Title

Among the Serpents

Chapter 10

By

Adrienne Black

A few hours before…

Dear Hermione,

I'm sorry to say that your father, your brother and I will not be at home this Christmas break, but instead will be vacationing in Aspen. Your welcome to come to the house despite our absence, but we would prefer if you were to stay at your school, or stay with one of your friends.

Regards,

Jeannie Granger

Hermione read over the letter a second time. She had the fleeting sensation that she was being rejected from a college or something of the like.

Her mother was always cold, to say the least. She had never gotten the feeling that her parents were ever particularly fond of her, which was quite the opposite of her younger brother, who happened to be the pride and joy of their entire pathetic existence. She blissfully remembered the times when her parents felt that way about her. They always doted upon her, quite able to do so extravagantly, being two dentists. That is they had always doted upon her, until she received her letter from Hogwarts. It was odd to think that her being a witch could hinder her parents affection, but apparently it did.

She unwrinkled the letter, folded it and slipped it into her pocket. Well, now she was in quite the predicament. What was she going to do about the Holiday break? She couldn't very well stay at Hogwarts, everyone expected her to want to return to her pureblood parents and pureblood manor.

Often times she would wonder in amazement at her own brilliance and quickness, for she almost instantly realized Slytherin was the wrong house for her, and began fabricating a perfect lie of a life. In her very first year at Hogwarts she had claimed to lived in Spain, in an attempt to explain why no one knew of the pureblood Granger family. Unfortunately, this manifested into quite an elaborate lie. By the end of her first year, Hermione had convinced her classmates that her great grandfather was Hector Dagworth-Granger (founder of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers), that she was distantly related to Morgan le fey, that her home was a Spanish palace, and that she was fluent in Spanish (a quick spell guaranteed that). For at least two years she had always come to Hogwarts with a practiced Spanish accent to complete the effect.

As it was, she certainly didn't want to return to her modest house in Canterbury. Not that wanted to spend the break with her parents anyway (they always just ignored her), but the fact that they wouldn't be there to ignore her would be much too depressing, especially for the Holidays.

This is where most girls would collapse on the floor, balling their eyes out, but not Hermione. She may have felt the need to cry very much, but her tear ducts seemed to be too stubborn and too proud.

So, she couldn't stay at Hogwarts, and she couldn't go home. Hermione sighed. This was when she would have gone to Draco, and spent the vacation with him at Malfoy Manor. But that wasn't an option at the moment, but it could be. All she had to do was suck it up and go to him and this whole problem could be solved.

Hermione grabbed her shoes, threw them on and headed for the door, without even giving it a second thought. She had gotten to the portrait hole when she suddenly stopped. Had she noticed Harry peering at her from the coach she may have kept on going. Had she noticed Harry's curious smirk, his arched brow and his inquisitive expression, Hermione may very well have gotten all the way to the Slytherin corridor without thinking twice about what she was doing.

But since she did not notice him, and therefore had no fear of being seen she did stop. She stared at the door for a good thirty seconds, then took a step forward. But again, she stopped in front of the door, and then took a step backward. This happened a good three times before she let out a sigh and took the letter from her mother out again. She read it over, then made up her mind, stuffed the letter back into her pocket then pushed the portrait open and marched down to the Slytherin Common Room.

Before she knew it she was in the statue hole, face to face with Draco, and unfortunately Blaise. One was staring at her expectant, but hopeful, the other with scornful disdain. Well, it was safe to say Hermione hadn't foreseen this. She hadn't planned what she would say, she hadn't calculated every move……. Letters from her mother tended to shake her up. Well she had to say something.

"Err… Hey Draco… Can we talk?" She glanced at Blaise and added, "Privately?"

Blaise answered before Draco could even open his mouth.

"Draco doesn't want to talk to you, Granger. Go back to your presidential suite in Hell."

" Oh, I'm sorry, is Draco incapable of speaking for himself all of a sudden? No? Oh, then let him."

It didn't seem as though Draco even noticed the two bickering, her seemed a little out of it. Finally, he nodded.

"Yeah, 'Mione… let's go upstairs."

Hermione nodded, and followed Draco up the stairs, shoving past Blaise, looking positively triumphant. He muttered something to her, but Hermione could barley hear him, and she didn't think she would've cared to. All that mattered was that she wouldn't be ruined, she wouldn't be figured out, she wouldn't even be stared at awkwardly by those wondering whether she was "pure" or not. She was safe, at least for another weak or so…

Blaise was fuming. He stomped into the Great Hall that morning with a temper that would make a giant cower into their mothers laps.

Pansy vaguely wondered what put him in such a fowl mood, but in truth she already had an idea. It was common knowledge that Blaise and Hermione constantly battled, and it was just as common to know Hermione always seemed to win. So Pansy was less than surprised to hear that the little tramp had won out again. Of course she was furious, and of course she wanted to rip off Granger's pretty little head, but she couldn't. She had spent countless years sucking up to Hermione, for what reason Pansy didn't even know. It's not as though she wished to be friends with Granger, but her mother taught her to keep her enemies close, and her mother was never wrong.

Blaise sat down a few seats down from Pansy. She looked up and down the table. Some of the ugly faces she saw were nervous, others were calculating, a few even got up and left, trying hard not to be noticed slinking away by anyone.

Pansy shrugged, more to herself than to anyone else, and continued to eat her breakfast. A few minutes passed before she heard Blaise's raging voice.

"Parkinson!" he barked.

"Yes, Blaise?" Pansy said breathlessly, purposefully sounding more stupid than she was.

"Were you in the common room this morning?"

"Why, no I wasn't. Why do you ask?"

Blaise ignored her, which Pansy was quite used to. However, Pansy could hear Blaise asking down the table the very same question he had asked her. Blaise had an idea, had a plan. She planned to be in on it, she planned to be Granger's downfall. If only she knew how much damage she could cause simply by finding a letter.

Draco's breath caught in his throat as he led Hermione into his and Blaise's dorm room. He vowed he wouldn't tell her about the night before. The very, very big mistake he had made. She could never forgive him, and he just couldn't have that. He loved her, and the fact that she stood here, with an apologetic smile, made him happier than if he had received an Order of Merlin, First Class.

But one thing would be for sure, things would be different this time around. He would be in control.

"What do you want, Hermione? I don't want to be late to class." He said the words coldly, but she apparently didn't notice his tone, or just ignored it. Hermione flopped down on a small easy chair in the corner covered with clothes and smiled.

"Draco, you don't care about going to class. You don't care about being on time."

She was right, and Draco couldn't say very much in contradiction, but just the fact that she was right made his blood boil.

"Hermione, cut the manipulative bullshit. Apologize, or get out. I don't need this anymore."

Had anyone been studying Hermione's face constantly, without so much as a blink, they may have noticed a fleeting look of hurt pass over her features. But as it was, Draco did not. She nodded stonily. "Of course you don't, Draco. But we both know this is ridiculous."

"I don't know any such thing. Besides, I've moved on."

"Oh, I'm sure. You're as about as over me as I am over you."

"Well, Hermione, I never know where you stand! I don't know what your thinking, I don't know anything about you!" His voice was rising now. And Hermione stood up.

"That's not true Draco!"

"Of course it is! I don't know if you're over me or not! I haven't known how you've felt about me, about anything, since second year! You're manipulative, secretive and--"

"Oh, fine. Fine." Draco watched as Hermione turned on her heel, marched out the door and slammed it behind her.

Had anyone been on the other side of the door, they might have seen a tear stream down Hermione's creamy complexion.

Harry Potter entered the Great Hall that very same morning for breakfast. He was feeling good this morning, and had been for the past few days. He couldn't quite say why, or at least he wouldn't admit to himself why.

Harry sat down at the table, and scanned the table for Ginny. She wasn't there, but this didn't alarm Harry in any way. Why should it? She was probably having a late start. That's all. It was, a Monday, after all.

Not five minutes later, Ginny entered through the great oak doors. There was something odd about her, Harry noticed. She sat down and sheepishly pecked him on the cheek, but did not utter a word. She didn't even comment on Ron's ridiculous choice of tie for the day (bright green with orange polka-dots). Harry turned to her, with an eyebrow raised, but she was determinedly not looking at him.

He thought this rather odd still, but brushed it off.

Needless to say, Hermione did not attend breakfast that morning. She had no way of knowing, but Draco hadn't either.

She was positively miserable. How could all of this happened in a short few months? How could she all of a sudden lose everything she had ever worked for over a silly little crush. But no, there was no crush, she attempted to convince herself. And in any case… if there were feelings (which there weren't) they would simply be ephemeral… a silly little crush… after all, don't girls always want what they can't possible have? Well of course they did and she was no different. Yes! That had to be it, what other explanation could there possibly be?

Besides, she had never had any actual conversations with Potter, there had been no romantic dinners, no cute little inside jokes. She had barley spoken a civil word to the boy since the beginning of term! Why, she was feeling better already!

However, Hermione didn't actually believe a word of this, but it certainly did make her feel better.

But now the real problem… what was she going to do about Draco, and more importantly what was she going to do about Christmas? Hermione cursed her parents. Who did they think they were? It was just as much her home as it was theirs! Well… not exactly… technically she didn't pay the bills, or the mortgage… but she had lived there her whole life… she loved that house, and they were just going to go to Aspen and 'prefer that she didn't come home'?

So there were a few choices she could make. She could go home, against her parent's wishes, to an empty, depressing house and spend Christmas in pathetic solitude. Or, she could apologize to Draco (again) and go to Malfoy Manor. Or, she could remain at Hogwarts, and barricade herself in her dorm, not even to show herself if a mountain troll should attack.

Well not much to choose from, and none of them seemed terrible appealing. But she had to make a choice, Christmas was only a week away.

Draco spent the entire day on edge. If anyone so much as looked at him oddly he cursed them into the Hospital wing for several days.

How could he have screwed up so badly, so many times, all in one day? It seemed impossible, and yet he had accomplished it.

Funny thing was, he had planned to ask Hermione to come to Christmas with him this year. It didn't seem likely though, that she would want to attend anymore. It had been his idea… actually the idea had initially been his father's.

His father. Oh that wasn't a pleasant thought. What would Draco say to his father? Or even worse, what would his father say to him?