Chapter 5: Hermione Makes a Temporary Ally

Merlin's swinging, saggy balls. For the love of all that is holy, no…

"Ahem! Children, gather round! I am your substitute teacher until Professor Merrythought's health improves. It is wonderful to meet you! I trust you all read the chapter? Or course you did, you're not completely stupid, my goodness you are all so cute!"

Her very existence was an explosion of pink lace. A larger woman, who dressed and talked like a little girl and patted a bedazzled kitten handbag with easy familiarity. Not that there was anything inherently wrong with pink-wearing larger women that carried around bedazzled kitten handbags, but she looked and sounded so much like Dolores Umbridge that Hermione couldn't stop from automatically gripping her wand and frowning in disbelief.

"Are you all here? Fantastic! Now according to your textbook the work of an Auror is divided into several different responsibilities, and today we will be acting out each of those roles. I will be breaking you up and directing you to activity tables. Doesn't that sound like fun!"

The seventh years quickly exchanged looks of disbelief as they stared (and in some cases, gaped) at the overenthusiastic woman.

And as she continued to speak, Hermione quickly realized she was wrong in her initial assessment. This woman was much, much worse than Umbridge. Professor Meadows took passive aggression to an entirely new level. Either that, or the woman truly believed she was heading a class of five year olds.

Although the familiarity of the woman's worship of aristocracy was something Hermione could have lived without.

"Oh, Mister Malfoy is it? I've seen your father around the Ministry. No doubt he raised you to be a capable young man! Why don't you go to that corner over there labeled dueling! There's a good chap!"

"Mister Rookwood, another familiar face! So glad to see such strapping young fellows learning about Defense Against the Dark Arts on a NEWT level! We don't you go over to the corner labeled Curse-Breaking! Oh, I'm so glad to see you're so excited!"

And then the ridiculous woman came across Tom, and Hermione could not stop herself from leaning forward in anticipation. The woman's voice was curt as she tilted her head curiously. Hermione thought she understood the reaction; the woman's voice spoke of the internal aggravation of a person who makes it a point to know everyone, and then finds out that they had somehow failed. "And who might you be?"

Tom turned up the wattage of his smile in anticipation, ran a hand through his fucking perfect hair, and subtly tilted his Head Boy badge in her direction as if trying to present to her the very image of potential in the glorious power of youth. "Tom Riddle, Professor Meadows."

He sounded so pathetically eager. Hermione couldn't stop herself from snorting, and then smirking when Tom shot a quick dark look in her direction.

"And who are your parents, Mister Riddle?"

Her voice was sickenly sweet.

"Oh, um… I'm an orphan, Professor." He looked down in a semblance of shame, and peered back up at her through his eyelashes in order to gauge her sympathy.

The woman was clearly indifferent to Tom's charms, smiling dismissively. Hermione was intrigued despite herself. "Such a pity, Mister Riddle. And I can see that you try hard, despite the overwhelming probability that you will never amount to anything," she gave his Head Boy badge a pitying glance.

Tom stilled.

She sighed loudly, almost whimsically, before continuing. "The fact that you try is adorable. But I'm afraid I need to act as the voice of reason in order to prevent any future disappointment. Can't get our expectations too high, now can we? You can go to the corner over there labeled Reports and Record Keeping."

Hermione's eyes widened almost automatically. Well, fuck. She was expecting a reproof, but not a complete dismissal. But Tom seemed to be taking it in stride, heading to the designated table with a proud tilt to his chin, although his eyes were stormy.

Professor Meadow readily dismissed him and moved onto Avery. "Ah, this must be Mister Avery! Yes, I saw you with your parents in a box seat during the last World Cup. Your little sister is just the cutest little thing… Why don't we put you in the dueling corner next to Malfoy, hm?"

A couple more students of distinction joined Rookwood before the woman got to Hermione, who was already expecting the worst. She stared up at the woman defiantly.

Professor Meadows peered at her for at least fifteen seconds in surprise, just blinking. And then…

"There's a girl in this class? What on earth was Headmaster Dippet thinking? Such a silly old coot."

The woman stepped just that bit closer, trying to identify her. "Well, girl? Who are you?"

Hermione's lips pursed distastefully. "Hermione Granger."

The professor hummed thoughtfully. "Granger, Granger…. Ah, would you happen to be a relative of Hector Dagworth-Granger? Marvelous potioneer. Simply brilliant."

Hermione couldn't hide her disdain. "That is not any of your business. I apologize Professor, but I was under the impression that you were here to teach us about Defense Against the Dark Arts, not to flaunt your questionable pedigree."

Because, really, the only justification the woman might have to act so deferentially to the wealthier denizens of the magical world and attempt to establish so many contacts would be to cover up the fact that she did not come by those contacts the traditional way. A.K.A. Nepotism.

A hush fell across the room at her statement.

The woman's sickly smile was back. "Miss Granger, there is nothing wrong with attempting to better understand my students. How else can I be expected to properly motivate them?"

"Perhaps you should be more concerned about motivation only after you've observed their discouragement? Which would require that you actually teach them something in the first place."

The woman's face started to turn a startling pink, and slightly concerned that this unsubtle act of defiance could instigate serious retribution, Hermione backpedaled, quickly adding, "I apologize if that seemed too bold, but-" Hermione paused to flutter her eyelashes innocently, "-I want to help you succeed. Serving as a temporary instructor must be difficult."

The woman immediately relaxed back into the expected exchange of passive-aggressive remarks. Hermione's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, considering how quickly the woman defused. It was almost unnatural. Perhaps the woman had training ingrained when she was a child that emphasized the appropriateness of lady-like behavior? Which would include not making a scene?

In any case, the frilly woman retaliated. "Oh, you poor child! To think that this is all I do with my time. Although no doubt this just a consequence of your unfortunate upbringing. Well, in the real world you might be able to cut it as a secretary. You can join Mister Riddle."

Hermione smiled unpleasantly. "Of course Professor. And I will let Uncle Hector know you feel that way." She marched defiantly over to Tom, ignoring her professor's choked response, and stood next to him with her arms crossed. She was angry enough to ignore the fact that this made them look like a united front.

Their position as it was, Tom was able to mutter into her ear over their shoulders, looking remarkably cavalier following Hermione's dismissal. Misery loves company perhaps? "Are you actually related?"

Hermione snorted. "If I am, he hasn't bothered to inform me."

Tom smirked. "And if they ask for proof?"

She snarled quietly. "None of their goddamn business."

"Hmm."

Hermione was feeling petulant, still able to hear the abominable woman coo at her underwhelming peers, and looked at the sign above their corner with a displeased pout. "Perhaps we could write a report about the benefits of meritocracy? With a tidbit about how relying on feudalistic delineated classism prevents innovation and community growth."

Tom's smirk widened in response to her comment, although his reply was sharp. "Why waste the time when the material would go over their heads? Besides, it wouldn't instigate any real change. That would necessitate a sacrifice on behalf of the aristocracy. Which they might be convinced to do if their relevancy decreases, but that is unlikely to happen with people like Miss Meadows mucking about."

Hermione huffed. "Then perhaps a realistic doomsday scenario about the detriments of nepotism?" She looked over to Tom with mischievous eyes. "A young, up and coming Minister of Magic, pushed through the system with none of the experience but all of the pedigree, suddenly responsible for defending the magical community against a foreign invasion of Dark wizards. And tragically everyone dies except those capable of defending themselves, who go on to rebuild society with smarter, better-looking children."

Tom's eyes were dancing. "Better looking?"

Hermione smirked. "Inbreeding has very real consequences, Tom. This generation only seems to be affected in the mind, but add on a few more generations?"

Tom actually chuckled, and Hermione had to stop herself from gaping. He turned to her curiously. "Tell me, how often do you think about killing people?"

What a non-sequitur. Hermione felt her lips curl up in amusement. "It depends. Certain people seem to bring out the more homicidal aspect of my personality."

"Am I to understand that I am one of those people?"

Hermione gave him a small smirk. "Birds of a feather?"

Another chuckle. She looked away from his face, almost irrationally afraid to see the good humor transform his features. She wasn't comfortable being confronted with the very small aspects of his humanity that seem to have persisted.

Although, my goodness, if he continued to laugh at her quips she would start to get a big head and decide that she actually had a sense of humor. Which according to the boys, she absolutely did not.

When she eventually looked back up at him she saw he was fairly grinning. And fuck, it was beautiful. She was right to be afraid.

"You think I'm homicidal?"

Hermione eyes narrowed suspiciously, and she mentally shoved down any inward observations made about his appearance. "Is this a trick question?"

"I'm just curious about why you think that way."

Hermione lifted a brow. "Oh, so your threats about interrogating me for information and making me scream were actually sexual in nature? Kinky."

Tom snorted.

They were interrupted by a sickly sweet voice.

"Children? Why are you just standing there when you should be working at your activity table? I wasn't aware that any of you were hard of hearing. You should be watching the duels and writing reports on what you witnessed."

The woman paused to look down at a skinny boy at her side. "Mister Williams will be joining you. Please at least aim for competence? Your first impressions were rather lacking. But I know you can do it if you give 110%!" The smile she gave them was mocking, before she called out, "Toodle-loo!" and twirled away.

Tom and Hermione shared an aggravated look as their professor fairly skipped to the other side of the room. They both knew she had not given them any kind of verbal cue. And Hermione found that she couldn't stop sneering. "I wasn't aware that telepathy was a requirement for Auror training."

Tom's eyes flashed. "I can't believe that a woman claiming to want to know her students couldn't be bothered to check the gradebook."

Hermione smirked, her gaze wicked. "Aw, did she bruise your pride Tom?"

He sneered. "Like you're unaffected."

Hermione huffed. "I don't give two flying fucks what that tacky arsemonger of a sycophant thinks. I just can't believe her gall. And she reminds me of someone unpleasant."

He tilted his head in question.

"The woman I led into the forest to be crushed by giants and eaten by giant spiders?"

Tom looked thoughtful. "Hm. But she didn't actually die?"

Hermione frowned. "The Headmaster interfered." And then she brightened. "Although I hear she was grievously injured. Centaurs are wonderful creatures."

"I wasn't aware that Centaurs normally attacked people on sight."

"They do if you call them 'filthy half-breeds' and 'creatures of near-human intelligence', and then proceed to strangle them with ropes."

Tom blinked down at her in muted disbelief. "Who would be that stupid?"

Hermione shrugged. "She was a special woman."

"Apparently."

There was a loud call from across the room. "Mister Riddle! Miss Granger! Mister Williams! I do not see you writing!"

Hermione pursed her lips, before grabbing a piece of parchment and a quill out of her bag. "I am going to make this the most detailed depiction of a duel ever written. And fill it with language truly representative of her vast intellect."

"So a third-year level then?"

Hermione giggled and began to write.

They spent a good twenty minutes scribbling on parchment, Williams jotting things down on the table as far away from the two of them as he could manage.

Hermione only just absentmindedly realized she and Tom were sharing an ink well when Professor Meadows came up from behind them.

"Let me see what you have Mister Riddle? There's a good boy."

Tom stilled again, his eyes narrow in irritation, as the woman grabbed the paper impatiently, bright violet nails flashing from the quick movement.

Stupidly, Hermione thought to herself, 'Not pink?', before their interim professor began her tirade.

"Perfunctory at best, Mister Riddle. However, I'm afraid professional caliber report writing requires some intuitive leaps and descriptions that seem to be beyond you. A pity. I suppose I was optimistic in thinking that you would be capable of even the simplest aspect of Auror work."

Tom was very quiet. Almost submissive, if not for the angry, embittered turn of his mouth and the maniacal flash in his eyes. Hermione wondered at the extent of the boy's self control.

Their professor looked towards the other students, then, as if expecting the dressing-down to encourage some level of comradery. Her brow furrowed in puzzlement when she saw that everyone in the room was carefully not looking in their direction, doing their best not to react in the slightest.

It rubbed her the wrong way, this blatant bullying, and Hermione found herself defending Tom before she even realized what she was doing. Stupid. "I am sure his work is entirely competent considering his impediments."

The older woman's eyes shot in her direction curiously. "Oh? And what might those be? His… circumstances?"

Hermione sneered. "Hardly. Tom didn't need the 'right circumstances' to rise out of mediocrity. No, I am talking about the obvious impediments. Working under the instruction of a defunct professor who has more than likely never actually been in an auror office, and who provided little to no instruction in regards to the proper methodologies of said assignment while actively discouraging students she deemed unworthy according to an incredibly unprofessional subjective bias."

Tom slowly turned his head towards her, an indecipherable look on his face. Miss Meadow was infinitely more predictable; her face turned that violent shade of pink again, and her fists began to shake. Then she forced herself to take several deep breaths, and turned towards Hermione with a saccharine smile.

"I think detention is in order. My office, Friday after dinner. And in the meantime I will have a discussion with the Headmaster about the suitability of your presence in this course. Participation of this subject at the NEWT level is hardly befitting a young lady."

Hermione was still sneering, but the bitterness and anger were growing. Some of that aimed at herself- after all, she hardly needed to defend an impending Dark Lord, even if at the moment he looked more like a teenager that had unfairly taken a lot of shite over the years. And as par the usual, that resentment came out as sarcasm.

"Of course, Professor. How silly of me. I had forgotten that Dark Wizards, Werewolves, Vampires, and Dementors do not attack young ladies. How incredibly lucky for us that individuals practicing the Dark Arts are so noble in their sentiments."

Tom snorted, and the older woman's eyes flashed in response to this noise.

"If you were a proper young lady, you would never need to worry about being put in a position where you would encounter any of those threats."

"Really? And where do all of the proper young ladies go when wartime hits? Are they to play host to demons, or encouraged to hide under the bed?"

The next look Tom sent was intrigued. Suddenly aware she was staring, Hermione spent a split second wondering how she had gotten so good at deciphering the emotions behind his expressions, and then realized she was always aware of him. Always watching. At first, out of wary apprehension intermixed with periods of intense resentment and anger, but now… no wonder everyone thought that she liked him.

"Nonsense. What war…"

"So you believe Grindelwald isn't a threat?"

Professor Meadows' expression was tight. "Hardly."

Hermione tilted her head at the familiarity of her stance, feeling jaded. "Is that your personal opinion, or the Ministry's official stance on the subject?"

The older woman was wary. "Wouldn't they be one and the same?"

Hermione shrugged. "Not necessarily."

Hermione had been about to add on more when she stopped herself. She suddenly realized she had been thinking about Meadows' obvious deference towards the Noble Twenty-Eight in the context of Voldemort's war. Hermione mentally smacked herself when she realized she was remembering her past and talking to their new Professor as if it was still 1997. It's not the same. Not at all. Why was she acting so idiotically today? Although, in her defensive, she had only been in this new timeline for a little over a month. Not much of an adjustment period.

At least she hadn't said anything too incriminating.

Her Professor's eyes were narrowed. "And what does 'Uncle Hector' have to say about the subject?"

Hermione's smile was a mirror image of her professor's. Touché, but Hermione had always been something of a smartass. "That perhaps if Hector Fawley had been a bit more proactive, half of Europe wouldn't be up in flames?"

Although Hermione knew that was an unfair assessment, well aware of how the muggle world war was decimating the continent.

Professor Meadows was considering. "Regardless of your knowledge or connections, I still think your placement in this course is inappropriate. And I am sure many of these fine boys agree."

Tom spoke up, and Hermione's mouth opened a little in surprise when she realized he was speaking in her defense. The look he sent her was amused and mocking. "I disagree, Professor. I believe that her presence would be good for the young men in this class. While I completely agree that a… proper young lady should stay out conflict wherever possible, I am sure you are aware that there are exceptions. And I would hate for any of my peers to be caught unawares and prove hesitant to carry out their duty because of an overemphasis on chivalry to the point of stymieing their ability to act on their self-preservation instinct."

Many of the young men (cough Tom's cronies cough) were quick to voice their agreement, and their professor pouted her lips in irritation.

Hermione spoke up from behind her. "If I may be so bold Professor? If this subject is so unsuitable for women, why are you teaching it?"

That saccharine smile was back. "Teaching is not the same thing as becoming an Auror, which is part of what this class prepares you for. Why else do you think fifth years receive career counseling before deciding on their course schedule? Perhaps you should not be so quick to judge. You are hardly as clever as you seem to think, which is so darling…"

She turned to the rest of the class. "We will continue this activity on Monday. In the meantime, the Headmaster and I will have words. And Mister Riddle, dear? Do try to improve your performance. You seem to overestimate your cleverness as well."

She swept back towards her desk.

Hermione took that to mean she was not going to give up on removing her.

Of fucking course not. That would be too easy. Goddammit.

She looked over at Tom and realized he seemed to be just as angry, staring off in the direction of their professor with a disturbing look on his face.

Hermione considered her position, and the fact that they had just defended each other (an action she was sure to attempt to psychoanalyze later). She thought about what changes she was making in this timeline, and the potential implications. And realized she had no real idea about what she was going to do if she was trapped here forever.

She needed a battle plan. And in order to make one, she needed time.

And with that in mind, she stepped close enough to Tom that their sleeves brushed and casually introduced a new topic.

"So, Tom. I hear that Professor Merrythought will be in the infirmary for at least another two weeks."

The tone of her voice was idle, but she was sure her Slytherin classmate could hear her frustration at that unfortunate truth. And Tom did not look at her in response, peeved aggravation still a tightly controlled coil, but by the way he momentarily paused, Hermione could tell he was listening.

"It might be useful to set up a temporary alliance. As I have a strong feeling that this treatment is going to continue for as long as she is here."

He paused again, before looking up at her. He quietly assessed her for a long moment. "I suppose that doesn't sound too disagreeable. For the entertainment value, if nothing else."

Hermione continued, biting her lip, considering. "The only caveat is that it would push back our private meeting. After all, an interrogation is hardly an appropriate activity to foster amiability and cooperation."

Tom narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously.

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I am hardly going anywhere. And it's not as if two weeks is really going to change anything."

They were interrupted by a cheery voice.

"Malfoy, there is no need to look so glum. That was a such a good attempt today. And I am sure you will do even better on Monday! Turn that frown upside down!"

Tom lips pulled back in distaste. "Fine. Two weeks. And as the first act of our temporary alliance, I am giving you my completed reports. Be a doll and give it to our lovely professor for me?"

Hermione's brow raised, but it was hard not to feel some kind of triumph after successfully sequestering more time to evaluate her situation. She had a feeling her face looked rather constipated from her mixed feelings, but whatever. "Of course."

"Excellent."

And then he walked away, just like that. Grabbed his bag, and exited the room with the rush.

Some ally he was. Arsehole.

Hermione tried to convince herself that she hadn't meant that as an endearment, and failed.

Fuck.

Cue distraction.

Hermione approached the professor with the brightest fake smile she could manage. "Professor Meadows! Here are our reports."

The older woman blinked down at Hermione's paper. "This is… long."

Hermione was aggravated enough to take the time to truly explore her ability to retaliate passive-aggressively.

"Well, I was just so enthused by the idea, I found that I had to write absolutely everything down. 110%, right? And, by the way, this was such a clever simulation Professor. I really enjoyed class today."

The woman was twitching slightly, as if she had no way to gauge Hermione's sincerity and thus had no idea how to respond.

"Anyways… I hope the rest of your day is as pleasant as you are. Toodle-loo!"

Hermione swept away before Miss Meadows could respond.

Merlin, it felt good being a bitch.

It was only after she trounced Charles soundly for the sixth time that she realized exactly why she needed to join the Dueling Club.

Before, her interest had been reactionary, rooted in contrary defiance because she was angry they thought to disclude her because of her gender.

Because, while she knew how important it was to keep up her skills in that area, that kind of practice did not require the support of a student organization.

But she needed more than someone skilled enough to match her; she wanted someone with the ambition to push her. Which she was reasonably sure she could find in the club.

His next statement summed up her hesitation quite nicely.

"Hey Hermione, not that this hasn't been fun- I don't think I've even been beaten by a prettier girl- or any girl, really- but why are you doing all of this? You're already very good at dueling."

In fact, that statement seemed to sum up a lot of her interactions with her peers over the years.

Why did she need to excel when it wasn't necessary to succeed? Why devote the time needed for perfection, when she could be enjoying more hedonistic pursuits? Why was she always pushing for more- more knowledge, more experience, more recognition…

She was fucking tired of people asking. And she hadn't consciously realized up until that point how exhausting it was to spend time with people who didn't understand her. At all.

So Hermione just gave the Potter a tired smile, and said, "Don't worry, we can stop," all the while making plans for finding a way to corner Tom into letting her join. Although at this point she might just settle for a decent partner.

Maybe she could scope out a session and poach a partner?

That might be a very viable plan B.

Still, she was happy to have a person in Gryffindor who wasn't actively looking to sabotage her.

Which reminded her of that little incident from a few days ago, and the meeting she had set up with her Potions Professor to analyze the evidence.

Although she still had an hour, and she was hesitant to go gallivanting around in the dungeons by herself without an appointment… What if some cocky Slytherin decided to start a skirmish? Honestly, it seemed like a hassle.

Luckily, Hermione Granger was never without her handy dandy backpack crammed with textbooks, homework assignments, and too many quills. She could work anywhere at anytime, to her heart's desire. Thus, it was no surprise that an hour passed quite quickly as she worked on an Arithmancy assignment. And then she headed to the Potions classroom with surprisingly few interruptions.

Merlin be praised.

It was ridiculously easy to get permission from Professor Slughorn to brew a few potions in the lab after hours. Like, stupidly easy. She hadn't even finished asking, and he was ushering her in and helping her pick out ingredients (an elaborated excuse on hand concerning the whys, but the man had barely inquired).

She supposed there were benefits to being in his favor.

An hour and half later, she was able to verify that the blood was not human. Another hour, and she could see the smoky visage of a cat rise briefly from the cauldron, before the potion settled.

Someone had murdered a cat.

Huh.

Hermione was not happy about that fact- not at all, she was rather fond of cats- but for some reason she had seriously considered that it might belong to a person. That the offender was trying to implicate her in something as dramatic as a murder. Or perhaps that they would have found a way to use her own blood, as a kind of threat and allusion to her lack of defenses. But a cat?

It made her feel oddly paranoid, actually, as if she had been overacting. Another indication that she was thinking like a child soldier, rather than an ostracized student.

Was it because they couldn't be sure that she wouldn't turn to her Head of House? That they considered there might be an investigation, and an analysis, and they didn't want to accidentally be charged with a crime?

But they would have needed to leave evidence to be wary of indictment. Although maybe they wanted to avoid the increased scrutiny of the staff?

Hermione sighed. She had no way of knowing. The best could do was to wait for the next violation and catch them in the act. Which would indicate traps. And while Hermione had some prior experience in warding and barriers, she knew the runes involved for trap-making or curses were very different. She would need to go back to the library.

Maybe the boys were right. She did spend an ungodly amount of her time there.

But first, a quick visit to the kitchens for a spot of chocolate cake.

She needed the energy. And it was important to devote time to life's small pleasures, you understand.