Another chapter up! Thank you for all the reviews and alerts they have been amazing! And of course, a giant thank you to my betas, Emilia Wolfe, and McGonagall's Bola.
Chapter 29
It had been awkward waking up in the infirmary, with no idea how she had gotten there. Even more awkward had been trying to weasel around Madame Pomfrey's probing question. Apparently, Snape had already set up a story. Overstudy. Cliche, but since it was her, believable as well. But she had no problem latching onto to it like a life line. If it would get her out of there faster than she was all for it.
Getting the kind matron to believe that she was fine, albeit a little tired, but still perfectly fine, had been a trial and in the end she hadn't been able to get away unscathed. A thorough examination, about three or four nutrient potions, and a 'hearty and nourishing breakfast' had been forced on her before she was given the all clear.
That had been around half past ten. Thankfully the train wouldn't be leaving until noon that day, so she had more than enough catch up with her friends for farewells. No doubt, they were all wondering where she had been all morning. God, she hoped Harry wasn't going to regress back into his panic/clingy mode. She did not want to deal with that again.
She turned a corner that would take her to the main stairway, not looking where she was going and collided with someone else. The two bodies fell to the ground in a tangle of robes, limbs and the softest exclamation of "oh" Hermione had ever heard.
"Oh geez, I'm so sorry," Hermione mumbled beneath the student—a Ravenclaw if their robes were anything to go by—that she was pinned under.
"It's no problem really," a breathy high voice answered. Luna got up, minding her knees and elbows so as not to hurt her friend. The blonde held out a hand and heaved her up. "As far as falls go, it was quite comfortable."
"Well, that's good, I suppose."
Luna looked at her oddly. "Were you running from a Crumple-horned Snorkack? You shouldn't be afraid. They may look frightening, but they're altogether harmless, you know."
"I—what? No! I was in a hurry to see everyone off before the train left," Hermione explained as patiently as she could.
"Are you not coming with us?"
"Well, no. I'm not sure if the boys have told you, but I'm actually doing my NEWTs early. So the Headmaster offered to let me stay over the summer to study for them," Hermione told her. "And—Luna, where are your shoes." She pointed down at her friends feet, which were only covered in blue and pink striped socks that were already getting dirty from running around the castle.
"I suspect the Nargles took them."
Hermione looked at her with a blank face. "The Nargles?" she repeated.
Luna nodded emphatically. "Oh yes, they seem to make a game of it every year. I always find them in a high up place."
Pity and a sharp sense of injustice weighed down on Hermione. Harry had told her about this last year. How the Ravenclaw would 'lose' many of her items that were later strewn about the castle. It happened to just her, no one else. Harry, who knew enough about bullies and their vicious jokes, suspected that it was Luna's dorm mates having a laugh at her, and Hermione had to agree. If not them, then some other group of malicious students. A good majority of the school only saw "Looney Lovegood" instead of Luna and were openly cruel to her for no other reason then they could be. 'Nargles' probably had nothing to do with it.
So, brushing off her jeans, Hermione motioned towards the stairs. "Have you tried upstairs yet?"
"No, I've just been on the main floor."
"Then let's go. We can start on the second floor and make our way up."
Blaise slid his nail file from his front pocket and began cleaning his nails, flicking out the small specks of dirt with a annoyed grimace. His nails were filthy, a by product of being a noble friend and helping Ignis chase his knarl after it had escaped its cage that morning. Murdoc, the blubbering idiot had tried to offer it a treat, and had appeared so shocked when it squeaked in outrage, scratched the boys hand and launched itself from the room.
While Ignis had been verbally flaying Murdoc, Blaise had begrudgingly trekked after the absurd little creature, not sure who he was more annoyed at. Murdoc, for not having enough brain cells to know by now that knarls only ever took food from a bonded owner, or at Ignis, for bringing the little bugger out of the woods where he found it and back to the dorms with him in the first place.
Of course Spike (because for all his intellect, Ignis had the creative capacity of a potato when it came to name giving), had decided to burrow into one of the potted plants in the common room. The sprinkle of displaced dirt ringing the ceramic pot was the only indication that he was there. Cooing and murmuring pleasantries to the beast only took him so far (he suspected Spike was smart enough to know he didn't mean any of it), so he had to finally resort to digging it out, caking his arms in a layer of dirt.
Like all of the plants in the school, the dirt the Cymbidium Orchids were in was magically enhanced fertilizer, which meant it was naturally resistant to many charms, including those of the cleaning variety. When he had marched back into his rooms with Spike, Ignis had taken one look at his dirty hands and cloudy face and snatched his pet away. Three cauldron cakes and a promise to ride Ignis' new broom over the summer were given as compensation for his help.
He flicked another piece of dirt out his nails and held his hand out to survey the damage. It was better, not nearly as perfectly kept as he liked them to be, but it was better.
"Master Zabini?"
Blaise looked over his shoulder and into the oil painting just behind him. A small man in green velvet robes came to the edge of the painting, the brush strokes making up his image were barely noticeable.
"Ah Claude, good to see you again. What do you have for me?"
"The girl you were looking for, Miss Granger, is on the second floor in the E wing with a friend," the painted man replied.
"Friend? Which one, Potter or Weasley?"
"Neither actually. I believe it is a Miss Lovegood that she is in the company of."
Blaise scratched his chin in thought. He had been hoping to talk to Granger alone. The less personalities he had to maneuver around the better, but with all things considered, Lovegood wasn't too bad of an add on. At the very least, the blonde would be more amiable than either of the notoriously hot-headed, anti-Slytherin boys.
"Do you know what they're doing there?"
The painted man sniffed. "Yes, they are looking for Miss Lovegood's shoes. The poor girl."
"Oh?" Blaise motioned for him to elaborate.
"A group of brutish rapscallions, your housemates if I'm not mistaken, had taken the young lady's shoes this morning as some sort of joke. And it is an atrocious one, if I may say so. Not at all sporting. In my day, a gentleman treated a lady with the respect and deference they were due."
"Hmm, I quite agree with you on that one. Children can be quite insufferable."
Sir Claude bristled with outrage. "These were fifth years. One could hardly call them children."
Blaise nodded in understanding. "Unfortunately, age is rarely equivalent to maturity, for all that we might hope it be. It is such a hardship to be surrounded by Philistines." Not a lie. He had never been a fan of the crude, uncivilized behavior his House often exhibited. It was beneath them, or it was at least, certainly beneath him. Calm, complete control was superior to bully tactics and loud barking.
More often than not, he left them to it, content, at least, in his own superiority. He couldn't let it go now though, not when their immaturity could possibly get in the way of his meticulously crafted plans.
Unless…he paused in thought, as a new idea came to him. Yes, he could not only do damage control, but if he spun this right, he just might be able to turn it into an opportunity.
"Do you know where the shoes are?" he asked Claude.
Seeing the determined look on Blaise's face, the portrait smiled. "Not at present. If you would give me but a moment, I will locate them post haste."
"Very well." Blaise moved back to the wall to wait. True to his word, Sir Claude was came back only a few minutes later, feeling very satisfied.
"I have found them! They are by the North Tower, hanging on one of the high windowsills by the Divination classroom. The young ladies have just moved up to the third floor, so if you are quick about it, you can grab the shoes and catch up to them."
"Thank you, Sir Claude. As always you have been an invaluable help," Blaise said with a respectful nod.
Claude gave a small, proud bow to him in return. "It is always a pleasure to work with the noble house of Zabini. It brings back very agreeable memories from when I was alive. Send my warm regards to your mother, if you will."
"Of course, thank you."
Sir Claude walked off into the painting, most likely heading back to his own portrait and Blaise followed suit, pushing off the wall and heading to the North Tower. He had some shoes to find and some important allies to endear himself to.
The door opened to the classroom, and Hermione sighed in frustration. "They're not in here either, Luna. I think we should move on to the next room."
"Not Lovegood, I'm afraid."
Hermione gasped, and turned around.
Blaise had sauntered into the room, hands behind his back, and looked it over. His finger ran over a desk top and he grimaced at the fine layer of dust he had gathered on it. "What a dreadful room. Why in Merlin's beard are you down here?" he asked by way of greeting.
"I'm looking for something," Hermione replied, wary but not panicking. She didn't really know where she stood with the allusive Slytherin, but he was acting friendly enough at the moment, and had been the past few times she had seen him.
"I ran into your little friend in the hallway just now. By the state of her feet I can only assume that the shoes I found in North Tower were hers."
Hermione stopped what she was doing. "You found Luna's sneakers?"
"They were by the Divination Classroom. Trelawny said, her 'inner eye' told her they belonged to a Ravenclaw. More likely, she just saw the Ravenclaw pin on the tongue of the right shoe and was trying to hob it off as mystical," he said with derision, his tone betraying exactly how he felt about the wonky professor.
His obvious mutual dislike of the proclaimed "seer" surprised Hermione, because while only a few students like Parvati and Lavender worshipped the ground on which Trelawny walked, the rest of the school seemed to accept or at least tolerate her presence. She had yet to find someone who so outright disliked the Divination professor as she did.
"You don't believe she has the sight?" Hermione asked, because she couldn't help herself.
Blaise shrugged. "Whether she does or doesn't is immaterial to me. I simply cannot suffer fools who are more invested in their image than their productivity. Form is always appreciated, but it is useless without perfect function."
"That's an interesting way to put it," she conceded.
"Thank you."
Hermione huffed at his ever present smirk. Did the boy never let the poker face drop? "Either way, did you return Luna's shoes to her?"
"Of course. She was putting them on in the hallway before I popped in here."
"Then why hasn't she come back in?" Hermione asked heading for the door. Luna, she found, was just outside the classroom, conversing with one of the portraits, her sneakers already back on her feet. The blonde looked up when Hermione walked out the room.
"Are you already finished with your conversation?" Luna asked.
"Conversation?" Hermione asked. She could feel rather than see Blaise stepping from the room too and moving off to the side, a polite distance away.
Luna looked between her and Blaise curiously. "You haven't then. I'll leave you to it." She turned to go when Hermione reached out to grab her arm.
"Wait, where are you going?"
"Down to the train to wait. It seems like Blaise really wants to talk to you. Something important, I would guess. In any case, he doesn't really want me here, he's just too polite to say so." Far from being insulted, Luna smiled serenely at them, waved goodbye and walked away.
Hermione turned to Blaise. "You wanted to talk to me," she stated rather than asked. While Luna had some rather eccentric views on the world, she was usually very perceptive when it came to humans, so if Hermione would believe her.
Blaise, who was still looking down at the now empty hall mystified, hummed in agreement. "Yes, I did. Interesting friend you have there."
"Thank you," Hermione said, repeating his earlier words. Blaise smirked in amusement then motioned to the room again.
"Well, as your friend said, I did wish to speak to you, and would like to do so before the train arrives. After you."
Hermione eyed both the door and Zabini. "How do I know this isn't a trap?"
"It could be, but then is that really something a friend would do to you?"
"So you're my friend now?"
"I can be," he answered, for once bereft of his usual air of guile and mystery. He seemed sincere in what he was saying and Hermione couldn't detect any malice coming from the Slytherin that suggested he was out to hurt her. And he had been popping up a lot lately, his sudden presence always seeming to help rather than hinder her.
Tonks had suggested it was on purpose, that he was a possible ally, a hypothesis that Hermione was leaning towards as well. The thought prompted her to relax her guard a little. There was no use in screaming bloody murder if he was just here to talk. If he was, indeed, a part of the Red Dragon, as she thought he might be, then running the wizard off before he could say his piece would only lose her a potential ally.
Decision made, Hermione walked into the room, saying, "Fine. Then let's talk."
Blaise shut the door behind him after he entered, and erected Privacy Wards.
"So," Hermione began when the silence got to be too much. "You want to be my 'friend', only I don't know what you mean by that. Or, I do have an inkling, but I need you to spell it out. No cryptic messages, or half truths. It's either complete transparency or I walk away."
"You would walk away from a potential alliance?"
"Is that what you're offering? Because if it is, then I would expect a potential ally to understand that I would settle for nothing less than complete honesty. This war is hard enough without having to deal with backstabbing and infighting."
Blaise's smirk softened to something almost genuine. "That sounds more than fair. As long as you know that equal does entail both sides being on the same page."
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Hermione agreed. If Blaise was really offering her what she thought he was, and if he was genuine, then she would make sure everyone in the Order honored whatever pact they might make, because she had meant what she said. This war was too hard, it was costing too many lives and doing too much damage for them to all turn on each other. If they didn't stay united, they would destroy themselves before Voldemort even got to them.
Floating two chairs over, Blaise held out her chair before he took his seat. "Now that the waters have been thoroughly tested, I'm assuming we can get to the meat of the conversation."
"I'm satisfied for the moment, at least," Hermione said, then because she was a Gryffindor and had no interest in beating around the bush, especially when there were lives on the line, she asked, "You work for Red Dragon?"
Blaise blinked, possibly not expecting the frank question, or perhaps the contents of said question. "I'll admit to being surprised. From what I've heard, Red Dragon's inception is hardly public knowledge. Quite the opposite in fact."
"I overheard a conversation by accident"— and some that were not so accidental—"and it was mentioned." Hermione tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. "I did some research into the organization, I guess you could call it, and found out that you might be connected to the movement. You've been helping a lot of students from what I hear."
Blaise appeared thoroughly amused by her. "Some research? Were I fly on that wall."
A blush spread across her cheeks at the comment, still she persisted. "Well, are you?"
"I do work for Red Dragon, yes," he answered simply. "It's on their behalf that I'm reaching out to you today, in hopes that we can come to an understanding."
"The understanding that we both want Voldemort and his little cronies to die a horrible death," Hermione clarified for him.
"Exactly," he laughed, and leaned forward. "We want to bring this war to a speedy end, with Tom on the losing side. And that's just one of our goals."
"So why me?"
"Because you and your friends seem to be the only ones fighting back. Your Dumbledore's Army—yes, I've heard about your group—have fought Riddle's forces and you've survived. More importantly, Potter holds the weight of Great Britain on his shoulders. Everyone is looking to him to fix this mess, so if he really is the linchpin, then we want to help him.
"So why not go to him?" she asked. "No, never mind. Harry sees all Slytherins as all the same. He wouldn't want to listen to you."
"But you would." It was a question and confirmation all in one.
"But I would," she echoed in agreement.
She stood up to leave. "I'll talk to Harry for you," she promised him. She wasn't sure how Harry would take this new situation. He had made it no secret how he felt about the Snakes. But maybe, before she talked to Harry she would have a word with the Headmaster. The Order could probably benefit from an alliance with Red Dragon. They were doing good work, something she could personally confirm. Dumbledore would want to look into it at least. "But, I may have a better connection for you."
"Do you?" Blaise asked pleasantly, his head tilted curiously. "And what would this connection be?"
Hermione shook her head. "I can't say. Not yet." She dug into her pocket, pulling out the DA coin that she always kept on her and handed it to him. "Here, keep this on you. When I'm ready to set up a meeting, I'll contact you."
She showed him how to use the coin, then stepped back. Blaise eyed the coin, fascinated.
"I look forward to hearing from you, Granger."
"Don't make me regret this, Zabini," she called back, leaving the room. She almost missed the, "wouldn't dream of it," he shot back at her.
A/N: As always, Review please~
Thanks for reading!