grandfather,
but that was darker stuff, and he was smart, he didn't teach me anything really
dangerous."
"What do you mean, darker stuff?"
"Well, he was a Santeria priest-"
"What's Santeria?"
"Well, most people call it voodoo, but it's not all
cutting heads off of chickens and drinking their blood or anything like that.
Only the darkest magic calls for living blood, and that's the case with any
sort of magic…either way, it's kind of an amalgamation of traditional magic,
and the more organic, tribal stuff from Africa. My grandpa was basically a wizard,
though both he and my grandmother aren't accredited or anything."
"But I though America had schools for magic, for as
long as there were people there."
"Yeah, but they were only for white people. Things in
America have always been different, and what with slavery, people were
socialized to consider anyone colored simply less smart, less pretty, less
everything. Desegregation in magical schools happened the same time
desegregation in the normal schools happened, since the President of the United
States has jurisdiction over their Ministry of Magic as well."
"You mean that your President is a wizard?"
"No, no way is Bill Clinton a wizard. But Teddy
Roosevelt was. And so was FDR, but they were cousins, so that helps. And I
heard that FDR was notoriously lax in his education, so he wasn't that hot with
a wand, if you know what I mean."
"Wow. So your grandma and grandpa weren't allowed to
study magic then?"
"Well, they learned from their grandparents and
parents. But no, they weren't allowed any official schooling."
"Wow." Harry sat back in his chair, digesting all
this. Alex turned away, staring at the books in front of her. Her family's
history was something she'd never shared with anyone; in fact, she'd never had
a conversation this long with anyone before, other than Draco, but that was
only under duress.
She turned and smiled at Harry.
"Ready to work on your Potions?" she asked. Harry
grimaced.
"About as ready as I'll ever be."
***
Hermione had decided by the time she got to the common room
that she would confront Ron about his problem. She was already sick of his
huffy silences and stomping around indignantly, but the added tension his
tantrum had brought between the three of them was getting too much to bear.
There was already enough drama in the school without Ron adding to it.
She spotted Ron in the common room, horsing around with his
brothers.
"RON!" she cried, standing at the entrance.
Everything, and everyone, in the room froze. "Come here. Now," she
said, folding her arms across her chest.
Ron got up from where he'd been pinned by Fred and George,
and walked over to her, trying to look mad. "Get that look off your face
now, and come with me," she said, and walked out the room.
"Ooh, Ronnie-kins is in twubble wid his widdle
girlfweind…" Fred or George trilled, laughing as he left.
"Shut it, Weasley!" they heard Hermione yell from
the other side of the portrait hole. "And that means you, Fred!" Fred
and George stared in astonishment; no one had ever been able to tell them apart
before, especially not by their voice.
Once in the library, Hermione turned back around, and faced
Ron.
"What is your problem?"
"What do you mean, what's my problem?" Ron asked
back, crossing his arms as well.
Hermione threw her arms in the air, frustrated.
"You've been moping around like a complete diva since
we got back to Hogwarts, and I want to know why," she replied.
"What do you care?"
"First of all, why are you answering my questions with
questions? What are you trying to hide? And second of all, what the hell do you
mean, why do I care? I'm your friend, aren't I? If you're unhappy, I'm unhappy,
and I'm sick of being unhappy, so 'fess up!"
Ron sighed, and stared at the ground, and then looked back
up at her.
"Hermione, I-"
"What the hell is that?" Hermione hissed, pointing
at Harry and Alex giggling and laughing at a table not far away. Ron took a
deep breath, and plunged on.
"Hermione! I like you!"
Of all the things Ron could have said, this had to be the
only thing that would have grabbed Hermione's attention away from Harry and
that Slytherin girl. She turned and stared at Ron, who grabbed her shoulders
and kissed her full on the lips.
~~
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