On Teenagers & Love

a story by anamatics

Part Two

Chapter Eleven - On Chance Discoveries


They've barely been back at school for a week when Pansy Parkinson of all blasted people catches sight of Hermione's necklace. She notices while they're out on patrol together, checking for rule breakers and upset students as it is their duty as prefects. Hermione hates the fact that they've been assigned patrol duty together again, but both Professors McGonagall and Snape have insisted that they remain a pair.

"You've worked quite well together," Professor McGonagall had insisted when Hermione had gone to see her at the start of term to request a different partner. Evidently Pansy had done the same, and Snape had turned her down as well. They'd both commiserated about it for the first half of their two hour long patrol of the hallways together.

They're not friends, not even acquaintances really. Hermione knows that Pansy looks down on her and hates her for her blood status. She hates how Pansy has never given her a chance, and her jaw tightens as Pansy describes the Malfoy's ball at New Year's.

Once, when Hermione was just a child, she'd wanted to be a princess. She would have been the practical sort that would rule with a just hand and help the people of the world. She might have been a little infatuated with Princess Diana at the time, Hermione reasons when she thinks back on it now. The fact remains that Hermione had wanted those balls, dancing in bright lights with everyone watching her.

Now, as she's grown, she finds the whole idea silly, but she does miss the innocence of the idea. She hates that she knows that Pansy is absolutely not a picture of innocence and gets to experience her childhood dreams.

They pause at the prefects' bathroom on the fourth floor and Hermione wonders if this is the one that Harry used when he was trying to figure out the second task last year. There are at least two other bathrooms that only prefects have access to that she knows about however, so it could have been a different one. "I'm getting a drink," Pansy announces and heads towards the fountain at the back of the bathroom.

The hour is growing late and Hermione hasn't slept very well since they've come back to school. Over the holiday she'd grown spoiled, sleeping with Fleur every night, not caring with Sirius or Mrs. Weasley had to say about it.

She's worried about Fleur. She knows that she shouldn't be and that Fleur's better protected than most staying at Grimmauld Place. Still, the worry is always there. They know that things are happening now. Fleur won't tell her anything about what Mr. Weasley got hurt guarding at the Ministry of Magic, but Hermione knows that it has to be important.

This is why Harry's started occlumency lessons with Professor Snape - because he's dreaming images of Voldemort. Hermione's brow narrows and she reaches to twist the necklace around her neck back into place. She stares hard at her face in the mirror, frizzy hair and hallow-looking eyes.

She has got to get better about sleeping, but she's grown spoiled with the holiday.

"She doesn't waste time, does she?" Pansy says and Hermione shoves the necklace under her sweater hurriedly, her cheeks flushing a bright red. Of all the people to see it.

Hermione knows better than to feign ignorance around a Slytherin, especially one as prone to gossip as Pansy Parkinson. She turns up her nose and stares Pansy right in her ruddy brown eyes. "What of it? she demands instead of denying anything. Pansy's never expressed an objection to her relationship, merely to her blood status.

Pansy folds her arms across her chest, eyes narrowing and her prefect badge glittering the flickering torchlight of the bathroom. "You can't commit to something like that, Granger. You're not of age."

As if Hermione isn't aware of that. This whole thing is a mess and she's really not sure how she is going to go about telling her parents just what the implications of taking jewelry from one of veela descent means. Her face twists downwards into a scowl and she steps towards Pansy. She knows that there are others in this school who probably have heritage that is similar to Fleur's. It is not exactly an uncommon situation among pureblood families. If Pansy's face wasn't so bloody awful, Hermione would probably hazard a guess that there might be some creature in her blood as well. Hermione reasons that a troll is a viable option.

Still, attempting to appeal to a human side of Pansy and her prejudices is probably the only way that she's going to get out of this without the whole school finding out. She takes a deep breath. "I didn't say yes," she confesses. "A professor found us, during the Hogsmeade visit in October; we were up on the hill."

Pansy's face is still a picture of smug disinterest, but she nods almost imperceptivity, and Hermione continues, "They had some choice things to say and while nothing has come of it, Fleur did not want to take the risk that something would."

"That's..." Pansy is clearly torn and Hermione can see it, because so many of the old families have intermarried with the sentient creatures to keep the magic in their families strong. Hermione watches as Pansy weighs the situation and finally comes to a conclusion. "I suppose I should congratulate you for finding a way to advance above your station."

Hermione bites the inside of her cheek hard to keep herself from hexing Pansy. Her knuckles are white around her wand in her pocket and there are three jinxes on her lips that would make the next twenty-four hours that Pansy Parkinson lives a living hell.

The bell tolls the hour and Hermione forces herself to smile as politely as possible. She hates the playacting. They've already chosen their allegiances, no matter how much the Sorting Hat had urged for house unity at the start of the school year. So long as Pansy's loyalties lie with Draco Malfoy and his cronies, Hermione cannot see a way that they will be any more than civil with each other. And civil, it seems, is really pushing the envelope. "See you Saturday then?" she says through gritted teeth.

Pansy starts to answer than then and then shakes her head. "No, we have Charms together this term."

"Wednesday then," Hermione says curtly before stalking, still fuming, from the prefect's bathroom.

Hermione weaves her way up towards Gryffindor tower, taking several secret passageways and slamming doors behind her as she went. She can barely get the password out of her mouth around clenched teeth and she ignores the Fat Lady's sleepy reply as the door to the common room swings open and Hermione clambers into the portal hole.

Harry is standing by the fire, staring down at it with a pensive expression on his face. "Hermione?" he questions and Hermione halts, groaning loudly. "You alright?"

She shakes her head. "I hate her," she mutters. "I hate them all so much."

"Who?"

"Pansy Parkinson and her smug friends." She shakes her head. There's no way that she's telling two people about it in one night, even if she's sure that Harry's reaction will be supportive, if not-quite-comprehending what it all means. "It's nothing, how did your occlumency lesson go?"

"Rubbish," Harry kicked a coal that had popped out of the fire back towards the flames. "Snape is a bloody awful teacher."