...
A/N: Dropping a quick note here to thank everyone still following along for their patience and understanding with my slower-than-usual updates. Apart from general life business, I've been working through my first serious case of writer's block (yay?), and am having trouble getting words out that I don't immediately hate. I truly appreciate everyone who has willingly come this far with me - it's the best sort of encouragement.
Anyway, cracking on with the next chapter!
-SS
...
It came as no surprise that whispers of the confrontation between Hermione and Runcorn had spread throughout the entire school before breakfast the following day. Harry and Ron, after overcoming their own shock, remained steadfastly by her side, rebuffing attempts from other students to question her about the incident. Hermione hoped it would blow over quickly - she couldn't afford to draw any more scrutiny from Umbridge right now.
Professor McGonagall held her back after double Transfiguration that morning to receive a firsthand account.
"And this class is scheduled to meet every Wednesday evening?" McGonagall asked. "With Albert Runcorn, who has been appointed as adjunct faculty for this singular purpose?"
"Yes," Hermione confirmed.
Nostrils flaring, McGonagall sat down hard behind her desk and continued to probe Hermione with questions about the class and teacher. Her answers felt less than satisfactory, given that she'd only spent approximately ten minutes in the room before being dismissed. Hermione was shocked to realise that the other teachers hadn't known of the existence of this class in the first place.
"How is it allowed, Professor?" she asked McGonagall, who was looking severe behind her square-shaped glasses. "Surely this has nothing to do with our education? Can we appeal with the Ministry?"
McGonagall's lips thinned. After a moment's pause, she shoved a tin of biscuits forward on her desk. When Hermione didn't immediately take one, she gestured forward irritably.
"Have a biscuit."
Hermione gingerly reached out to select one, murmuring her thanks. She munched on it quietly while McGonagall sat silently, a deep frown etching her features.
Clasping her hands together on the desk, McGonagall finally spoke. "I do not yet know what can be done, but I intend to investigate. I am still Deputy Headmistress, after all, and this appears to be an egregious abuse of position."
"You aren't upset with me, then?" Hermione asked, twisting her hands in her lap.
McGonagall's brow furrowed. "Heavens, no. But Miss Granger, you need to exercise caution. This is a very delicate situation, and we cannot afford to allow it to come to a head while the balance is still so extraordinarily out of our favour. You know this already, but in light of recent events, it bears repeating."
"Yes, Professor," Hermione replied, forcing herself to meet McGonagall's eyes.
McGonagall held her gaze a moment more before nodding in approval.
Hermione was very nearly late to Arithmancy after eating a hurried lunch. She barreled into the classroom, arriving just behind Professor Vector, who favoured her with a smile. Hermione returned it, trying not to look too guilty. Thankfully, it seemed Dumbledore hadn't felt the need to enlighten Professor Vector about Hermione's use of Polyjuice Potion at the end of last year.
She was also relieved to see that Malfoy was in his usual spot, sans Theo. A quick scan around showed Theo sitting alone near the back corner, his head buried in a thick text lying open in front of him. Sparing a frown for him, Hermione dropped her bag at Malfoy's feet and slid into the chair next to him. He looked up with a smirk.
"Cutting it close today, Granger," Malfoy whispered. "Trying to earn yourself another detention?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "No. Is Theo angry with me?"
Malfoy's mouth tightened.
"No," he finally muttered. "He's angry with me."
"But why-"
Malfoy shook his head, pointing to the blackboard where Professor Vector was beginning to copy out notes for today's lesson. Hermione let out an irritable huff before digging out her supplies. Malfoy failed to conceal another tiny smirk as he bent his head back over his notes.
As soon as class ended, Hermione surreptitiously poked her foot through the strap on Malfoy's bag. When Malfoy reached for it, he tugged several times before bending to look under the desk. Seeing the strap wrapped around her ankle, he snorted softly.
"Subtle," he murmured as the room slowly emptied around them. Hermione flashed him a smirk of her own.
She turned to him as soon as Professor Vector had disappeared into her office.
"What's going on with Theo?"
Malfoy scowled. "Why don't you ask him?"
"Because I can't seem to manage more than a single word before he's running away from me. Or pretending not to notice me in the first place. He hasn't so much as looked at me since we've been back."
Malfoy folded his arms across his chest. He took a deep breath.
"Theo…" he began slowly, "Theo's had a change of heart."
Hermione frowned. "What does that mean?"
"Look, it's not my place to…" he trailed off, irritation flashing briefly across his features. "Just let him be, Granger. If he wants to speak with you, he will."
"I don't understand," she insisted. "What do you know? What changed?"
"I don't know," Malfoy said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. When they fell back to the desk, he began absently twisting the ring on his little finger. "I don't know. He was fine every time I saw him over the summer, until one day he wasn't. It happened about the time Crouch showed up."
"Why would that matter?"
"Because Crouch is staying at the Nott estate."
Hermione gasped. "Do you think he's under the Imperius, then?"
"No," Malfoy said firmly. "It's not that. Theo had little to no trouble throwing off the Imperius last year, even before the Occlumency training."
Hermione nibbled her bottom lip while she thought that over. Did the Order know that Crouch was staying at the Nott estate? Surely if Snape knew, the Order knew… right?
She remembered something else. "Why were the two of you arguing the other day? Before Care of Magical Creatures?" she asked.
Malfoy suddenly looked uncomfortable. His hands stilled. "Just a small disagreement. I'd rather not get into it."
"Okay," Hermione said slowly, noticing the stiff set of his shoulders. She reached down to scoop up Malfoy's bag in one hand, holding it out for him to take. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry."
He inclined his head once in acknowledgement, accepting her offering.
Deciding that, for now, it was best to follow Malfoy's advice, Hermione gave up on trying to speak with Theo whenever they passed in the corridors or during their shared classes. She missed his good-natured banter and easygoing presence, but Malfoy had promised that he would try to help Theo however he could. With so much on her plate this year already, that solution would have to suffice for the time being. She was beginning to feel as if this were third year all over again.
If there was an upside to any of it, it was that Theo's absence suddenly afforded her the opportunity to get to know Daphne during Ancient Runes. Daphne turned out to be a wonderful conversationalist, and Hermione quickly learned that although she was soft-spoken, Daphne was by no means unsociable. She always had a smile at the ready, and seemed to have a knack for making others feel comfortable. In fact, Daphne was so different than she'd expected, Hermione was utterly shocked to learn that her best friend was Pansy Parkinson.
"Pansy?" Hermione repeated one day before class. "Did you just say you and Pansy went on holiday to Capri over the summer?"
"That's right," Daphne said, smiling brilliantly.
Hermione tilted her head in utter bewilderment. "But I never see you together."
Daphne just laughed. "Well, Pansy has a lot of friends."
At Hermione's incredulous look, Daphne simply shrugged. Shaking her head, Hermione let the subject drop.
Every evening for the remainder of the week, Hermione dutifully, if sullenly, went down to the Potions classroom to serve her detention for Umbridge. On the last of those, she'd crawled halfway into an enormous cauldron tipped on its side when Snape found her.
"Miss Granger."
Startled by his sudden presence, a muffled oath slipped past her lips and her head banged on the rim. She winced both for the pain and for the thought of molasses likely coating the back of her hair now. Eyes watering, she backed out to look up at him.
"Sir?"
His lip curled into a sneer. "I see that you've not even managed to finish half of the school inventory. While you may not mind lazing about down here, I've grown rather tired of waiting. I cannot have you taking up my entire classroom every evening for the remainder of term. You will finish the rest tonight, or I shall have to inform the Headmistress of your negligence."
Hermione gaped at him. "But, sir, I can't possibly-"
Snape cut her off. "I simply cannot be bothered to care how you manage to accomplish this. And Miss Granger? Do not let me find you serving detention again. I can assure you, it will be much worse for you should it become a common occurrence."
He looked down on her coldly, black eyes glittering in the torchlight, before turning away with a swish of his cloak. He was gone in a matter of seconds, closing his office door loudly enough to reverberate around the empty classroom.
Hermione's disbelief quickly turned to outrage. How dare he? If he wanted it done faster, he should have… a small object lying close to where Snape had just been standing gave her pause.
Her wand.
She'd been required to turn it into Snape each evening before detention, only to get it back when she was finished for the night.
Smiling to herself, Hermione made quick work of the rest of the cauldrons, musing on Umbridge's unwitting thoughtfulness in arming her with the necessary cleaning charms beforehand.
It had been, admittedly, a disastrous first week. Even with Snape's unexpected act of mercy, Hermione's homework level remained in an uncharacteristically desperate state. It seemed that no amount of volatility at Hogwarts would be enough for the professors to forget that it was their O.W.L. year; she left every single class with at least one more assignment to add to the mounting pile. Despite everything, she found herself falling into somewhat of a regular routine, with a few notable changes.
Around Hermione's birthday, Umbridge began making good on her promise to inspect the Hogwarts professors. She appeared at random to sit in on several of their classes, usually to spend the period lurking silently in a corner of the room and scribbling notes on a clipboard. For the most part, lessons carried on as if she weren't there at all. There were subtle signs, though, that Umbridge's presence hadn't gone unnoticed. Professor McGonagall's stony expression never softened, and Professor Flitwick sounded rather squeakier than usual. Snape even managed to take a combined fifty points from Gryffindor in the span of a single period, though Hermione was slightly more forgiving of his ire than she might have been. The only teacher who seemed completely unaffected was Professor Grubbly-Plank - Hermione supposed the stakes were lower when one wasn't expecting to retain the position permanently anyway.
Against all odds, Umbridge continued to introduce new measures to 'improve upon' the existing institutions at Hogwarts. Hermione recently discovered that the Ministry had passed a barrage of what they were calling Educational Decrees, all in the name of ensuring that the Ministry had a hand in the goings-on at the school. In the twenty-third of those, Umbridge had been appointed 'Hogwarts High Inquisitor', which explained her mission to inspect the teachers. The whole business had very obviously begun as a contingency plan to insert Umbridge into the school's authority hierarchy in case Dumbledore had remained as Headmaster.
Hermione also soon learned the meaning behind the new badge pinned to Malfoy's chest; Umbridge herself had handpicked a group of students to become part of what she called her Inquisitorial Squad. These students reported directly to the Headmistress, and had the ability to dock an unlimited number of House points, even from other prefects. They still had to consult Umbridge before inflicting detentions, but it was only a matter of formality. Every one of the students selected seemingly had ties to the Ministry or seemed particularly sympathetic towards the Ministry's aims.
The most infuriating part was that out of all the students she'd chosen, only Malfoy and one other seventh year Slytherin had been prefects in the first place - there were now upwards of fifteen additional people given authority over the regular student body. It completely flouted the established system wherein power was awarded by the merits of leadership and responsibility. It was also terribly confusing; what would happen if a prefect and a member of the Inquisitorial Squad had a difference of opinion? It seemed they would have to confront this very issue upon tidying up their materials after Potions the next day.
"Ron, pass me that vial of salamander blood, will you?" Harry asked, carefully arranging several other bottles back into the miniature rack in front of him.
Across the table, Ron reached for the vial. Instead of sliding it across the worktop, as someone with a fully-developed prefrontal cortex might, he drew his arm back and lobbed it overhead. It went several metres wide of Harry to smash on the floor at Pansy's feet over at the next table.
Ron looked on in horror as the vial's contents soaked through the hem of Pansy's robes. Pansy turned around slowly, eyes glittering.
"Destroying school property and personal belongings, Weasley?" she said coolly, sweeping her eyes over the mess of shattered glass and remnants of salamander blood. "I think that requires at least a few points in damages, don't you?"
A coyle smile stretching her lips, Pansy delicately tapped the silver badge on her robes with a crimson-painted fingernail. "Yes, I think five points is more than fair. I won't even give you detention this time. Come over and clean this up, and maybe I'll even let you keep the points."
"Shove off, Parkinson," Ron said with a glare. "I don't have to take orders from you."
Pansy inspected her nails, laughing lightly. "Oh, alright. Any preferences for serving your detention this evening?"
Hermione interjected. "That's ridiculous. You can't set Ron detention for accidentally smashing a vial."
Pansy shot her an icy look. "Do you want to try me, Granger?" she hissed. "I think you'll find Headmistress Umbridge far more supportive of my authority. As I've heard it, you haven't exactly been the model prefect lately. And she chose me. She got stuck with you."
Hermione closed her mouth angrily. Arguing was no use, it'd only give Pansy the chance to prove herself right. Over Pansy's head, Malfoy appeared frozen where he and Goyle had been cleaning their station, as if he were listening to the exchange happening behind him.
Pansy's coquettish smile reappeared as she turned back to Ron, beckoning him over. "Come here, Weasley. I won't bite. Not yet, anyway."
Snarling, Ron snatched a rag off of the table and stomped over next to Pansy. He sank to the floor and began sweeping up shards of vial and thick globs of blood. Pansy stood over him the entire time, delighting in pointing out several spots he had missed.
While Harry and Hermione finished clearing the worktop and packing up their belongings, Pansy instructed Ron on a charm to use for her robes (Hermione had to force herself to unclench her jaw in a fury at how useful these charms had proven as of late). When Ron had used his wand to syphon the last of the blood off of Pansy's robes, she ripped the fabric out of his grip with a flourish. Ron looked up sharply, face contorted in a sneer.
"Happy, then?" he spat. "Do I get to keep my points after all?"
Pausing as if to admire something, Pansy smirked down at him, tapping a thoughtful finger to her lips. "You know, I quite like you on your knees for me, Weasley. It suits you."
Ron's mouth fell open as his face turned a brilliant shade of red. Hermione exchanged stunned looks with Harry. What was Pansy playing at?
Still blushing furiously, Ron pushed hurriedly to his feet and stormed back to their table, muttering under his breath. Behind a grinning Pansy, Malfoy's shoulders were shaking as he packed up his bag.
"Good thing you're going for Keeper instead of Chaser, mate," Harry said later, nodding gravely. "That was a rubbish shot."
Ron punched him on the shoulder. "Git."
Professor McGonagall called Hermione into her office again to inform her that the lessons with Runcorn would, unfortunately, continue for the foreseeable future. Determined not to let her anger get the best of her again, Hermione was careful to maintain a passive presence in all subsequent classes now. She situated herself at the desk closest to the door, staying as far away from Runcorn as possible. Despite this, he seemed to enjoy calling on her to answer questions as often as he could plausibly get away with. Hermione kept her responses perfunctory, all the while stewing silently in her chair.
She'd filled out the genealogical chart with the bare minimum amount of information. Much of the class had owled home requesting help with their charts, but having taken an interest in tracing her ancestry several years earlier, Hermione already had the required knowledge. And after an arduous internal debate, she ultimately decided against fabricating her family tree for the assignment. There was no telling what exactly the Ministry planned to do with this information, and if they found out she'd lied, it could call unwanted attention down on a delicate situation. There would be questions she couldn't answer, and the scrutiny on her actions would increase tenfold. She had to trust that the precautions already taken with her parents would continue to be enough.
At least McGonagall's intervention had changed one thing for the better; after a slew of entirely transparent assignments such as surveys, spellcasting demonstrations, and even wand inspections, Runcorn was now throwing a few useful bits into the mix. Hermione knew it was only a cover for the Ministry's true intentions, but she couldn't pretend to be uninterested when Runcorn began a lecture on magical signatures as they related to both families and individuals.
In addition to Umbridge's extra lessons and prefect duties, Hermione continued to meet with Malfoy once a week in the Room of Requirement. She was steadily improving her Occlumency, even succeeding in pushing Malfoy out of her mind on more than one occasion. Most embarrassingly, she found herself actually looking forward to his praise each time she showed progress. Of course, he never failed to remind her that he was an inexperienced Legilimens by comparison.
During their practice sessions, she also taught him what she knew of the Patronus Charm. He never gave his reasons for wanting to learn, and Hermione never asked. He picked up the essentials quickly, consistently able to produce wisps of silver with each attempt. When it came to producing the more advanced corporeal form, though, he floundered the same as she had.
At the end of their session one Friday evening, Malfoy kicked at a weathered cupboard in frustration. It collapsed in a pile of dust.
"I don't get it," he growled, stalking back over to stand next to her.
Hermione watched her lioness prowl a moment longer. Initially worried that she wouldn't be able to summon it with Malfoy watching, she'd been relieved to discover that it was no trouble at all. In fact, it was unexpectedly easy to cast in comparison to the previous attempts on her own - perhaps she had improved more than she'd realised. With a small pang of regret, she let the Patronus vanish.
"Perhaps we just need to find a life or death situation to overcome your block?"
The look he threw at her said he was unimpressed with the suggestion. "Be serious, Granger."
"I am," she replied, fighting a smile. "That's what finally worked for me. Harry, too."
His mouth twisted into a sneer. "I wouldn't call a couple of fake dementors on the Quidditch pitch 'life or death'. Although, it would serve Scarhead right if he fell for that."
It took Hermione's brain a few seconds to catch up to what Malfoy was talking about. When it did, she burst out laughing.
"Oh my god," she gasped, clutching at her sides. "I'd completely forgotten about that. Didn't you-weren't you standing on Goyle's shoulders?" she asked between fits of giggles. "Then Harry-he cast his Patronus-knocked you all down-still caught the snitch." Her laughter overcame her once more.
Malfoy glowered at her, looking more like his younger self than ever.
"It was a joke," he grumbled.
Hermione took a steadying breath and shook her head fondly. "Oh, give over, Malfoy. I don't need Legilimency to know that's a lie. We both know you just can't stand the thought of Harry winning."
"Spot on assessment, Granger," Malfoy drawled. "But I'll remind you that Gryffindor was playing Ravenclaw that day."
"Yes, well, I just meant it in general, but especially if it's against you…"
Comprehension struck.
"Malfoy…" she began, "is that why you want to learn to cast a Patronus?"
Malfoy quickly schooled his features into indifference, but the flash of a grimace had given him away.
Hermione nodded slowly to herself. "I'm right, aren't I? Everyone made such a big deal about Harry being able to cast one, then you heard about what happened over summer and everyone was talking about it again… You want to be able to cast it because Harry can."
A dangerous gleam entered his eyes. Malfoy stepped forward, inadvertently crowding her back against the wall.
His voice was soft. Deadly. "Oh? And you've got me all figured out, have you?"
Her back made contact with the cool stone, but Hermione didn't back down.
"Yes," she replied simply. She held his pale gaze with her own, daring him to take another step forward. Willing him to.
A muscle in his jaw jumped, but he remained otherwise still. Neither of them had drawn a wand.
"Well, Granger, despite what you think-"
Hermione suddenly reached up a hand, smoothing the crease between his brows with a few delicate brushes of her thumb. His eyes flew open wide and his lips parted, accompanied by a sharp intake of air.
"It doesn't matter," she said softly, "it doesn't matter if that's why you want to learn. But you should know that you are worth more than your abilities. And there is no shortage of those in the first place."
As Hermione dropped her hand, she allowed the pads of her fingertips to trail lightly down his cheek. He shuddered faintly under her touch.
As if he were forming a response, Malfoy ran the tip of his tongue across his bottom lip, but no sound emerged. Mere moments had passed, but the silence seemed to stretch for an eternity. He was close enough that she could feel light puffs of air atop her hair with every short breath he released. Air suddenly thick between them, Hermione found that she couldn't look away. His gaze was intense, demanding to be met. The crease between his brows that she had just taken pains to remove furrowed again as he sought something within her eyes. Understanding, perhaps. Or permission?
Abruptly, his eyes darkened.
Her heartbeat thudded loudly in her ears, and something warm and heavy gathered low in her abdomen. Her breath quickened of its own accord. Without realising it, she'd pushed forward on to her toes, bringing their faces unnaturally close. Temptingly close. She couldn't think clearly through the haze of want enveloping her, couldn't determine if this should be allowed to happen again. There was no logic now, only instinct. Her heart leapt traitorously as Malfoy's gaze dropped to her mouth.
In the span of a blink, he was gone.
Startled, Hermione blinked again, finding him several feet back from where he'd been standing before. His posture was rigid, and the tightness around his eyes had returned.
She felt cold. It was all too reminiscent of a similar, yet entirely different, encounter last year.
Malfoy cleared his throat, roughly raking a hand through his hair. He looked off to the side as the words spilled out of him. "I… have to go. I'll see you later, yeah? Don't forget to take the Calming Draught."
Somehow, Malfoy even managed to look graceful when practically sprinting for the door.
Do something.
Limbs frozen with a heaviness akin to being hit with a full Body-Bind, it took Hermione a few moments to get her feet moving. She lurched forward, hand outstretched.
"Malfoy, wait-"
But the door shut firmly behind him.
Well, she would not run after him. She had more dignity than that, for Merlin's sake.
Deciding instead to take a page out of Malfoy's book, Hermione placed a well-aimed kick at a nearby crate to vent her feelings. It tipped over, sending the cracked bust of a truly hideous warlock rolling off of the side. Immediately regretting her outburst, she replaced the battered statue on the crate and apologised (Malfoy was surely driving her mad now, wasn't he?), even sprucing it up with a tarnished old tiara she'd spotted for good measure. Satisfied with her work, she patted the stone head.
It was a curious thing to consider - at times, Hermione felt as if Malfoy made excuses to talk with her, even relished chances to be near her. Other times, he was inexplicably cold and distant. Sometimes he offered insight and information freely, but he grew more reticent by the day. She couldn't say for sure what it was that she hoped for, but she worried that even one wrong word could shatter this tenuous friendship.
His actions tonight were only the most recent example of this turbulent oscillation between control and abandon. Hermione didn't know what to make of it herself, only that she didn't dare think too long on the ridiculous fluttering in her stomach every time he so much as looked at her. There was too much at stake.
Intending to spend the rest of her evening finishing up an essay for Professor Binns, Hermione was taken aback when she entered the common room to a boisterous scene. It seemed all of Gryffindor House was inside, milling about and shouting exuberantly to each other over the din. Someone, almost certainly Fred or George, had nicked a platter of sweets from the kitchens, and somewhere a wireless was cranked up to play in the background. Ron was suddenly in her face, pressing a bottle of butterbeer into her hand.
"Hermione, I did it!" he yelled, his face flushed with excitement. "I made Keeper!"
Harry appeared behind Ron, grinning ear to ear.
"Oh, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, beaming and throwing her arms around his neck. "That's brilliant! Congratulations!"
"Thanks!" he shouted back as they broke apart. "I'll have to write Krum. Thank him for all those flying tips. Really came in useful tonight!"
Angelina appeared suddenly, clapping a hand on one of each of Harry's and Ron's shoulders. Her eyes were bright and she, too, wore a grin. "We'll be unstoppable this year with this lot! You should have seen him, Hermione - could give Wood a run for his money I'll reckon!"
Ron swelled under her praise.
Angelina then grasped Ron's upper arm firmly and began leading him away. "Come over here, Weasley, I want to see if Oliver's old robes will fit you -" Ron's step quickened eagerly.
Hermione turned to Harry with wide eyes. "Was he really that good?"
"Oh, yeah," Harry said, nodding seriously. "He outflew all the other candidates and saved every single shot. I was worried at the beginning of try-outs - he seemed really nervous - but once we got started his nerves were bugger all."
Hermione smiled. "That's wonderful, I'm so pleased for the both of you. I only wish I'd been there to see it."
Harry helpfully uncorked her bottle of butterbeer before he leaned in, dropping his voice. "Speaking of - were you in the Room of Requirement tonight?"
Hermione froze with the bottle halfway to her lips. "Why do you ask?"
Harry smirked knowingly. "Soon as Ron got the spot he wanted to come tell you the news. We stopped by the library and even knocked on the door to the prefect's lounge, but couldn't find you anywhere. When Ron was distracted by the celebrations, I ran upstairs to check the Map.
"Harry, you didn't," she reprimanded, smacking the back of her hand lightly across his chest. He chuckled.
"Sorry," he said disingenuously, lips still turned up at the corners. Cheeky prat. "But I figured that's where you must be since I doubted you'd left Hogwarts in the past few hours."
Hermione rolled her eyes and took a hearty swig of butterbeer in lieu of answering. Maybe Malfoy had the right of things when he'd called it spying before. She couldn't deny the Map's usefulness, though.
She scanned the room, smiling and waving to Ginny and Luna as they passed. Luna? Hermione looked back over her shoulder to watch Luna floating along behind Ginny towards the table full of snacks, looking for all the world like she belonged here.
Finally spotting an empty pair of plush armchairs in the corner, Hermione pushed her way through the crowd to where she could drop her things and get comfortable. Harry, dogged as ever about a mystery to solve, followed.
"Yes. I was in the Room," she said finally to his expectant look.
"Why?"
She sighed. "Does it matter?"
Harry shifted his chair closer to hear her over the noise. "Yes. You're being dodgy about it. Is everything okay?"
"Yes, everything is fine. Well, as fine as it can be for the year we're having. I've been…" she paused, wondering how much to tell Harry. Would he be angry? Would it change anything if he was? An echo of a memory floated to the forefront of her mind. One where she was leaning into Harry as they sat on the floor of a dusty storeroom. No more secrets. Out with it, then.
"I've been meeting Malfoy."
Harry's brows rose instantly. "Malfoy? Again?"
She nodded.
"I thought that was done with. Voldemort's back - what's the point of getting to know Malfoy now?"
Hermione licked her lips as she decided how to put this.
"It was never just about finding out how Voldemort would return," she said, ignoring Harry's narrowed eyes. "I wanted - I want - to give Malfoy a chance. To let him prove that he can be anything besides a pretentious, overgrown bully. And he's done that, hasn't he?"
Harry, who could only take her word for it, raised a sceptical brow.
"He has," she repeated firmly. "And we're still sort of… friends, I guess? Plus, his family is in the heart of Voldemort's regime. Remember what I told you and Ron about Hagrid? That was from Malfoy."
"So you're meeting him to get information?"
"Well, no - I'm meeting him so that he can teach me Occlumency." She left out the bit about the Patronus Charm.
"What? Why?"
"Because it can help me learn to resist the Imperius Curse," she said, giving Harry a significant look.
"Oh."
Harry kept up his interrogation, especially interested to know why Malfoy suddenly qualified as an Occlumency teacher. Hermione recalled certain events from last year that Snape had deemed damning enough to require it for both Malfoy and Theo (her heart twisted a little at the mention of Theo). Snape had taught them, same as he was teaching Harry now. They all needed to be kept safe from Voldemort.
"Okay…" Harry said finally, sitting back in his chair and tipping his glasses back into place. "That's it though, right? You're just meeting him for these lessons once a week? I don't like the idea of you being in there alone with him, no matter how different you say he is."
"That's all it is," she promised, only a hint of a blush creeping into her cheeks at the reminder of how very close it had come to something else tonight. "And don't you think I'm capable of taking care of myself?" she added a touch irritably.
Harry snorted softly. "Of course I do. I just don't trust him, Hermione. I know you've told us he did some arguably… decent… things last year, but he spent too long making our lives miserable at every turn. He's still the snobby Pureblood heir whose family is loyal to Voldemort, and all the baggage that comes with it. I don't want you to get hurt when it turns out that the same tosser was still hiding in there all along."
Hermione smiled sadly. "If, Harry. I'm being careful. You'll just have to trust me."
"It's still just weird," Harry said, making a face. "Friends with Malfoy…" he trailed off, shaking his head.
Unable to refute that, Hermione took another sip of her butterbeer.
"Anyway," she began, deciding to change the subject, "how are your Occlumency lessons going?"
Harry suddenly looked guilty, twisting his hands around his own bottle. "Er… not good."
"No?"
"They're bloody miserable. Snape's even more horrible when-" Harry cut off abruptly, eyes going oddly blank.
She leaned forward to look at him. "Harry?"
He sat rigidly in his chair, a hand clutching his stomach but a slow grin spreading over his face.
Waving a hand in front of his face, she spoke a little louder. "Harry? What is it?"
When he still didn't respond, she took hold of both of his hands in hers, giving them an urgent squeeze. Harry gave a start, the grin sliding quickly off of his features. She released him just in time as he turned over the side of his chair and vomited.
Nobody else seemed to have noticed amidst all the activity. Hermione stood quickly, vanishing the mess with her recently-perfected charm, and turned back to check on Harry. He groaned, dragging a hand over his forehead.
"What is it?" she repeated, nibbling her lip in concern.
"Scar," he grunted. "Voldemort's really happy about something."
"Harry, I thought you were closing your mind to him. Has this been happening often?"
"No. Well, sort of," he amended. "It's the first time I've been sick about it though. It doesn't… I don't think Voldemort and butterbeer get on." He gave a half-hearted chuckle, but Hermione was too worried to find the humour in it.
"What's he happy about?" she asked instead.
Harry shook his head, finally lowering hand. Underneath a light sheen of moisture, his face was pale. "Dunno. I expect it's nothing good, though."
"You should tell Dumbledore," she suggested.
"Can't, remember? He's keeping his distance for one. And you said Umbridge is going through all of our mail."
Hermione grimaced. "What about Sirius, then? You can use the mirror. He'd want to know - in fact, if it's something good for Voldemort, the whole Order might need to be on high alert."
Harry paused at that, eyes lighting with a sudden fervour. "Yeah… yeah I suppose you're right. I can help… The Order needs to know. I knew this could come in useful - see you later, Hermione!" And with that, Harry jumped up and tore off for the boys' dormitory. She watched him go with a small frown.
Once the festivities had died down, Hermione came back to the common room from her own dormitory to find Harry and Ron in their usual spots in front of the fireplace. Harry was spinning butterbeer corks for Crookshanks to chase, and Ron was hunched over a scrap of parchment with a quill between his lips. The common room was empty apart from a couple of second years huddled around a table in the opposite corner. She noticed that Ron still wore Oliver Wood's old Quidditch robes. And was he completing homework on a Friday night? How unusual.
"Alright, Harry? Ron?" she asked, settling in and setting her knitting needles to work in midair.
Intensely focused on whatever he was doing, Ron didn't look up.
"Much better," Harry said, leaning back with a sigh. "Ron agreed telling Sirius was the right move, and Sirius said they're going to keep an eye on things."
She nodded once. "Good. Um… Ron? Harry already knows, so I figured you should as well…" and when Ron finally looked up from his task, she proceeded to tell him everything she'd already told Harry about Occlumency lessons with Malfoy. To her surprise, he didn't look angry at all.
He still frowned. "And you said he was the one who told you what Crabbe meant about Hagrid?"
"Yes."
Ron chewed on the end of his quill as he thought. "Hm. Well, that's alright then. If you can get inside information against You-Know-Who, I say go for it. Keep on with project Malfoy-"
"-he's not a project-"
"-s'long as me and Harry don't have to join. Anyway, what do you think would annoy Pansy the most? Something obvious like Bulbadox powder in her robes, or maybe having her quills constantly disappearing? I think I'm coming along with McGonagall's Vanishing Charm well enough to manage those…" Ron dropped his eyes back to the paper, frowning once more. "Fred and George have those Nosebleed Nougats sorted, but I don't think she'd take one from me…"
Hermione looked incredulously at Harry. He shrugged in return.
Smirking, Ron scribbled something on the paper, then dropped his quill. "Eh, maybe I'll just ignore her again. That worked a charm last time."
Harry grinned at him. "Cheers, mate."
Settling back to observe the progress of the needles flashing before her, Hermione rolled her eyes at the pair of them.