I can't think about that right now. If I do, I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow.
― Margaret Mitchell, Gone with the Wind
Hermione pushed her concerns about society in general aside for the time being and allowed the more immediate concerns of Hogwarts to distract her. As this was primarily the duelling contest for their year, Hermione chose to sneak in the copy of The Art of War to her Monday morning lessons. A little preparation went a long way and the competition was heating up: she would have to face both Sophia and Marcus, the two best duellists left to fight and another boy who was a dangerous duellist but with whom she had never spoken - possibly (and unfortunately) because he was a Muggleborn.
She had decided that the best course of action was to keep up the act and treat it as research.
How was she supposed to change society if she didn't understand the history, and what better way to learn than to live through it? Satisfied with this justification, and with Dumbledore's emphasis on timing, she had pushed the issue to the back of her mind in order to focus on the daily matters of living a lie.
She sat next to Marcus in Ancient Runes, which was the class that had been suffering most from her inattention because it was the worst taught at Hogwarts. It was his second-best subject after Charms and much better attended than it was in her time, but still not a popular option for NEWTs. Most Seventh Years only took four or five of the possible seven available, and excepting Riddle, she didn't know of anyone else doing the maximum number. Indeed, she had to admire Riddle's dedication to his studies given that he was also probably researching vast amounts of Dark Magic, and conducting horrible torture sessions on top of it, and all without the advantage of having done the whole year already. He had chosen a seat further away from her than normal, which was a relief, sitting next to Avery and Greengrass.
When Professor Elphinstone told them to read the next chapter and make notes, Hermione sighed with irritation at the poor teaching method even as she rejoiced at the early opportunity to get stuck into her own research - she could probably have recited the whole chapter anyway and had glanced over it again as preparation for the class the previous evening.
She opened her book (expertly spelled while fiddling in her satchel to look like the textbook she was supposed to be reading) as everyone else got their textbooks, and began to read. It really was fortunate that the little volume had been included in the books she'd picked up in Hogsmeade, although she hadn't noticed it at the time. She rather wished she had read it when she was actually fighting in a proper war but nonetheless it was never a bad time to learn how to strategise. Maybe her chess playing would improve...
Skimming over the parts that solely referred to an actual army (such as the cost of maintaining one - hardly relevant) as she was an army of one person, she became absorbed in the volume and dutifully began to take notes.
If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.
This is probably obvious, she noted underneath, however it highlights the importance of research.
1. Sun Tzu said: The good fighters of old first put themselves beyond the possibility of defeat, and then waited for an opportunity of defeating the enemy. 2. To secure ourselves against defeat lies in our own hands but the opportunity of defeating the enemy is provided by the enemy himself. 3. Thus the good fighter is able to secure himself against defeat, but cannot make certain of defeating the enemy. 4. Hence the saying: One may know how to conquer without being able to do it.
Well that was exactly what she was trying to do, which was encouraging. She continued.
13. He wins his battles by making no mistakes. Making no mistakes is what establishes the certainty of victory, for it means conquering an enemy that is already defeated.
All very well in theory, but even a perfectionist like herself might make some mistakes.
It was a frustrating point. However, the preceding reflection on winning with ease cemented her view that a long-fought duel was an inefficient - and therefore problematic - one. Although, Dumbledore's duel with Grindlewald had gone on for three hours so that indicated a problem. Perhaps it was badly fought: too many emotions involved? She made a note to consider this later.
Indeed, it seemed likely that both men had missed many opportunities to win, perhaps neither of their hearts had been in it. She had long suspected, not something she had shared with Ron and Harry, that Albus had loved Gellert Grindlewald very much and been loved in return and that they had still loved each other despite all the awfulness between them.
She would not have that problem, and therefore would be the good fighter - terrible in her onset, and prompt in her decision. Particularly when she came to fight Tom bloody Riddle.
Reading on, Hermione was absoutely amazed that this book wasn't used as a handbook for the Slytherins: Hiding order beneath the cloak of disorder is simply a question of subdivision; concealing courage under a show of timidity presupposes a fund of latent energy; masking strength with weakness is to be effected by tactical dispositions.
This had never been a strong-point of hers, she had to admit. Pretending to be weak, when all she had ever wanted to do was be strong... Perhaps it would be sensible to lose a few tactical duels in order to lull her opponents? She would have to consult the points board to ensure that she still went through into the top four, but it would probably be clever to be the lowest ranked if she could manage it. She supposed that she had naturally appeared weak in the war: a young witch, and a Muggleborn. And certainly she had learnt the importance of ending it quickly - that was immensely obvious.
She took a moment to enjoy the image of Dolohov under her Full-Body-Bind before continuing on.
Hermione had just been given an absolutely brilliant and very unorthodox idea when the Professor handed out a translation, and it was with uncharacteristic reluctance that she set to her classwork.
Despite Riddle's choice of seat at the other side of the classroom, she made sure her disguised book and notes were tucked deep into her satchel before beginning. It wouldn't do to give the prat any ideas and judging from his later tactics in the War he probably hadn't bothered to read the book, or had forgotten its wealth of wisdom if he ever had.
Probably just decided he was too extraordinary for that though. Arse.
She finished after Marcus and he sat impatiently trying to read over her shoulder. Normally she was faster than him, but her mind had been spinning over the idea that had taken hold and she hadn't been concentrating.
"Done," she whispered.
"Finally. I didn't see you at breakfast, everything alright?"
"Yes, just wasn't very hungry. How are you?"
"I'm good. Better now you're talking..."
Before they could move onto more interesting topics, Professor Elphinstone looked up and frowned at them. "If you have any questions Miss Dearborn, Mister Blishwick, please address them directly to me. If you happen to have finished, I will be happy to assign you another exercise."
"Bitch," Hermione muttered under her breath, and swapped parchments with Marcus to check over the work. His was pleasingly competent, only one mistake.
How did I do? she wrote and passed the note to him.
Perfect as usual. Swot.
Suddenly having an idea, she dove into her satchel and pulled out a thick, resistant piece of parchment. Making sure to stay out of Elphinstone's sight - she was pretty sure the woman was hungover, truth be told - Hermione silently cast discerpo to split the parchment in two and then followed it up with a Protean Charm. It would work a bit like Riddle's diary, whatever she wrote on one would appear on the other before vanishing when you wrote on the other, and vice versa.
Silently, she demonstrated how they worked and Marcus beamed at her.
You really are a clever swot, he wrote, to test, for all the world looking absorbed in his work.
Yes, she thought smugly. She really was.
At last the class was over and Hermione followed Marcus out of the door. Claire caught up with them.
"Marcus? Could I steal you for a moment, I don't understand this..."
"I've got to get to History of Magic. See you both at lunch?" Hermione said and Marcus nodded, pressing a kiss to her cheek. She walked off, feeling very satisfied, and looking forward to another class in which she could continue her private studies - Binns wouldn't notice (or, probably, care). She had another pang at the thought of what Ron and Harry would say but brushed it off. She would think about them later.
.
Hermione's departure caused her to miss the conversation that followed. Avery approached Marcus and Claire, with a friendly smile.
"Looking forward to the second round Blishwick?" he asked, after some inane conversation.
"Of the duelling? Yes - it's been quite fun thus far."
"I don't suppose you're looking forward to being thrashed by your girlfriend though... oh, look. I'm going this way. See you later." And he was gone.
The slightly sick look on Marcus's face showed that the barb had had its desired effect.
"Ignore him," Claire said, pressing his hand earnestly. "He's just trying to get under your skin. "
"Why would he care? And you know, it doesn't matter if she does win. I don't care. It's just... she's amazing, but so amazing I feel a bit inadequate next to her," he sighed. "I'm sorry, Claire. I shouldn't be discussing this with you."
He did care though. He'd like her to win by letting her, because he wanted to be a gentleman not because she could hex him three ways to Samhain.
"Marcus... you can always talk to me, even -"
"Morning Claire, Blishwick. Are you heading to Potions?" Riddle asked brightly from behind, his long stride easily catching up with them from where he had been standing, discussing something with Professor Elphinstone.
"I'm headed to Charms, mind if I walk with you a while? Gods that class was dull."
Marcus was smiling at Tom, nodding in agreement, probably relieved at the interruption, and they walked down to the second floor with him. Claire blushed a little at what she had nearly said, but as Tom Riddle turned his smile on her, asking her how she was and how her term was going, the blush deepened. Her heart might belong to someone else, but he really was too gorgeous for words and he made her stutter. They reached the Charms corridor and he turned to Marcus.
"Would you remind Hermione that we need to check the Potion after lunch? Speaking of Hermione, apparently her duelling is very impressive..."
Claire felt a surge of pity at the look on Marcus's face, jealousy, a bit of anger, and something else - and it wasn't as though Hermione would ever forget to check on her potion, so why had Riddle mentioned it? She stroked his arm, gently and saw Riddle notice it and then send her an assessing look. He smirked at her and she felt a slight thrill of trepidation.
"Yes, she's very good."
"So are you, Marcus!" Claire defended and then felt stupid. Riddle always made her feel stupid, clumsy and slow and inadequate.
"Hopefully I'll get to see it myself soon. See you later," Riddle smiled at them, and walked into the Charms classroom.
.
.
Marcus was surprisingly quiet at lunch, and seemed uninterested in his food.
"What's wrong?" she asked him quietly.
"Nothing, nothing. How was History of Magic?"
She wrinkled her nose in answer and he laughed.
"How was Potions? How long does your Polyjuice have left?" she asked. Due to different schedules, Marcus had Potions at a different time from her, because he was taking Herbology and she was not.
Satisfied that whatever was wrong wasn't related to her, Hermione continued pondering her strategy. It had become clear to her that she would have to lose to Marcus or Sophia in the duels, in order to appear weaker than she really was. As she was up against Marcus first she would try and beat him and lose to Sophia. The girl was dangerous and could still win anyway, and beating Marcus would secure her place in the final four before she lost strategically to the deceptively elegant blonde. It was perfect.
"I've got to go to work on the Polyjuice. Nearly finished thank Merlin. See you later." Hermione stood, and saw Riddle getting up to follow her. Longbottom was nowhere to been seen as usual, but she had tried at least.
"Alright Dearborn?" he said casually, and she nodded in reply without returning the courtesy. After yesterday's bizzare display she was not keen to talk to him and he left her in peace as they silently put the finishing touches to the Polyjuice. It would be finished by Friday, marking a month from the beginnings of her association with Tom Riddle.
A month without trying to kill him - she supposed that was something. Points to her ability to keep up a persona at the very least. Perhaps she ought to head over to Hollywood at the end of the year.
"Shall we head up to Defence? It's a bit early, but there's nothing left to do here." He had, as usual, let her do the clearing up.
"Fine."
"So tetchy, Dearborn."
She didn't dignify him with a response. He knew why she was cross, although he had been surprisingly quiet. Whatever was wrong with him, causing the dark shadows under his dark eyes, was of absolutely no interest to her. None. At least he wasn't pretending to flirt with her anymore. That was a good thing even if it would never work. And she definitely did not miss debating with him. This was better.
They settled at separate sides of the classroom, and she noticed that he choose a desk on the row behind hers just as he had in Runes. Strange, but probably coincidental. As the other students arrived, Hermione opened the textbook to check what was on the syllabus today. Dark Creatures, Continuation. The sixth years covered Dementors and Inferi, although the Patronus wasn't taught until Seventh Year... but they might be covering rarer creatures such as lethifolds.
"Good afternoon," Merrythought appeared at the front of the classroom from nowhere and Hermione suspected she had been sitting under a Disillusionment spell but it was a clever trick that got everyone's attention anyway. "Today we will be focusing on one of the most difficult and subtle spells. Most of you will never be able to cast this spell fully. It is not solely dependent on the power or talent of the witch or wizard casting it, but requires a more advanced understanding of the relation between the mind and the magic."
The Patronus then.
"Put your books away, there is nothing held within those sensible pages that will assist you today. Pick up your wands and spread out." The desks, chairs, and bags piled up neatly at the back of the classroom with a wave of her wand.
"The spell is one many of you may have heard of, but few will ever have seen in practice, I hope. It banishes those leeches of the world, the dementor and the lethifold, fighting their parasitic darkness with the bright light of your happiness. To cast a corporeal Patronus requires a feat of imaginative willpower, and anyone who achieves one will earn twenty points to their house. Most adult wizards and witches cannot cast one, but the I want you to take five minutes to contemplate your short lives, and find the moment in which you have been truly happy. A memory of such happiness, unadulterated happiness, that you feel a burst of joy in your chest just at the thought."
She taught them the correct incantation and Hermione tuned out, trying to focus on a happy memory. The first time Ron kissed her resulted in a rather weak effort, nowhere near the dancing otter that had burst from her wand in the DA, and that felt like a lifetime ago. She had always theorised that this particular spell had come so easily to Harry because had he known such little happiness that those moments of joy were much more powerfully felt. She, with her insecurities and over-questioning mind, and loving but ordinary parents had always struggled with this spell.
An eagle soared out of Sophia's wand about twenty minutes into the class and even the usually composed girl couldn't contain her pleasure. It was a beautiful sight and Hermione felt a pang of loss - none of the memories she had ever used before were working; they were all tinged with the dingy blue sadness of loss: Ron's love only a reminder that she was parted completely from him, winning the war a reminder of the deaths incurred, the cost of victory... her Hogwarts letter, her first spell, her success in exams all brought wisps of silver, powerless against a Dementor in practice.
She began to wonder if she would ever cast it successfully again when one memory occurred that was so truly wonderful that even the subsequent problems couldn't be touched by it. The moment she had realised that Harry was not dead, when he had revealed himself from underneath his cloak...
She focused on it, a moment of wonder amid so much horror, the power of hope stronger than any individual pleasure and cast with all her strength. A silver leopard came bounding from her wand, and Hermione stared at it in horror.
Where was her playful otter, her love for Ron in spirit form?
Even the pleasure of success and the murmurs of wonder around her couldn't distract from the single realisation that she had changed beyond recognition since she had last cast a Patronus, fired up with Ron's love in the Battle of Hogwarts.
Sophia's eagle dived from the high ceiling, distracting the class from the silvery leopard with its flight and she exchanged a happy grin with Hermione, who pushed her worries behind her to focus on her new spirit guardian.
"Hello beauty," she whispered, and it shot her a haughty look before leaping on top of the cupboard in the corner and curling up, and then she was caught in Tom's dark gaze, the hungry expression on his face more disturbing than the realisation of change.
"You are a swot," Marcus said behind her, but he wasn't smiling as she dragged her eyes away from Riddle to look up at him as he slung an arm over her shoulders. "You and Sophia are terrifying. Rowena help us all if you team up for anything." He was smiling now though, but there was still something in his eyes... he was hiding something.
"What's your happy memory? It needs to be... overwhelming, not just nice or pleasant. An extraordinary moment. To be honest, I think happy is the wrong word - more like sublime or ecstatic. At least for the first time, but I've read that once you master it, your confidence means that you can call it up more easily."
This was true from her experience as well, because you didn't have time to focus on memories in the middle of a battle and actually the pressure helped.
"My father told me that a lot of people can cast one, but it only comes out when they need to. Show me your incantation."
He did, and a very vibrant, strong burst of silver came from his wand.
"That's perfect but you need a different memory I think. Something a bit stronger?"
"Kiss me and give me a new one then," he teased and she actually blushed, pleased.
"Not here you prat."
"Even Riddle hasn't managed it. Unusual."
Someone else had succeeded though, Hermione noticed, as a vicious looking mink scuttled past.
"Well he hasn't had a very happy life, has he?" she murmured, and she wondered whether Riddle's uncharacteristic failure was to do with his dark interests, or the fact that he was already missing parts of his soul or if, as she'd said, he simply didn't have a happy enough memory. She despised herself for the pang of sympathy that arose as she glanced across at him and saw his faced, clouded with frustration and anger.
The accepted idea that Dark Wizards couldn't cast a Patronus wasn't exactly true but it did hold as a general rule, and she wondered if you needed a full and complete soul to achieve it or if it really was a case of not having enough joy and goodness to hold onto.
Looking back up at Marcus she saw that he too was looking at Riddle, a strange expression on his face.
"We will continue on Wednesday's class. Well done to Miss Selwyn and Miss Dearborn, that's forty points to Ravenclaw, and twenty to Slytherin for Miss Greengrass. It looks like you young men have got some catching up to do! Still, very impressive ladies. Very impressive indeed." Professor Merrythought looked absolutely delighted at the success of her female students, and Hermione knew from experience that three out of twenty was good odds.
Hermione was surprised that Greengrass had managed it - she was clearly more powerful than her unspectacular great-niece. She would definitely be keeping an eye on that one.
Still, kudos for girl power at least, she supposed.
.
The Ravenclaws were in a celebratory mood at supper, unusually pleased at someone else's success, and at having beaten Slytherin in points. From the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables similarly happy moods indicated that there had been success there as well.
"What does it feel like?" Hector was asking Sophia who just shrugged and looked at Hermione.
"Sublime," Hermione said, smiling. "Not something you'd understand though... emotional range of a teaspoon that one." The Ravenclaws laughed.
"Maybe it's easier for witches?" He continued after the teasing had died down.
"Not historically, but of course witches are generally so much more powerful. What can I say?"
She was in an extremely good mood, and unusually willing to banter. She'd never had a great sense of humour but it seemed that she either had to find one or be miserable forever, and if she was making people laugh then she wasn't worrying and fretting about why why why she had a leopard instead of an otter.
Later, alone in her room, she couldn't hide from her own mind any longer. She had killed people, she knew that. Her thoughtless Duro - brilliant though it had been - had been the end of the road for the two Death Eaters chasing her, Harry and Ron when they were trying to get to the Shrieking Shack during the Battle of Hogwarts. They had crumpled against her stone, going far too fast, and had died instantly. Ron and Harry had never mentioned it, and she wasn't sure if they even knew...
But then again if she had been more willing to kill, could she have beaten Bellatrix? She had been severely hampered by using the witch's wand against its true owner, for she had never won its allegiance, but it was still a sore spot that Mrs Weasley had beaten Bellatrix and Hermione had her torture, she had been the one Death Eater apart from Dolohov that Hermione had truly wanted to fight, to beat, and Mrs Weasley had stolen that; even Neville had been robbed of his vengeance.
And people had been pleased, silently, that the children had been spared from the scars taking their revenge would have left. She should have relished the opportunity, fought properly, freely - just once, like Bellatrix herself and shown her exactly how capable she was, muddy blood and all.
Bellatrix Lestrange, defeated and killed by a Muggleborn witch some twenty years her junior: that would have been a more fitting end.
The woman still haunted her dreams. She hadn't succumbed to her torture though, so that was a victory in itself. Most people had ended up dead or in St Mungos like Neville's parents after a round of Lestrange's special treatment. She had barely been affected, her compartmentalised mind protecting her, even allowing her to lie under such duress.
Realistically, though, her mind confronted her, the change implied that she was no longer in love with Ronald Weasley - the otter had been her unspoken exaltation of his playful nature - not that he'd ever known that - and Hermione felt her heart break at the thought. She was moving on after all. But a leopard? Leopards were solitary predators, unloving and cold. She turned, as she often did in moments of stress, to a book and selected Roberto Salema's Encyclopaedia of Animals, Both Magical and Non Magical.
Neither the lion with his impressive majesty, nor the tiger with his cruel power, nor all other cats have together the magnificent lines, the beauty of allure, the richness of fur and the grace of motion of leopards. Leopards are supposed to be the most athletic as well as the most intelligent of cats. No other cat is as cruel, cunning, bloodthirsty and brave as the leopard. The most secretive and elusive of the large carnivores, the leopard is also the shrewdest.*
Well that was hardly an accurate reflection of herself, she thought, annoyed, and tossed the book away. She was secretive, cunning and brave, but she was hardly bloodthirsty or cruel. Or athletic for that matter! It was ridiculous. She would think about it later. Firstly: homework. She went to the library, because she was still Hermione Granger and that was what she did.
.
.
Thursday evening brought the second round of the Ravenclaw duels. The first to duel were those who had been incapacitated in the Hospital Wing, who had to catch up with everyone else. It was rather tiresome, actually, watching the mediocre efforts of most of the house. They were still probably better upon average that they had been before the war in Hermione's time, but the natural Ravenclaw instinct to over think things and try to be too clever held them back.
"Well this is truly great entertainment," Sophia murmured to Hermione.
"Shaking in your boots Selwyn?"
She smirked. "You should be the one shaking, not me."
Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed with relief as the proper duels were about to start. This time they had doubled the attending staff and set it up so two duels would be occurring at once (which Hermione thought was probably going to cause issues for most people but she wasn't going to complain about extra distractions).
"I've got a special something lined up for you, don't worry."
Surprisingly Sophia gave her a genuine smile. "May the best witch win?"
"If only it were a team sport."
"Now there's a thought!"
She was fighting well below her best, Sun Tzu's advice to appear weak when you are strong taken firmly to heart. Riddle, she knew, would interrogate all the details out of someone and she wanted to play on his natural arrogance to keep him over-confident for their meeting. Still, it didn't take much to dispatch her first two opponents and then it was Marcus.
He didn't look happy at having to fight her, which was odd. Harry and Ron had never minded at all, and there had been no evidence of the boys holding back against the girls before. She had hardly seen him, sensing that he was out of sorts and besides she had been extremely busy with her research, often missing meals.
"On three. One, two, three."
He hesitated to cast, and she took advantage, sneaking in a gentle stinging hex. She had to admit, there was little desire to thrash him and as long as she won it didn't matter how quickly. The hex seemed to jolt him and he stepped up his game with a fierce stunner that she dodged rather than waste energy blocking.
"Very nice," she commented as she sent a silent Impedimenta at him, which almost got there, but he threw up a weak shield. That was what she wanted, she didn't think he was capable of maintaining it while casting - after all most adult wizards could barely conjure a shield charm - and her next spell was cast with all her considerable power, crashing through the shield to disarm him. She summoned his wand before it fell to the ground and he bowed jerkily in light of her submission.
Not a very graceful loser, she thought, examining the storm look on his face, but nonetheless it was done and now all she had to do was lose to Sophia... well, she had two more opponents before then - another girl in their year Kaitlyn O'Malley and someone else whose name escaped her, but still.
At last, it was time to duel her and they stood, summoned to the centre of the room and there were some excited mutterings. Hermione had been preoccupied with research and hadn't spend much time with her House in the past few days but after Monday's Defence lesson she supposed that this was the big interest for the evening.
"Nice of them to save the best for last," she said, bowing to Sophia without taking her eyes off the girl. The countdown came -One, two, three - but neither moved, other than to slowly draw their wands, eye contact unbroken.
They stood facing each other, wands out, but neither one casting a spell. The only sounds came from the other duel going on next to them - Kaitlyn O'Malley, a Muggleborn girl in their year that Hermione had rarely spoken to, but fought earlier, was duelling Hector. It sounded vicious but she blocked it out, focusing on her surroundings, on the witch opposite, poised to attach.
"Come on ladies, we don't have all evening."
"Just waiting for the opportune moment, Professor," Sophia said cheekily. And that was it, the slight distraction. Hermione fired off her spells more quickly that she had in any other duel, she wanted to be beaten convincingly after all so had to start strong, but the sharp eyed girl was a good match and off they went. At last, Hermione, hoping no one would realise what she was doing, she dropped her shield for long enough that Sophia's stunner sent her to the floor, her own hex ricocheting off target and into the wall.
"Well done," she said to Sophia, after an enervate and some chocolate.
"Yes, clearly I am the best witch after all." Sophia was smirking, but Hermione wondered if she was really fooled, and realised in that moment that she actually genuinely respected this girl, a girl she was fairly sure was going to bear Lucius Malfoy sometime in the next ten years. It was hard to reconcile. The girl was a Selwyn, a famously vicious family, so well respected that Umbridge has chosen them to falsify the connection. Respected, but extinct in the male line by Hermione's time, like so many other families.
"Shut up, Selwyn. Don't forget we're going to get a rematch..."
"Looks like we're going to get another round as well Sophia," Marcus said as he walked over to them from where he had been standing in front of the results board. "Well done, cousin."
His tone was cooler than usual and Hermione lifted an eyebrow and Sophia who indicated that she didn't know what was wrong either with a quirk of her mouth.
"See you in the morning." He pressed a kiss to Hermione's cheek and walked off.
"He's been off all week. Any ideas?"
"Yes actually, but I'll have to do some checking up... let's go back to the Tower."
*This is actually quoted from a hunting treatise on the leopard -sad face, but I've credited him as the author of a book Hermione might actually have instead.
Thank you to all who reviewed as always. You keep me going. Please tell me if you spotted any mistakes/inconsistencies!
Poor Hermione, flattering the male ego was never exactly her strong suit (quite rightly).
