Disclaimer: The characters, settings, and world of Harry Potter do not belong to me. The Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling.
A/N: Sorry for the late update! I had a pretty busy day yesterday, and didn't have time to update. But here it is!
Hugs and Chocolate Frogs to anyone who knew what movie Blaise referenced at the end of the last chapter! For those of you who don't know, he was referencing The Godfather. I may or may not sneak some more references (to Harry Potter and other things) along the way. Also, for any of you who are confused, the Slytherins' plan is to get Hermione to help them, and push her out later, if she gets too Gryffindor-y. Rankin de Merthyr, you will be pleased to know that I do have a plan as to what I want to happen and how I want this fic to end. I definitely agree that there are a lot more options out there for Harry Potter fanfics than just Voldemort. Again, thank you, thank you, thank you, to everyone reading this.
Chapter Five: The Ploy
After a week of practice, hours each night, an exhausted yet triumphant Hermione perfected her Patronus Charm.
Of course, that hadn't been the only thing she was working on. She'd been dueling before and after each night's practice session, sometimes trying out harder spells on one dummy, sometimes dueling multiple. After the first couple of nights, she'd realized she needed to improve the dummies, so she was also carefully peeling away the layer of spells to see how they were charmed, and would later double up the charms along with adding some new ones.
Fortunately, no one in the Gryffindor girl's dormitory asked where she went each night. They probably assumed the worst, seeing as almost none of the Gryffindors even had the nerve to say anything to her. She tried to ignore it, but the only time she could really get away from her real life was while she was training. For what, she didn't know. Maybe she'd become an Auror when she got out of school. Or maybe she was just training to prove herself, to prove to everyone who had left that day that she was stronger than what they made her.
One late Wednesday night found Hermione in the Room of Requirement, her puma Patronus prowling around the edges of the room.
Harry seemed to be in perpetual detention with Umbridge, for continuing to 'lie to the class and himself'. Ron seemed more distant than ever, but, from what Hermione saw, was at least trying to be more responsible. She knew Harry wanted desperately to talk with her again, and Ron did too, although he would never admit it.
Hermione was still angry with her classmates for walking out on her, but she was beginning to forgive them, slowly. She knew she held a grudge longer than most did, but only about the big things. After being called 'Mudblood' and 'know-it-all' so many times, she had learned to ignore the little things.
Sighing, she checked the time, knowing she should probably get back to the dormitory. It was eleven. She tried to remember when she'd started-eight-thirty, maybe?
She'd perfected her Patronus, and had successfully taken off the first layer of spells on the dummy. She felt… satisfied. Like she'd already proven that she could do anything she set her mind to.
Maybe, she thought, I'm the only one I have to prove myself to.
(Earlier that night)
"You know you can't just go up to her and be all chummy, just like that, Draco." Blaise said. "You do have a plan, don't you?" When Draco was silent, Blaise put his face in his palm. "Salazar, Draco. You really thought you could just go up and ask?" Draco shrugged, his usually pale face reddening a bit. "Maybe I should be the one to intercept her tonight. Besides, she'd probably punch you again out of surprise if you said anything besides 'Mudblood' to her."
Draco rubbed his nose subconsciously, as if just thinking about Granger punching him reminded him of the time she'd broken his nose in third year. "I haven't called her a Mudblood since the beginning of fourth year, Blaise."
"I'm so proud of you, ferret." His friend drawled sarcastically. "But really. The only things she's used to from you are insults and hexes. She doesn't know me, so there'll be less of a chance of Granger's fist connecting with Slytherin flesh, and more of a chance of her agreeing to help us." Blaise reasoned, and Draco sighed.
"All right, Blaise. I give up. You go talk to her." Personally, Draco didn't think there was much of a chance of Granger agreeing-she had been sorted into Gryffindor, after all. And, Draco supposed, if there was one thing that defined Gryffindors, it was their shared hate of Slytherins. Plus, Granger was smart. She was bound to figure out that they were playing some sort of game with her. And then she'd probably sneak Veritaserum into their pumpkin juice at breakfast and make them tell her what was going on.
If she didn't poison them first.
Hermione stepped out of the Room of Requirement to find Blaise Zabini standing in the corridor, leaning against the far wall. He nodded respectfully at her, and her brow-along with her suspicion-rose.
"What are you doing here, Zabini?" She asked.
"I might ask you the same question, Granger, seeing as you just walked out of a wall," he quipped.
"Get to it, Zabini. You obviously have something to say, and I obviously have somewhere to be, so if you don't spit it out, you'll have to keep it in." She snapped, the exhaustion finally getting to her, and making her crankier than she usually was when talking to Slytherins.
Hermione stepped out of the Room of Requirement to find Blaise Zabini standing in the corridor, leaning against the far wall. He nodded respectfully at her, and her brow-along with her suspicion-rose.
"What are you doing here, Zabini?" She asked.
"I might ask you the same question, Granger, seeing as you just walked out of a wall," he quipped.
"Get to it, Zabini. You obviously have something to say, and I obviously have somewhere to be, so if you don't spit it out, you'll have to keep it in." She snapped, the exhaustion finally getting to her, and making her crankier than she usually was when talking to Slytherins.
"Tired, Granger?" He asked, and she put her hands on her hips.
"Only of you."
He put a hand to his chest in mock offense. "In that case… I'll just leave." He turned away to go, knowing he had piqued her curiosity, despite her best efforts to conceal it.
"Fine. Just tell me what you have to say, and let me go to sleep." She said, and he was struck by the weariness in her voice. She sounded… tired. Tired physically and emotionally.
"That's the spirit, Granger," he grinned, and when she remained unamused, he continued. "You remember that meeting… In the Hog's Head? The one where everyone ran out on you after you presented your idea?" He asked, hoping to strike a chord within her. At the look on her face, he held up his hands. "Hey, wasn't me. But anyway-"
"How do you know about that meeting?" She asked.
"I hate to break it to you, Granger, but it's not hard to sit in the Hog's Head in some shadowy corner and listen to a very loud conversation. Now, can I continue? As I was saying, even though the other houses didn't necessarily like the idea, the Slytherins did. So much so, in fact, that we would like you to help us out." Her eyes widened and her brows seemed to lift into her hairline.
"Did I hear you right? Did a Slytherin just ask a Muggle-born Gryffindor to help you out with a Defense group?" She asked, and Blaise nodded, unsure whether the awe in her voice meant she would or not. "Mother of Merlin. You really are a lot of idiots, aren't you?"
Blaise blinked, before covering it up and plastering a grin onto his features. "Yup. And bloody proud of it, too."
"What are you, the ambassador or something?" She asked scornfully.
"I prefer the term 'charming, part-time messenger'."
"Well you can bring this message back to your house: you tell them that I would rather die than help you. I don't know what game you're trying to play with me, but I'm not going to be a pawn or your opponent. I don't need your help, and you certainly don't need mine. I'm not an idiot, Zabini." She said, and spat at his feet, turned on her heel, and disappeared up the stairs-flipping an obscene gesture to him as she went-to Gryffindor tower before Blaise could even lift his jaw up from the floor.
Well, he thought, that went terribly.
"Balderdash." Hermione said, watching as the Fat Lady swung her portrait back. She stepped through into the empty Gryffindor common room. She was pretty sure that she was having a dream-maybe she'd fallen asleep in the Room of Requirement, or something. Because why in the name of Merlin's saggy pants would the Slytherins want her, a 'swotty, Mudblood Gryffindor' to 'help them'? And why would she want to help them? She decided she would just forget about it all, and hope she was just very, very tired.
"Hermione?" She whirled around, reaching for her wand, and put a hand to her chest when she saw it was only Harry.
"Oh, Harry, you gave me a fright." She said, and he smiled, albeit a little warily. He was wary. Of her. "What are you doing up?"
"I just… wanted to apologize. For what happened at the Hog's Head, and for, well, treating you like shite." He said quietly, and she had the strong urge to hug him.
"Thank you, Harry. So far, you're the only one who has. I know I hold a grudge for longer than probably is healthy, but I forgive you. If everyone else only bothered to apologize… I don't know. Part of me feels like they were just following their instincts, and the other part of me wants them to apologize for the way they hurt me. And, for the record, you're the best friend I have, Harry. Sure, there's times we've gone off on each other, but..." she shrugged. "You're like a brother to me." She sat down next to him, and put her head on his shoulder, leaning back.
"'Mione, you are the sister I never had. Except now I have you." He said, grinning. She took his hand, smiling, but he hissed, and she let go, sitting up. "Oh, Harry, I'm sorry! Did that awful woman make you use the Black Quill again?" She cried, taking his hand in hers, and examining it. The back of his hand was red and irritated, and she could tell that even with Murtlap Essence, it would still scar. "I would tell you to stay out of trouble, but it doesn't seem like you get into any. In Umbridge's class, anyway." She said, and he grinned sheepishly.
"I missed you, 'Mione." He said, and she nodded.
"I missed you, too."