Disclaimer: The characters, settings, and world of Harry Potter do not belong to me. The Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling.
A/N: AAH! I completely forgot to put in the last part of last week's chapter (which is the most important part!) when I updated! I put it in on Saturday, so if you have not already, please, please, go read the end of Chapter Seven. It's important.
Sorry for the late update this week, I've just been pretty busy recently.
Phew! Now that that's out of the way, the Harry Potter reference in the last chapter was actually Umbridge's line, "I can get away with things that could make your hair curl," and Draco's line, "Not that it needs it." Yes, the former was actually "I know things that could make your hair curl," and yes, both lines were originally said by Rita Skeeter, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to put it in.
Also, I realized a couple days ago that the potion Hermione makes after detention with Umbridge is not, in fact, Essence of Murtlap, but actually Murtlap Essence. Oops. Anyway, I went back and changed it all, and just wanted to let you know, in case it was driving anyone insane :).
So! Read the end of Chapter Seven, then read this chapter!
For those of you who have already read the add-on to the last chapter, enjoy!
Chapter Eight: The High Inquisitor
The first thing Draco felt as he watched Hermione Granger walk out of Umbridge's office was shock. The next, envy.
What was it about the bushy-haired Gryffindor that made him envious?
Well, for starters, she was out of detention and he was, of course, still in it. She'd probably have a couple week's worth of detentions in her future, but he preferred to live in the present, in which she was gone and he was not.
His hand was burning with pain and his mind with the knowledge of the unforgivable word he'd written on his hand.
This, he supposed, was why Granger was in Gryffindor and he was in Slytherin. He had the courage to leave detention-Umbridge's detention, at that-while he merely entertained fantasies of making a dramatic exit from an undeserved detention.
While Draco contemplated the differences between him and Granger-not that he cared, he was just bored-Umbridge was turning all sorts of shades of furious-rage, shock, and contempt to name a few. She stood from her desk and began walking as fast as her little legs could carry her (which was surprisingly fast) towards the door of her office. She stopped at the door, as if just remembering he was still sitting there.
"You may as well leave, Mister Malfoy!" She cried, and stormed out of the room, muttering something about 'headstrong Mudblood' and 'when I find her…'.
Draco stood, scanned the room, and was about to move towards the door when he turned back to the desk he'd been sitting at, grabbed the Black Quill, and snapped it in half.
He left it on Umbridge's desk, along with the rest of her collection.
Hermione knew Umbridge would come looking for her, so instead of heading to Gryffindor tower, she strode quickly in the opposite direction-to the Room of Requirement.
She had gotten good at hiding her emotions, even at times like this when they rose in her throat, threatening to choke her, and covered her insides with their filmy, greasy residue.
I need a place where I can get away from Umbridge-physically and emotionally.
A set of ornate French doors appeared in the empty stone wall facing Hermione, and, curious, she pulled them open and slipped through.
She stood on a balcony that faced a wide, shimmering expanse of ocean. Above the water, as far as the eye could see, the vast night sky spread out like a canvas. The swathe of obsidian midnight that reflected in her upturned eyes was studded with millions of twinkling reminders that there was more than just the Earth out there.
Sometimes, she realized, it felt as if her problems might swallow her, but in truth, they were minute. The mere blink of an eye in the span of eons, eras, ages. Calm spread through her veins like golden, honeyed nectar, and she closed her eyes, letting the soft breeze brush across her face, dusting her cheeks and hair with the soft dust from the stars that winked down at her.
The water wove and dipped serenely below Hermione, spreading across the slowly brightening horizon, reminding her that she needed to get back to real life. Although it was with regret that she turned away from the balcony and through the beautiful room that had formed behind it, she knew that she wouldn't solve any of her problems by disappearing.
Hermione awoke the next morning with the same soothing calm flowing through her veins. She dressed, gathered her things, and exited the Gryffindor girls' dormitory in a sort of daze, ignoring, as usual, the looks that some of the others gave her (which were starting to abate, thankfully).
She had pushed through the portrait and was walking down the hall that led to the main set of stairs when she finally came to her senses, being vaguely aware of someone saying her name.
"Hermione!" She blinked, turned, and saw Harry next to her.
"Good morning, Harry," she said, and he frowned.
"Did you get enough sleep last night?" Her friend asked, his tone concerned.
"I… Yes, why?" She said.
"I've been calling your name for the past minute." He said bluntly, and she smiled sheepishly.
"Sorry. I guess I was just thinking."
He seemed to accept that answer, and continued. "How was detention last night? You never came to dinner." She blew out a soft exhale, and Harry chuckled, but his eyes belied the concern he held for her. "It was that bad?"
She grimaced. "I may have walked out."
Harry gaped. "What happened?"
Hermione said nothing, just held up her hand. She hadn't made Murtlap Essence last night, pushing it off until she could get more ingredients, hopefully soon. There was no way she would let these words remain on the back of her hand forever.
"Merlin." Was all Harry said, before enveloping her into a hug. She pressed her forehead against his chest, and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm going to kill her." He muttered as the two continued their walk to the Great Hall.
Hermione only smiled.
"Umbridge is up there today. I wonder why?" Harry mused as Hermione glanced up from where she'd been subtly eyeing Draco Malfoy's still red hand, upon which was written I must not mix with Mudbloods. Indeed, Professor Umbridge was seated at the high table next to an obviously annoyed McGonagall and a disgruntled Snape. She had never dined in the Great Hall before, even though they'd already been in school for over two months.
Hermione was about to say something when Umbridge stood from her seat and, after muttering a quick 'Sonorous', cleared her throat with a far too familiar,
"Hem, hem."
The entirety of the student population startled, turning their heads to the High Table.
"Good morning." She began, and many students had to catch themselves before they accidentally responded. "I would like to inform you that I have taken on the roll of High Inquisitor. No, this does not mean I will be forfeiting my job as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, rather that I will be working two jobs at once. As High Inquisitor, I will observe every teacher at Hogwarts during a regularly scheduled class period. I also have the ability to enforce and establish Education Decrees, which you will find have been posted in the common room of every house as well as outside my classroom. If any student wishes to speak to me about issues with a teacher, an Educational Decree, or anything at all having to do with the condition of this school, you may find me in my office at the six o'clock hour."
A glance up at the High Table showed a weary Dumbledore, a surprised staff, and a smug Umbridge. A glance around the once-more-deafening hall showed a mixture of surprised, furious, and disdainful students.
"You think it's going to go through?" Fred, who sat to one side of Hermione, asked.
"If you take into account the fact that Umbridge has direct links to the Ministry, then yes. It probably will go through." Hermione said.
"Dumbledore doesn't look too happy about it," Parvati murmured.
"No," Harry agreed. "I think Umbridge is the only one who is."
Later, walking down to the dungeons for Potions, Harry turned to Hermione.
"You know we have to do something about this, right?" He asked. She turned to him, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "About Umbridge." He added.
"Of course." She said, a smirk pulling on the edge of her lips. "Who do you take me for?"
Harry grinned. "You've already got something in mind, don't you?"
Hermione winked. She knew what had to be done.
"Was there something you wished to ask me, Miss Granger?" Professor Snape asked, turning his usual sneer towards her. "Or were you simply cleaning up your table very slowly because of the pleasure one derives from sweeping up the remnants of a rat spleen?"
"Actually, Professor, I was wondering if I could take some ingredients."
"For what, exactly?" He asked.
She held up her hand. "I need to make some Murtlap Essence, before this scars."
Snape's dark eyes softened, if only for a moment, but said nothing, only scanned her features, which she kept carefully detached. "Of course, Miss Granger. I'm sure you know where everything is in my supply cabinet, seeing as you've been taking from it since your second year."
Hermione gaped. "You-you knew?"
"Of course. Do you really think I am so low that I can not catch a thief in my own class?" The professor asked, and Hermione could have sworn she saw a smile ghost the edges of his thin lips.
"I, well-in that case, Professor, thank you." She said.
"Are you going to take ingredients, or not, Miss Granger? I do have other things to do, and I'd like to take care of them before Christmas. A few empathetic gestures does not mean I would like to carry on a long, meaningful conversation and braid hair." Snape said, and, just like that, he was back to his usual, snide self.
"Of course." Hermione said. She proceeded to gather the ingredients she needed, and left with a simple 'Thank you.'
It was nearing midnight, and Hermione was, as expected, the only one up. The common room smelled terrible-Murtlap tentacles had, she found, quite a strong scent. Strong enough, actually, to make her gag if she breathed through her nose, but she figured she'd rather sit in a smelly common room than let her hand scar.
Once she finished the concoction, Hermione poured it into a shallow bowl large enough to fit her hand. She cleaned up the table she'd been working at, murmured a quick Scourgify (instantly clearing the room of the stench, a tip Professor Flitwick had been very happy to share), and snagged a book as she dropped onto a couch. She opened the book-something she'd picked up from the library on the founders of Hogwarts-and began to read, meanwhile placing her hand carefully into the bowl of Murtlap Essence.
The angry marks on her hand became slightly less red, and she sighed at the relief that washed through her senses, calming her quickly fraying nerves. As predicted, Umbridge had given her a month more of detention. Of course, she had no intention whatsoever of actually going to those detentions, but Umbridge didn't know that yet.
Hermione's thoughts floated from Umbridge to detention to Defense Against the Dark Arts, finally settling on Draco Malfoy. His hand had still been red this morning, which probably meant he either didn't have any Murtlap Essence, hadn't made it yet, didn't know it existed, or didn't know how to make it.
An idea brightened inside of her, and Hermione sprung up, letting her book fall to the floor. She quickly rinsed her hand, grabbed another, smaller bowl, a quill, and a piece of paper.
Once she had assembled everything, Hermione hesitated. She stood in front of the stairs to the boys' dormitory, weighing her options. Eventually, she crept up the stairs, cracked open the door, and darted quickly over to Harry's bed, where he slept soundly, snoring slightly. She let herself smile, before opening the trunk at the foot of his bed and pulling out the Invisibility Cloak before quietly slipping out of the dormitory.
She hated that she had to keep her plans from Harry, but she knew exactly what his reaction would be, and she could not let anyone slow her down or stop her-something she knew Harry (albeit with good intentions) would do.
She also hated that she had to take from him like a petty thief, but she would return it once she was done. She needed to be invisible, tonight.
So no one saw her, as she stole into the Slytherin boy's common room.
Hermione had a delivery to make.
The next morning, Draco awoke to find a curious assembly of objects sitting next to his bed on the nightstand; a small bowl of Murtlap Essence, which he quickly placed his throbbing hand in (only after sniffing it to make sure it was actually Murtlap Essence), and a folded note. He rubbed his eyes sleepily and unfolded the note curiously.
Does the offer still stand?