A/N: A thousand apologies for neglecting this story for so long! Thanks for still reading it!
Chapter 8: Pro At Work
Life was sweet and today it was sweeter than ever. If there was one thing Hermione Granger loved, then it was the taste of triumph. Normally, this translated into top marks or proof that she'd been right whilst others had been wrong. Yes, she was the kind that liked to rub it in people's face.
She had gotten Draco Malfoy good. The Slytherin hadn't even understood what had hit him until it was too late. The whole encounter had Hermione bursting with glee, so it was no surprise that her friends immediately picked up on her splendid mood.
"Don't you just look like a Crookshanks who caught a canary?" Ron commented as she took a seat.
"Perhaps," she admitted, giving him her best Cheshire grin, however not elaborating. Sometimes savouring victory in silence was so much better.
"Very vague, but okay... Hey guess what, Hermione! Something totally wicked happened earlier! When I went over to the bar to get us Butterbeers, there was this bloke who totally paid for all my drinks! How wicked is that? Random strangers offering to pay your drinks! Being a woman has so many perks!" Ron announced, gesturing enthusiastically at the mugs in front of them.
"Why haven't you ever taken advantage of that? You had those girls too," he added, pointing to his 'two girls'. Even after weeks in his new body, his bust still fascinated Ron a great deal. Hermione shrugged.
"Not my style, I guess." Although she felt comfortable about her body, flaunting it wasn't something she did.
"He's been telling every single friend who walked by this story," Harry drawled, rolling his eyes in process. Naturally, the comment and eye-roll didn't sit well with Ron.
"Jealousy does not become you, Harry," Ron said, peeved. This accusation caused the Gryffindor Seeker to splutter and spray his Butterbeer all across the table. Talk about gross.
"I'm not getting you a new one," the redhead added, eyeing the mess in front of him with distaste.
"I'm not jealous!" Harry promptly protested, sitting up pin-straight in his seat. "And whoever said I wanted you to get me a new Butterbeer? I can get my own! I just think it's weird how you go around flirting with strange blokes and brag about it after."
Ron sighed and subjected him to a long, judging look. However, instead of saying something catty back, this time Ron decided to be the bigger person.
"You could get people to pay for your drinks too, you know? Should be fairly easy since you're the 'Chosen One and Boy Who Lived'. After all, who doesn't dig famous people? And I was hardly flirting - just being friendly when the guy chatted me up. There's no harm done in being friendly. I mean, look at what it got me!" Ron boasted, taking a big gulp of Butterbeer. "Also, I'm a lesbian, remember?"
"Not this again," Harry muttered, dabbing the wet area with a few tissues to clean up his mess.
"Anyhow, thanks Ron." Hermione cut in and raised her glass to say cheers. Better intervene and steer the conversation elsewhere before this little quarrel was blown out of proportion.
After their second round of Butterbeer, Ron excused himself and went to the loo. Although 'excuse' may actually be the wrong word to use, since his exact words were: "Be right back - got to take a piss."
When they were alone, Hermione decided to confront Harry about something that was bothering her.
"What was that all about earlier? You know, the whole Butterbeer thing? Was that really necessary?"
Harry sighed. "I know, but I can't help it. He's so un-Ron sometimes. Did you know that he owns a strawberry pillow? In case you're wondering what that is, I'll happily elaborate: a strawberry pillow is a pillow that looks like a giant strawberry and smells like one, too! I didn't even know something like that existed! That is, until I saw him lounging on one when we hung out in your new common room the other day. Why does he have a strawberry pillow, Hermione? Ron should not be owning plushy, fruity smelling strawberry pillows!"
"That pillow actually belongs to Ginny."
"We should return it to Ginny then."
"Harry."
"She's probably looking for it," Harry continued as if he didn't hear the warning in her tone.
"I don't think she cares, so leave him and the pillow be. But since it bothers you so much, I may as well tell you that it's an orthopaedic pillow, relieving neck pain and helping against stiff necks and all that jazz. I got one too. Not in strawberry form, but yeah." Hermione reasoned, so Harry finally conceded.
"Well, okay. It's just this…" Harry struggled to find the words.
"This?" Hermione probed.
"It's the way he's fluttering about like he's some bloody fairy that is hard for me to adjust to." Whilst saying this, Harry made ditzy gestures Hermione assumed her friend thought were fairy-appropriate. (They were not.)
"Nice metaphor," she answered flatly, the corners of her mouth, however, twitching and betraying her amusement. Sometimes she wondered if Ron even realized how feminine he acted occasionally. Sadly, they weren't able to analyse this matter in more depth because Ron returned.
During their next conversation about public conveniences and their hygiene - a topic they took up on after Ron started complaining about someone leaving sprinkles on the toilet seat - a familiar 5th year Slytherin stopped by their table.
"Hi Hermione!" Astoria said cheerily, added with a small wave to her greeting. She then turned to acknowledge the other two, "Ron, Harry."
"Hi Astoria," Ron and Hermione chorused. Harry, on the other hand, only pondered over the question on when he and this girl had become acquainted enough to be on first name basis. He wasn't aware they knew each other at all (not that that mattered since she seemed to be friends with Ron and Hermione).
"I'm sorry to bother you, but would you terribly mind if we sat with you? This place is jam-packed," Astoria asked, gesturing to herself and her friend who looked about the same age and could easily pass as her sister. However, the brunette was in fact Tracy Davis' younger sister.
"Sophia and I promise not to annoy you… too much," Astoria added playfully, flashing them a brilliant smile (that was mostly directed at Hermione).
"Sure, please have a seat."
"Thanks."
Astoria and Sophia took off their jackets and sat down. They spoke lowly, nudging each other's side.
"Back to our topic: Hermione, that's just plain nasty! Why would you do that?" Ron demanded.
"I never said I did. I only said that some people do and that's probably why there were sprinkles on the seat."
"Have these people never heard of Scourgify? There's also always the alternative of wiping the seat," Ron cried, shuddering as he thought back to his trip to the loo. Hermione shrugged as if to say: "Beats me, too."
Astoria and Sophia exchanged curious looks. "Um, not trying to be nosy, but what are you talking about?"
Hermione scratched her head and smiled sheepishly. "Oh, we were discussing the hygiene in public conveniences, but I suppose we should change the topic since this is kind of a gross."
"Of course it's gross, Hermione! Some women are complete pigs!" Ron pounded with his fist on the table whilst saying this. He then turned to the Slytherins to fully include them in the conversation (or more like make them listen to his rant).
"So I've just learned that some women don't sit down to take a piss when they use public loos. Apparently they 'stand-sit' - if that's even a word. You know, they hover above the seat, but not quite sitting down. And some of these 'ladies' apparently can't aim! It's disgusting!"
"Uh…" Astoria as well as her friend looked a bit lost for words. Ron took their silence as mutual shock at his discovery.
"I know, it's shocking. And they always say that men are pigs," Ron muttered, shaking his head. "Right, Harry?"
"Yeah, gent's toilets aren't actually as bad as they always say," Harry agreed.
"I don't understand either why some people don't clean up after themselves. Like you said: there is that spell called Scourgify," Sophia added to the conversation.
"Yes! I'm so glad you lot understand what I'm talking about! I wonder if they have house-elves here," Ron continued.
"I sincerely hope that the answer to that is no," Hermione said testily.
"Hey, I'm just saying. The Three Broomsticks isn't exactly small. Aside from being a pub, it's also an inn. Old Filch wouldn't be able to maintain the whole castle on his own, even if he weren't a squib. We have house-elves at Hogwarts to help with the all the work. They cook our meals; they clean the common rooms… Well, they did until you started knitting those hats of yours, leaving them everywhere and scaring the house-elves off," Ron decided to remind her whilst Harry snorted with laughter. His friend had done her best, but man, those hats had been far from pretty!
"Please don't remind me. It's bad enough that they have to cook for us."
"Why? Do you have anything against house-elves?" asked Astoria in confusion. She never would have pegged Hermione as someone who disliked house-elves. Hermione's eyes bugged, feeling taken aback by Astoria's question.
"What? No, of course not! I am, in fact, very good friends with an elf who works at Hogwarts. The only thing I have something against is slavery. Admittedly, the house-elves at Hogwarts are treated fairly well and are paid for their labour. They don't get much, but it's a start."
"I discourage further questions regarding this topic or otherwise Hermione will start preaching about SPEW," Harry whispered as a warning to the girls, but wasn't taken seriously.
"What's a spew?" Sophia asked loudly.
Harry groaned whilst Hermione cast him a withering look. She couldn't understand why he and Ron always made fun of S.P.E.W.; especially since they both knew of the horrors poor Dobby had to suffer through before he became a free elf. Her friends had both joined S.P.E.W., so a little compassion and dedication surely couldn't be too much to ask for.
In hindsight Neville would have made a much better secretary than Harry. He took her and her mission very seriously. And instead of Ron, she should have asked Dobby about the treasurer position.
"How many times do I have to tell you? It's S.P.E.W., not spew!" she groused before answering Sophia's question. "S.P.E.W. stands for Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. I founded the organisation about two years ago. Admittedly, I wasn't very successful, but at least raised some awareness about the terrible living conditions of house-elves.
"The current state is simply unacceptable. House-elves deserve to be free; and not considered as someone's property. They're living beings, not things. But their lives are bound and dedicated to their wizard masters entirely. That's not right."
"But it's always been this way. House-elves like the way their lives are run. I've never heard one complaining about it. On the contrary, our house-elves love working for my family," Astoria interjected, quick to defend herself and her family against Hermione's accusation.
"Yes, but only because they can't remember leading a different life. They've been conditioned to live like this for centuries. It's offensive that intelligent beings with such extraordinary magical abilities are reduced to 'menial labour' such as cooking and cleaning."
"Not every house-elf is mistreated like Dobby, you know?" Harry argued.
"I know that, Harry."
"Just imagine how Kreacher would react if I told him he was free and that he was getting paid from now on. He'd flip! He'd flip and run amok. Right after having chased me down and beaten me to death with his favourite frying pan - Master Harry or not."
Kreacher really was one of a kind. Extremely kind and loyal if you were in his good graces, but crazy son of a gun if he couldn't stand you.
"We've always treated our house-elves well," Astoria stressed. Whilst she wouldn't go as far and claim friendship, the family elves were still dear to her.
"I believe you, but I still think that things need to change. I'd even go so far and say that their magical skills are superior to ours in some areas. However, they can't live that potential and that's very sad. They deserve a chance."
"I never looked at it like that way, but you do have a point," Astoria admitted. "It's still something that will be hard to implement."
"That's why S.P.E.W. didn't catch on. Unfortunately people aren't ready for a change. But even if I only managed to convince a handful of people, it's still a success. Maybe they'll be able to make a difference," Hermione explained. "But moving on to a different subject: Anyone else want another Butterbeer?"
"Yes, please."
Astoria's eyes followed Hermione as the Head Girl made her way to the bar.
"That's so admirable, don't you agree?" Astoria gushed and let out a dreamy sigh. "It's so important to stand up for the less fortunate. The world needs more people who are as compassionate as Hermione. Not only is Hermione an excellent student, but also a great role model out of the academic field."
Sophia nodded along to this, although Harry suspected that she didn't really care Hermione's crusade. She simply agreed to please her friend. But it wasn't really Sophia's behaviour that caught Harry's interest. Whilst he wasn't always the quickest when it came to these things, Astoria's infatuation with Hermione was so painfully obvious.
He decided to share his discovery with Ron and started nudging said person in the ribs. Ron's Butterbeer immediately went down the wrong pipe when he saw Astoria's longing looks at her object of affection. What only made this funnier, was the fact that the Head Girl was completely oblivious to her admirer.
"I see you did some shopping today," Astoria remarked when Hermione returned, pointing to the bags by Hermione's seat. Hermione nodded.
"Yeah, I bought some clothes. Took me ages to find something decent."
"Oh, I love clothes shopping! Do you mind if I take a look at what you bought?"
Hermione liked clothes shopping too, although she would never ever admit that out loud. "Sure, knock yourself out."
Astoria grinned and reached for the nearest bag. When she did this, the Slytherin pressed her body close to Hermione's, which, of course, didn't escape Ron or Harry who both had to bite the inside of their cheeks to fight laughter. Especially Ron had a hard time fighting it, his face turning more crimson with every second that passed.
Hermione on the other hand pressed herself against the back of her seat, trying to minimize the body contact. Not that she had anything against Astoria, but Hermione wasn't sure how she felt about having Astoria draped over her lap. Sure, they were friends, but they weren't that close - so no need to get all that close. Although she was probably just being completely ridiculous, making a fuss over something very innocent. She still couldn't help but notice all the gesturing and hand or shoulder touching when the Slytherin prefect talked. But she guessed that some people were just touch-feely that way.
Hermione felt nervous. A week had passed since the 'Malfoy Incident' at the Three Broomsticks and so far nothing had been done in retaliation. Others would say that this was a good thing, but Hermione knew better. After all, this was Malfoy she was dealing with.
However, that wasn't the only feeling that caught up with her. Along with the uneasiness, came the remorse. It wasn't until the third day that she felt guilty over what she had done.
It was the moment she witnessed a scene between her co-Head and Malfoy. The former had been lecturing the latter on the student dress code. (Malfoy had had three buttons of his shirt unbuttoned due to the rather warm room temperature that even had Hermione sweating.) Malfoy immediately hit the roof and accused Zacharias of discriminating and trying to shame him. It was quite a memorable scene.
The Head Girl knew that she needed to apologize for her vicious prank. She had been way out of line and totally understood if he rejected her apology.
Now it slowly dawned to her that Malfoy may have only lain low this entire time, to come up with his perfect revenge. Chills ran down Hermione's spine when she caught him looking, waiting to catch her eye during dinner. Their staring match lasted until Malfoy suddenly smirked and raised his glass at her. He then cast a look at her cup as if to tell her that he knew something that she didn't. Hermione's hand froze mid-air and she cast a worried look at her cup.
Was it possible that Malfoy somehow managed to slip something in her drink? No, he had already been seated when she arrived, so that wasn't possible.
However now that she thought about it, a couple of Slytherins had walked passed the Gryffindor table when she and Neville had been engrossed in a deep conversation about the Venomous Tentacula. Perhaps one of them had done the deed for Malfoy...
Whilst she doubted that Malfoy would dare to slip her something truly harmful, it would probably still be wise to put her bezoar to good use.
Better safe than sorry, they say.
She kept a close eye on Malfoy for the rest of the day. Unfortunately, this only fed her paranoia. The smirks he sent her way whenever he caught her looking, were disconcerting to say the least.
It was why she acted jumpy all day, jerking at the most harmless noises or movements, earning a few raised brows. But for all she knew, Malfoy could strike any moment. Therefore she had to be alert at all times!
As if that wasn't already enough on her plate, her cat had gone missing. Whilst it wasn't entirely unusual for Crookshanks to go explore the grounds for hours, he'd never been gone this long before. Call it overreacting, but the fact that Hermione hadn't seen him since yesterday evening, worried her greatly. Perhaps her friend could help her.
"Hey Ron, have you seen Crookshanks? I can't seem to find him anywhere."
"Actually, that I have. He's upstairs in our dorm," Ron answered, looking up from his Quidditch magazine briefly. His answer surprised Hermione.
"Upstairs in your dorm?" she asked, wanting to know if she'd heard him right. Not tearing his eyes from his read, Ron nodded.
"Yes. Napping on Malfoy's bed, in fact."
"Napping on Malfoy's bed?!" Hermione repeated incredulously. Again, Ron nodded.
"Well, yeah. Crookshanks' been making himself at home in our dorm for the last week. I'm afraid he sort of adopted Malfoy," he explained. "You know, I've actually liked Crookshanks ever since the whole Scabbers debacle, however this development with Malfoy… it's very disappointing indeed."
Hermione's jaw dropped to the floor. Her cat was chumming up with Malfoy? (Or to put it in 4th-year-Ron's words: fraternising with the enemy?) If so, she had to put a stop to it immediately! She was absolutely not having any of this!
"Ron, go upstairs and get my cat," she ordered, but Ron wasn't cooperating.
"What? No!"
"Why not?" Hermione glared at her friend, hoping he'd feel intimidated, but her plan backfired. Instead of intimidated, he only looked extremely miffed.
"Just because I admitted that I liked Crookshanks, doesn't mean that I'm going to carry him down here for you. That cat does not like to be picked up from his sleeping spot. I learned that the hard way when I found him on my bed and tried to move him."
As evidence he shoved up one sleeve slowly, showing Hermione four long, angry scratch marks.
"You've got to admit that it's tedious to be woken up from deep slumber," Hermione defended her pet. Ron sighed, knowing that he should have expected no less from her. So he tried a different approach.
"Why does it bother you so much? Crookshanks can fend for himself. You don't even have to worry about him starving. Malfoy is feeding him plenty."
"WHAT? Malfoy is feeding him?" Hermione cried, ignoring Ron's offended look.
"Seriously Hermione, do you have to raise your voice at me like that? I'm just the messenger. Don't shoot the messenger," he complained.
"I'm just worried about my cat," Hermione mumbled apologetically. She didn't mean to snap at Ron, but what on earth was Malfoy playing at?
"All this testosterone does not become you," Ron muttered before adding more loudly, "Well, as I said before: your cat is fine. Malfoy feeds and grooms him. And don't even think of repeating what I just said - it's irritating," Ron warned, so Hermione held her tongue.
"As far as I can tell, he's not out to harm Crookshanks - which I know is hard to believe since we're talking about Malfoy here. But apparently he likes animals, especially cats. You know those grooming and treat kits for cats they sell at the Magical Menagerie? Well, Malfoy bought the biggest package of "My Purrrfect Cat" there is. It's fascinating and scary at the same time to watch him brush Crookshanks' fur every night," Ron continued. He had observed Malfoy's suspicious behaviour closely the last few days, but hadn't found anything truly alarming.
"So if Malfoy suddenly took special interest in Pigwidgeon, you wouldn't be worried?" Hermione probed.
"Of course I would be worried! What kind of question is that?" Ron scoffed. How could she doubt his affection for his little owl?
"See! I have all reason to be worried!"
"Not really. Pig is an owl and very loyal. Whereas Crookshanks is a cat. Hate to say this, Hermione, but cats aren't exactly known to be loyal - compared to other pets like dogs and owls," Ron explained to his scowling friend.
Hermione hated how Ron might have a point there. Sometimes Crookshanks acted far too independent for her liking. But before she had to resort to drastic measures (threatening Ron seemed like her best option), the furry creature luckily came trotting down the dorms' spiral staircase on his own.
"Crooks!" Hermione cried and immediately hurried over to gather the cat in her arms and inspect him.
Fur still orange and fluffy, no additional eyes, ears or tails or broken bones. Excellent!
Whereas Hermione was happy to be reunited with her pet, the same couldn't be said for Crookshanks. He all but enjoyed his owner's thorough inspection. In fact, he squirmed as much as possible and meowed loudly, demanding to be put down. When his owner did just that, he immediately sprinted back up the "girls'" dorm. His body language just screamed: "Leave me in peace, you pesky human!" (Not to mention the puffed fur to emphasise his outrage.)
"Told you. No loyalty those cats," Ron unnecessarily commented as Hermione just gaped after her cat.
You've got to be kidding me!
"I can't believe that snake is turning my cat against me! Did you see that? How Crookshanks pushed himself away when I held him?" Hermione ranted, balling her fists in anger.
She really had to hand it to Draco - he went where it hurt. This wasn't some amateur she was dealing with. His steps were well-planned. She had a pro at work.
