A/N : I don't know how I feel about this chapter BUT things start getting interesting between our girls so... You decide.
Chapter 3
Since Blaise had proven useless, Pansy Parkinson watched Hermione Granger. Not in a creepy way - Pansy was simply gathering information. Pansy watched Hermione in the classes they shared, learnt how she held a quill and was always reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear - hair that wasn't simply dark brown as Pansy had always thought but actually a mix of browns and reds and golds when the sun hit it just right. Pansy watched Hermione in the Great Hall on the few occasions Hermione actually took her meals there - watched how she laughed with the Weasley girl and argued with Lovegood about some creature that Lovegood insisted was real. While Hermione was no doubt skilled at constructing arguments, on more than occasion Pansy found herself openly smirking as the Gryffindor's fiery temperament won out over her cold logic. Pansy noticed that the dark skinned girl liked strawberry jam on her toast and took her coffee with milk and three sugars, quite unlike Pansy who drank it black. Pansy even found herself keeping half an eye out for curly hair and Gryffindor robes in the hallways between class. The world was still overwhelmingly grey, but now there were flashes of scarlet and deep brown eyes too.
Unfortunately, while this taught her a lot about the precise pitch of Granger's laugh, it didn't really bring her any closer to the truth and so Pansy was forced to spend more time in the library after class in the hopes that she would learn something there. Mostly this meant finishing her homework and getting in some extra reading, pausing often to glance at Granger and ignoring the dirty looks the other girl sent her way occasionally.
One Tuesday evening, Pansy's attempts to finish her work and watch Granger in peace were thwarted by a particularly nasty Defence Against the Dark Arts question that Professor Snape had assigned for homework. She spent two whole hours flipping through books, becoming more and more agitated, before giving up, letting her head fall onto the table with a frustrated groan.
"You know, you're not the only person using the library," someone hissed from a few tables away.
Pansy lifted her head slowly to see Granger glaring at her, a little embarrassed to have been noticed but determined not to show it. "It might surprise you to hear this, given that you practically live here, but other students are allowed to use this place too," she responded, tone dripping with false acid.
Hermione bristled. "I'm very well aware, Parkinson. You've been here every day for a while now and it's not exactly ideal."
"Difficult to concentrate when I'm around is it, Granger?" smirked Pansy, slipping easily into their antagonistic roles before figuring that the best way to avoid answering Granger's implicit question was to change the topic to something the Gryffindor wouldn't be able to resist talking about - "To be honest, I'm just struggling a little with this Defence Against the Dark Arts question," she said. "It's easy enough to give a broad overview of how Inferi are created but none of these books have any details and Professor Snape asked for at least 15 inches."
Granger looked taken back by the sudden ceasefire. She was clearly tempted to snap back but was apparently unable to resist an academic exercise and responded hesitantly - almost against her will, "Yes, the textbook is quite useless on anything besides fighting inferi and only Scamander dedicates any time to the question of origin."
"Even his discussion is superficial though, he says nothing about the ritual that the dark wizard uses. Not that I blame him, Inferi aren't really his area of expertise."
Hermione almost smiled. "They're far too humanoid for him, I suppose."
Was that a joke? A reluctant, uncertain joke certainly but still a joke.
"I suspect that the book we're looking for is in the restricted section," Hermione continued.
"Oh, well then I guess we'll have to ask Professor Snape for a note," said Pansy. When had they become "we"?
Granger looked deep in thought, hostility temporarily forgotten. "I'd hoped to finish my first draft tonight actually," she said.
"What are you going to do, call Potter and break into the restricted section?" sneered Pansy.
Granger's forehead furrowed and Pansy could almost hear the cogs whirring.
"Think you could distract Madam Pince for a few moments?" she asked.
Pince was notoriously strict and this entire scheme reeked of reckless Gryffindor stupidity, but Pansy would sooner kiss the giant squid than let a teacher's pet outshine her. "Of course I could, Granger. Some of us were taught how to be civil," she said.
Granger rolled her eyes, "Yes I'm sure you'll sweep her off her feet with your Slytherin charm. Just keep her distracted for ten minutes, shouldn't be too difficult given your extensive training." And just like that, Granger was off in the direction of the restricted section, pretending to skim the shelves as she went.
Fuck.
Contrary to popular belief, Slytherins were not reckless rule breakers. Slytherin was a house of tradition and duty and ambition - climbing the ranks ruthlessly by knowing all of the rules and how to use them to your advantage. It was far more Gryffindor to go storming into a situation, taking a battering ram to the rules. Nevertheless, determined not to be cowed, Pansy clenched her fists and walked up to the librarian's desk, glancing back at Granger occasionally to assess her progress.
"Good evening, Madam Pince," said Pansy, with her most charming smile.
"What?" snapped the dour-faced librarian.
"I'm trying to do some research and I've found myself very very lost. Given your… remarkable knowledge of this library, I was hoping that you'd be able to help me," said Pansy.
"Yes well, what do you want?" asked Madam Pince, although she seemed a little softer after the heavy handed compliment.
Scrambling for a topic that would keep Pince occupied for a while, Pansy settled on Charms.
"Do you have anything on simple healing charms? I know it's not in the syllabus but I think it's important to take advantage of the wealth of knowledge in this library."
As Pince launched into a passionate list of treatises, textbooks and tomes, Pansy strained to see Hermione out of the corner of her eyes. Nothing yet.
"I don't suppose you have any critique of Hippocrates, do you?" Pansy asked, as Pince's speech drew to a close. The question sparked a glint in the librarian's eye and sent her into another rant. As she spoke, Pansy spied Hermione walking towards their table with a suspicious bulge at the front of her robes.
"Of course, you also want to consider Grey's Treatise on Human Anatomy. Quite a bit of muggle information but it presents a fascinating argument against Hippocrates' views on blood flow that any Healer ought to -"
"I see, I see," interrupted Pansy, flashing her best, authority-pleasing smile. "Thank you, Madam Pince. I think that's enough to get me started but I'll definitely be back for more guidance."
Pansy left without bothering to assess Pince's reaction to the abrupt end to their conversation, but a lifetime of strategic sucking up told her she'd handled the librarian just fine. Besides, her priority was getting that book out of the library because Granger was hopelessly obvious. She could see the Gryffindor's perfect smile from across the library. Pansy strode over, grabbed the girl with one hand and charmed their books to follow them out the library with the other.
"That was far too close, Granger, what on earth took you so lo-"
"I got it, Pansy. I found the perfect book," said Hermione, a smile threatening to split her face in two. She pulled a dusty book out from under her robes, inadvertently flashing an expanse of smooth torso to Pansy.
"Look," said the Gryffindor, moving close enough that Pansy could smell her perfume and see dust motes on her eyelashes, a souvenir from the Restricted Section no doubt. Granger was running dainty fingers down the contents page, tapping excitedly at chapter headings like "Degrees of death: inferi, ghosts and wiqued spirits" and "Methodology: waking the dead."
"Methodology, that's exactly what we need." Pansy was surprised at the triumph she felt at something this simple, this innocent.
"Nicely done, Parkinson," grinned Hermione, but Pansy was distracted. That blasted dust mote was still there, bobbing up and down annoyingly as Hermione blinked. Before she could process exactly what she was doing, Pansy found herself reaching out to put one hand on Hermione's cheek to hold her still while the other brushed gently along Granger's eyelashes. As she pulled away, Pansy met Granger's eye. The Gryffindor's dark eyes were comically wide and her cheeks were rapidly reddening.
"You, er, you had some dust. On your eyelashes." What in Merlin's name had she just done?
"Oh."
"Yeah so I was thinking that you could take it first and when-whenever you're done with it, hand it over to me," said Pansy, with as much indifference as she could muster. Inside, her mind was screaming. Of all the ways to subtly spy on someone, grabbing their face and jabbing a hand into their eye was not one of the most recommended.
Blinking away her confusion, Hermione responded, "Yeah, that sounds good."
"Okay. Well then."
"I'll be done by tomorrow. I'll - I'll give it you tomorrow evening?" asked the Gryffindor.
"Sure."
"Okay, goodnight Parkinson." Granger turned hesitantly and Pansy watched her go until she turned a corner in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.
Half an hour later, Pansy lay in bed watching the green light flicker across the ceiling. She replayed the cringeworthy scene outside the library over and over again and her last thought before falling asleep was wondering how she'd never noticed how nice Hermione smelled - a mix of lavender and peppermint and that old book smell. She slept peacefully that night.