Dinner was a calm meeting this evening, but for very different reasons among Gryffindors, she mused. The more egocentric students busied themselves with rehearsal, while others were laboring under the foreshadowing of further least welcome changes at Hogwarts: Umbridge's disciplinary action, of one was willing to still apply that term, had left them aghast and angry. Most calmed themselves with the prospect of year's end drawing closer rapidly, but a few were overheard calling plans for a return to Hogwarts into question. Applying to a Hogwarts with this headmistress in charge only, of course. Ron had not second-guessed his assumption on her whereabouts after Defense, and involved her into a conversation about loosely backed up stories of pure-blood families and their marriage policies (the only source being, it turned out, his mother and late, boozy family meetings), while Harry remained remarkably quiet. She watched him scratch his scar more often than the parchment while the sun set, and by first glow of a pleasant chilly, fiery red fire in the crimson he excused himself to the dormitory. When Ron started to quizz her about her own fantasies of a wedding some half and hour later, she made up a headache and called it a night as well. The blouse had already hung dry and cold over the chair she used to leave her robes on, until Hermione gave in to the painful urge, conjured herself some scissors and cut it into pieces. When she slammed the remains into the bin at their door, it let out a burp and smacked, "'what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger", which earned him an additional furious kick. Yet, as if she had hammered it along into the basket slithering across the floor, Hermione felt a great part of torturous anxiety vanish, lift from her shoulders, leaving her. After slipping into the t-shirt with the broadest collar, she quickly drifted into an uneasy sleep, haunted by Umbridge laughing at her dangling from gallows, above a scaffold not made of wood, but over a huge, empty, bottomless cauldron.
"Mind if I join you?"
Hermione did not recognize the square-shouldered Slytherin with taut muscles, stretching her shiny black blouse above the shoulders. Wearing the long black hair in an ornamental, tight queue, she might have been mistaken for a young man at first sight.
"If you're comin' round with a decent suggestion", Seamus replied, staring at her, obviously uneasy about her, or rather his reaction. "I'd hate to audition for quidditch next year on this -", he kicked a pile of ash, covering his trousers in grey dust, "We'd all be coughing for two weeks after training. Let alone the match."
"Me, too", the stern student replied, and Hermiones memory caught up on the fine, scarcely painted features: Jocaster, who had contributed to Snapes Defense lesson. "My mum's got a green thumb, and I happen to have picked up a few things on the sideline", she laid out. "But she won't have me ruin my lungs on fun, not for anything in the world. So I figured, you and Granger along with Longbottom -", she shrugged, "Are the most likely candidates for a solution."
"And there's a fair amount of points to win", Hermione commented, uttering what she presumed to be Jocasters true motivation to participate, "But you're welcome."
"I'm Judy, by the way, I've played Keeper on Slytherin team in third year", she introduced herself. "So, any ideas?", Jocaster nodded toward the ground. Madam Sprout had rescheduled Herbology class to the project she seemed invested in for the rest of the term: For a prize of thirty points per house she had asked them to split up in groups of four to five and unleash their creativity on how to regrow a superficial layer of grass on the pitch. Hermione, Seamus and Hannah had decided to follow Madam Sprouts recommendation and split up their working area into five parts: Three parts, a square of roughly two times two meters, were to be used for mended samples, one for the standard treatment, such as tested and tried fertilizer, and one left unattended. Hermione had a distinct feeling they should decide on who had to spread the Thestrals droppings as manure last, if they planned to flourish as a group. She was not looking forward to the task at hand: Sun burning down mercilessly on them for the second period in a row, the sweet and heavy smell of Thestrals droppings, piled up behind the oval lines where the stands for spectators would be rebuilt after terms end, added to an oppressive, slowly overwhelming atmosphere.
"We've tried Aguamenti, but it evaporates", Hannah told her, "And Madam Sprout much appreciates garden-variety. So we thought, we should try to have her seeds germinate on common soil first", she waved to a row of pots, quickly conjured by Hermione, filled with simple dirt from the Forbidden Forest by Seamus and Hannahs hovering charms, "Apply a growing charm and add ashes to the mixture until we've found the most resistant strain."
"Smart as always", Judy said, "Perhaps we don't need the shit of Hagrid's beast at all."
"So I'll apply the growing charm", Hannah quickly intervened, spotting Hermiones expression, "I'd say, Seamus, Hermione and you take two pots each and watch how they're doing."
Hermione, you're concentration's probably still ok", she wiped her forehead, but Hermione was certain that she was no less drenched in sweat, "Mind if you increase the amount of ash in the mixture? And – Judy, is it? Ok with watching how the seeds are actually doing?"
"Yeah. We should drain humidity from one of them", the stern Slytherin suggested, "If we can't find a solution to the irrigation problem, our strain will be the most resistant on the pitch nonetheless."
"Dean's group is addressing irrigation", Seamus threw in. "Maybe they'll come around with a concept, and we can combine our findings."
"So far, we should work with all means actually available", Hannah jumped in again, "I'd say, growing charm first, then exsiccating later. All ready?"
They nodded, scrolling up the sleeves of increasingly soaked tops, and positioned themselves around eight pots in pairs. "Engorgio", Hannah pointed her wand to the pots.
For a few minutes, which felt much longer beneath the hot summer on their gleaming faces, nothing happened. Then green points appeared in the round, uneven soil, rising to blades of grass quickly, evenly distributed in a dense carpet. When they had reached an inch or so, Hannah lowered her wand.
"All right, we can't deduce much from that", Hermione voiced the inevitable conclusion. "I'll stop when half of the turn yellow."
"We should push for brown", Judy said, "In potions, we use half-withered plants in larger amounts, since they still contain unchanged substances", she gave reason, "Does not go for rotten parts. Since we have to inspect all our ingredients before manufacturing them -"
"Ok, we'll take brown as a benchmark", Hermione agreed, rather keen on evading the subject of Snape's teachings than approving her contribution. "On your count", she nodded to Hannah.
"One – two – engorgio."
"Locomotor", Hermione waved her wand to the ashes around them, which rose in a tender, light vortexes, vanishing between the vivid, wild green of four pots.
"Think mine's starting to give in", Seamus pointed out much later then Hermione had expected him to, gaze fixed on a pot to her right side. "Go on."
"We're at fifty percent", Hermione announced, slightly surprised, since none of the samples had deteriorated beyond a fine shade of yellow. Having added two thirds of ashes, the grass still appeared intact, which pushed them to add nine tens of the soil in which the seeds should be planted later.
"Ok, maybe irrigation is crucial", Hermione admitted, casting a sharp look at Judy, who made no effort to hide her satisfaction.
"With some plants, you must not provide them with woo much water. They like to struggle, my mum says... roots grow slower, but stick deeper."
"Yeah, heard me mum say somethin' similar", Seamus agreed. The Slytherin raised her eyebrows, from surprise, and Hermione felt she had a decent idea, why : She hasn't anticipated confirmation from the son of a muggle mother, of all.
"Shall we try?", Judy swooned up to the pots, sucking up her reaction. "Siccatero."
"Oh, come on, there must be something to it", Hannah let out a gasp of frustration about twenty minutes later, when the pots lay dry and dusty in front of them, but an overlarge amount of Sprouts variety had persisted, giving the surface an uneven, natural color. "What have we been tending her plants in detention for?"
"No results?" Professor Sprout had sneaked up to them, leaving a range of her own samples attended by Neville, who stroke above an evenly green surface as if caressing a loved one.
"It depends", Hermione replied, tucking her wand back into the pocket of her line trousers. Standard dressing rules did not apply in Herbology.
"On what?", her teacher inquired.
"How you define results", Hannah added, looking rather exhausted herself.
"Well, what is your conclusion from this lesson, Miss Jocaster?"
"We don't know", Judy replied dryly. Hermione noticed she had not watched her close enough to decide whether she suppressed an eyeroll. "Which strain will flourish in the fields we were supposed to spread the seeds in."
"That seems", Professor Sprout cast a soft, mild smile to Judy, "A pretty satisfactory result." In earlier years, Hermione would have mistaken her restraint for shyness, the expression of someone more comfortable hiding in the greenhouses, but now, she knew better: Madam Sprout offered the student an affirmation without imposing the benevolent attitude on her. "That's twenty points to Slytherin, and ten to each of your houses. What will be your next step?"
"Planting three different strains?", Hannah suggested. "With the original mixture on the fourth field, and nothing in the fifth?"
"Very good, Miss Abbott. Take another five points."
She waited for questions but when none were uttered she huddled up to Dean, Harry and Ron, who were barely visible in dense mist from condensed water.
"How can that be satisfactory?", Judy put Hermiones bewilderment into words. "All this time at Hogwarts, it was a straight answer that got us points, and now we're ok with 'I don't know'? Don't results mean anything in class in sixth and seventh year?"
"It's about the process", Hermione heard herself say. "Now let's put those seeds into the ground so that we can get back to the castle before midnight, I'm dying from thirst."
"Me too", Judy mumbled, massaging her temples. For the first time, Hermione noticed her reddish face to be strangely dry, while hers and most others were drained in sweat. The majority of them looked lazy, moved slowly in the blazing sun, tired from the heat and their extensive sessions at night, but Judy, she noticed, displayed downright exhaustion.
"Perhaps we should wait for a decent irrigation plan before we bury our findings in this dead substance? And take a break to get something to drink for us?"
"I see that you're eager to rejoin your Gryffindor fellows", Judy declined, "But I want to take home fifty points for my house today, so I'm gonna stick to this now. You can give up, it's just greater laurels for me, then."
A stirring, soft feeling rose somewhere in Hermiones stomach, but she could not make sense of it until it changed into a bitter sting when glancing at the dark shirt Judy was wearing: The absence of a Squad badge and her commitment to house points were touching, as if nothing had changed at Hogwarts.
"One square for everyone, then?", Hannah asked.
"I'd like the fifth, for the original variety", Seamus jumped in, "I lack the nerve to sort out any pots or strains or whatever in this heat."
"Green suits you, Judy", Hermione said, expecting some sign of recoil, but the Slytherin smiled. "Indeed."
"Then I'll go for yellow. Leaves brown to you, Hermione."
"Ok", she agreed, and they hurried to summon spades and rakes, for their target was too small to be salvaged by magic.
Those were the Slytherins she could deal with, Hermione mused, her hands drenched in mud and ashes. Cunning, superficially friendly and chasing after points for their house primarily, showing them to be self-centered in various degrees, up to a point where their actions might be considered egoistic. Yet arguing too much with students from any other house got in the way of their aims, so none of them harbored any serious intention to harming their classmates. They were not easy to like and less keen to make too many friends, but in striving to bring fame and prosperity to their house individually, most of them produced a valuable contribution to classes and students, if purely by accident.
"Lesson's over", they heard Madam Sprouts magically amplified voice echo over the pitch what felt like hours in the dirt later, "Any additional work is purely optional. Thank you, guys, for your commitment and your ingenuity, I am certain we will restore the pitch to its former state in no time."
"Got some serious doubts about that", Judy commented, but to Hermiones surprise, she did not rise from her square, where she had been digging trenches by hand as well.
"We're allowed to leave now."
"Yeah, but we're not done yet, are we?", Seamus threw in.
"I am", Hannah sighed, pulling off her dragon skin gloves and stuffing them unpretentiously into her pockets. "I've got tons of notes to revise before OWLs, so I hope you won't be angry at me if I leave now."
"We're not", Judy supported her, leaving Hermione again puzzled over the ambiguity of her ulterior motive.
"Let's just get these seeds into the ground and have some decent meal then", Seamus pushed, "I'd hate to abandon this project halfway. Besides, watering those does not make sense while the sun is still up, the drops would act like lenses."
"I'm not that far along", Hermione pointed to her empty trenches.
"Me neither", Judy added.
"We'll stay then", Seamus said, pulling his wand from his backpockets, "But since class is over, I'm cheating, guys. Accio spraybottle." He held a hand to his forehead, gazing toward the castle, from where his summoned bottle indeed flew straight toward him. He caught it with ease. "Keeping some of those for the orchids on my windowsill."
"Uhh, what kind do you keep?", Judy swooned, "My mum send me Cycnoches in April, and ever since ..."
Hermione allowed her attention to falter from their lively exchange. Even if nothing ever grew again in this soil, at least sympathies rose without the fissures as caused by the ashes in her hands.
Seamus and Judy indeed got along rather well with each other, and when the sun reached out to tenderly touch the outlines of the mountain range far behind the castle, Hermione, so far lost in her work, caught Nevilles eye. He had been busy with Madam Sprout over the most promising projects, as they usually brooded over crossing experiments in the greenhouses, but signalled her now that he, too, thought it a appropriate to best leave Seamus and Judy alone.
"We should go back, or we won't get anything for dinner", Neville told her, hardly hiding his joy over the house transient affections, "Madam Sprout will ask for their help, if she needs some."
"Fine", Hermione gave in, her chapped hands aching. "D'you think it was worth it?"
"Hard to tell just yet, don't you think?"
"You spend all your evenings in Hogwarts with this?", she asked, getting to her feet from the hot ashes. "I mean, watering, weeding, fertilizing... it's an awful lot of work."
"Most evenings, yes", Neville replied, and left it at that.
They walked back to the castle in silence, both of them too tired to talk much.
"I should've come back earlier", Neville voiced his thoughts when they sat down in the great hall for a lonely dinner, "I've still got so much to cover in Charms. And McGonagall's gonna put me in detention, if I don't hand in that reflection on my Metabolizing spells -"
"That's Charms, Neville, and it's metamorphoses we're dealing with", she corrected him, adding to his load.
"Hermione, seriously, how do you cope with all that stuff, I can't even -"
"Just luck, I guess."
"And discipline. Seriously, why wouldn't the Sorting Hat put you in Ravenclaw?"
"What makes you think Ravenclaw held discipline in such high regards?"
"Well, we've been over this with Snape, haven't we?", he replied, with obvious bewilderment. "The four core values of a pure-blood society", a demonstrative eye roll earned him great appreciation from her, "Discipline is typically Ravenclaw."
"Aha." She busied herself chewing on cold, grilled vegetables, a little embarrassed to have Neville point out the connection to her. "Any ideas", she gulped down the zucchini and her pride, "on how wizards came up with the term 'mudblood'?"
"You're kidding me, right?", Neville cast a look at her, stuck between annoyance and surprise, "You've grown up with muggles, haven't you?"
"Yes. My parents are dentists."
"Then you must have heard of the creation myth in the -granny told me, but I forgot, what do they call it -"
"Bible."
"Yes. Remember what it tells people how man came into this world?"
"As creation of god", she recalled, "Made from – earth." She felt like hit by an angry bludger, without a warning, straight to the face.
"Exactly", Neville confirmed, "So as long as wizards focused on 'noble', 'pure' blood, and wished not to depreciate their daughters and their heritage ... calling someone a 'mudblood' who thinks of themself as made from earth in the first place seems - adequate, don't you think?"
"Yes, indeed!"
"Glad I could help", Neville chuckled, and dived into his plate of toast and grilled cheese. "Is there any chance you might help me with my Charms assignment?"
"Only if we work in the library. It's just too noisy in the common room."
"Sure", Neville agreed, "I'll fetch my parchment, I just can't remember the precise task Flitwick gave me."
"I'll save you a chair", she promised. The prospect of working with Neville seemed actually promising, suddenly, after all, he had grown up in the wizarding society, and his knowledge hopefully proved more reliable than the rumors and myths Ron came around with.