The Strangest Conversation

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Mildly femmeslashy Hermione/Millicent, but nothing graphic. This chapter features: Sarcastic!Smart!Millicent, Curious!Musician!Hermione, threats, antisocialism, epiphanies and serious discussion.

I LOVE MILLICENT BULSTRODE! Well, my version of her. I can write her however I dang well please, because she's never really discussed. Hurrah.

PG-13 because of several cusswords, alcohol and many slashy sexual references. Don't like? Don't read, fool. You've now been officially warned. Could be R. I think it's too mild for R, personally. But if you think so, don't hesitate to say.

DISCLAIMER: I wish I owned the Harry Potter world. Unfortunately, all I own is a USB key, a handbag, a few CDs, a stack of books and a pair of fingerless gloves. Damn. All hail J. K Rowling.

Chapter One

Hermione was surprised to see Millicent Bulstrode in the library at all. She was far more surprised to see her reading.

She stood in the doorway of the reading room, staring at Millicent, who was seated in a pile of cushions in the corner, ignoring the rain beating against the window, rapt in a large book.

'Is there something you want?' she asked, not looking up.

'Not particularly,' said Hermione. 'What about you?'

'I'm reading,' said Millicent, eyes still glued to the page. 'Or couldn't you tell?' she added sarcastically. 'What do you want?'

'I was after some quiet reading time,' said Hermione, stepping into the room and sitting amongst the cushions in the corner opposite Millicent.

'Gryffindors too boisterous for you this evening?' said Millicent.

'A little,' said Hermione. 'Lavender and Parvati are hogging the dorm, and Ron's being a git. Though I suppose you're used to gits?'

'Well, Malfoy's always a bastard, but, as you said, you get used to it eventually,' said Millicent, turning a page.

'I suppose.' Hermione paused. 'Since when do you read?'

'Since they taught me how to,' said Millicent, scowling.

'It's just... I didn't think...'

'That I might have had a brain at all?' snapped Millicent tersely. 'Oh, yes, of course. Look at the big ugly fat girl, she must be stupid. Honestly, Granger. I expected better from a mind of your calibre.'

'Sorry,' said Hermione, chastened. 'I didn't mean...'

'It's alright,' interrupted Millicent. 'I'm used to it.'

'No, really,' insisted Hermione. 'I'm sorry. I'm just so used to referring to Slytherins as awful, bullying, bigheaded idiots that the though of one sitting in this room reading a thick book seems rather surreal.'

'Don't worry, you won't find many other Slytherins in the library. Pansy's a bimbo, Blaise is a himbo, Draco's to grand for libraries and Crabbe and Goyle, well... need I say more?'

The girls chuckled depricatingly. After a moment they stopped, and looked at each other somewhat warily. The rain got louder outside.

'I'm sure you'll enjoy your quiet evening reading,' said Millicent. The unspoken 'somewhere else' hung in the stillness.

'I have a feeling you want me to leave,' said Hermione.

'I'm not exactly yearning for your presence, no,' said Millicent, smirking.

'Are you lonely?' asked Hermione impulsively.

'What would it have to do with you if I was?' replied Millicent harshly.

'I think you could use some company,' said Hermione, shrugging.

In one startling movement, Millicent closed her book and grabbed the front of Hermione's robes.

'Look, Granger, I'm not as stupid as I look. I've got enough smarts to brew up a potion or two that could be very persuasive. I could get all the 'company' I want, so to speak, if I wanted it.'

There was a moment of silence as the two girls stared at each other. Millicent snorted derisively and pushed Hermione back. 'I prefer my own company.'

Once more there was silence, apart from the steadily worsening rain outside.

'Why?' Hermione asked softly.

'Why do you give a damn?' shot back Millicent, picking up her book.

'You know, I'm not sure,' said Hermione. 'But all of a sudden I do.'

'You've gone utterly mad,' said Millicent.

'Me?' said Hermione, incredulous. 'I turn up at the library, expecting to find my reading room empty and quiet for me to spend the night in, only to find you here. We begin having a civil conversation, odd enough in itself, which you cut off abruptly by yanking me forward and glaring at me. And you claim *I've* gone mad?'

'*Your* reading room? It's mine! I'm in here almost every second night, I've got a blanket, pillow, food and some drinks hidden behind the bottom shelf on the right, and you claim it's yours?'

'So have I,' said Hermione softly. ' My things are on the left. My favourite books are-'

'On the right shelf, third down,' finished Millicent, gazing curiously at Hermione. She narrowed her eyes. 'Madam Pince told me-'

'You could use the room whenever you need to?' said Hermione. 'I have a feeling Madam Pince knows more than she lets on.'

The girls flopped back against the shelves, baffled.

'You perplex me,' said Millicent.

'You surprise me,' said Hermione.

'How do I surprise you?' asked Millicent.

'Millicent Bulstrode, Slytherin thug, a girl who has, in the past, beaten me up twice and physically restrained me once, is sitting in my reading room, reading a large book. How do you think?'

'So, everything about me surprises you?' Millicent smiled a smug little smile.

'Pretty much.'

'So, Granger,' said Millicent. 'I've surprised you. Surprise me. What dirty little secrets do you have that nobody knows?'

'Music,' said Hermione. 'I love music. Even Harry and Ron don't know that.'

'I bet you play the guitar,' said Millicent. 'I bet you once snuck a radio out to Hogsmeade and spent the day listening to it.'

Hermione looked at Millicent sharply. 'How did you find out?'

Millicent grinned. 'I play bass guitar for a Muggle band, and I spent last summer working in-'

'A record store?' finished Hermione. The two girls smiled at each other, a curious smile, almost of reconciliation.

Again there was silence; but a warm silence, born of having said everything necessary, rather than one of not knowing what to say.

'So we're pretty much the same person, but on different sides?' said Millicent.

'It would seem so,' conceded Hermione. 'Why are you in Slytherin?' she asked suddenly.

'Family expectations, friends. Personal expectations. Why aren't you in Ravenclaw?'

'I could ask the same of you.'

'No you couldn't!' exploded Millicent. 'Bloody Gryffindors, always painting Slytherin as bad. We're not all awful, you know. We're just as smart as you, if not smarter!'

'I never said that,' said Hermione. 'What I'm saying is, you're clever enough to be a Ravenclaw. Why aren't you one?'

'Because I was always told Slytherin was the only decent house. You didn't have that pressure. What about you? Why Gryffindor?'

'Harry,' said Hermione, blushing slightly. 'I wanted to meet him, find out everything about him. I know his father was Gryffindor, so the odds were on Gryffindor.'

'You're serious?' Millicent laughed incredulously. 'You staked your social life for seven years on a guess and an interest?'

'Yes,' said Hermione simply.

'I would have done the same,' said Millicent.

They shared a grin.

END

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