A/N I've been missing Veronica a lot lately. Hopefully we'll get that movie someday!
"What do you mean, you haven't talked to her?" Draco asked his father. "She's your wife! How do you 'not talk' to your wife?"
"Do not take that tone with me, Draco," his father answered. "Your mother decided she needed a vacation."
"She certainly needs it, living with you," Draco said boldly. His father reached out, lightning fast, and struck him across the face. Draco felt blood forming but refused to give his father the satisfaction of watching him touch it. He opened his mouth to reply, but the look on his father's face stopped him. He really didn't want a repeat of his spew punishment.
"Your mother has a nervous disposition, Draco, you know that," Lucius said in a calm voice, as if they were discussing the weather. "She simply wanted to get away for a time. If she hasn't contacted you, she must want a little peace and quiet without you worrying her." Lucius looked all too pleased to deliver that little piece of news; the idea that Narcissa had not owled Draco left him well satisfied. The two of them were always ganging up against him. Was he not the man of the family, the head of the house? His son was looking at him with that all-too-common mutinous look on his face. Lucius fought the urge to punch him in the face again with some difficulty.
"Father," Draco began in what he hoped was a solicitous tone, "would you please have Mother owl me when you hear from her?"
Lucius again pushed down the notion to hit his son and nodded. "Of course. How are your grades, Draco?"
"Very good, sir," Draco answered, well aware of the inner war his father was fighting at the moment.
"Are you first in your class, Draco? Above the Granger girl?"
Draco winced slightly. "No, father. Granger is still number one." He didn't mention the fact that there were a few Ravenclaws above him as well. He didn't want a broken nose.
"I want that rectified by the end of term. No mudblood should be placed higher than a pureblood, especially not my son, do you hear me?"
"Yes, Father." He mentally rolled his eyes. He'd been trying to beat her for the last six years. Mudblood or not, Hermione Granger studied her ass off and was a talented witch. What was he supposed to do? Knock her over the head until she forgot everything she learned? Besides, as often as his father hit him, who was to say that's why he himself didn't make better grades? He wisely did not float that theory.
"Being a pureblood means everything. Arthur Weasley may put on a muggle-loving, blood traitor front in public, Draco, but who did he marry? Another pureblood. Do you think he would have been elected Minister if he were married to some filthy half-blood or mudblood?"
"No, Father," Draco said dutifully, already bored by his father's sermon.
"Their pure blood is the only reason I tolerate your friendship with his son, remember that."
Draco nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Back when he was still friends with Granger and Potter (Hermione and Harry, a treacherous voice whispered - can't you even think their names?), his father had been uncharacteristically silent on the subject; that was back in the days when it was unwise to openly challenge Potter. After Ginny's death, he had been one of their loudest accusers. Draco had overheard his father telling his mother that Ginny's death was a blessing because it meant he would not be associating with that soiled blood traitor trash anymore. He hadn't spoken to him for a month after that, not that his father had really noticed.
"So we're agreed," Lucius said, clapping his hands together. "You will raise your grades."
"You will let me know when Mother comes home?"
"Certainly," his father replied in an off-hand manner. He didn't want Draco to know that Narcissa had been gone for over a week, nor that his repeated attempts to contact her had been unsuccessful. He had never laid a hand on his wife in anger before, but he had a feeling that might change when she finally came home. Either that or he'd make a little trip to Draco to relieve some stress. "I will talk to you soon, son. Do not disappoint me."
Draco nodded again, glad to be rid of him at last. His days of blindly worshiping his father were long gone, but Draco would be lying to himself if he didn't admit he still craved his father's respect and acceptance. Loved him, even. He didn't want to get into a grade war with Granger; for one thing, he was sure to lose, and for another, he hated to bow and scrape to his father like that. Still, it would be nice to have him off of his back. He resolved to study a bit more in the weeks to come. He could at least top the Ravenclaws.
But what about his mother? It was not like her to run off without telling someone. He and his mother were close; surely she would have contacted him. He knew his mother and father had been fighting a lot lately. There had been rumors of his father's infidelity the last few years, and although his father would not "give the gossipers the satisfaction of a reply," Draco knew they were probably true. It was hard on his mother, and his own infrequent visits home did not help matters. It was likely his father was right and she just needed some time to herself. He resolved to send her an owl, just to make sure she was alright.
In the meantime, he had work to do. It was an important night, and even his father would not begrudge him the plans he had for the evening. Indeed, it was one of the rare occasions when his father would probably be proud. He hurried off to the library to collect Ron.
"Are you ready?" he asked, clapping Ron on the back.
"I don't know, Draco," Ron replied wearily. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"It's perfect," Draco told his friend. "Look, they do what I say, okay? Theo, Blaise - they're both on board."
"And the seventh years?"
"Yep."
"Your father would have a conniption."
"He has other things on his mind right now," Draco said. For some reason, he was in no hurry to tell Ron that his mother was missing. He didn't want to see the sympathy in his eyes; it was one of the main reasons he kept mum about his father's treatment. He was sure Ron suspected, but it was quite another thing to say it out loud. Before Ginny's death, the Weasley's represented everything he had ever wanted in a family. Even with Ginny gone, they were still far preferable to his father. Still, it seemed wrong to beg for pity when Ron's sister was dead. "Besides, he's proud of me. It doesn't matter who else is involved."
"If you say so."
"I do, and what I say goes. You didn't tell anyone, did you?"
"Who am I going to tell?" Ron asked.
"Potter or Granger, for a start." Draco watched Ron out of the corner of his eye, recognizing the familiar flinch whenever Granger was mentioned. When was he going to get over that girl? From the rumors (which Draco didn't really believe, but still), she had more than moved on. It was quite probable that she was even banging Potter now; at the very least she had Oliver Wood hanging all over her. It wasn't that Draco didn't see her appeal, in his own way. When they were friends, he had the odd fantasy; hell, he'd had them when he hated her, too. It didn't matter that she was funny, smart and pretty; what mattered was that she was persona non grata in the wizarding world these days, and Ron had to get past her. He'd had plenty of opportunities; even Pansy had thrown herself at Ron once or twice since his father was named Minister of Magic.
"Yeah, and right after that I ran and told Dean Thomas and Hagrid," Ron shot back. "Don't be stupid, Draco. I'm with you - I can keep a secret."
Draco grinned, pleased as always with the reassurance of Ron's friendship. "Alright, alright, I'm sorry. I wouldn't have gotten you into this if I didn't trust you."
Ron grinned back. He wasn't exactly excited about the night's coming activities, but if it made Draco happy, so be it. He knew that Draco was jealous of his re-emerging friendship with Harry and he was eager to appease his friend and remind him that he was number one. If it was important to Draco, that made it important to Ron.
O O O O OO
"Miss Granger," said the silky, unmistakably pleased voice of one Professor Severus Snape. "I wonder if you would be so kind as to accompany me to my office."
Hermione rolled her eyes at her library book and bit back a nasty retort. She didn't really want detention at the moment. "Certainly, Professor," she said in a faux-obedient voice as she rose to her feet. "What can I help you with?"
"Let's just save the discussion until we're behind closed doors, shall we? The walls have ears."
Hermione inwardly shuddered at the thought of being alone with Snape, especially when he looked so pleased with himself. Anything that made Snape happy could not be good for her. She followed him to the dungeons, wishing she had just stayed in the common room with Harry to study.
"Miss Granger," he began once they were inside his room and she had taken a seat, "there have been some accusations lately about unacceptable behaviors. I was hoping you could shed some light on the subject."
"I'll do my best. Sir." She tried not to choke on the word.
"You have been named as an accomplice to a serious bout of rule-breaking."
She sighed loudly, breaking her obedient act. "What have I done this time? Cloud the telescopes? Aid and abet Peeves? Don't tell me - I opened the Chamber of Secrets again."
"Your attitude is precisely why people are willing to believe the worst of you," Snape sneered.
"My blood status is the reason," Hermione snapped back.
"You just love to play the victim card, Miss Granger," Snape said, fixing her with a hateful, knowing look. "The only one who cares about you being a muggle-born is you. You were bad enough when you were just a know-it-all. Now you're sarcastic and disrespectful on top of that."
"What do you want?" Hermione said, trying and failing to control both her voice and temper. "You'd like nothing more than to expel me. If someone said I did something and you had any proof I'd already be out. What do you want?"
Snape smirked at her. "In this instance, I think your accuser is lying. I don't think you are guilty."
Hermione's jaw dropped.
"Do not be alarmed, Miss Granger, we shall not be braiding one another's hair any time soon. Anthony Goldstein is in the hospital wing, recovering from alcohol poisoning. He is fine, of course, but Michael Corner has named you as their supplier. Find out where they really got the alcohol or I'll be forced to take his accusations to the Headmaster."
"Why don't you find out yourself?" Hermione asked boldly. Sure, he was giving her a way out, but why?
"I don't feel like it," Snape said smoothly. "I have better things to do than track down drunks. Believe me, Miss Granger, if they'd imbibed a stolen potion, I would know it was you. However, despite our many disagreements, I feel it is unlikely you've become a moonshiner."
"How kind."
"You have one day."
"How very kind."
"Until tomorrow, Miss Granger," Snape said, fixing her with another dreadful smile and motioning to the door. "I am very much looking forward to your findings."
Using all the willpower in her body, Hermione fought the urge to give Snape the finger and left the room. She supposed she was lucky he wasn't using this opportunity to crucify her. He'd probably hold it over her head until she graduated. If she graduated. At this rate she'd be lucky to make it to Easter. What had she ever done to Michael or Anthony? Yeah, they'd said nasty things about her like everyone else, but why in the world would they try to blame her for something as stupid as smuggling fire whiskey into the school? Hermione wished she had cursed the Dumbledore's Army sign-up sheet to hex everyone who had ever pissed her off. She marched up to the Hospital Wing; luckily Madam Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen.
"What in the hell?" she whispered angrily to Michael Corner, who was sitting next to a sleeping, weak-looking Anthony Goldstein. Michael looked terrified to see her. "Why did you tell Snape I got you drunk?"
"We had to," Michael said. "I'm really sorry, Granger, but we didn't have a choice. The Gorgons told us to blame you."
"The what?"
"The Gorgons. This was an initiation ritual, and stupid Tony got sick, so we got caught. We were told up front to blame you if anything happened."
"Snake-haired ladies told you to blame me? What initiation? Has everyone gone crazy?"
"The Gorgons are an elite, centuries-old Hogwarts society. Only the best and brightest are admitted."
"Well, I'll assume my invitation got lost in the owl post," Hermione bit out.
"Sorry, Granger, men only," Michael said, giving her a crooked smile.
"You mean purebloods only."
"Well..."
"Whatever, I don't care," Hermione said. "How does any of this affect me?"
"The Gorgons are top secret. Even after Hogwarts, members remain extremely influential. If I told anyone about them, I'd be in major trouble."
"You're telling me."
"Everyone knows you can keep a secret, Granger," Michael said. "Besides, Tony almost drank himself to death. I'm not so sure I want to be a part of that."
"Why not tell Snape? He'd let a fellow Gorgon off, wouldn't he?"
"Professor Snape was never in," Michael corrected her, and Hermione felt a surge of triumph. "He'd be really bitter about it, too, so I couldn't say anything to him. But you can stop them, if anyone can do it, you can." He gave her a hopeful smile, as if he wasn't one of the myriad of guys that mimed oral sex when she walked by, or wrote nasty things on the bathroom stalls, or coughed 'mudblood' in her vicinity.
"This is basically blackmail," Hermione said, wiping the smile off of his face. "You told Snape it was my alcohol, and now if I don't get these Gorgon guys for you, I might get expelled."
"Hermione," he started, going for her first name, the way the masses often did when they wanted a favor.
"Don't 'Hermione' me," she replied. "I'll help you because I don't have much of a choice. If they told you to blame me, then I want to get them, too. But you tell your little Ravenclaw buddies to back off from now on, do you understand? No more snide comments, get it?"
"You have my word," Michael said, looking relieved.
"For what it's worth. By the way, the Gorgons were women." With that, she turned and left the hospital wing. As usual, she needed Harry.
Harry greeted her with a giant sigh and a long-suffering grimace. "Really, Hermione? This is what we're doing all evening?"
"Do you want me expelled?"
"Do you want to be accepting favors from Snape?" he countered.
"No," she admitted. "But what choice do I have? Besides, if these Gorgon assholes are trying to get me in trouble, the least I can do is return the favor, right? Aren't you a bit insulted you weren't asked to join their secret circle-jerk?"
"I'm not a pureblood, Hermione. I'm not a complete wanker, either. If it had been a club for the hottest, most talented Quidditch players, then yeah, I would have been a little miffed. What do you want to bet Draco's involved?"
"Yeah, he's my first stop, as usual. Probably Zabini and Nott, too."
"Ron?" Harry asked tentatively.
"C'mon, Ron would never be involved in something like that. He doesn't care about blood status."
"He cares about Draco," Harry pointed out. "He wouldn't try to get you in trouble, but he might not know about it. If Anthony and Michael were just getting initiated this year, the rest of the members are probably seventh years, right? People like Jackson Flint and Darby Rathbone from Slytherin. Draco and Zabini, and Ron for that matter, are all probably new initiates. Any of those seventh year guys would have thought it was funny to get you kicked out. Hell, it was probably part of the initiation."
"That's true," Hermione mused. "Flint told a bunch of people that I had sex with him and his brother Marcus. That's gross - I mean, incestuous three-ways? That just makes them look bad. He wasn't too happy when I 'accidentally' broke his broom over it."
"There you go," Harry replied. "Do you want me to talk to Lupin?"
"No," Hermione answered. "He'll want to go to Dumbledore and then I'll lose my leverage with Snape. Let me talk to Draco, and you see if you can get anything from Ron."
"Why do you always put yourself in that position, Hermione? It's not good for you and Draco to talk too much."
"I can handle Draco," she said dismissively. "It's easier for me to talk to the Slytherins than Ron, so how's that for a laugh?"
"I'm sorry," Harry said sympathetically. "I thought you two were getting along a little better."
"I don't know. He hasn't really spoken to me since he saw me with Oliver."
"What's going on with that?"
"Nothing," she said, feeling rather sorry for herself. "I did get him in trouble at work. He's been chained to a desk for the last few weeks."
"So you have talked to him," Harry observed.
"Okay, maybe a couple times," Hermione said. "He's in London, though."
"Hogsmeade is just an apparition away."
"Stay on point, Harry," Hermione said briskly. "We can talk about our lack of love lives later."
"Fine," he said, sighing loudly again. "You tackle Malfoy, I'll talk to Ron. We'll get you out of dutch with Snape and then I want to spend the rest of the weekend having actual fun." She nodded and made her way to the portrait.
The walk to the dungeons was becoming way too familiar to her. Class was one thing, but hanging out near the Slytherin common room was something else. She had vowed never to go there again; frankly, even down the hall was too close. Still, it was the only place she could be sure to find Draco and Zabini.
"Hey, Granger," she heard Zabini greet her from behind. "Fancy meeting you here. I've got twenty minutes to spare and the password to my pants is doggie style."
Hermione wondered, not for the first time, if it was possible Zabini had raped her. Would he stand there and make crude, careless comments like that if he had violated her? Back when they were all still friends, she had found him funny once in awhile, but now? She certainly couldn't rule him out. She decided to cut through his bullshit and get straight to business. Subtlety rarely worked on Blaise Zabini; it would take less time to ask straightforward questions and try to read his reactions to them. "What do you know about the Gorgons, and why would they want to get me kicked out of school?"
The panic in his face was unmistakable. He was definitely involved. "I don't know what you're talking about, Granger, but I can guarantee anyone who spends five minutes with you would love to see you kicked out. That's not exactly a party of one."
"Ha ha. Who would you sexually harass if I weren't here?"
"You're my favorite," Blaise said, "but I'd think of something."
"So it was your idea to blame me for the alcohol?"
"No! What? No. What alcohol, Granger? I didn't do anything to you, and I don't know anything about any Gorgoths."
"Gorgons, Zabini, Gorgons. Your little secret society almost killed Anthony Goldstein and you're all trying to blame me."
"For the last time, I don't know what you're talking about, Granger," Blaise said, refusing to meet her eyes. "Now go away before Pansy sees me talking to you."
"I'd hate for you to be cut off for the night," Hermione said. "Where's Draco?"
"Unlike you and Potter, we're not joined at the hip," Blaise groused. "I don't know where he is, but this little act is wearing thin. Draco would never be with you, got it? You can make up all kinds of excuses, but you're always around, looking for him. Frankly, it's a little desperate."
"Spare me," Hermione retorted, angry despite herself. "I don't like talking to you assholes any more than you do, but I'm not going to let you get me kicked out of school."
"Go sing your sad song elsewhere. Oh, and Hermione," he leaned in to whisper in her ear, "remember, just because Draco's too good for you, it doesn't mean I wouldn't still throw you a bone."
She went to shove him away, but he had already moved down the hall, whistling merrily. Ugh. Now she needed a shower.
She wasn't sure if she had actually learned anything or not. It was obvious that Blaise was involved somehow; more than likely he was a Gorgon initiate. His confusion regarding the frame-up appeared genuine, though. Despite being a Slytherin, Blaise wasn't all that great an actor, at least not when he was caught off-guard. She'd seen him lie straight-faced and convincingly dozens of times, but that was usually when he had time to build a cover-story. Perhaps he really didn't know about the plan to oust her. Irritated at the lack of answers, she turned to go and ran into the person she really wanted to talk to.
"I'm not in the mood," Draco said, trying to move past her. "I've got things to do, and you're not on the list."
"What is?" Hermione questioned him. "Turning people to stone?"
"That's the basilisk's job, not mine," he said, giving in to his curiosity and turning to face her. "Haven't you been petrified enough?"
"Oh, you're right," Hermione said, snapping her fingers. "I must have been confused. I was thinking of that old myth with Perseus. What were they called? Gargamels? Grendels? Gorgons?"
Draco had a much better game face than Blaise, and if he was surprised by Hermione's queries, he didn't let on. "No idea, but if a look can turn someone to stone it's probably called a Granger. Now are you looking for a date, or can you move it along? Do you need me to rustle up Jackson Flint for you?"
"Isn't he busy tonight, too? Don't you have the same plans?"
"If his plans are banging you, then they're definitely not the same," Draco said, a little jazzed by their arguing. As much as she irritated him, she was still fun to spar with sometimes. She obviously knew something about the Gorgons, and that wasn't good, but it was unlikely that she knew enough to cause any damage. Stupid nosy bitch. What did she care anyway?
"You know as well as I do that Jackson Flint is a disgusting liar," Hermione stated.
"If you say so. Now if you'll excuse me." Without a backward glance, Draco continued on to his common room. Once inside, Blaise grabbed him and pulled him into their empty dorm room.
"What the hell? Did she just ambush you, too?"
"Yeah, and who cares? She can't prove anything, and she probably doesn't really know anything anyway. Don't get your knickers in a bunch. It's just Granger."
"That's what Pansy said," Blaise pouted. "And Viktor Krum. And Romilda Vane, and Crabbe and -"
"Okay, I get your point," Draco said. "So she's a pain in the ass. She's not going to ruin tonight, alright? Just put her out of your mind."
"She said something about getting blamed for Goldstein and Corner, and that it was our fault."
"You know Hermione," Draco said, not realizing he had spoken the dreaded first name. "Everything that goes wrong in her life is our fault. We probably slipped something to her about the Gorgons back when we all hung out. Who cares? If Goldstein's and Corner's stupidity gets her kicked out of school, so much the better for us, right? God can you imagine what it would be like not to have to look at her face every day?" In fact, Draco could not imagine it. She was a nasty reminder of Ginny, but at the same time...
"That would be pretty great," Blaise conceded. "Although I hope to one day find out for myself if all the rumors are true."
Draco laughed. "Not on your life is Hermione Granger having sex with you. Keep dreaming, pal."
"We'll see," Blaise said.
"That we will. Now go get ready. I need to send an owl to my mother before we get started."
"Well, why'd you come back downstairs then?" Blaise questioned. "Go ahead and write your letter, Mummy's Boy. See you tonight."
Draco nodded absentmindedly, already mentally composing the letter to his mother. He was not convinced she would answer the owl - she certainly hadn't told him she was going away - but perhaps if he stressed in the letter how worried he was, she would get back to him. He really didn't like the idea that she was out there somewhere, not talking to him or his father. Maybe Aunt Bella had her hidden away somewhere. That wasn't a cheery thought, either.
O O O O O O
"I couldn't even find Ron," Harry told Hermione when she returned to the common room. "I looked everywhere, too. Maybe he was avoiding me. It's possible he knew what we were going to ask and didn't want to talk about it."
"I don't see how," Hermione said. "It's supposed to be some great big secret society. Zabini's definitely involved. Draco, surely, but he didn't let on."
"Well, it's supposed to be some great big secret," Harry echoed her. "I don't know what we can do, Hermione."
"Get your invisibility cloak out," Hermione ordered. "I've got a plan."
Three hours later, she and Harry were both hidden beneath the helpful cloak.
"Ouch!" Harry gasped in pain. "Hermione, get off my foot!"
"Shh! They'll hear us."
"I don't care, you're breaking my foot!"
"Oh, for the - there, you happy?"
"Yes. Now I'll be able to walk again."
"Okay, I think I hear something," Hermione whispered. "And I see a faint light. Let's move closer to the wall." She and Harry shuffled back until their backs were against the cold stone wall, careful not to let their feet be seen. The had surmised that their initiation would probably take place in the dungeons; there was a corridor filled with rarely used rooms that was far from both the Slytherin common room and Snape's office. Hermione knew Draco used to take Ginny there to make out; it was not a well-known part of the castle. She had worried that they might use the Room of Requirement, but few people knew about that room, and so she had ruled it out. She and Harry were armed with their wands and a camera. Hopefully it would be all they needed to expose the Gorgons and secure her place at school.
The light grew brighter as a group of masked figured drew close. Hermione and Harry watched in silence as they passed close by and entered one of the rooms. Hermione counted maybe eight or nine people; four of them were in scarlet robes, and the rest in black. Hermione waited until they were all inside with the door closed before she and Harry quietly pulled open the door and slipped inside. Luckily, no one noticed.
"Tonight is a sacred time," a self-important voice intoned. Hermione thought it was maybe Jackson Flint; he was wearing a black robe. Those in scarlet kneeled on the floor in front of him.
Hermione rolled her eyes and listened with Harry as one by one the black-clad figures spoke some rubbish about purity, power and their places in the wizarding world. After what seemed like ages, those in the scarlet robes were told to rise.
"You are now Gorgons," Flint proclaimed. "Welcome, brothers."
They pushed back their hoods to reveal Draco, Ron, Blaise, and Theodore Nott. No Anthony Goldstein. No Michael Corner. Had they failed the initiation, or had Michael been lying to her?
"Professor Snape will be here to congratulate you shortly," Flint said, causing Hermione and Harry to look at one another in panic.
She had to do something fast, before Snape - who according to Michael, had never been a Gorgon - arrived. She whipped off the cloak and shouted "Smile for the camera!" With lightning speed, she clicked several pictures, grabbed Harry and shot out of the door, throwing a colloportus spell behind her to keep them in the room. The muffled shouts of the Gorgons kept them running as fast as they could, and soon she and Harry were safely in their common room, grasping for breath and grinning at each other triumphantly.
"That was hilarious!" Harry congratulated her. "I don't think I've ever run that fast in my life, and that's saying something."
"Michael lied to me," Hermione managed between gulping breaths. "Why would he do that?"
"I guess he was just using you to take down the Gorgons. Maybe he's bitter he wasn't invited. He probably knew Snape wouldn't do anything to them on his own and thought you'd be an easy target."
"Give me the cloak," Hermione demanded. "I'm going to talk to him now."
"Hermione, we were lucky to get away, don't press it. Besides, he's probably in bed."
"I bet he's still in the hospital wing with Anthony. I'm going Harry."
"Fine," said Harry, resigned as always. "But I'm coming with you."
The pair crept out again; their luck held and they soon made it to the hospital wing with no problems. Michael was dozing in the chair next to Anthony's bed. Hermione cast a quick charm to ensure that Madam Pomfrey wouldn't hear them and shook Michael awake.
"Granger?" he said, his voice heavy with sleep. "Potter? What are you doing here?"
"I just came from the Gorgon initiation. Funny you weren't there."
"I told you, I want to get them, I want to -"
"Bullshit," Hermione growled. "You're pissed because you weren't invited, and you wanted to get back at them. What's the matter? Not the brightest and the best, Michael?"
"It's just for Slytherins," Michael said in an injured tone, apparently ready to quit pretending. "And I was okay with that, even though my father and uncle were both members. I mean, I was proud to be in Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin. But then I found out Weasley was allowed. I couldn't let that slide."
"Why drag me into it?" Hermione said.
"I knew it would piss off Weasley, if you got in trouble," Michael said. "And because of Ginny."
"Ginny?" Harry asked in surprise.
"We were happy until Draco came along," Michael spit out, sounding enraged. "I loved her. I knew she liked other guys, and I knew about Dean Thomas, but she stayed with me until Draco. And you encouraged her in that, and you were there when she -"
"Don't say another word," Harry said angrily, stepping between Michael and Hermione. "You were more than happy to take up with Cho Chang, and you know Hermione didn't have anything to do with Ginny's death. Tomorrow, you tell Snape it was your alcohol, or I will personally see to it that you are expelled, and that each and every Gorgon knows you deliberately set Hermione on them."
Michael glared hatefully at the pair of them, but gave a small nod of agreement. It was his and Anthony's first offence, so there was little chance they'd get kicked out of school. Satisfied, Harry led Hermione once more to their common room.
"Remember, I want to have fun tomorr-" He was interrupted by Ron, who took that moment to climb through the portrait hole.
"Draco asked me to be a part of it," he said, by way of greeting. "He's been under a lot of stress lately, so I wanted to help. You both know that's not my kind of thing. I guess having the Minister as my father carries a lot of weight, so the others agreed to Draco's request. What are you going to do with the pictures?"
Hermione started to say something biting, and then stopped. Ron seemed sincere. "Take the camera," she said instead, handing it to a stunned Ron. "Just don't tell Draco. It wouldn't hurt him to think I have a little leverage." She gave Harry a brief, grateful hug and walked to the staircase. It had been a long day. "See you guys in the morning."