Disclaimer and such in part one.
AN: sorry about the wait, folks! without further ado...here's...

Part Five:

Biting her lip nervously, Hermione threw a handful of Floo-Powder into her bedroom fireplace. "Number 12 Grimmauld Place," she clearly announced as the flames turned a dull green. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Hermione stuck her head into the now-green fire. "Harry? Mr. Black?"

Hermione hated talking through fires. She would have much rather spoke to him in person, or by owl post, however, circumstances being what they were, she knew that this was the best route to go.

After leaving Knockturn Alley, Hermione's potion-induced thoughts came up with a perfect solution to her problem. She would tell him the truth, or rather, as much as the truth as she would allow herself to. Hopefully the Boy Wonder would be as noble and forgiving as his stereotype set him out to be. From what Hermione had seen that afternoon, he was.

"Oh, hello, Miss Granger," Sirius cordially greeted the young Gryffindor. "Harry's upstairs; I'll send you to him."

Bracing herself for the dizzying fire-transfer, Hermione closed her eyes and counted to ten. When she opened her eyes she was no longer looking in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, but rather Harry's bedroom. Taking a few moments to see her prey's surroundings, Hermione smiled at the Quidditch posters on the walls, the un-made bed, the unfolded clothes, and the empty owl cage. Typical boy's room.

"Harry?" she timidly called out, "Harry?"

Harry walked into his bedroom, presumably from the attached bathroom, and Hermione's breath caught in her throat. She had seen her share of naked men's chests before, but nothing prepared her for this. On seeing Hermione's green-tinted head, Harry blushed at grabbed for a shirt. Hermione almost pouted in disappointed, but stopped herself at the last moment.

"Hermione? What are you…I mean…" Harry stammered, still flustered at his original unclothed state.

Never one to really sit around and do nothing; she was, after all, a 'jump first, ask questions later' Gryffindor, Hermione hesitantly smiled at Harry. "This afternoon, before you…left," Hermione started, "you asked me if I really was who I seemed to be or if I was who you heard I was. I've come to answer your questions.

"I'm not 'an evil seductress,' those were your words, right?" Not waiting for his answer, Hermione continued, "But I'm not the innocent little Head Girl that most everybody in Hogwarts believes me to be. I've done things that I'm not proud of and…I wish I could take them back, but I can't. You have to understand, Harry, my family isn't exactly the model Wizarding family.

"Not that they're not good," Hermione hurriedly added, "They are. It's just that they…have very high expectations of me, because of who I am and whom I was born to. I had to do everything in my power to become Head Girl and I hate that. I'm sorry that you feel that I've misled you; I swear I haven't. Why would I? You're everything I'm looking for in a man; sweet, noble, brave, handsome, and you're so committed to your goals. That's very admirable, Harry."

Hermione finished with a compliment and a smile. It was the smile that got her everything she had ever wanted, full of innocence and humility. Her smile slowly faded as Harry continued blankly staring at her.

"I'm not looking for a girlfriend," Harry finally said.

Her smile appearing once more, Hermione answered, "I'm not looking for a boyfriend. I could use a friend."

"I could use one, too," Harry ruefully replied, a grin crossing his features. Hermione relaxed. She was back in the game. "Come over tomorrow afternoon. I have something I'd like to share with you."

"Are you sure?"

Nodding, Harry's grin grew to a full-on smile. "Tomorrow at noon."

"Until then," Hermione said and pulled her head out of the fireplace.

"'You're everything I look for in a man?' What type of rubbish is that?"

Whirling around Hermione smirked at Draco's smug features. "Hello, dear brother, how was your day?"

Casually helping himself to Hermione's bed, Draco laid down, his hands behind his head. "Longbottoms are such pains."

Snickering to herself, Hermione crawled onto the bed and settled herself half on top of Draco. "As are dim-witted half-bloods. Honestly, can you believe that he actually bought all that rubbish?"

Impishly, Draco raised his hand. "I could," he said, grinning boyishly. Frowning half-heartedly, Hermione grabbed her stepbrother's raised hand and twisted slightly. Responding just as quickly, the much stronger Draco pulled Hermione completely against him. Her frown quickly fading into a seductive grin, Hermione traced Draco's lips with her tongue before nipping at his lower lip and pulling away.

"You're not going to win," Draco murmured. "How do you feel about an August wedding?"

"Humidity," Hermione simply retorted. Draco smirked, pulling on one of her carefully coifed curls. "And, dear brother, I will win."

Somewhere within the Manor a clock struck midnight. Stretching luxuriously, Hermione slid off of Draco and onto the floor. Casually, she picked up her brand new camera and snapped a picture off. "I've got a date," Hermione said, pulling on a pair of shoes. "Get the fuck out of my room."

Scowling, Draco stormed off. "Bloody bitch!"

"Love you, too!" Hermione called to him. Turning towards the fireplace, she carefully annunciated, "Number Seven, Blaine Court."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ron drummed his fingers impatiently, trying to ignore the breathy sounds coming out of his guest room. "Took you long enough," he called over his shoulder as Hermione appeared from his fireplace.

"Had some loose ends to deal with," Hermione airily answered, waving off Ron's concern with a smooth motion. "Are they…?"

"For at least the past hour," Ron answered.

Casually, Hermione pulled a small camera out of her purse. "Showtime," she smirked, before opening the door. Snapping a couple candid pictures of Cho and her friend…reintroducing themselves to each other, Hermione smiled sweetly as the two girls scrambled for cover. "Well, well, well…what's this?"

Slightly recovered, Cho briefly met Hermione's mocking grin before turning her head. "Listen, Hermione…this—"

"..isn't what it looks like. I'm really drunk. It's a one-time thing. Blah, blah, blah," Hermione said, bored. "Well, who are you?"

Cho's friend blushed, still only halfway clothed. "Marietta," the girl whispered, "Edgecombe."

"Ah, your mother works for the Ministry, doesn't she, Marietta?" Hermione asked, her voice deceptively soft.

"Don't," Cho pleaded, knowing where the Gryffindor girl was headed. "Just…don't."

Furious that Cho would have the gall to tell her what to do, Hermione turned her full attention to the Asian girl. "And, why should I do that, Mister…I mean Miss Chang? Afterall…it is you who ratted me out to Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter?!" Cho shrieked. "This is about Harry bloody Potter?!"

Not saying a word, Hermione continued to glare at the older Ravenclaw. Realizing that Cho wasn't going to say anything more, Hermione sighed. "The truth will save you, Miss Edgecombe, and her mother's job."

Both of the nearly naked girls started crying. "I-I don't…I didn't…" Cho stuttered out.

Ron, finally entering the room, smirked at his 'girlfriend.' "You know, Mione, know that I think about it…Cho probably is telling the truth. She's in Ravenclaw, true, but I'm pretty sure that she wouldn't do something like that. She just doesn't have…well, pardon the pun, the stones to do it."

Sparing a moment, Hermione shot Ron a withering stare before turning to attention back to Cho and Marietta. Staring in Cho's watery, desperate eyes. "I believe you," Hermione said.

"Can I have the film?" Cho asked, meekly. Her previous run-in with Hermione had taught her an important lesson. Never, ever give Hermione any form of material for future blackmail.

"Eventually," Hermione agreed. "I need you to do something for me first."