Some of the dialogue here has been directly lifted (errrr, borrowed) from HBP.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but this twisted so-called "plot"

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Hagrid was a wreck.

He was blubbering over his tea as he told Hermione about Aragog's rapidly diminishing health.
Bit by bit, Hogwarts was filling up with students returning after the holidays, and Hermione had thought spending time with Hagrid would be a pleasant and diverting way to pass the morning, till Harry and Ginny showed up.
It was a decision that she had cursed ten times over in the past hour. There was only so much you could say to comfort a man who was in pieces over an ailing once-ruthless and murderous giant spider whom you'd never had the thrilling pleasure of interacting with.
So, it was with great keenness – after the fifty-sixth "there there" – that Hermione deposited Fang's drooling head onto his owner's lap and left the cabin with a vague line or two about needing to meet the bunch arriving from the Burrow.

She traversed the grounds unhurriedly, carefully casting a charm to harden the snow so that she wouldn't find herself waist deep in the stuff.

Just as she made it indoors, dusting her cloak, a squeaky cry of "Ms. Granger!" had her spinning around to face Professor Flitwick, looking fairly out of breath.

"Oh, Ms. Granger," he rasped, "I'd been asked by the headmaster to hand this over to Mr. Potter, but I've just been informed that some students have set off a whole array of those Weasley twins' products somewhere on the fourth floor, and I'm afraid it needs to be dealt with immediately..."
"Of course, Professor," Hermione replied, taking a scroll of parchment from his hand, "I'll see that this gets to Harry the moment he gets here."
"Excellent, excellent," he called over his shoulder, already charging up the stairs.

Hermione shook her head as she followed in his wake, albeit at a slightly saner pace. Of course a lot of students would have got Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes goods as a substantial part of their Christmas loot. Ignoring the burning curiosity that was begging her to go have a gander at the commotion, she dutifully trudged over to the Gryffindor tower.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny appeared to be caught in an argument with the fat lady. Remembering the newly changed password, Hermione rushed forward.

"Harry! Ginny!" she called out, "Did you have a good Christmas?"
Surprisingly, it was Ron who piped up to answer- "Yeah, pretty eventful, Rufus Scrim —"

Hermione was having none of it. She didn't even look at him.

"I've got something for you, Harry," she said loudly, "Oh, hang on — password. Abstinence."

"What's up with her?" enquired Harry with a raised brow once they were inside.
"Overindulged over Christmas, apparently," Hermione replied. A grin spilled across her face as she remembered how the fat lady's complexion had been as pink as her dress that evening, "She and her friend Violet drank their way through all the wine in that picture of drunk monks down by the Charms corridor. Anyway . . ." She held out the scroll she had been assigned to deliver.
Harry took hold of it eagerly. "Great," he said, unrolling it at once, "Another lesson with Dumbledore tomorrow night! I've got loads to tell him — and you. Let's sit down —"

Like a sudden explosive spurt of thick ketchup from a clogged nozzle, Lavender appeared on the scene. With a piercing cry of "Won-Won!" she leaped into Ron's arms. There was a short outbreak of laughter from a few bystanders, and Hermione participated with only a slight edge of resentment. Turning to Harry, she gestured to the other end of the room.

"There's a table over there… Coming, Ginny?"
"No, thanks," Ginny replied limply, "I said I'd meet Dean."

Hermione and Harry watched her go over to the boy's dormitory where Dean was undoubtedly… ready… for her. Then they looked at Ron… well, the few fragments of him that were visible from behind Lavender.

Harry peered down at Hermione. "Walk?" he asked pleadingly.
"Walk." she consented willingly.

They leapt out of the portrait hole, and Harry grumbled, "Forced out of our own common room. Bollocks."
"It's shameful." Hermione commiserated with a laugh.
He flashed a half-smile at her. "So how was your Christmas?"
"Oh, fine," she shrugged. "I hung around the castle. How was it at Won-Won's?"
"I'll tell you in a minute… Look, Hermione, can't you — ?"

No, I will not make nice with that self-absorbed prat .

"No, I can't," she said emphatically. "So don't even ask." Ever.
"I thought maybe, you know, over Christmas —"
"It was the Fat Lady who drank a vat of five-hundred-year-old wine, Harry, not me," she snapped. Harry didn't need to know that the wine she had consumed had only been a few decades old. She fixed her most stern look on him, setting her jaw. Harry sighed in surrender.

They fell silent as they passed a huddle of Hufflepuffs on the fourth floor landing, buzzing with excitement over what seemed to have been a spectacular show. From amid the throng, Hermione heard frantic high-pitched cries entreating the students to "Clear off, clear off at once!" It was obviously Flitwick, but all that was visible of him was the tip of his hat.

They bound down the stairs to the third floor in better spirits, and Hermione asked, "So what was this important news you wanted to tell me?"

But she had cause to gasp, loudly, before Harry could respond. There, beside a rusty suit of armour, stood Theo and Malfoy… and Theo was pale as a sheet and clutching his nose, which was bleeding profusely.

"Theo!" she exclaimed, frightened by his state, but then Malfoy was suddenly in her face, blocking Theo from view.
He snarled viciously, "Get the fuck out of here, you cunt!"
"Drago!" Theo berated thickly, while Hermione struggled to hold Harry back, as he made to launch himself at Malfoy, claws out and teeth bared.
"What?" Malfoy spun around and scowled at Theo, "Hasn't she done enough?"
"Drago, stop… fug's sayg… Stop…" Theo was tilting his head further and further back as he struggled to speak intelligibly.
"I am not going to fucking stop. This little bitch is the reason you –"
"No! Just go, Drago. I'll get this fixed… join you layder… Drago…"

Using his free arm Theo lightly shoved Malfoy towards the staircase leading downstairs. The boy's face was twisted with fury, and only Theo's pathetic desperation seemed to be keeping him from drawing his wand. He descended woodenly, turning back every few steps to glower menacingly at Hermione.

Hermione had more important things to care about.

"Oh good god, Theo! What happened?" she fretted, "Let me have a look, please?"

He removed his hand, and Hermione whimpered. Even Harry hissed sympathetically. His nose was red, purple, and three times its usual size. Blood dribbled down past his chin and had soaked up his collar.

"Episkey!" Her voice quivered, but the spell worked. The bleeding stopped, and Theo winced as his nasal bones clicked into place. "Okay. I think that should do it. It will be sore for a while, though. Just... be careful..."
"Yeah," Theo replied throatily, "Thanks. A lot. Well... I'll be off..."
"Wait!" Hermione grabbed his arm. "Who did this to you?"
"It was nothing, Hermione. Just an accident..." he tried to shake off her hold, but Hermione was not going to allow that.
"Why did Malfoy say it's my fault?" she demanded.
"Well, he's barmy, yeah?"
"That's true," Harry chipped in.
"Hush, Harry. Theo. Theodore. Tell me what happened... Right. Now." Hermione knew perfectly well that her glare could be used as a weapon, and she was not ashamed to wield it when necessary.

Theo held her stare for two seconds before succumbing. The amateur.

"It was Blaise and Vince, alright?" he growled, "They were saying shit about ...about, well, you. I let them know that it's not acceptable to do so in my presence. They retaliated a bit violently. The end." He looked half angry, half embarrassed, and Hermione and Harry gaped at him.
"I... um, Th –"
"I will also not accept any gratitude from you. Not for this. I did what was expected... what I believe you should expect from me by now. So don't thank me... and for Salazar's sake, do not wallow in guilt. You patched me up, so we're even. Not that you and I need to be keeping score. If we were to keep score, I'd say I have a whole lot left to do to catch up. Oh, you don't want to open that can of worms, darling. I'll bury you in gratitude, I'll drown you in 'thank you's and thoughtful gestures, and then you won't know what to do with me, or yourself, and then if I'm left with a bleeding nose it will be your doing... I've heard from a very reliable source that you can inflict a lot of damage... surprisingly... so if you don't mind, I'd like to go now. There's a dragon in the dungeons that need to be tamed." He paused then, looking thoughtful, "That was not a euphemism for anything salacious. You saw it go by, roaring and spitting fire. So Hermione... Potter... May I be excused?"

Hermione nodded weakly, and he hopped down the staircase, disappearing from view.

"He's alright, that Nott," said Harry after a few moments.
"Yes," she replied bitingly, "Just about 'alright'."
"No. That's not what I... I meant..."
She sighed. "I know what you meant, Harry."

They found a nice large window ledge to perch on, overlooking the forest with its snow covered trees looking like they'd been dusted with icing.

"Has Nott ever told you anything about Malfoy, about what he's up to?"
"No."
"It's just that... well, this is what I've been meaning to tell you for ages –"

And then Harry told her about a heated argument between Malfoy and Snape on the night of Slughorn's Christmas party. It aligned quite well with the little that Theo had let slip about Malfoy. A task... him being in over his head... under pressure. She decided against voicing these thoughts to Harry. He didn't need any more fuel. As far as Snape was concerned, however...

"Don't you think — ?"
"— he was pretending to offer help so that he could trick Malfoy into telling him what he's doing?" Harry interjected in a strangely practiced manner.
"Well, yes."
"Ron's dad and Lupin think so," he said reluctantly. Then he rallied - "But this definitely proves Malfoy's planning something, you can't deny that."
"No, I can't…"
"And he's acting on Voldemort's orders, just like I said!"
"Hmm . . . did either of them actually mention Voldemort's name?" she asked softly.

Surely, he couldn't actually be a Death Eater. Would Theo protect him if he was? The answer came to her not a fraction of a second later – he would. Of course he would.

Harry appeared to be recounting the altercation in his head: "I'm not sure… Snape definitely said 'your master,' and who else would that be?"
"I don't know," said Hermione, biting her lip. "Maybe his father?"

She really, really hoped it was his father. How was she supposed to handle things if Harry happened to be right? What tricky, equivocating game was Theo playing? No… no… she couldn't doubt him. Not now.

"How's Lupin?" she asked, buying herself some time.
"Not great," Harry replied, "He's undercover among a pack of werewolves – Voldemort sympathisers. He's been struggling, trying to win their trust…"
"How awful," Hermione breathed, feeling a devastating shiver surge through her body.
"Yeah. I asked him about the Half-Blood Prince too," Harry rolled his eyes at Hermione's scowl, "He hadn't a clue… OH!" he exclaimed, suddenly gaining volume, "I had a row with Rufus Scrimgeour as well!"
"What? The minister?!"
"Who else? He showed up on Christmas with a Percy Weasley shaped scapegoat to get me alone and demand that I give the general public the impression that the ministry and I are great chums now."
"Seriously? Seriously? After the way they treated you all of last year… after Umbridge… he wants you to… oh, he has some nerve doesn't he?"
Harry grinned. "Don't worry. I let him know exactly how I felt about his pitch. And the twins and Ginny let Percy know exactly what they thought of his reappearance."
"I'm sure," Hermione said, and laughed.

Hermione felt like a bit of a stalker. It was early in the evening, and she'd hidden herself behind a statue of Athena outside the library, periodically peeking over the goddess's arm.
Finally, after goodness knows how long, she saw her intended victim come marching out of the library. She shot out from her hiding spot, and planted herself firmly in Padma's path.

"Hello," she said pleasantly.

Padma's eyes widened, and darted from side to side. She looked like a frightened, cornered animal.

"Oh... hi... Hermione..." Her typical self-assurance was obviously still on holiday.
"Did you have a good Christmas, Padma?"
"Oh, yes. It was nice. Thanks. Er... you?"
"Mine was lovely as well. I stayed back at Hogwarts, and... wait..." Hermione pulled a bundle of parchment out from her bag, "I did a lot of reading on higher Arithmancy. These are the notes I compiled, but I'm sure I've missed something. Perhaps you could look over them?"

Padma looked at her slightly nervously, but made no move to take her notes.

Sighing in a long-suffering manner, Hermione said, "Look, we work well together. Regardless of the outcome last time, I think we can both profit if we continue to exchange ideas. Now, are you going to look over my notes or not?"

Slowly, Padma divested her of the bundle, and then nodded. Her confident demeanour seemed to be pouring back into her. She took out a notebook from her own bag.

"Would you read through my research on Dragon Pox? I've hit a dead-end, unfortunately. While there are lots of books on the impact of the disease on the heart, I honestly can't find a single book that has the diagram of a regular heart to compare it with, and –"
"I have an aunt in Cornwall who's a Cardiologist. She has a lot of good books for beginners that I'm sure she'd let me borrow if I asked."
"Oh, would you?" And just like that, she was alight and beaming.
"Sure," Hermione smirked, "I'll see you in a couple of days then?"
Padma laughed, and in a charming homage to the past she said, "Affirmative."

It was ridiculously easy to reason with Ravenclaws, Hermione thought as she prepared to sink into her favourite armchair in the library. It was just a matter of appealing to their intellectual fervour. It was a shame that only life threatening situations worked with her housemates. A troll, a dragon, an execution... she wondered what terrifying and dangerous thing would have to occur before Ron came back into her life.

By seven o'clock, Hogwarts was at proper full capacity again. There was a body, or two, or six... every which way Hermione looked. To think that just a day ago, it had felt like Theo and her were the only people in existence, roaming where they pleased, when they pleased.

Now, as they walked back from the owlery, (after Hermione had sent off a long letter to her parents and a shorter one to dear Aunt Malorie in Cornwall) she missed the carefreeness of those days. Theo was covertly guarded, but she was too well attuned to his mannerisms to be fooled.

"Are you going to be okay?" she asked when they arrived at their point of parting.
"Yes, Hermione," Theo tried for lightness, nodding with comical solemnity, "don't you worry your pretty, bushy little head."

Hermione bit her lip uncertainly.

"Look," he tried again, "It isn't going to be all hugs and kisses down there in the dungeons, but that's hardly much of a change from the usual. And maybe I'll just have to never speak to Blaise, Vince, Greg, Pansy... Daphne... Ah, sod it all, I don't care. They aren't going to try anything serious, I'm sure. Big, bad Draco has my back. And, speaking of..."

It was with an outstandingly sheepish look on his face that he gave her back her copy of History of the World.
Hermione wordlessly handed him Camus' The Rebel.

"Hermione! Finally!"

Seamus' cry besieged her the moment she entered the Gryffindor common room.

"Um. Yes?"

He beckoned to her a bit madly from his spot on the carpet, where he was sprawled along with Dean, Ginny, and Colin Creevey. Between them sat a large gramophone.

"Got this old thing for Christmas," Seamus explained, "It's an important heirloom, or some such rot. We're trying to get it to play some of Dean's muggle records... but it just won't work."

Taking his cue, Colin dropped the needle, and immediately, the whole room was filled with the most horrible scratching sound. There were shouts of protest from every corner, and Colin quickly silenced the machine again.

"Ya see?" Seamus asked, pained, "The records that came with this are full of some old bat shrieking... reminds me of fooking Banshees..." he shuddered.
"I think it works like a normal gramophone – a muggle one, I mean. Same mechanism... I think. Just run by... magic?" said Colin, "but something goes wrong, like it's not in sync or something..."
"Let me see the record," Hermione requested, and when Dean handed it to her, she raised a brow. "New Order, Dean?"
Dean bristled, "They're really bloody good!"
"I agree completely..."

She examined the grooves on the record, and then looked at the needle on the gramophone; like most wizarding equipment, it was flamboyantly large. She shrunk it with a 'Reducio', and fingers crossed, set it to play once more.
It didn't move.

"She's peeled!" Seamus cried, and Dean and Colin squirmed.

Hermione rolled her eyes. A simple 'Rennervate' later... there was music everywhere.

Dean whooped joyously, and jumped up onto his feet while pulling Hermione and Ginny along.

Before and during the Yule ball, Hermione had been a tangle of nerves; all that formal, synchronised dancing terrified her. But this...? This she could do.
Tossing her hair back, she hopped and capered around with a giggling Ginny and Dean. Seamus dived into the fray as well, and Colin pulled out his camera, and soon enough, the entire room was cheering and clapping while watching them go mad.

Hermione's eye got caught on Neville, sitting nearby wearing an easy smile. Something in her expression must have revealed her intentions, because his smile suddenly disappeared, and he was shaking his head in terror.
She skipped over to him and hauled him up, dragging him into the dance...carpet. Neville looked painfully uncomfortable; Hermione just grinned and poked his arm. With a resigned grumble, Neville attempted to... well, "dance". It was a mess of arm waving and head bobbing, that had Hermione helpless with laughter. So helpless in fact, that she missed the narrowing of Neville's eyes... and...

The next thing she knew, she had been lifted up by the waist and was being spun around and around. The music... the tempo... the cheery noises all around... Hermione clutched onto Neville's shoulders and threw her head back, taking it all in.

He put her down, now grinning widely, before taking her arm and spinning her yet again.