A/N: Pardon my French, but this chapter was a bitch to write. Enjoy!
~Naralanis
It was on Tuesday night, shortly before she received two students to serve detention with her, that Narcissa stumbled upon quite a worrying realization concerning a certain Transfigurations Professor. Rather, the realization didn't quite concern Hermione Granger, but Narcissa's own initial dismissal, her initial assumption of what fuelled the intensity of that hazel gaze towards her. It was on Tuesday that Narcissa realized, quite strongly, that it wasn't what she thought it was.
It had never been a 'fluke'. And Narcissa certainly wasn't imagining it.
No, no. For once, the great Narcissa Black had misinterpreted the true intentions of the gaze. Something she had been so expertly well-versed in, something she had used time and again to her advantage through the years, and yet here she was, utterly and completely stumped by it.
Now she stood with the understanding that it wasn't merely curiosity, or even simple professional admiration that fuelled Hermione's gaze – no, it was something else entirely, and she doubted even Hermione herself realized what it was. But the question remained; how had she not been able to spot it sooner?
It had to be because it was Hermione Granger. The witch's interest had effectively blindsided her because she was, well, Gryffindor's Golden Girl. Who would expect such a thing coming from such an unlikely place?
Narcissa needed confirmation, and should it be achieved, she needed to put an immediate stop to it. Something had to be done – it wasn't fair to Hermione to allow their rapport to blossom into anything more. As much as Narcissa enjoyed her company, her knowledge, and her overall presence, there were certain lines that should not be crossed.
So that had been her resolute conclusion – to maintain a cordial, professional relationship with her fellow professor and nothing more, for both their sakes'. And because she was Narcissa Black, she had every intention of seeing it through.
It lasted just about until Hermione came knocking on her office door early on Tuesday evening.
"You won't believe what I just found, entirely by chance!" She had blurted cheerily when Narcissa opened the door to her office, inviting herself in with a breeze of the same unbridled excitement that had carried them over the weekend at Black Manor. Narcissa had been utterly disarmed to put her planning into practice.
"It doesn't quite bring us any closer to finding the original warding runes in the property" Hermione had continued, cheeks flushed and breath a tad erratic. She carried an enormous book from the Black Library; the tome was so heavy her arms trembled holding it open for Narcissa to see. The Potions professor approached, taking the other end of the tome in her own hands and lifting it up, easing the strain on Hermione's arms.
"But," she went on joyfully, "it gives us some great insight into how your ancestors changed the original wards! I wish I had realized it sooner, but one doesn't usually consider runes as transfigurative objects, though that seems to be exactly what was done to the Black wards, though I really can't imagine how! I think that's precisely why their magical signatures are so difficult to isolate and determine, you see, because they had been fundamentally changed in such a level that we..."
"Hermione." Narcissa called, taking another step closer – her hold onto the sides of the scarred book cover moved until her hands ghosted over Hermione's before settling there. The touch was enough to stop the young witch's animated rambling.
Hermione's cheeks flushed even further, and the moment her gaze connected with Narcissa's, the latter could feel all of her painstakingly gathered resolve crumble into nothing. Perhaps it had been her exhilaration upon discovery; perhaps it had been her Gryffindor impetuousness. Perhaps it had merely been her intoxicating resilience. Narcissa didn't know if perhaps it was the brunette's hazel eyes, or the warmth of her hands beneath her own, but something then and there supplied her with the most startling awareness.
What an astonishing creature was Hermione Granger.
"Yes?" the brunette questioned, shrouded in Narcissa's unexpected silence. The question caught Narcissa so curiously off-guard she had to take a moment to compose herself.
"Ah, yes. What, pray tell, are you talking about?" she finally asked, because wasn't Hermione talking about Runes or some such thing when she walked in?
"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed; Narcissa felt her hands slip away, taking the heavy book to her desk and setting it there. The young witch motioned for Narcissa to follow.
"Here you go," she said, pointing at some intricately hand-drawn diagrams featured on the old, well-worn yellowed pages. Narcissa recognized runes she had studied all her life, as well as some other rudimentary inscriptions designed for beginners in the discipline. However, she felt more than a little lost at the complex transmutative equations and diagrams that seemed to naturally follow – they were not like anything she had ever seen before, at least not paired with runes. It was an unnatural combination.
"What am I looking at?" she asked, effectively side-tracked by whatever Hermione's brilliant mind had stumbled upon.
"We are looking at the reason why your family's wards are so bloody tricky to work with. Well, at least one of them." Hermione noted. She pointed to one of the more elementary sets of runes that seemed to serve as an example for whatever it was all those equations did.
"Your ancestors not only created some scary-strong Blood Wards" Hermione continued, indicating some of the more complex equations, "but they, somehow, managed to transfigure runes!"
"What?" Narcissa asked, truly baffled, because there was no way that could be true. Was there? One look at the eager Transfiguration specialist by her side told her that Hermione was certainly considering the possibility. "Is such a thing even possible?"
"It shouldn't be" Hermione readily admitted, but there was a glint in her eye that told Narcissa precisely the opposite. "But somehow, your ancestors created runes with transmutative properties. It's one of the most fascinating things I've ever seen!"
Narcissa tried to wrap her head around it, with great difficulty. "How?" she questioned. "How could runes be considered transfigurable objects? They are not even objects to begin with! How would one account for variables such as bodyweight? I find it hard to believe my family managed to transcend the most fundamental mathematics of transfiguration." She argued.
"I don't think that's what happened at all" Hermione countered excitedly. "I think they somehow managed to create runes that abide to the transfigurative formula."
Narcissa looked at Hermione as if the brunette had suddenly delivered a soliloquy in Mermish. Was there something painfully obvious that she was missing?
"How would one accomplish such a thing?" she asked, utterly confused. Had she forgotten everything she knew about transfiguration since the pretty brunette walked through her door?
Her thoughts came to a screeching halt. Pretty?!
"I'm not sure" Hermione persisted, entirely oblivious to Narcissa's rapidly developing inner crisis. "But these diagrams don't lie – they've managed to come up with exact values for the runes in the transfigurative formula. This is so exciting!"
"Yes, quite" Narcissa said flatly, her throat suddenly parched.
"Isn't it? We have to figure out how they did it! This could change the face of Transfiguration as we know it!"
Narcissa forced herself to concentrate once more on the complicated sketches before her. It was hard to feel like such an idiot when faced with these transfiguration formulas – Merlin, she had become familiar with the exceedingly convoluted calculations for human transfiguration, for Salazar's sakes – but that was exactly how she felt. She blamed the brunette next to her and the unfamiliar feelings that bubbled in the pit of her stomach.
"These formulas... they're just so..." she began, tracing some of the diagrams with a great level of uncertainty.
"Completely bonkers." Hermione finished for her, a smile on her face that Narcissa simply had to reciprocate.
"I'm inclined to agree."
"I'll have to study them more closely, but I was just so excited to show you." Hermione confessed, and Narcissa did not like how the brunette's flushing cheeks made her feel – not one bit. She didn't know what to say to that.
"Oh, my bad, it's almost time for detention, isn't it?" Hermione said, suddenly very interested on the clock that was about to chime.
"Yes." Narcissa gasped, clinging to that lifeline. She had nearly forgotten she was supposed to be overseeing William and Stuart in their respective detentions.
"I'll get out of your hair then," Hermione babbled. "What are you having them do? For detention?"
"Oh, we will be going to the Staff greenhouse to collect a few ingredients to replenish my stocks." Narcissa replied.
Hermione grinned. "Sounds great. Could you let me know how it goes? I mean, Stuart is in my house, after all..." She seemed to stop and ponder for a second. "Actually, considering he is a Gryffindor and all, would you like some help overseeing this? Wouldn't be as boring as it could be."
"Oh, that's not necessary!" Narcissa said a little too fast – Hermione's smile faltered a fraction, but it was more than enough for Narcissa to realize how her tone affected the younger witch. "I wouldn't want to burden you. Besides, you've made some excellent progress in our ward research, I would hate to interrupt your momentum with something as trivial as detention."
The Transfiguration Professor seemed somewhat mollified by her desperate save, but Narcissa found she had not the energy to try any harder. Thankfully, Hermione relented.
"Alright then," she said, though she eyed Narcissa with a bit of confusion in her gaze. "I'll leave you to it. Do let me know how it goes though!" She quipped, once again lifting the enormous book and carrying it out. Narcissa saw her out with a smile.
"Of course! Good night, Hermione!"
Narcissa took one deep breath as the brunette's steps faded down the corridors, just in time for the clock to chime thunderously in her quarters. Her students would be there any second, so she took a few minutes to compose herself.
William was the first to arrive, as Narcissa suspected. The young boy looked a little pale, but he smiled as he greeted his Professor with a polite "Good evening, Ma'am."
"Good evening, William" Narcissa replied. "We have another student joining us shortly – would you mind helping me polish some of my instruments while we wait? Not that I would like to add work to your detention" she added playfully. "This is completely voluntary."
William smiled widely. "I don't mind at all, Professor," he asserted happily, removing his robe and draping it over one of the chairs as he followed his Head of House into the classroom that adjoined her office.
Narcissa and William occupied themselves with cleaning, polishing, and fine-tuning some of the scales and instruments the Professor kept for her students' collective use.
"Professor?" William asked after a while, as he polished one of the many small knives Narcissa stored in her classroom.
"Yes, William?"
"I was wondering" he asked as he examined the little knife against the light of the torches that illuminated the room. "Why do you not use magic to clean Potions instruments?"
Narcissa smiled. That was a question she had grown used to, ever since she was old enough to notice the difference it made to maintain her instruments by hand versus by magic. Severus had been the one to point it out to her, and she, like many others, had not believed him at first, but all it took was a lifetime of watching him concoct the most extraordinary brews for her to see how it did matter.
"I assume Professor Flitwick has begun his lectures on simple cleaning charms" she observed knowingly. William grinned through a small flush.
"Yeah" he confirmed, continuing to polish the blade he held in his hands. "We practiced a Simple Silver Polishing Charm today, and I was just wondering why you don't use them. They do seem much simpler than doing it all by hand."
"In many ways, they are." Narcissa conceded. "Charms are exceedingly convenient. But tell me, William, what does a Charm do?"
"It... cleans away the dirt?" he guessed, uncertain.
"Not quite," Narcissa smiled kindly. "A Charm changes an object's inherent qualities and properties. A Cleaning Charm changes an object's 'unclean' quality to a 'clean' one. In its essence, a charm magically alters an object."
"Alright. But what difference does it make when cleaning?" He pushed, genuinely confused.
"That depends, Mr. White. To you, a first-year student, none. To someone working on brewing potions using the same instruments daily for many, many years, quite a lot."
"So... the more magic you use on an object, the more altered it becomes?"
"In a way. The more an object is altered magically, the farther it goes from its original state. Even if we replace its starting qualities, it still alters it magically. This is why, for example, you notice how certain materials are worn out by too many alterations. If this weren't the case, there would be no need for tailors in the Wizarding World – we would all just alter our clothes magically."
"I see." William conceded. "So cleaning everything by hand just... preserves its original qualities?"
"Exactly." Narcissa praised. "In the case of finely-tuned instruments such as my silver scales, it is even more important to keep their original qualities, as alterations can lead to small but incremental changes in measurement."
"That's so interesting." William said as he turned the little blade in his hand, admiring his handiwork. "I thought Wizards would just use magic for everything."
"We can become a little too dependent on our gifts." Narcissa agreed. William looked even more pensive.
"I didn't think I would see magic as a gift" he confessed suddenly. "I used to think it was a curse until the Headmistress came to talk to my parents."
Narcissa felt an uncomfortable lump in her throat at the admission. Now, she wished she had accepted Hermione's offer to stay – the other witch would surely know how to navigate this conversation. Not Narcissa, who had been taught for all her life that her magic was the most precious of gifts, bestowed upon her bloodline and making them superior to nearly everyone else, especially non-magical beings.
"Well, magic can be problematic" she chose to say instead, because it was nothing more than the truth. Thankfully, William smiled.
"I suppose" he conceded. "When I was little, strange things kept happening. I thought there was something really wrong with me. And then I found out that no, I'm just a wizard."
"And you're on your way to becoming quite a great wizard" Narcissa said truthfully. William preened with the praise.
There was a tentative knock on Narcissa's door. "Ah," she said. "That'll be your detention partner." With a deft wave of her hand, she motioned for the door to open. Stuart stood timidly by the door, his face scanning the room like a cornered animal. His eyes locked with William, and, while the latter offered a wave in greeting, Stuart's face drained of all colour when he noticed the other student.
Interesting.
"Good evening, Mr. Davies."
"S-sorry I'm late, Professor" Stuart stuttered, still looking at William with wide, surprised eyes that darted to his professor every so often.
"You're right on time. We will be going down to the greenhouse, so I suggest the pair of you choose a few tools suitable to pruning some plants." She said, motioning toward some tool kits that were already assembled and ordered in leather pouches on one of the classroom counters.
William was quick to reach them, and even offered one to Stuart, who trembled so heavily he dropped it to the floor with a resounding thud. Narcissa patiently waited for the two to ready themselves – William with the small knife he had taken so much care in polishing.
The three made their way to the greenhouses, warmed by one of Narcissa's wordless warming charms as they traversed the snowy courtyard and trail that led to the Staff greenhouse. All the while, Narcissa noted how Stuart kept his distance from William, who for his part seemed perfectly content to walk in silence, with only the sound of snow crunching beneath their feet.
"Very well," Narcissa said once they arrived at the greenhouse. "Boys, while this is still a detention, I will give you the opportunity to earn back some of the points you lost. Today, we will be pruning young Alihotsy leaves."
"Alihotsy?" Stuart asked, furrowing his brows. "That name sounds familiar."
"The Hyena Tree?" William interjected. Narcissa could not help the little bit of pride she felt for her student.
"Very good, Mr. White." She stepped closer to a row of vibrant, colourful bushes with sprawling green leaves speckled with red spots. "I suppose the identification warrants a few points. Two points to Slytherin."
The two boys approached the massive vases housing the colourful plants – Stuart still followed quite timidly behind William, seemingly trying to avoid any interaction with the young Slytherin. "Mr. Davies," Narcissa called, hoping to put the boy a little more at ease. "If I recall correctly, you did some research on Alihotsy on one of our first assignments for the year. Can you tell me one interesting fact about it?"
Stuart looked like his head was about to explode; his eyes darted once more, and his cheeks puffed momentarily as if he were physically restraining himself from speaking. Finally, he let out a deep breath. "Alihotsy can help ward off banshees," he murmured, looking straight down to the muddy ground.
"Excellent" Narcissa praised him. "Two points to Gryffindor. Now, gentlemen – we need about one thousand individual leaves, to be snipped one by one. We have a plentiful supply, but we must be careful to not damage the stem nearing the leaf, nor the leaf itself."
She stood near one of the thickest, most bountiful plants housed in the large pots, pulling thick dragon leather gloves from the kit she carried at her side. "You must remember to wear gloves" she said as she slipped them on "can either of you tell me why?"
Stuart looked like he wanted to say it, but was again physically holding back. William spared him a glance as if giving him an opportunity to respond; once he saw Stuart was not to take it, he spoke with confidence.
"The Alihotsy sap can burn the skin when in prolonged contact."
"Very good; another two points for Slytherin. Come on, you two, gloves on." She gave the two boys some time to be properly equipped. "Now, observe."
Narcissa unsheathed her knife from its decorated holster, then showed the two students how to properly harvest the Alihotsy leaves by delicately holding the stem between the blade and her gloved thumb, then giving it a sharp twist to make the leaf snap cleanly away. William and Stuart watched closely, each unsheathing their own knives.
"We need about a thousand of these. I suggest you take three hundred each; I shall take the remainder. Discard any torn leaves or roughly-cut stems; they must be sliced cleanly or the sap will dry out."
The Potions professor allowed the two to work in silence as she tackled some of the bushier, more unkempt Hyena Trees further down the greenhouse. For a long while, the only sounds in the darkened space were the rhythmic snapping of stems onto sharp blades and Stuart's occasional grumbling when his stems or leaves were damaged in the process.
It was a long time before Narcissa overheard any talking.
"This isn't so bad, as far as detention goes. I think."
It was William – Narcissa hadn't really expected Stuart to talk at all, but the fact that the timid William White was the one attempting to start a conversation was quite interesting. The young boy seemed to prefer silence even when he was around his friends.
"I guess." Stuart grumbled in response – another groan followed as he violently tore another leaf.
"Your blade's dull. Here, I've got an extra in my kit." Came William's voice only a moment after. Narcissa heard yet another grumble, possibly signifying Stuart's thanks, before William once again directed himself to his peer.
"What are you in detention for?"
"Uh... out of bed after hours," replied Stuart, and Narcissa could hear his hesitation and fear in the wavering of his voice. That little tid-bit was also most interesting.
"Oh, me too. Walked right into Professor Black – I suppose I was unlucky." William quipped, his snipping rhythm unchanged.
"Yeah" Stuart responded, and then his voice dropped to a very low whisper – Narcissa kept her concentrated harvesting lest they think she was actually hearing them. "She surprised me in the corridors – scared the living daylights out of me as well, wooshing like smoke down the hall."
"Wooshing?" William asked, and Narcissa could detect the humour in his voice.
"Literally - she turned into smoke!"
She heard William's chuckle, and then there was silence again. It was short-lived.
"I just can't believe I got caught out of bed for something so stupid." William bemoaned, sounding a bit more dramatic than was his nature. Narcissa wondered what the young boy was getting yet, though she had her suspicions.
"What were you doing out of bed?" Stuart asked, and the curiosity in his voice was pure and genuine. Was the Gryffindor looking for the answers he failed to get the night Narcissa interrupted his night-time foray?
"Sending a letter," William explained simply. "It was urgent and I'd forgotten to do it during the day" he lied, and then pivoted. "How about you?"
Stuart stopped his mildly more successful snipping. "Me?"
"What were you doing out of bed?" William asked, his tone perfectly amiable, but now confirming Narcissa's hunch. The young Slytherin had a goal similar to her own in his detention.
"Ah, I... I just went for a walk" Stuart whispered, picking up the pace as he nervously harvested more leaves. "To clear my head."
"Oh?" William prompted; it was such a gentle, welcoming prod for Stuart to continue the conversation that Narcissa was mildly impressed.
"I had a disagreement with my brother." Stuart admitted.
"Edgar, right?" William probed. "I remember him – got in quite a tiff in the corridors a few months ago. You were in the middle of it too."
Narcissa heard Stuart's surprised gasp; even the sound of his knife cutting the stems translated his nervousness.
"Ah, yeah. That" the Gryffindor blubbered in hoarse whispers. "I... I'm sorry about that. Start-of-term pranks, I suppose."
"Your brother has an odd concept of pranks" William commented, and Narcissa guessed Stuart didn't recognize the bait.
"You're in Slytherin, you should know" Stuart suddenly hissed, with more emotion – anger – than anything else he had said thus far. The passion in his inflection seemed to surprise even Stuart himself, as he speedily backtracked. "My brother's just a... a hothead sometimes. I hope he doesn't cause you any more trouble."
Narcissa wondered if William would be able to spot the insincerity of the hastily added hope Stuart tacked onto his statement.
"Oh," William replied, still happily snipping away at his Alihotsy bush. "I wouldn't worry." His voice then took on a sickeningly sweet tone, one that was as insincere as Stuart's backpedalling, but that carried an obvious, decidedly intentional threat:
"I can handle your brother just fine."
