Chapter X

Fallout

Hermione did not want to stir from the warm darkness. She loved the bliss of being on the edge of consciousness, but not quite there. Being able to let her mind wander endlessly and not worrying about anything. Just one jolt of reality would rouse her from this state – one unfortunate movement could break the balance – and she did not wish for it to come for some time. The warm embrace of the sheets, the soft cushion of the pillow under her head, the way Daphne's arms held her body –

Daphne.

Hermione sucked in a desperate breath, eyes popping open. Suddenly, the curtain of semi-consciousness was ripped away, revealing what actually was – that Daphne was in her bed.

No – Hermione was in Daphne's bed.

The memories of the night hit her like a runaway truck. Daphne had – she and Daphne had – no, it didn't happen. Hermione wasn't like that… but wasn't she? It had happened. She remembered it completely. Vividly. The way Daphne's lips had touched her own. How she had explored Hermione's body with those slender fingers – how Hermione had indulged her for some reason…

And now she was fast asleep, head cradled between Hermione's neck and shoulder, arms wrapped around her. Hermione could feel the soft rhythm of her breathing. She remembered Daphne's ragged breath, the feel of her skin, slick with sweat, pushed up against her own – her stifled whines and timid urgings and the way her green eyes had stared at Hermione –

This was not part of Hermione's plans. This was not any part of her plans. This was not supposed to happen.

Hermione pushed herself away from the slumbering Daphne, extracted herself from her arms, and rolled out of the bed so quickly she fell to the floor. Hermione felt the cold air and hard floor on her bare skin. She was naked. Hermione looked around, heart racing. No one was awake. No one saw. No one would know. Good. Good…

Her dress was balled up at the foot of Daphne's bed. Watching carefully so that she did not wake the girl, Hermione reached over her legs and plucked the green silky dress off the bed and backed away. She stashed it in her trunk and pulled out some spare clothes, a towel, and her toiletries. As quick as her feet would take her without making noise, Hermione dashed into the bathroom and started a shower. The water came out steamy. Hermione was scrubbing before the hot pelts hit her body. She lathered herself with soap and rubbed every inch of herself raw – and then washed herself again. If she did it enough times, maybe Hermione would forget. Maybe she would forget the whole night – the whole Yule Ball – the whole year.

It was going to be such a fantastic year for Hermione. She and Draco were going on fine – minus a few hiccups, sure – she was receiving private lessons from Dumbledore, she was going to enter the Tri-Wizard Tournament and prove to everyone that she could be the greatest witch of her century.

And everything had just gone to shit.

Absolute shit.

And Hermione just needed to wash everything away and start from scratch. She still had Dumbledore. She still had… Hermione almost laughed – she had Potter. If she could coach him to victory in the tournament… but it just wasn't the same. It wasn't Hermione winning the damned thing. And adding another unearned triumph to his CV wasn't worth a thousand galleons, really. But throw in Draco's face when he saw Potter and her together… well, maybe.

Things on her romantic front weren't all that dire either. Potter had enjoyed their kiss – or so she believed; Snape had seen to making feedback nonexistent. And while Hermione didn't particularly rate him as a wizard, she couldn't argue that Potter wasn't a decent person underneath the rest of him. Naïve, lucky, pigheaded. Not so much a jerk or an asshole, or not to the degree of other boys she knew. And, besides that, she had succeeded where Draco had failed – if she counted it as a success.

As much as it creeped her out, what she remembered of the previous night wasn't all too bad. Daphne was sweet, she decided. Innocent and eager and sweet. And it was completely different than with Draco. Much less… well, Hermione had felt like Daphne had connected with her more completely. With Draco, Hermione let him take the lead. He was more forward. Daphne didn't know what to do so Hermione, being drunk, and always wanting to share knowledge with those less knowledgeable – and feeling not a bit vulnerable from the night's events – took solace in the girl who welcomed her with open arms – and legs, Hermione thought, but that would be the crude way to put it. And Daphne was not crude.

So, after the fifth scrub, Hermione stopped and just let the hot watch stream down her back. She didn't need to forget. Forgetting was for losers. Forgetting absolved you of failure, error, and any chance of learning from the past. Hermione would not forget. Nor would she forgive. Forgiveness was for those who could not obtain justice. And what was the subject of Hermione's wrath? Alcohol, for one. Hermione had let herself experiment at the worst time and nothing had gone well from that point on. She learned some fucked up things about Pansy she didn't want to know, she made Daphne cry about things that were – possibly – Hermione's own fault, and she came close to Cruciating Draco in the middle of the dorms. And then there was the last indiscretion. Hermione would have never considered kissing Daphne in her right mind, let alone… but all that was passed. And alcohol was off the table for good.

The Great Hall was nearly empty. Only a few students and only the dourest of teachers – namely Vector and Flitwick – had shown up for early breakfast, which Hermione guessed it was. She hadn't taken a look at a clock before leaving. The sky was not yet bright but there were plates of food already on the tables. Not even McGonagall was there, and Hermione had always seen her at an early breakfast.

The Slytherin table, usually one of the more populated at an early hour, was almost completely empty. A few Durmstrang students were sitting together, and, at the far end, Hermione saw Blaise Zabini chewing some toast and talking with Tracey, who was using her hand as a visor and sipping water. Hermione made her way over and sat down next to Tracey.

"Welcome to the world of the living," Blaise greeted her. "Or the newly undead, if we count Davis."

"Shut it," groaned Tracey. "And if you're going to say something, Granger – don't."

Hermione grabbed a plate and started scooping some scrambled eggs and sausages on. "What's with her?"

"She thought she could handle her liquor with the big boys."

"I can," said Tracey. "Just can't keep up with Milicent."

Blaise snickered. "I wonder if you are interested in why dear Miss Davis was playing Dragon Cage with the seventh years?"

"Don't," Tracey muttered.

"Do," said Hermione. Nothing better to distract from her own thoughts than the happenings of others.

"You know who her date was?"

"Our esteemed Heir of Hufflepuff."

"Our very own Heir of Hufflepuff," grinned Blaise. "Right you are, Granger. Five points to Slytherin. She tells me everything was going quite well for a while – until, well, she loosed her famous tongue and gave up some crucial information."

"Crucial information?" asked Hermione, adding some pepper to her eggs. They were far too bland for her liking.

"Indeed. Five points if you can guess what."

"I'll need some hints."

Blaise scratched his chin. "Something about herself."

"She's a gossip."

"Yes, but no. Something specific about her."

"She's a Slytherin and Smith just didn't figure it out until the Ball?"

"Again, yes but no. You're getting closer."

"I can't guess everything about her," said Hermione. "She told him she thought Diggory was quite handsome?"

"I blabbed that I'm a half-blood, okay?" hissed Tracey. "I said something about my damn muggle grandmother and he dropped me like a hatching dragon egg, happy?"

"Immensely," said Blaise, stepping out into the aisle. "Now, I think there's some jam over at Ravenclaw so I'm just going to have a look."

Hermione hummed and took a bite of her sausage, watching Blaise meander around the table. "Could have been worse. You could have four muggle grandparents..."

Tracy snorted. "At least you know what you are. I'm stuck hanging around pureblood circles and being not quite pure enough to get in."

"I can really empathize with your magical upbringing and two fully magical parents being just not quite enough for you," said Hermione, sipping her pumpkin juice.

"Oh, bugger off, Hermione. I'm not going to debate you with a hangover."

"It would be my pleasure to bugger off, but I have a question."

"If its 'Is Blaise an enormous prat?', then yes."

"No, my question was about… someone else."

"Millicent was brought up on whiskey, that's why I lost."

"Okay, but not her. It's about Daphne."

"Look, Hermione, it's not really her fault that her father and Draco's father –"

"No, not about that," Hermione kept an eye on Blaise and checked that no one was nearby. "Has she… ever tried to kiss you?"

Tracey glanced at her sideways. "Did she try to kiss you?"

"I asked first," Hermione said slowly.

She hesitated for a second. "She was drinking, yeah? Daphne gets more physical when she drinks. She likes to touch things."

Hermione watched her carefully. "So she has?"

Tracey squirmed in her seat. "Look, people do silly things when they're drunk. Daphne is more comfortable with people after a drink or two, so what? If she tried something last night, it's best just to forget it, okay? She'd probably be embarrassed if you said anything."

"That's what I thought," said Hermione.

"Okay. I need to go back to bed now, or I'll die from this headache."

Blaise returned to the table with a slab of bread lathered in jam. A mischievous grin played across his face. "So how was your night, Granger?"

"Not much of your business."

"Seemed like I was the only sober person older than third year when I got back. Saw some interesting things." He took a bite of his toast. "Heard some interesting things, too."

"You can never trust a drunk person."

"Oh, you might be surprised," he shrugged. "I think I can put together a pretty picture."

"Do try."

"Well, you left the Ball not long after we danced – very pleasant, by the way. Your technique was," he made a face, "not up to scratch, but I found it enjoyable nonetheless. So you left, and I don't believe I saw your Potter there, either, so you probably took him out somewhere private. Or you wanted someone to think that. Maybe the Rose Garden. Saw a lot of traffic there. How am I doing?"

"You saw me walk out and are drawing obvious conclusions."

"So there you were with Potter – maybe in a bush, I don't know the details – but I don't think it went all that well for you. I'm not sure exactly which way was wrong, but it went that way because you were back in the common room soon thereafter."

"You have eyes in the walls?" Hermione sighed. "Anyone could have seen me in the common room."

Blaise grinned. "Yes, all curled up with Pansy sucking on a bottle of Firewhiskey. Had a bit of a row with Daphne and Draco, too, I hear. Whole common room saw that."

"Now you're just recounting what other people told you."

"That's the point. I hear these things, Granger. Daphne ran off crying with a bottle, Draco came in and you two nearly shagged then nearly dueled – proper excitement that, wish I had seen it."

"Creep."

"So you'd been drinking, yelling, maybe crying. You made Daphne yell and cry – not a very easy thing to do – and you nearly took Draco's head off. Eventful. Stressful. And Potter did something to make you upset, too."

"You're reaching."

"I don't think so. Because I heard not long ago the real cherry on top – Miss Granger wasn't in her bed last night."

Hermione looked up at him. "Excuse me?"

"I said you weren't in your own bed last night. Which begs the question, where were you? I was up early. I found some people sleeping in the common room, not many, but a few, and you weren't one of them. So you weren't in your bed, weren't in the common room. That meant that you had to be somewhere else."

"Where did you hear that I wasn't in my bed?"

"Sources."

"Tracey?"

He had a sly smile on his face.

"She was drunk – and probably still is drunk."

"Doesn't matter, she can use her eyes."

"Why are you so interested in this?"

"It's intriguing to speculate."

"Speculate all you like; you're grasping at straws for some sort of… I don't know, revelation or something."

"I think one of us bedded a Greengrass girl," he said softly. "And I had mine stowed away before midnight, gentleman that I am. Didn't let her take one sip of that whiskey. That would have been irresponsible… something might have happened. She might have gotten… touchy." Blaise was grinning wide now, and Hermione's heart was beating fast. He was grasping at straws, surely?

"I don't understand how you leapt to that conclusion, Zabini," she said coolly. "What makes you think that Daphne and I – that something like that would ever happen?"

"It's hard to see from the inside, I suppose," he said, leaning back.

"Inside of what?"

"I'm guessing that you didn't have advanced warning that Draco was interested in you, hmm? You don't seem like the type to pick up on that sort of thing. Faces and words on the air are so much harder to understand than ink on paper."

"I – " Hermione took a moment. Had she seen Draco coming? Well, she had known he liked her. He was her friend. Best friend. Best friends like each other. That was normal, right? How could they not like each other? But it was still a surprise to her when… "I don't see how that matters."

"Draco was obvious, and you didn't realize he wanted you. Daphne has a sense of subtlety, so of course she'd be able to keep it hushed. But anyone with a critical eye and a fondness for watching people – such as myself – could see it. Do you know how much she looks at you? Every meal she spends a good five minutes glancing at you when you're not looking. Or how she looks at girls in general? It's like boys that aren't in her face don't exist."

"Maybe she doesn't like you boys because you're so annoying," shot Hermione.

"We are like an itch. Annoying, but oh so good to scratch. Daphne never scratches."

"Daphne knows that scratching makes bug bites worse."

"You're stretching the metaphor, Granger. She also loves Quidditch, right?"

"So does Tracey." Hermione shrugged.

"And Tracey loves Krum."

"Yeah?"

"She drools over him."

"I know."

"Does Daphne?"

"Of course – she doesn't drool but…"

"Does she?" he raised his eyebrows. "I recall her being more interested in the cut of the Beauxbaton girls' uniforms than having Victor Krum in the castle."

"So she likes fashion –"

"Her eyes are glued to Delacour every time she walks by."

"She's a champion – "

"And insanely fit."

"You'd think so."

"Che bella. And so does Daphne."

"You're putting words into her mouth."

"It's easy because her mouth is always hanging open for Delacour. I'll give you two guesses where she was looking for most of last night."

"Up your ass and shut up."

Blaise chuckled. "La mademoiselle Delacour and you, dear Granger. Now, Delacour is circumstantial – most everyone took a look at her, she looked bloody good. Girls took a look, too. But why did she watch you?'

"I was flashy. I made an impression. Just like I wanted to."

"If you say so. But Draco was staring at you most the night, too."

"I should hope so."

"You don't get it. Nott spent the night glaring at Astoria and I. What did Pansy do? She tried to get his attention. Had to drag him out of view of us. Daphne was staring at you along with Draco. Not an ounce of effort to get his attention. Why would she allow her date to broadcast his affections that blatantly, as odd as they are?"

"Odd?"

"Considering the circumstances."

"Draco didn't treat her very well."

"Nott didn't treat Pansy very well."

"Daphne isn't in her position."

"Daphne wasn't letting Draco pine for you. She was joining him."

"You don't really know what you're talking about."

"That's for a higher power to decide. But what I know for a fact is that both Draco and Daphne fancy you; you weren't in your bed last night; Draco was in his own, alone."

"Yeah? What if I snuck into Hufflepuff and shagged Smith?"

"You were drinking. Daphne was drinking. As much as Tracey tries to hide it, when Daphne drinks… well, it's a different Daphne. I've seen it. It all makes sense."

"Except for one thing, Zabini. Why would I consent to whatever you're implying?"

"Well, I have my thoughts. Want to hear them?"

"I actually don't. It was rhetorical."

"I think that after being rejected by both Draco and Potter, you just wanted a snuggle buddy, and you could do a lot worse than Daphne."

"I don't think so," she said quickly. She knew blood was rising to her face.

"Maybe you wanted to take a break from boys?"

"No," scoffed Hermione.

"Maybe you were too drunk to realize she wasn't Draco…"

"You're making things up now."

"I know, but, as I said, it's intriguing to speculate. Perhaps you were always curious about that slender, pale body. I really don't know what goes on in those rooms you girls have. I've heard stories," he grinned. "But I wasn't sure if they were true."

"You've got it all wrong – and if you start talking, I'll make sure you pay for it."

"I'm not going to tell anyone, Granger. I'm just happy to have figured it out so quickly. I really impressed myself."

"You figured out nothing. It didn't happen."

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks."

"The knave doth proclaim too much."

"I had fun dancing with you, principessa."

Hermione made a face. "I had fun threatening you."

"I'm not afraid of you."

"You really should be."

"I think you only attack your enemies, and I am not your enemy."

"I can make an exception."

"It wouldn't be wise. I know spells in Italian that would knock your socks off. No – really. We Italians have very good spells for disrobing."

"And I have some Latin to put you in the hospital wing for a month."

"Italian is a romance language, Granger. The language of fiery passion. I can put you in hospital for a year – but I would really rather you bruise my toes while I teach you to dance for real than bruise your ego so much you wouldn't show your face around here again."

"I really don't understand you people."

"Italians?"

"Purebloods. Wizards. Foreigners. The lot of you."

"We're so complicated and yet so very simple people. Enjoy your holiday, get some rest while you can."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You got involved with the tournament, Granger. Revenge is sweet, but what price will you pay for it?"

I-I. ⌡. Γ┐

The chilly winter air calmed Hermione down. On top of everything, Blaise Zabini had – inexplicably – figured it out. He probably figured it out even before Hermione did. And how? A few words from Tracey and some creepy snooping? Hermione had definitely underestimated him. Maybe he was shunted to the side of Slytherin for the very same reasons Hermione should have been watching him. He wasn't an amateur.

She had barely been outside for a minute before regretting walking around without a coat. Or a full fur blanket. But retrieving one would mean going back to her room when people were waking up – when Daphne was waking up – and Hermione didn't want to deal with that. She'd rather freeze before dealing with that. A very possible situation, now that she thought about it.

The bridge over to the grounds was blasted by a gust of icy wind and Hermione thought her face was going to be sheared off. She stuck her hands into her armpits and kept going. The grassy hills on the other side were hard and frozen, but the path down to the forest and lake was covered in salt and sawdust. Probably Hagrid's doing, and for once she thought that he might deserve a thank you note. Or she might pop by his cabin. It wasn't far now.

Except it really was freezing out and if she stayed out any long she'd probably have a cold for the rest of the holiday, or worse. And that really wasn't ideal, so Hermione turned back and trudged up the hill. Halfway up, she saw a bundled up figure crawling around the hillside. Hermione slowed as she neared.

It was a girl, Hermione saw, picking at the frozen ground with a stick. Bright blonde hair was sticking out from beneath a knitted hat and a thick blue scarf.

"Luna?" Hermione called, and the girl looked up.

"Oh, hello Hermione," she responded, waving.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Luna tilted her head and smiled. "Looking for Bubberdocks. They hibernate for months, but it's so cold that they wake up and need to bask in the sun's first rays to warm up. I haven't found one yet, but I've seen some promising signs."

Hermione hugged herself tighter as a gust of wind pulled at her hair. "Uh huh."

"It looks like you need a good bask, too," Luna said serenely.

"Yes, I, uh… forgot it was winter."

The blonde girl nodded. "That happens to me sometimes." Hermione couldn't tell if she was mocking or not.

"Well, I'm going back in. Are you… you should come in, too."

Luna blinked and looked around, seeming to notice for the first time she was sitting on an icy slope out on the Hogwarts grounds before breakfast. "I've probably missed the first rays, anyway." She stood and began walking up the path towards the castle with Hermione.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Hermione asked, "What are, er, Bubberdocks? I've never heard of them."

"I suppose they're most closely related to bears."

"Bears?"

"Big, furry, cuddly, things."

"I know what bears are."

"I didn't know if Muggles had them," Luna shrugged.

"They do. How are they like bears?"

"Well, they're furry and cuddly, but not so big. Quite small, actually. They burrow into the ground and love to sleep."

"I see…" Hermione glanced at her. Luna was a nice girl; Hermione had always thought so. A bit bonkers, though.

"Do you want my scarf?" Luna asked.

"What?"

"It's wrackspurt-free, if you're worried."

"Oh, sure, I guess. Thanks."

Luna unraveled it from her neck and handed it to Hermione. It was warm and soft and fuzzy and made the walk back bearable.

I-I. ⌡. Γ┐

The first class of the term was potions with the Gryffindors. Except the problem wasn't the Gryffindors, it was that Hermione had to be in a class with the Slytherins. Pansy had gained confidence over the holidays and was always with Nott. Hermione guessed, right or wrong, that Pansy was fairly immune to her intimidation when Nott was around. Hermione didn't want to test it and escalate the situation. If she stepped out of line, there was always the private confines of their room.

Draco was worse, though. He wouldn't say anything to her, he would just stare. Somewhere between hurt and hate. It was awful and she couldn't stand it. Why was he angry with her? He was the asshole who made everything crash and burn. She was angry with him. She should be glaring at him. But then they'd both be staring at each other and it would devolve into some weird contest and he would win because he had no shame and Hermione had better things to do.

Like shamelessly ignoring Daphne. Because Hermione didn't know what else to do. They slept five feet apart, shared the same bathroom, desk, dining table, and class schedule, and what had happened was incredibly unnerving for Hermione. She wanted to believe Tracey's story – Daphne was drunk and wanted to forget it – she really did – but she also remembered what Blaise had said and Hermione kept a peripheral eye on her. Daphne did look at Hermione. A lot. More than she had ever noticed. They were small glances. Eyes lingering a bit long. Nothing as blatant as Draco's glare. But they were many and now that Hermione had noticed them she couldn't stop seeing them.

On top of that, Daphne didn't seem guilty she got a bit… presumptuous. She looked embarrassed, yet… hopeful. Every time Daphne glanced up and saw Hermione looking back, her face would rise, and she would start to say something, and then stop. And Hermione wouldn't let her start again because she would get as far away as possible. Now, Hermione decided, the best action was to completely ignore her. Because things couldn't be awkward if interaction was nonexistent. A perfect solution.

But now classes were beginning again and there was a possibility that she and Daphne would be academically bound to speak to each other, let alone sit next to each other. Unfortunately, the only seat left on the Slytherin side of the classroom was the one directly next to Daphne. Of course. She probably set that up on purpose. The bitch.

Hermione wasn't going to get caught out by Daphne's tactics. Oh, no. She had her own tricks. The Gryffindor side – being several weeks removed from facing Professor Snape and gaining a small modicum of bravery– had yet to completely settle down. Potter and Weasley were at their own table, but Ronald was kneeling on the floor searching through his bag – no doubt having forgotten his potions supplies. Hermione deftly stepped around him and slid into his intended chair.

"Uh, Granger," Potter said. "I think you've got the wrong seat."

Weasley stood up violently. "Hey, look here –"

Hermione shook her head serenely as Professor Snape swept into the classroom. "I think you have about five seconds before you get detention," she said pleasantly to Ronald. "There's a chair over there. Don't worry, Greengrass doesn't bite hard." Hermione cursed herself for saying that, the sensation of Daphne's mouth flashing uncalled into her mind.

Ronald was red in the face, about to say something very loudly when the sounds of chalk against board came from the front of the classroom. Snape was peering into the textbook while guiding the writing. He would look up in a moment to see Weasley standing like an idiot in the center of the room. Perhaps the years at Hogwarts had been a help to Ronald, because he did not make a scene, but stomped over to the Slytherin side in a huff and slumped down next to a rather wary Daphne.

"What do you want, Granger?" Potter said under his breath as they began their preparations.

"I'd like to offer my help to you. For the Tournament."

"I don't need help –"

"This isn't like Bagman. There's nothing that says you can't get help from another student. You don't think that the others aren't getting help from their friends, do you?"

Potter frowned. "You just sent my friend away."

"Who, Ronald? You think he'd be help? If you want to get your leg bitten, then I guess he could teach you…"

"If you're trying to convince me, insulting Ron isn't the way to do it."

"I can joke, can't I? I did save him, after all. Which makes me qualified to help you."

"Look, thanks for the offer, but I'd rather do this myself."

"You're very stupid, aren't you? You could die if you try this on your own. You're just not that good at magic."

"Gee, thanks, Granger."

Hermione sighed. "Not like that. I mean, compared to Krum and Fleur… they are, what, four years older than you? That means they have double the training that you have. They knew that they were entering and they had a plan. Luck isn't going to get you through this."

"I'd rather go on my own merits."

"Having allies is a merit."

"Not when I'm not sure why they're helping me."

"Is that it?"

"Not all of it, but, yeah. You've never missed a chance to stick it to me."

"Not true. I helped with the diary…"

"Who seemed to know you. Don't think I missed that. Or when Parvati had a strange wand and thought I was the heir of Slytherin. And then – "

"Okay, I'll admit that I've been rather… competitive. And…"

"Made mistakes?"

"I wouldn't say that."

"Then what did you do to Ginny?"

"I – I…" Hermione grasped for the right words. "You would've been dead –"

"That doesn't make what you tried to do okay!"

"It was the right thing to do. It – you don't know – what if he –"

"Just admit you make mistakes."

"Yeah? Maybe I do," she hissed. "But I remember you liked the one I made in the Rose Garden."

Potter recoiled, flushed. "That? I – that's not what I'm talking about."

They were interrupted by a deep rumbling. Professor Snape was staring down into their cauldron. "Inept. Amateurish. Unsalvageable." With a wave of his wand, he vanished the potion. "You both receive a zero for today. I expected... more from you, Granger."

Hermione stared after him. "A zero?"

"Figures," sighed Potter.

I-I. ⌡. Γ┐

Blaise cleared high throat loudly as he slid up to Hermione at the breakfast table. He planted a pristine edition of the Daily Prophet in front of her. "At least she doesn't knock your dancing," he said, pulling a wry smile as he got up and left.

She looked down at the newspaper. A large, moving image of Harry Potter holding up the golden egg from the first task was plastered to the front cover under the headline Potter Used as Proxy? Hogwarts Champion victim of revenge plot, by Rita Skeeter.

This past Christmas evening, Hogwarts School hosted the historic Yule Ball, a school wide dance led by the champions of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. It is a time for joy and fun for the students participating, especially for the champions. A time to relax and enjoy the company of their companions before the hard preparation for the second and third tasks. Harry Potter, the young Hogwarts Champion, famously known as the Boy-Who-Lived, was surely expecting to have the pleasure of a pretty and well-mannered girl who adored him. He was, however, deceived.

Harry Potter seems to have been the victim of a plot by a jealous and unstable girl who had caught his eye. This girl's name is Hermione Granger. She is a fourth year Muggle-born student in the Slytherin House. Multiple reports have alluded to the fact that she is well known to the school as a haughty, patronizing, and devious girl, and does not share in the admiration that Harry Potter receives from the student body. So how has Mister Potter fallen under her spell? Perhaps her top marks and her comely, if rustic, looks have fooled him – as they might have fooled me if some upstanding citizens had not come to me directly to expose her sinister motives.

Sources close to the girl have alerted me to the fact that, until recently, she had been under the belief that she was engaged in a romantic relationship with her classmate and star student, Draco Malfoy. Several Slytherin student have reported to me that Miss Granger held this delusion for many months despite clear signs to the contrary. In fact, Draco Malfoy has been in a relationship with one Daphne Greengrass since attending the Quidditch World Cup together in August. Mister Malfoy had made his affections for Miss Greengrass clear to Miss Granger on a number of occasions and sook to dispel any notions in her mind that they were a couple. Apparently his efforts were in vain, and Miss Granger only realized her mistake when he did not invite her to the Yule Ball.

It has been many years since I was in the Hogwarts dormitories myself, and I could have overlooked Miss Granger's unfortunate presumptions as the odd happenings of a teenager's mind were it not for the clinically cruel actions she took following her realization. She immediately began plotting to attack Mister Malfoy's reputation and decided to play upon the affections of the unsuspecting Mister Potter.

Mister Malfoy is the star Seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch team, and nemesis of Gryffindor Seeker, Harry Potter. They share a benign, if sometimes belligerent, rivalry on the Quidditch pitch and a healthy competition in class. Miss Granger targeted Mister Potter in a devious move to use the Hogwarts Champion to seed envy and jealousy in her desired partner and drive a wedge between Mister Malfoy and Miss Greengrass.

Miss Granger took it upon herself to charm Mister Potter into accepting her as his date to the Yule Ball, and thereafter spent the night displaying exhibitionist behavior for all the school to see, directed at the poor Slytherin couple, who had to endure her harassment and attention.

As an avid fan of Hogwarts School and the Tri-Wizard Tournament, I am dismayed that anyone would disgrace both institutions with behavior such as this, even more so when she does it by manipulating an already emotionally frail boy with such weight upon his shoulders. Harry Potter is the Hogwarts Champion and harlots such as Miss Granger should not have any contact with him as he prepares to represent his school and nation on the world stage. I hope that Mister Potter's friends and guardians can help him see the light. However, Miss Granger has been seen with and around Mister Potter at the start of term, indicating that he has not ended their relationship.

All is not lost, though, dear reader. Miss Granger did not achieve of her goal. I spoke to Draco Malfoy over the holidays and he informed me that, in the days since Miss Granger's stunt, his devotion to Miss Greengrass has only grown stronger.

"Don't listen to her," Astoria said, appearing on the other side of the table. "She's full of herself."

Hermione glanced up at her, feeling the rage boiling inside but not letting any of it show. She folded the paper up nicely and held a corner over a candle until the pages began combusting. "Envy and jealousy are synonyms."


Ahh... well, I've been gone for quite some time. I kept meaning to post/finish working on MMIV, but other things got in the way. The 200k works I cranked out in less than a year was the largest chunk of writing I've ever done, and I guess I burnt myself out, both on writing and planning the story. My mind got caught on other projects, fanfic and original alike. Every time I tried to sit down with MM I was whisked away to a fresh idea. It isn't that this story doesn't excite me anymore, but I had spent so much time with it I needed a break.

I've taken a look back at how I went about developing MM, and I would change things, I think, if I were to do it again. I started writing it as a hobby - proof that I could write something - and only recently I've started to think seriously about writing and story telling. I think the story, at its core, is still good, and the themes and motifs I'm trying to set up are very interesting - at least to me - but in regards to plot and characters, I was going on instinct without a fantastic plan to follow. Following JK's year-a-book structure was probably a mistake. This is book "4", and we aren't even onto the bulk of the story I want to tell.

I don't know about you guys, but I get bogged down in the little sand traps in a story, the chapters were we might learn something important but its hidden in a blanket of meh. They're the logcial continuation of the story, but are they really necessary? Like, do I show the second task? It's a big event, but not particularly interesting from Hermione's perspective. Showing Hermione and Daphne's awkwardness might be better than telling it, but is it really necessary? It boils down to a couple of teenage girls doing the classic teenager bumbling around. Do I show scenes in classrooms where Hermione learns something that she'll need later, but isn't so integral that it can't just be assumed that she knows? I don't want to spew out a Defense lesson from fake!Moody, but it could potentially add something to the story. Something you could probably live without, but something nonetheless. These little "filler" scenes are hard for me to get past. They bridge other, more important events, but I can't find the character momentum, a reason the characters are committed to being there, which makes the scenes hard to write compellingly, and therefore hard for me to write it at all.

Which brings me back to craft. Had I worked the plot out properly, maybe I could have avoided these sunk chapters. Added in interesting conflict into each scene, like there should be. But now I'm down to cutting the chapters. This was chapter 12 in my outline, now it is 10. And there are more cuts planned. Hopefully I'll be able to finish up MMIV before summer. I have 4 more chapters just about finished, with 5 needing to be written.

So, apologies for the massive delay. I can't promise that MMV will immediately follow MMIV, but I'm committed to at least getting MMIV down in stone by the summer. Hopefully getting to the big 'reversal' of the story will inspire me to push on.