Chess
Governor's Lament
"So, you mean you've been sleeping out here for the whole month?" Hermione asked, curled up on a desk in an unused classroom, wrapped in a large woolly green blanket.
"I told you, I don't feel that comfortable in my common room," Draco answered from where he was perched up on his own desk. "Do you?"
"Do I what?" Hermione asked, not understanding.
"Do you feel comfortable in your common room?"
Hermione snorted icily. "With me having been their chess second? And with Ron losing? The whole house would batter me! And even Ron, and Harry, and Ginny, after what happened between me and Ron…" She didn't finish the sentence, but her point was obvious.
It was the next morning after the final game in the championship, and Hermione was extremely surprised to have disappeared from the crowd with Draco right after the game, escaped all the commotion, all congratulations and accusations, all partying and fighting there was to be; they had slipped into this room that had desks piled onto each other at the sides, a couple of blankets and pillows thrown on one of them, the room which had been a home for Draco since the beginning of the chess championship.
"To Slytherins fair play sounds more like an insult," Draco explained his decision to reside alone in those almost inhuman conditions.
"To Gryffindors losing to Slytherin sounds like the end of the world," Hermione answered.
"It is," Draco said with a small smile.
Hermione snorted into the blanket, but the severe look on Draco's face made her humour drop.
"Lemon drop?" Draco asked after a bit of silence, grimacing to Hermione and making a poor imitation of Dumbledore.
"No, thanks, the package you gave me two minutes ago is still half-full."
"It's half-empty, then," Draco quickly retorted, taking one piece of candy from his own package and plopping it into his mouth. "Dumbledore is too Dumbledore."
"Really," Hermione asked sarcastically, laughing at the same time. "But you are right, who else would give out an extra award in the form of a thousand packages of lemon drops!"
They both laughed for a good while, each perched on their own desk, sending sneaky glances when they thought the other wasn't watching. Then they continued to suck on their candy for a while longer.
"What were you thinking about?" she asked suddenly.
"When?"
"A while ago. Before laughing at Dumbledore."
"You," came the swift reply. "Well, actually, both of us."
Hermione let this statement sink in for a moment without answering. She wasn't sure she could fathom the idea of them really being close enough to go under one mutual pronoun; that was something much more than to borrow a blanket from the other and to spend some time together in a classroom.
"Do you remember what Flitwick said in the beginning?" Draco continued when Hermione gave no indication of answering.
"In the beginning of what?"
"The tournament," Draco said. "He said they'd welcome the winner at their House," he elaborated.
"I'm sure it was just meant to fill in the rhythm in the rhyme," Hermione laughed. "Besides, I'd never thought you'd get tired of being a Slytherin!"
"I'm not tired of being a Slytherin, I'm tired of being with Slytherins," Draco shot back. "And I know for sure that since the destruction of the Sorting Hat it is allowed to change the houses when you feel you have been misplaced."
"That goes for those who have been sorted without the hat, surely," Hermione replied, but a little spark of curiosity was flickering inside her. Could she really change her House? The Sorting Hat had really wanted to place her in Ravenclaw — could she now go and try out how it would be in that House?
"I read the decree some time ago," Draco said confidently, earning another praising look from Hermione. "Of course it's made keeping in mind those who have been placed by the Board, but it doesn't say that anywhere."
"And as long as everything is correct in jurisdiction…" Hermione didn't finish the sentence.
"So, what do you think?" There was a passionate, a bit maniacal gleam in Draco's eyes as he asked that.
"I don't know," Hermione replied, and in all honesty she didn't. Of course it would have been fun to defect, but was it all worth the trouble? How would it affect her NEWTs scores? How would it affect the professors' opinion of her? Was it reasonable to do something like that just a bit over a semester before graduation? Was the thrill of changing sides really worth sacrificing the person she had become in Gryffindor?
"I'm sorry," she said finally, making up her mind, only to almost change it when she saw the disappointment on Draco's face. "It's just," she said, throwing the green blanket off her and jumping down onto the floor, "I am a Gryffindor; I can't change it just like that! The Sorting Hat did place me in Gryffindor in the end, didn't it! Though I had to convince it for some time…" She smiled apologetically.
Draco sighed and jumped down after Hermione to pick up the discarded blanket and fold it carefully together on a desk. He did his best to avoid looking at Hermione who noticed the change in his behaviour towards her in an instant.
"Don't take it personally! I—" but she didn't know how to end the thought.
"What are you doing here then if you're a Gryffindor? Why aren't you with your boyfriend up in your tower? I thought Gryffindors wouldn't be companionable with Slytherins!"
"He's not my boyfriend any more!" Hermione shouted, regretting it already before she could finish it. She hadn't meant to end up shouting at the only person in the whole of Hogwarts who still seemed to understand and want to spend time with her. "Besides, we could still be — you know — while being in different Houses," she ended somewhat lamely.
Draco looked at her in amusement, his brows raised and mouth curved if not in smirk then at least a mocking smile.
"I don't know," he said. "Friends, you mean?"
Hermione blushed.
"If you say so," she muttered.
"You should leave now," Draco said suddenly, stuffing another handful of lemon drops into Hermione's pocket. "I need to go meet Longbottom."
"Neville? What for?" Hermione asked, now really confused in addition to being disappointed at Malfoy's wish to be just friends.
"No, not Neville. Mrs. Longbottom is the Governor I'm meeting to discuss my changing of House."
Saying that Malfoy exited the room, holding the door open for Hermione to follow. But Hermione didn't move. She held her spot, looking questioningly at Draco, hesitating.
"I… Friends?" she finally managed to say.
Malfoy smiled, this time neither mockingly nor evilly. He let his gaze glide over Hermione, the woman visibly aware of the progress of his eyes. Then he let his eyes drop to the ground, and his pale cheeks coloured a bit.
"I'd like it if you came with me. I'm actually a bit afraid of that woman…"
"I didn't know Neville's grandmother's a Governor," Hermione said to buy some time.
"That makes her only more frightening," Malfoy replied, now looking back at Hermione. "Please," he said.
Hermione almost let her mouth drop open. She'd never imagined the day would come when she would hear Malfoy say that word with such deepness to it. And she'd never imagined that at that day she'd actually want to do his bidding.
"I'll come," she said, adding quickly, "but just to keep you company, I won't leave Gryffindor."
Malfoy mouthed a "Thank you" to her and together they left the classroom, heading in Hermione's great surprise for McGonagall's office. In the one day and night after the final game the school had changed greatly — all around the corridors and passageways there were signs of recent fights, every now and then she could see a spot of blood, or torn clothing somewhere. In more secluded corners, though, there were empty bottles of Firewhiskey, and mead, and wine, and even vodka. And half way to the Headmistress' office Hermione almost stumbled over a leg protruding from behind a tapestry covering the entrance to a hidden passage, so the people who had consumed the contents of the bottles weren't quite finished yet, either.
Reaching the gargoyle, Hermione heard Malfoy breath a sigh of relief.
"What's wrong? I thought you were afraid of facing her," Hermione asked.
"I am. But I was more afraid of meeting someone on my way here."
"Some Gryffindor?" Hermione asked, trying to ease the tension with a smirk.
"Or a Slytherin, or a Hufflepuff, or a Ravenclaw; doesn't really matter. Anyone but you." He added, this time his face colouring only so slightly that Hermione wasn't sure it wasn't just a figment of her imagination.
"So, you won the House cup for Slytherins and now leave so you can't enjoy the victory with them?" Hermione quickly changed the subject, trying to procrastinate saying the password to the Headmistress' office.
"Well, if you came with me, it wouldn't have to be that way," Malfoy confirmed confidently.
"What do you mean?"
"The two of us together would get so many points with our knowledge that we could surpass them easily!" he smirked.
"Nice image," Hermione laughed, "But I'm not that simple to convince."
They stood in front of the gargoyle for a while longer, before Hermione finally sighed and said the password.
"Championship."
The guardian jumped away, and they stepped onto the staircase together. In a moment they were behind McGonagall's door, and Hermione had knocked before she even registered in her brain why she did it. The door opened and they entered to find a grey-haired old woman wearing a broad-rimmed green wizards' hat with a stuffed vulture perched on it and a huge spiky red handbag sitting on McGonagall's usual spot.
"You, sit!" she said, motioning towards Malfoy but not looking at him. "You, out!" This was to Hermione.
"No, I'm here with him!" Hermione protested, and only when both Mrs. Longbottom and Draco had fixed their surprised glances on her did she understand what she had said. "I mean…" she started to remedy the damage, but the Governor wasn't one for much useless words, it seemed.
"Sit, then," she barked, and another chair appeared next to the one Malfoy was occupying.
Finally Longbottom looked up. She gave both of them a strict glare, then got up from her chair, and started talking to herself, as if Hermione and Draco weren't in the room.
"Children," she huffed. "Like they know what's best to them!
"Oh my dear how boring
They're defecting
Just like all the others
They're expecting
Us to be impressed with what they're done here
But they
Haven't stopped to think about the paper work
Their gesture causes
We've a whole great school to run here
If these people can't strike
Blows for freedom
With the Sorting Hat on
We don't need 'em
If we seem offhand then please remember
This is nothing very special
It's the fourth we've had since last November
Who do these pure-blood chappies think they are?"
Hermione flinched in distaste, the words "I'm Muggle-born, thank you very much," already forming on her lips, but she stopped when she felt Draco next to her flinch just the same way.
"It's not about blood," he said defensively.
Longbottom turned her piercing gaze to them again.
"So what House do you want to go to?" she asked instead, not elaborating on the blood subject, for which Hermione was secretly grateful.
"Ravenclaw," Draco answered bravely, happy that things were finally moving forward.
Longbottom nodded solemnly, as if confirming something she had suspected long ago. She gave the two students another glare, then sharply turned her back on them, and continued her rant.
"And when he's safe in Ravenclaw
They'll be the heroes at the school
The professors will lionise them
Fame and fortune too
No one knows it's us the thanks goes to!"
Malfoy and Hermione exchanged a confused look, trying to find out whether the other thought the old woman was a bit crazy, too. Unnoticed by all three occupants of the room, McGonagall entered at that moment and stood by the door, watching the scene.
Suddenly Mrs. Longbottom grabbed a file from the desk, rounding up on Malfoy.
"This is just something my grandson gave me," she said easily, but Hermione could see in her eyes the look that Neville had done anything but cooperated with her peacefully, and she felt happy at his bravery to stand up against his grandmother like that.
The woman flipped through the pages with one hand.
"You have a girlfriend?" she asked Malfoy, obviously knowing the answer already.
"Yes," Draco replied simply, earning an encouraging squeeze of hand from Hermione.
"You have two cronies?" Longbottom asked again, this time a smirk almost visible on her features.
"Yes," Malfoy pressed out, almost shaking with rage.
"And they're not coming with you?" Longbottom asked, feigning mild surprise.
"No, not for the moment," Draco retorted, trying to keep himself from shouting and throwing things.
"You play chess?
You are good at it?
Oh, yes, it says here that you are Hogwarts' champion."
"Since yesterday," Draco answered, still doing his best to stay polite and not ruin his chances of changing House.
"That's still good," Longbottom sneered, and heat flushed up on Malfoy's cheeks.
"Mrs. Longbottom, you are dealing with a major high-class figure here. May I —" McGonagall suddenly said, in time to prevent Malfoy from starting to thrash her things.
"Are you changing house too, ma'am?" Longbottom asked with sarcasm, which unfortunately went unnoticed by the three fuming people in the office.
"No!" McGonagall almost screamed. She took a few calming breaths, and then continued.
"This man was a student of Slytherin House
I am the Head of Gryffindor House
And by the authority of this board
And as the school's Headmistress
I demand that you give this man your immediate attention!" she said as authoritatively as she could manage. After a moment of thought, though, she added, "And this woman, too."
With this she turned around and left the room, probably to find some bottle of unused alcohol to calm herself down.
Mrs. Longbottom gave the students an almost evil smile now, before clutching her handbag to her chest, and asking,
"Have you an appointment with the goblins?
If you don't you cannot change the Houses
See, it takes some money. With respect it buggers
Up our non-existent, null funds
Pushing peace and understanding
Let us hope you can afford it.
Far too many jokers
Change their houses
Not a single Knut to
Sponsorise this
Slytherin must be empty
Though we're all for
Basic wizard rights it makes you wonder
What they built their common-room for
Who do these pure-blood chappies think they are?"
She took a moment to shuffle through her bag, pulled out a stack of parchment, doubled it with a quick duplicating charm, and threw them over the table to the students.
"Take those, and leave. Owl them to the Board as an official application. And don't forget what I said about… you know." And she waved them off.
Already at the door, they were stopped by the voice of Mrs. Longbottom, once more, this time warning them.
"And when you've filled in all the forms
And been passed clear of all disease
Debriefed, debugged, de-drugged, disarmed
And disinfected please
Don't forget the board
Who controls your leaves!"
"All that for a measly seven months?" Hermione asked in a breath after closing the door behind her back. "I'll never let you live it down!"
Malfoy smiled apologetically, but then turned it into a smirk.
"So you decided you weren't that much of a Gryffindor," he teased her, earning a playful slap.
"Have you got a quill with you?" was all she said, eyeing the enormous amount of forms in her hand.