Chapter Five: Changing Paths
By the time Draco finally got out of Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class, he was covered in acromantula saliva, which had a very foul odor and strong acidic properties. Half of his cloak was gone by the time he finally reached the office of Severus Snape, his head of house and the former Potion's Master at Hogwarts. Within days of being named the new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, Snape had smugly and giddily interred himself in the accompanying office, which was a great deal larger than his old one.
"Mr. Malfoy," Snape said, his mouth twitching into a sneer. "What a pleasant surprise." Snape took in his disheveled appearance and his smile turned into a deep frown. "Don't tell me," he drawled. "The giant's class?" Draco nodded, suppressing the urge to tell Snape how inappropriate it was to speak so openly about another professor in front of a student. "Dear, dear… Worse and worse."
"I need to get out of it," Draco groaned, meaning it. While he didn't dislike Hagrid, they had never warmed up to one another—even after he and Hermione married. "When am I ever going to need to harvest my own acromantula venom?"
"Very true," Snape drawled. "Indeed very true, Mr. Malfoy." Snape looked down at his desk and shuffled through some papers. "It's two months into the term. You will be hard pressed to find a professor to take you. Then there's the little catch that if you do manage to find a replacement class and you do less than exceptionally, your grades will reflect very poorly on yourself, on Slytherin. And on me."
"You know I will work twice as hard as any other student to catch up," Draco swore.
"Yes, you will," Snape drawled. "I'll make sure of that." Rummaging through a drawer at the bottom of the desk, Snape let out an "aha" and straightened. "How about a Herbology course with a focus on practical application in the world of potions?"
Draco's mouth gaped a little. Nothing sounded more boring. "That class is going to be teeming with third years, professor."
"Indeed." Snape looked back down at the parchment in his hand and read quietly to himself. "The only courses that aren't full are: Unforgivable Curses, with me; Advanced Divination with professor Trelawney; and Advanced Arithmancy with professor Vector." The second he mentioned arithmancy, Draco knew that's what he would take. It had always fascinated him as a student, but he had never applied himself enough to excel at it—until Hermione.
"Advanced Arithmancy sounds like a solid choice," Draco said and Snape seemed surprised.
"It is a difficult subject and you have very little practice," Snape said. "It is very dull from what I understand. Just yesterday one of the six souls daft enough to take it dropped the course completely. He is enjoying a small… holiday at St. Mungo's."
"Yes, I know it is hard," Draco argued. "But I am good at it. There will be less to catch up on."
"As you wish." Snape waved his wand at the parchment and writing appeared. "Take this to professor Vector and that should be that. You might be able to catch her in the staff room if you hurry."
Draco rolled the parchment up very carefully and practically ran to the staff room. He knocked tentatively and the door creaked open. Just as Snape had said, Vector was in the corner with a hot cup of tea and a pile of papers a foot high.
"Professor Vector?" He asked as he approached.
She didn't even look up as she muttered an apathetic, "yes?"
"I'll be switching into your class," he said after clearing his throat. She stopped what she was doing and looked up at him, an amused expression on her face.
"Is that right?" With a wave of her wand, the papers disappeared with a light pop and she motioned for Draco to sit down. He handed her Snape's parchment and she read it, her eyes laughing the entire time. "Professor Snape gives you a glowing recommendation, to be sure," she said more to herself than to Draco. "And yet, it is two months into the term. We've already covered arithmantic theory up through the seventeen hundreds."
"You will find me very well versed in arithmantic theory, Professor," he said confidently and she nodded.
"There will be no special treatment for you, Mr. Malfoy. I don't favor students—even those that happen to be the sons of influential wizards. You will work as hard as everyone else and I will expect you to be caught up by Monday." She paused and set the parchment down. "I will tell you this only once, so you had better listen very closely. My classroom is a place for learning. Advanced arithmancy is extremely difficult and can be dangerous. School is not a place for petty conflict. If you have an inter-house rivalry or some kind of archaic dogma that prevents you from working peacefully with the others, I will not hesitate in removing you from my class—I don't know why you looked surprised. Talk of you and your friends' bullying is as common in this staff room as tea and biscuits." As if reminded that she had tea, she took a slow, deliberate sip and smiled. "It will not be tolerated. You may go."
Draco rose to his feet, his cheeks burning. It was humiliating and he couldn't even feel wronged—her verbal abuse of his character was accurate if not completely warranted. What a little prat he had been…
. . .
The library was almost empty, but sixth year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs alike had been released from charms early after Neville's accident. It would have been hilarious had professor Flitwick not deducted twenty points from Gryffindor. Hermione couldn't really blame him for that, especially since it had been Flitwick who needed assistance up to the hospital wing and not Neville this time. Hermione, and even Neville himself, had tried to warn him that they weren't ready for intermediate elemental manipulation charms, but Flitwick had insisted that they were an exceptionally bright group and that fifth years were fully capable of mastering a simple fire spell…
Hermione let out a grunt of pleasure as she found the book she had been searching for. She grabbed it happily and brought it up to the counter where Madam Pince was reading the Daily Prophet. The librarian checked the book out to her, hesitantly she was sure to emphasize, and Hermione was on her way to turris magnus, the large tower that housed the advanced arithmancy classroom, the ghoul studies classroom, and the very advanced defense against the dark arts classroom.
When she entered, the last thing she expected was to find someone else within—let alone this particular someone. She scowled and slammed her book bag down.
"What do you want now, Malfoy?" She sneered. He looked up from the book he was reading and his eyes seemed to register her presence.
To her surprise, he gave a small laugh and rolled his eyes. "It hadn't occurred to me, but of course you'd be here," he said.
"I think you have the wrong classroom, advanced muggle bating is down the hall," Hermione said caustically. Maybe the injuries he sustained during his miraculous fall had been mostly to his brain.
"Nope. This is advanced arithmancy with Professor Vector, exactly where I ought to be." He assured her.
"You've missed half the classes this quarter and it is a very difficult class to catch up in. Someone has actually already dropped it…" Hermione's voice trailed off, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Did you do something to Micken? Threaten him to make him drop the course so you could…"
"No, I've done nothing to Micken and no, I'm not here to… do whatever it is that you're implying." Draco stated archly. "And I have special permission to join this class. I can show you the slip if you'd like." She shook her head and looked away. He seemed legitimately amused and this put an end to and desire Hermione had to banter with him. If he was meant to be here, there was nothing she could do and if he wasn't… Professor Vector would be sure to deal with him.
Hermione sat down and rummaged through her bag for her new quill set. Her elbow caught the corner of the library book she had just gotten and it fell to the floor with a sonorous thud. She sighed, pulled the quill box from the furthest corner of her bag and reached down to pick up her book. To her surprise and disgust, Malfoy had already picked it up and was holding it out to her patiently. She snatched it from his hands and thrust it into her bag. Wordlessly, Malfoy walked back to his own seat two tables from hers. This was going to be the worst term of arithmancy ever, Hermione decided bitterly. If he's even in this class… Even as Hermione thought it, she knew she was pathetically grasping at straws.
Obviously Malfoy's father—and Snape, damn him—had pulled some strings so that Draco could torture her without the concern of dealing with Ron and Harry. It was, after all, a well known fact that she was the only one of the Gryffindor trio that had taken a liking to the calculated science of arithmancy…
As she sat and waited, staring blankly at the front of the room, Hermione rued the day that she had chosen advanced arithmancy over Hagrid's Maintaining Magical Monsters course, which both Ron and Harry would be enjoying in just a few minutes. For a moment, Hermione almost entertained the thought that perhaps it wasn't too late to switch out of arithmancy and into Hagrid's course… But thoughts of the Ministry of Magic and being an important official in some as yet unknown department soon quashed those crazy musings. Hermione would do what she always did—overcome impossible odds—and she would even manage it with a semblance of good humor, or die trying.
. . .
Professor Vector swept into the room seconds before the bell rang and Draco was relieved to have an end to the incredibly painful silence—that was, until she opened her mouth and the words surprise quiz came out.
Draco scowled as she handed out cheat proof quills and parchment. Her smug smirk told him that this was a welcoming gift specially planned for him. He had claimed to be proficient in theory and she was testing his word.
Looking down at the parchment, he found himself pleasantly surprised. There was very little that he didn't know. He finished it within a matter of minutes and waited patiently for the others to do so. He had been the first to submit his quiz, but Hermione had followed not even a minute later. He could easily imagine every space of her parchment full of the small, tilted script that he had come to know almost as well as his own.
When the test was over, Vector collected the rest of the papers from around the room and finally decided to address the giant snake in the room—him.
"As you may have noticed, we have a new addition to our small number," Vector said slowly. "Draco Malfoy will be joining us in advanced arithmancy for the remainder of the term. That said, I must also inform you that our young prodigy, Mr. Micken, has decided to pursue other avenues of education." There were sniggers at this and Draco wondered why. "Professor Sprout has informed me that he has taken quite a liking to caring for magical plants." Ah, he thought with a grin. Micken had gone the way of the rest of the Hufflepuffs… "For the sake of time and convenience, partners will remain unchanged—except in the one instance, of course. Hermione Granger, you and Draco Malfoy will be partners for the rest of the term." Her tone was final and she didn't even pause to take a breath before moving on. It was as if all the air had been sucked from the room. The other, older Gryffindor girl looked absolutely scandalized whereas the three Ravenclaws seemed to accept it with nonchalance. It was for the sake of efficiency… Perfectly reasonable.
. . .
Hermione couldn't believe it. The rest of Vector's instructions were a complete loss to her and when everyone else started milling around partnering up for their discussion of the quiz answers, Hermione remained frozen in her seat. Not that it mattered. Malfoy managed to find his way to her table where he set down his things and filled her space with his parchment and his quills. She wanted to cry, to scream… to claw his eyes out. Anything to get him away from her.
It was no secret what Draco Malfoy thought of Hermione Granger. She was a disgusting, mixed blood, muggle born witch and this meant that respect, camaraderie, and even mutual apathy were impossible. No, he couldn't just leave her alone. He had to make her life a living hell every second they spent in one another's company.
"Number four is wrong." His voice interrupted her murderous fantasies and Hermione had just enough energy left to be appalled.
"Excuse me?" She asked, turning only slightly in his direction.
"You listed the Agrippan method as the oldest form of numerology," he said mildly. "It isn't. The Chaldean method predates the Agrippan method by almost a thousand years."
Hermione ripped her test out of his hands and read her response. He was right. She hadn't even taken into account the Chaldean method. They hadn't covered it yet.
"We haven't gotten to the Chaldean method yet."
"And yet the question asks: what is the most ancient numerological system, not: what is the most ancient numerological system you have read about," he replied.
Hermione raised her hand and she saw his eyebrow twitch upwards in amusement. Vector approached and Hermione laid out their point of contention. To her surprise, Vector sided with Malfoy.
"I very clearly remember mentioning that the Agrippan method, while the most commonly used today, is not the oldest, Miss Granger." Vector moved on and Hermione shuffled through her dozens of pages of notes until she found what she was looking for.
"Bugger," she cursed, shoving them all roughly back into her bag. She looked at him, her eyes narrowed in irritation. "Fine. Let's move on."
The rest of her test was perfect, but she found herself dissatisfied with that. Not only had she been wrong, but he had pointed it out. What did Draco Malfoy know about arithmancy? Why would Death Eaters even need an advanced knowledge of numerological divination? The only education they needed was in how to follow orders. Kill that witch. Kill that muggle. It was a morbid mockery, but it brought a small smile to her face as he finished looking over her answers.
Now it was her turn. She sighed as she read over his parchment. It was short. It was concise. But it was perfect.
Looking at him out of the corner of her eye, she found herself in shock at the path her mind was taking. Maybe he did have a brain—albeit a presumably very dusty one.
Theirs was the first group done and Vector told them they were free to discuss anything of an arithmantic nature that they desired. The bell would ring shortly anyways. Hermione was resolved to remain silent, but something was driving her crazy.
"How do you know so much about the Chaldean method?" She asked quietly and he looked over at her in astonishment. Her question was in reference to his quiz. When asked which method of numerology was most aligned with his own worldview, he had responded the Chaldean method. She needed to know why…
"How do you?" He replied.
"I always read ahead." It was the simplest answer in the world, but the soft smile of admiration that flitted across his face was most unexpected.
"I do too." His grey eyes looked suddenly bluer, like the sky over a stormy ocean, instead of dead and cold like they were in her nightmares. Their dullness had been replaced by a glittering spark. It was not unlike the way Dumbledore looked when she and her Gryffindor friends found their way into trouble he found amusing.
"Then can you answer why you prefer it to all the other methods?" She asked. It was the first time she had ever had a theoretical conversation on the subject of arithmancy with anyone. "I personally prefer the Pythagorean method… It's simple and clear cut."
"That's exactly why I don't like it," Malfoy replied, looking very serious. "The Pythagorean method is too logical, the Agrippan too cryptic, the Chinese and Abjad methods too spiritual… The Chaldean method is personal. It's more accurate."
"How so?"
"Well, for example, when you are doing the numbers for your character, personality, and heart, you're using your entire legal name with the Pythagorean method. With the Chaldean, it's simpler than that. You use the name that people actually use—the name that is, in essence, linked to you intimately." He paused and began scribbling on a blank piece of parchment. "Look at the difference."
Hermione was impressed at how quickly he was done with his calculations. He handed the parchment over and she looked at it.
"According to the Pythagorean method, my character number is a nine. I am dedicated to public service and am an inspiration to others." Hermione openly guffawed and he brushed it off. "My heart number would be a three, which makes me talented, energetic, and easy going… are you getting the picture?" She refused to nod, but merely moved on to his Chaldean reading.
"It does seem a bit more accurate," she said slowly. "In your case anyways. Your personality number is a five, which makes you unstable and noncommittal—no one needs arithmancy to know that though." She handed the parchment back and began putting her things away.
"Someday it will click," his voice said quietly as he stood to move back to his own table.
"I doubt that," she said tersely. "You practice your Chaldean and I will practice my
Pythagorean."
He chuckled. "You won't always be a Pythagorean theorist, you know."
Hermione blinked, taken aback by his confident tone. "And how can you be so sure?"
"Because you taught me everything I know about arithmancy," he whispered. "And right now, you're wrong." The bell rang and he walked from the room in a whirl of black cloak. Caught between fear, confusion, and rage, Hermione stood and headed off towards transfiguration. How happy she would be to see her friends after such a long day.
"Chaldean doesn't even have a nine," she muttered under her breath.
. . .
Draco could have kicked himself. He shouldn't have said that. He really shouldn't have said that… He walked straight to the dungeons. He had a free period that needed to be spent mulling over the last several days. He needed a plan or he was going to mess things up for everyone permanently. As much as he wanted to just come clean—to tell Hermione their whole messy love story—he knew it wasn't a good idea. She wouldn't believe him, Dumbledore would no doubt find out, and Draco would lose his one chance at regaining what he had lost.
"I need to be smart about it," he muttered to himself.
Winning Hermione wouldn't be easy under these circumstances. They were in separate houses and his endless torture and teasing was still a fresh wound. They didn't have the distance that being out of school for 8 years had provided, they didn't have the shared goal of the Order of the Phoenix, and they (meaning Hermione) definitely didn't have an adult sense of their physical chemistry, which had been helpful.
It was going to be slow work, and very difficult, but as Draco sat and thought and pondered, he began to form a plot—something he had always been very adept at.
Step one would begin in the morning during double potions with Gryffindor. Their new Potions Master was still a mystery to Draco. For the life of him, he couldn't recall who had taken over for Snape, but he had no doubt the witch or wizard was no match for his deviousness. Draco needed to relearn how to behave like a teenage boy, and that required observation.
Thus far, he had managed to avoid spending more than moments in the company of Crabbe and Goyle, but that would have to change. Draco needed to pretend to become the person he was, so he could show a fake, gradual change into the person he would be… well, was currently on the inside… Merlin, was time travel complicated…
A/N: Yay! The last edited chapter. Only new stuff from here on out. If you liked it, please review. Thank you for reading :-)
