Disclaimer: see part 1.
Beautiful Poison
By Random1377
Chapter 6 – Trust Issues
Hermione was not having a very good week. Her test scores had dipped recently from ninety-nines and ninety-eights to ninety-eights and ninety-sevens – a trend that nearly had her in tears. She could trace the drop back to a singular event, of course.
Or rather, she could trace it back to a singular event and the resulting aftermath.
"Careless," she muttered to herself as she hurried between classes, "Harry, you're being careless…"
As far as she knew, there had been no more intimacy between Harry and Pansy, but she was certainly not going to ask about it. For some reason, the thought of those two being close made the fine hairs on Hermione's arms stand up. The carelessness she was referring to, though, was not just the kissing incident – it was the whispers that Harry had been seen openly talking to Pansy in the halls.
Twice.
Fraternization between houses was not forbidden, of course, nor was it even frowned upon or discouraged by the faculty members… but there was an unspoken agreement between the other houses that Slytherins were not to be associated with, and even casual friendships were few and far between, so the fact that the Boy Who Lived had spoken to a Slytherin witch raised more than a few eyebrows, even if the rumors were hotly denied by both houses.
There was also the fact that Harry and Pansy had been seen together at the Three Broomsticks during the Hogsmeade trip.
Whether they were together or not made no difference, in Hermione's eyes… they were in the same building, which was enough grist for the rumor mill to churn ever so slightly faster.
Careless…
"Granger – hey, Granger, over here."
Hermione glanced up. "Lavender," she said with some relief, coming alongside the other Gryffindor, but not slowing her pace at all, forcing the other girl to scramble to keep up. "Anything?"
"Not much," Lavender replied, shaking her head for emphasis. "She's got a little clique in Slytherin, but getting one of them to talk would be like getting pumpkin pasties out of a flobber worm."
"Figured as much," Hermione mumbled, slowing a bit as the classroom door came into view.
It wouldn't hurt, she decided, to be on time rather than five minutes early.
Just this once.
"Hey," she said suddenly, "do you have any friends in Slytherin?"
Lavender looked offended. "No," she said curtly, "why would I?"
"Do you know anyone that does?"
"Umm…" Lavender had to think about this for a moment, "No, I don't."
Hermione frowned slightly. "Neither do I."
"So?"
"It's nothing, just thinking of something. Ok, I've gotta get to class – let me know if you find out anything."
Lavender nodded, looking determined as she whispered, "Don't worry, we'll find out what she's up to."
As the other girl moved off down the hallway, Hermione sighed.
Networking, she thought, should be a class at Hogwarts. She was growing quite skilled at developing casual relationships and quid pro quo arrangements with other students – usually nothing more complicated than a couple of swapped class notes… not that Hermione really needed any assistance with her schoolwork, but she had found that barter and exchange tended to make people feel better about dealing with you than charity, and she was always very careful to make sure that what she was giving was of greater value than what she was receiving.
She could think of thirteen people offhand that felt they owed her something for helping them out with their homework, and while she herself did not consider them indebted to her, she still kept mental tabs on who she might be able to call in favors from.
Just in case.
Regarding Pansy, though, and Slytherin in general… Hermione was starting to notice a trend in all the people she had talked to about their dealings with the other house – a trend that made her ever so slightly uncomfortable.
It's not like it's unwarranted, she mused, pacing back and forth in front of the classroom door, I mean, it's like Hagrid said, 'there's never been a witch or wizard that went bad that wasn't in Slytherin.' Hmm… I don't think that can be true, can it? I've never really looked into it, I guess, but from a purely statistical standpoint, there has to-
"Are you planning to stand there all day?"
Hermione blinked, raising her head as she realized that she had stopped pacing right in front of the classroom door, making it impossible for anyone to get in. "Oh, sorry," she said quickly, stepping to the side and looking at the person who had roused her.
What, she thought with some amazement, are the odds…?
"Parkinson."
"Granger."
The Slytherin girl was eyeing her critically, a nasty smile quirking the corner of her lips.
"You've got ink on your face," she said slyly, "did you know? Just there."
Vexed, Hermione quickly scrubbed at the spot the other girl had indicated, murmuring a wintry, "Thanks…" before turning to yank open the classroom door.
As her hand lighted on the handle, however, Pansy murmured, "You've been asking around about me. Don't."
"And why not?" Hermione wondered, narrowing her eyes as she glanced over shoulder, "Something to hide, Parkinson?"
Pansy was no longer smiling. "Everyone has something to hide, Granger," she said dangerously, "I wonder what I might find if I went around having all of my friends follow you around, hmm?"
Hermione turned, folding her arms over her chest as she boldly replied, "Nothing, that's what – I don't have any secrets."
Leaning closer, Pansy whispered, "Everyone… has secrets. Everyone has something they don't want the world to know about them. Everyone has something they're embarrassed about, Granger… everyone."
"Not me," Hermione said proudly. "That's the difference between Gryffindors and Slytherins, I suppose – we actually trust people, Parkinson."
Pansy shrugged. "You can trust someone while still being aware of what they do," she pointed out flatly. "In my family… we like to call that caution."
"In mine we call it paranoia," Hermione shot back, "now if you'll excuse me, I have a class to get to."
As she started to pull the door open, Pansy slammed it shut.
"Look, I-"
"Leave me alone, Granger," Pansy said coldly. "Stop having your pathetic friends try to watch every move I make – it makes going to the lou kind of a pain." She lowered her voice to a smooth whisper. "Potter's a big boy, Granger… why don't you stay out of his affairs."
Hermione scowled at the other girl, but said nothing as Pansy pulled the door open and gestured for her to enter the classroom.
She had forgotten that Pansy was in the class too.
( 0 0 0 )
Two weeks later… everything came crashing down.
Harry smiled as he made his way back from the great hall. Dinner had been fantastic, and while finals were already looming, Harry felt pretty good about himself. Perhaps it was the memory of his kiss with Pansy that was carrying him, but he had to admit that things seemed to be working out alright.
Malfoy's been scarce, he thought as he turned down the corridor leading to Gryffindor tower, the potion's simmering, Pansy's almost got a Patronus – everything's coming up-
"Harry."
"Oh, Hermione," Harry said happily, "we missed you at dinner. Ron's gone off to do something with Neville for herbology, but-"
Hermione cut him off. "Harry, I need to talk to you a minute."
Frowning as she took his hand and pulled him off down the hall, Harry murmured, "What is it, 'mione?"
"Not here."
Harry followed, a sense of foreboding growing in his stomach as Hermione led him to a small, unused classroom. Seems to be a lot of these, he thought as the witch closed the door, this place is immense…
"Alright," Hermione said firmly, "I've put an anti-snoop charm on the door, so we should be ok."
"Alright," Harry said cheerfully, still feeling mostly good about life.
What could possibly have Hermione in such a tizzy?
As if he had spoken out loud, Hermione bluntly said, "It's about your potion, Harry."
"What about it?" Harry wondered, still seeing no cause for alarm. "It's in the dungeons, and no one can get in there without Snape's permission."
"That's not entirely true," Hermione said dismissively, "but that's not what I'm talking about. It's about… it's about one of your ingredients, Harry."
"The slug bile?"
Hermione hissed with irritation. "This is serious!"
"It's fine," Harry said soothingly. "I put everything in when I was supposed to – yes, even the Heartblood. Don't worry so much, Hermione."
"Harry," Hermione said carefully, finally cutting to the chase, "Heartblood needs to be… pure."
"Yeah," Harry replied, clearly confused, "I know."
Hermione bit her lip. "You know what pure means, right?"
Rolling his eyes, Harry said, "Yes, Hermione, I know what pure means… what is this all about?"
"Pure means that that the blood has to come from a virgin, Harry," Hermione said, now looking very agitated.
"Yes, I get it," Harry said with some annoyance, "what's your p-"
"Pansy isn't."
There was a very long, very heavy silence.
"It's… it's not true," Harry managed finally, looking very pale as he slumped back against the wall. "It's a lie. Pansy's not… she not that way…"
Hermione looked at him pityingly. "I asked around about her – because I was worried about you," she said quietly, putting a consoling hand on Harry's shoulder. "Susan Bones said that Malfoy was bragging about it in the halls – she said he was telling Goyle that he's been… with Pansy for two years now, and that she'd do anything he says. Harry," she wet her lips. "Harry, I'm so sorry to say it like this… but it was all a lie, do you understand? I know you thought she was different, but she really is a Slytherin after all."
Scrubbing angrily at his eyes, Harry growled, "Malfoy… of course it would be Malfoy, I should have known. I'll bet he was in on it the whole time!"
"Probably," Hermione said gently, "but you didn't know, Harry… you did the right thing."
Harry laughed bitterly. "The right thing?" he cried, "The right thing? Oh yeah – teaching an enemy how to defend herself and trusting that she's trying to help me, all while she's slipping a knife into my back… if that's the 'right thing' I'd love to know what the wrong one was!"
Slowly, Hermione hugged him. "The right thing was upholding your end of the bargain," she said gently, "the right thing was showing her that you're a man of your word, even if she's not. That makes you the better person, Harry."
"Yeah, the better person with a failing grade," Harry muttered tiredly, "I'll bet hers works just fine, though."
"If I'd only known sooner," Hermione said regretfully, "I'm sure it wouldn't have been a problem to get the Heartblood from someone else."
"Like who?" Harry asked derisively, "You? Would you have just whipped off your robes and let me cut you straight off?"
"You could have asked Ron, you know," Hermione pointed out in exasperation, "it doesn't say that the blood has to come from a member of the opposite sex!"
Dumbfounded, Harry slumped back, his mouth opening and closing rather like a fish out of water. "I never… thought of that," he admitted stupidly.
Hermione's face softened. "I know you didn't," she sighed, sounding very tired, "that's the problem – you just… you don't think sometimes, Harry."
Harry nodded, sighing mightily. "Yeah," he whispered, rubbing his eyes tiredly, "I guess I don't. Huh… well I suppose the joke's on me, then, isn't it?"
Her chest tight with sympathy, Hermione whispered, "You can… take some of mine up for the final if you want, Harry. And… and if it means anything to you now, I would have let you… you know…"
"Thanks Hermione," Harry murmured, "but Snape'll know – he always knows… and it has to be a full ounce, anyway, so we'd both fail. I'll just, well, I guess I'll just turn in what I have and hope it at least gets me a passing grade for effort."
"I don't think it will, Harry," Hermione said reluctantly, "I think… if the blood is 'tainted' then all you end up with is muck."
Harry shrugged. "I'll still turn it in," he said defiantly, "and if Snape asks why it's bad, I'll tell him!"
To his surprise, Hermione paled. "Oh you can't!" she gasped, "I'll… please Harry, I know she… she tricked you, but don't… don't do that to her, ok? Promise me?" She blushed brightly as he stared at her. "There are… worse things in school than getting a failing grade, Harry, please promise me you won't say it in front of everyone – please…?"
"Alright, alright!" Harry snapped, swayed by her plea but still filled with anger and self-loathing for allowing himself to be so trusting.
"Thank you," Hermione said honestly, "and don't worry, Harry… I'll help you get through potions next term – even if you need Heartblood. I'll make the time next time, I swear it."
Harry managed a smile. "Thanks, Hermione," he sighed, "I'm… I'm gonna go to bed now. G'night…"
Giving him another gentle hug, Hermione stepped away. "Night, Harry…"
She watched sadly as the young man wandered slowly off to bed. As soon as he was out of sight, though, her expression hardened. Oh Parkinson, she thought grimly, you really have no idea of what you've done… but you're going to find out.
( 0 0 0 )
Pansy was having a good day. Finals had been good to her so far – to the point that Snape had given her an advance reading of her grade to allow her more time to practice for other finals. She was far from his favorite, but she had a way of getting people to do what she wanted when she set her mind to it, so freeing herself of the final grading was a simple task of turning in her potion – which she was confident would be perfect – and telling Snape that she was far behind in every other subject because she had dedicated so much time to getting her potion just right.
Honestly, she thought disgustedly, men were easier to manipulate than anyone else.
I just wish I could be there for Potter's, she thought with a small grin, that should get a response…
As she rounded a corner, however, she found herself face to face with the very person she had been thinking of.
"Oh," she gasped as she came up short, "Hey, Potter… what-"
"Parkinson."
Pansy was instantly wary.
He looks… furious…
She had no idea.
"Finals going well?" he asked smoothly, eyeing her closely as she took an involuntary step back. "Nothing… out of sorts?"
"N-no," Pansy stammered, "no problems so far, how, umm… how about you…?"
"Oh fine, fine," Harry said, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he matched her step with one of his own. "No, Septillion said my defense against the dark arts is some of the best he's seen from a high schooler, and McGonagall thinks I should pass Transfiguration reasonably well…"
Pansy nodded, noticing suddenly how quiet the hall they were in was. "Well that's good," she said, edging to the side so that her back would not be to the wall.
"Isn't it?" Harry exclaimed. "Why, with all those good grades, one failing one won't matter all that much, right…?"
Taking another backward step, Pansy glanced down at Harry's hand.
He's already got his wand out, she thought, going from mild agitation to outright fear, this is not good.
"What are you failing?" she asked, unable to bear the heavy silence that had fallen. "I thought you were doing well in everything."
Harry grinned unpleasantly. "So did I," he said softly, "imagine my surprise when I heard the news."
"News?"
"Oh yes," Harry laughed bitterly, "good on you, Parkinson… good on you for keeping it from me for so long – it really was quite a work of art, making me think you were innocent when all this time, you and Malfoy-"
"Malfoy," Pansy cut in sharply, "what about Malfoy?"
Harry's nostril's flared. "Don't play dumb," he said angrily. "Did you think I wouldn't find out, hmm? Or were you hoping you'd be able to milk me for a few last minute tips before I got humiliated in front of the whole class?"
Pansy stared him straight in the eyes.
"It's a lie."
"Ha!" Harry snorted. "Why should I believe you?"
Abruptly, Pansy grabbed the collar of her robe and yanked it down and to the side, exposing the top of her bra. "Because of this," she said flatly. "Healing potions don't leave a scar, Harry, but I gave you something that day… so believe in me, not some stupid rumor you heard in the hall."
Harry frowned, clearly not expecting her to refute it so adamantly.
"And what, exactly, do you think you gave me?" he asked coldly, "other than a failing grade, I mean."
Pansy's eyes flashed, but she said nothing as she slowly straightened her robe.
Turning his back on her, Harry strode off down the hall, leaving her with one, final comment.
"You make me sick."
He was long gone by the time Pansy sank to the floor and buried her face in her hands, shaking from head to foot as she barely kept herself from doing something she had not allowed herself to do for three years.
Continued…
Author's notes: I think I have about two more chapters' worth of story left to tell, or possibly three, depending on how 8 comes out. It might be a little angsty now that things are starting to deteriorate, just so you know… but unlike Rowling, I have NO plans to kill off any main characters. Criminy, woman – cut those folks some slack!
SxStrngSamurai gave this chapter a quick once-over and said it seemed to be ok.
Feedback is always welcome on any site with reviewing capabilities, or by e-mailing me directly at random1377(at-sign)yahoo(dot)com.