Disclaimer: If I had written Harry Potter I wouldn't be the poor student that I am.
Chapter 6
Backstage Gossip
"I just don't understand."
Hermione let out another exasperated sigh. "Ron, do I honestly have to go over it again?"
Ron gazed back at her helplessly, his face devoid of any sign that he had understood anything that she had said in the last half an hour. Hermione had to remind herself that at least he was making an effort with their Potions homework and not just copying hers, but that didn't stop the frustration that was slowly getting to her. She shook her head, reaching for the quill that she had thrown on the table moments ago.
"The strength of a Firmamentum Solution," she recited, stabbing the quill at the page open in front of them of Unabridged Advanced Potions for the Truly Advanced, "is proportionate to the age and mass of Hycanip roots used in the potion, and the method of their preparation. It is not based on the size of the leaves or the conditions in which they are grown, although this can of course influence the overall strength of the potion concocted, which must be taken into consideration." She took a deep breath as she lifted the quill from the page, revealing a small but obvious dent.
"So the strength doesn't just increase if you add more roots?" Ron asked timidly, afraid to anger her anymore.
A small smile broke across Hermione's face. "No, it doesn't. In fact the strength can decrease if the roots used have not matured and too much is added. You hear that Harry, I think he's finally got it."
Harry looked up from the Quidditch team chart he was pouring over in his armchair by the fire. "About bloody time. No offence Hermione but I was about to scream if I had to you explain Strengthening Solutions one more time."
She laughed. "Don't worry, so was I." She turned back to Ron who was sat next to her at one of the tables scattered around the Gryffindor common room. She watched as he hastily scribbled away at his parchment. "So it makes sense to you now?"
"Yeah," he replied, looking up briefly and smiling at her, "I think it's sunk in. Thanks Hermione, you're a life safer."
Harry got up and dumped his charts on top of the table. "Snape is such a git," he said sitting down as Hermione unrolled a clean sheet of parchment. "That's the fourth piece of homework from him that we've had in barely a week, not to mention all the reading he's having us do before each lesson. It's ridiculous!"
"McGonagall's just as bad," Ron said as he paused his frantic scribbling, pretending to scan his book for the correct spelling of something as Hermione scowled at him. "Twenty inches on the dangers of being an Animagus. There's a record."
Hermione was about to tell him off, she didn't have a problem with complaining about Snape who seemed to be in an even worse mood this year than ever before, but McGonagall was a teacher she admired greatly and hated to hear attacked. She didn't want to be disloyal to the teacher of one of her favourite subjects, even though her respect for her head of house had diminished somewhat after the events on the Hogwarts express two weeks earlier.
She stared down at the empty expanse of the parchment in front of her onto which she was supposed to translate a portion of text from a literary piece of her choice into Ancient Runes. "It's our final year," she said quietly. "We have our N.E.W.T's – what else did you expect?"
Silence engulfed the three of them as they sat and contemplated the idea for a while. It had been literally shoved down their throats from the moment the seventh years had taken their seats in their first class in September, and all their teachers had been relentless in making sure that no student forgot it ever since.
"Your final year at Hogwarts is more important than all the rest put together," McGonagall had told them as she stood arms crossed and intimidating, glancing at each student in her class individually as if she were judging their worth there and then. "What you achieve this year has the possibility to shape the rest of your lives, so I will tell you now that you had better make the most of it, for come June there shall be no going back."
Professor Flitwick had been the same. His usual cheery manner was feared lost for good when he lectured them stony faced from the top of his stool on a sunny Friday afternoon about the difficulties of the year ahead. It was as if, many thought, that they were all considered doomed to fail.
"Fred and George were never pressured like this," Ron said as he finished his essay for Snape, screwing the lid on his ink pot. "They had the time of their lives in their last year of school. They told me they got lectured, but I swear it wasn't on a scale like this."
Harry was fiddling with his wand, his eyes unfocused. "Well, I think we can guess what's different about this year."
Hermione shot a glance at Ron who looked back knowingly. They had been waiting for this. "Don't talk like that, mate."
"Why not? There's no point denying the obvious, is there?" He spoke in tones that were devoid of anger, just the clear sound of acceptance. "Everyone is worried about Voldemort, about what he's doing now. They can't gloss it over by making us work harder. It's not as if this should all really matter to me." He gestured at the books and scraps of parchment that littered their table, his eyes flicking across the room to where Dean, Neville and Lavender were sat, themselves buried under a pile of homework.
"Hey," Hermione said gently, kicking her foot lightly against Harry's leg under the table, reminding them that they were still there. "You're going to be an Auror, so you'd better do some more work. I'm sure," she said, leaning across the table to look at the page he'd been reading, "you'd need to know how to disarm and stun a pixie puff before you can qualify!"
Ron raised his eyebrows. "I think Harry and I will try and stick to the jokes from now on, Hermione. Yours are just not that funny."
Her mouth fell open as she sat back in her chair and Harry snorted. "I've just spent an hour of my time helping you and now you mock me?" she asked, trying to sound furious but turning towards Harry and smiling at him, relieved to see his eyes twinkling.
"An hour of your time that you would have spent on homework anyway!" Ron protested as he packed his things away in his bag. "At least I'm trying though. I could have asked to copy yours."
She slapped him on the arm. "Too far," Harry muttered under his breath to Ron, as Hermione's face darkened.
"Are you not patrolling the halls tonight?" Harry asked quickly trying to change the subject before an argument broke out.
"No, Hannah and Justin are."
"I still can't believe you have to live with Malfoy," Ron said as he stretched his arms out over his head. "I'd rather sleep out in the cold than have to sleep within fifty feet of him."
Hermione fiddled with the ring on her hand that they couldn't see absent mindedly. The common room was almost empty now as everyone trickled slowly up to bed. She hadn't realised that it had gotten so late. "Good job it's me that has to live with him then, isn't it?" she replied wryly, her eyes focusing on the text in front of her. "It's not so bad really. I barely see him at all, and if I do he doesn't say anything to me. I just stay in my bedroom and keep to myself."
The fire caught her attention and she watched for a while at the flames burned, the orange tendrils caressing the wood logs almost lovingly. In reality it was consuming them until only ash was left. She hoped that she had sounded convincing. Hermione was afraid to admit the truth to Harry or Ron of how terrible is was to live with Malfoy when there were so many other things to worry about. Voldemort was a far more horrific problem for Harry than Draco Malfoy was for her, and she wasn't about to insult anyone by thinking otherwise.
Knowing how much Harry hated the idea of his two best friends talking about him behind his back, Ron and Hermione had only managed to snatch a few moments of conversation in private when he had disappeared for a 'lesson' with Dumbledore one Friday evening. They had only agreed to do all that they could to keep him from slipping away from them, aware that he would possibly try to so for their own safety, before Hermione had to leave for her duties as Head Girl.
She stifled a yawn as she blearily checked her watch. "I wish I could just sleep here," she said wistfully as she gathered up her books. Hermione did anything she could to avoid the Head quarters.
"You've already crashed on the couch three times this week!" Harry said. "You gave Dobby the fright of his life that night you jumped up from the couch screaming!"
"I know," Hermione said guiltily. "I had to knit him a scarf and a pair of socks as an apology to him. I completely forgot about the House elves cleaning the common rooms at night."
"So Malfoy really is being a git then. We knew it! What's he doing?"
Hermione looked up from the parchment she was stacking and found them both watching her, worried expressions on their faces. "No," she began, shrugging her satchel over her shoulder. "I told you he just ignores me, which is fine by me any day. He doesn't do anything to me. I'd just prefer being nearer you two in case anything happens."
They didn't believe her, she could tell, but it had been a weak lie. She caught the look that Harry shot Ron and realised that it wasn't just Harry that was being talked about behind backs. She'd have to come up with something better than that if she was going to convince them.
"Honestly."
"Hermione, how many times have you said "honestly" recently?" Ron inquired. "It's as if you're trying to convince yourself that you're telling the truth, because you must know it's not working on us."
She froze momentarily before regaining her composure. She had to keep it together. It wasn't fair to burden either one of them with something she had under control. "Look, Malfoy is just being Malfoy," she said, lowering her voice. "How many times do I have to tell you I can handle it."
Harry jumped in this time. "Hermione, you've been here for the both of us more times than I can remember. If something is going on, we want you to tell us."
"And don't say it's not important or be dismissive. Just because You-Know-Who is out there doesn't mean that we aren't able to worry about other things. Especially if other things concern Malfoy." Ron divulged.
Hermione sagged against the back of her chair, chewing her lip nervously. Her hands rested palm down on the table in front of her, her nails chipped and dirty. "I'm not lying to you. My only problem with Malfoy is that I don't understand Dumbledore's trust in him."
Harry and Ron didn't know either which wasn't much comfort. She didn't tell them much about their brief encounters for fear that they would take action into their own hands and get in trouble. Hermione had been foolish to assume that living with Malfoy would be bearable, thinking she could just avoid him and stay in her room. But it wasn't so easy.
If he wasn't completely ignoring her presence as if she did not exist
She solemnly bade them both goodnight, and with the very thought on her mind, slowly made her way back to the heads quarters. Her heels dragged against the floor and her leather bag weighed down heavily upon her shoulders as she moved soundlessly down the stairs and along corridors to the other side of the castle.
Why did Dumbledore trust Malfoy? What was it that justified him making him Head Boy? What reason did he have for having her marry him?
The most believable reason that she could come up with was that he didn't trust Malfoy, and had simply put them together to have her keep an eye on him. But Hermione knew somehow that that couldn't possibly be true. Dumbledore knew everything, or as good as, about what happened under Hogwarts' roof. And Malfoy...well, the way he acted around the headmaster was different. She'd seen it on the train, and in the great hall. But she was no closer to the reason why, and had to live with the burgeoning questions until someone deemed it necessary to tell her.
Whispering voices caught her attention and Hermione stopped walking. She turned in the corridor, and listened carefully. A giggle came from behind a closed door, and she strode towards it, ready to deduct points from whoever was breaking the curfew. Her feet came to a grounding halt however when she realised that she was on the third floor in the west wing, standing outside the girls' bathroom.
She sighed. It was childish but she didn't fancy much going in there and angering any one, most particularly not gossiping girls, even though she was Head Girl and usually cared little about what anyone thought of her. A better idea would be to play total ignorance and hurry to bed herself thereby avoiding any confrontation.
She was halfway down the corridor when the voices grew louder and a snippet of conversation floated over to her.
"Can you believe it?" a voice hissed, high pitched with excitement. "I mean, I thought he'd finished with her last year...she's been playing down the rumours ever since-"
A different voice spoke up. "But now they're back together? Are you sure?"
"Absolutely! I heard it from Pansy Parkinson herself. She was boasting to anyone that would listen."
"I still can't believe it...I mean, what does Draco Malfoy see in a girl like Pansy?"
Hermione felt her pace slacken until she stood frozen as the words hit her. She recognised the voices now, Romilda Vane and Ashley Quirke, both Gryffindor fifth years.
"Well, I guess she is sort of pretty in that trying too hard way."
There was a large cackle of laughter and Hermione turned slowly, noticing the shadows moving in the gap under the door. Fury suddenly raced through her and without thought she clenched her fists against her sides, instantly curious.
"I guess it's all to do with being in Slytherin and you know...blood purity." Romilda whispered the last part, but Hermione caught it, her ear against the door. She dreaded to think what it would look like if someone were to appear around the corner at that precise moment.
There was the sound of rushing water. "What I wouldn't give to be in Slytherin. I wish Draco Malfoy would ask me out."
Hermione could barely contain herself, riddled with anger as she was. She pushed the door open and it slammed against the wall. "What are you two doing?" she demanded.
The two girls jumped in surprise and the lipstick Romilda was applying to her lips clattered onto the floor. Both looked sheepish.
"Well?"
The dark haired Gryffindor recovered first. "We were, um, just using the bathroom," Romilda muttered, kicking the lipstick under the sink with her foot.
"At half eleven at night? Surely you could have used the girls bathroom in the Gryffindor common room?" When neither answered, she lowered her voice. "I hate doing this, but five points each from Gryffindor. If I catch you again, it will be detention. Understand?" She was practically growling.
Both nodded in response. "Okay. Now get back to bed quickly, before someone worse than me catches you breaking curfew."
They bolted past her, their hurried footsteps echoing behind them. Hermione swore she heard Romilda say "I hope we run into Malfoy patrolling" and she felt like screaming. She looked around the bathroom in disgust, before storming out.
Did this mean he was cheating on her? Surely it counted as an extra-marital affair? But technically as far as she knew their marriage was just a legality and nothing more, so what did it matter. Why should Hermione Granger give a damn what Malfoy got up to. As if I care, she thought resentfully, removing the key that hung around her neck as she reached the door and shoving it in with more force than necessary. She threw the key down on the table on the other side of the door and threw herself down on the couch, her bag slipping from her shoulder.
She knew she had to start her ancient runes essay, and finish an arithmacy chart, but her eyes felt as heavy as lead and she couldn't concentrate. All she wanted to do was sleep.
~o~
She was blind. She had to be, for she could discern nothing – shapes, sights, everything was a dark blur that faded into one. She must have been deaf also, for there was no sound as she moved along, why she thought she was in motion she knew not, just that she was. It was cold. And frightening. At least she could still feel.
"This was not supposed to happen!"
She span around, her heart pounding in her throat. Two figures approached at speed, but they too were barely indistinguishable from the darkness.
"It has happened, we must accept that," a second voice replied, a lot calmer than the first, "and we must proceed."
They had almost reached her and she panicked, throwing herself against a wall that had just appeared from nowhere, screwing her eyes tightly shut. So she could see, she surmised as she felt the smooth surface with her hands. It definitely hadn't been there before, but it was as solid as it should be.
Footsteps passed her by and she went unnoticed. "But surely we cannot continue with this course of action, it is too dangerous." The voice floated towards her, she noticed it had become more desperate. "He will discover."
"Now, now, Lucius, calm down. Let us not presume what will happen. I am confident it is safe to proceed."
Her ears pricked at the mention of his name as realisation dawned. Answers beckoned to her questions that had been refused answers and she opened her eyes. Their voices were fading down the corridor and she quickly pushed herself away from the wall, running after them.
"...it is not up to you to decide, his decision is his own. I will not force him, and neither will you."
"...something feels wrong about all of this. He even mentioned Notts name in passing to me, I do not believe it a coincidence, he must know! I must once again protest that I do not believe that this is the correct course of action -"
"Do you trust me, or do you not?" The calmer voice asked.
They disappeared around a corner and she ran to follow after them, but when she turned the same corner the two figures were nowhere to be seen. She glanced around wildly, wondering where they could have possibly gone, when she noticed an ornately carved door. Without thought she went towards it, her hand gripped the handle, and
~o~
"Granger."
Morning sunlight burned as her eyes flew open at the call of her name and she slammed them shut again, desperately trying to re-visualise the door she had just seen. But it was no use, she was granted with the sight of nothing.
"Granger?" a voice called again.
Her eyes shot open once more and she sat up, feeling disorientated. Draco Malfoy was stood next to the sofa she had fallen asleep on, looking down on her.
"You idiot!" she groaned as the vivid images of the dream trickled from her mind. "Why did you have to wake me up! I could have found out what they were talking about, just two more seconds."
She buried her head in her hands as she tried to remember everything she had heard in her dream. It had felt so real.
Hermione expected a retort of some sort from him; at the very least an insult, but she got neither.
"Found out what?" he asked, his voice neutral.
She removed her head from her hands. "As if I would tell you," she spat, getting up. "Run out of nasty things to say this morning have we? Decided to acknowledge my presence today?
Draco moved across the room to pick up his cloak. "I have the unfortunate pleasure of having to deal with the fact that you exist every day, sadly."
"Really? So what was going on in the prefects meeting three days ago? You spoke over me every time I opened my mouth, and were completely dismissive of every suggestion I had, even though you knew what I was saying made sense. You acted as if I wasn't there, and completely humiliated me in front of the prefects."
"Fine." She said, crossing her arms over her chest when he remained silent. She growled at his ignorance. "You just had to wake me up, didn't you," she said more to herself than to him, bending down to pick up the cushions from the floor that must have fallen whilst she was asleep.
"I only did it," he said, having overheard, "because I thought you would have wanted to be woken up so that you would not miss breakfast or be late. I shall remember not to bother again though."
She watched him from the corner of the eye. Standing with his back to her, his loose blonde hair shining in the sunlight and his posture ramrod straight, Hermione was reminded strongly of his father from her dream.
"Oh," she managed to say eventually. She couldn't bring herself to say thank you however.
There was a sudden urge within her to ask him about Pansy Parkinson but she suppressed it. It was none of her business, she knew, yet at the same time it was; they were both bound to each other after all. It almost felt like betrayal when she should have felt relieved.
Feeling awkward being in the room with him on her own, Hermione picked herself up and headed to the bathroom. There would be no time to change if she were to make it down to breakfast in time, so she had to settle with just refreshing herself as best she could.
Ice cold water washed away the sleepy haziness from her skin and she brushed her teeth, the one thing she would never forget to do curtsey of her parents. Her hair looked dirty and unkempt, so she pulled it up into a bun off her face. She straightened her tie, and shook out her cloak, hating knowing that it was dirty against her skin. "It's your own fault," she said to her reflection.
Feeling reasonably satisfied, she left the bathroom and went to pick up her bag when she remembered that she had only managed to complete half of her homework essay the night before.
"Shit!"
Malfoy looked up startled as she rummaged through her bag, but she was too busy to notice. When she had finally found her essay, she grabbed her key and rushed down to the great hall ahead of him. It was half past eight, so she still had time to finish it off before ancient runes later that afternoon.
The smell of breakfast wafted up Hermione's nose as she made her way across to the Gryffindor table. Her stomach grumbled at the sight of food.
"Oh gosh, I am so hungry," she said as she plonked herself down on the bench next to Harry, feeling flush.
"Morning, 'Mione," Ron greeted over a mouthful of toast.
She reached for the cup Harry handed her and poured some fresh coffee into it. "Ugh, how many times do I have to ask you Ron not to call me that? It reminds me of my Aunt Alice. She thought it was endearing. It's not."
He grinned at her over the jug of coffee. "Sorry, Mione" he said again, earning him a slap on the arm.
"Did you sleep okay?" Harry asked as she took out her quill and inkpot, smoothing the essay out in front of her.
"Not really," she said sipping her coffee. "Did you?"
Harry laughed. "Even Ron's snoring couldn't stop me from sleeping last night."
"Hey!" Ron interjected as he heaped French toast onto his plate. "I do not snore."
"Yeah, you do." The three looked up as Ginny hurried over to them, looking as if all of her Christmases had come at once. "Guess what?" she said excitedly, her eyes twinkling as she sat down.
Hermione had an inkling of what was to come, but decided to act as if she hadn't heard. "What?" she asked casually as she reached for a piece of toast.
Harry rolled his eyes. "If this is about Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson," he grumbled, "then we've already heard."
"I haven't heard," Hermione said, speaking up. "What about them?"
Ginny threw her hair over her shoulder, leaning in closer as if what she was about to her was a highly confidential secret. One that the whole school knew about. "They're officially going out again," she gushed as she glanced over at the Slytherin table. "Malfoy asked Pansy to meet him in the astronomy tower last night and told her that it had been a mistake for them to break up all those months ago when they were obviously such a good couple. He said he wanted to give it another go."
"You're serious?" Hermione asked incredulously. She wasn't sure whether to scream or hurl.
"Absolutely. Well, that's how she put it, but I think she's exaggerating slightly." She took a deep breath as she had been speaking rather fast. "Of course, the first thing Pansy did when she got back to her common room was run to Millicent Bulstrode and relayed the whole detailed episode. And you know what Millicent is like – any chance she gets to be the centre of attention she takes it.
Hermione often felt sorry for Millicent, but she was a Slytherin and a nasty one at that. Lavender and Parvati were always making snarky comments about her weight behind her
back, and she seemed to be the type who would do anything to be the centre of attention for a few moments.
"Millicent didn't waste one second in making sure that it was her spreading the news and dishing out the dirt to all who would listen. But we're all pretty sure Pansy planned it to happen like this. She wants the whole school to know that Draco Malfoy wanted her back."
The knife plunged into the butter with a bit more force than needed but Hermione kept her attention focused on Ginny as she spread her toast. "Who's 'we'?" she asked, her voice strained as she contemplated curses that she could use on the Head Boy.
The red heads eyes widened in shock as if she should have known. "Everyone Hermione, everyone is 'we'! It is all the school can talk about."
True to her word, the whole school was talking about it and it didn't take one with much intelligence to notice. Gossip was always rife at Hogwarts, and today it Pansy was the starring role. Heads were bowed together as frantic chatter was exchanged over breakfast, all debating what this latest relationship development meant. Girls were throwing looks over their shoulders at Pansy that were half admiring, yet half envious too.
Hermione strained her ears to pick up what she could, deliberately trying to avoid having to look over at the Slytherin table whilst everyone else was. She should have felt relieved that Malfoy was with Pansy; after all it might mean that this marriage between the two of them was just that, a marriage on paper and nothing else. But then why all the secrecy and trouble? Why her? The questions were mounting higher and higher, and she still had no more answers than before.
She was also finding it difficult to comprehend how her fellow students were acting towards two of the foulest people in the school who were more likely than not supported of dark magic. It was as if the very existence of it had been forgotten and no one seemed in a hurry to remember. None of it mattered, it was as if all anyone wanted at Hogwarts was to be like a student of any other normal school, to forget the horrors that existed outside the stone walls and just be kids whilst they still could. She should have been pleased at the thought, but she wasn't.
"I think it's ridiculous," Harry said loudly. "Has everyone forgotten what those two are," he said more quietly, and Hermione smiled at him. At least he hadn't changed. Her smile vanished though as she saw the look of anger that flashed across Ginny's face.
"I expected you to say something like that. So no one is allowed to have fun anymore; is that what you're saying? We're all supposed to mope around as if we have no choice?"
Harry was taken aback by her tone. "No," he said defensively.
Ginny was almost as fired up as the colour of her hair. "That is exactly what you're saying! You think," Ron slapped her on the arm and she lowered her voice, not aware that she had been shouting, "You think that just because He's out there, we all have to be solemn and miserable every day and no one is allowed to just be themselves and be normal and try and have some fun."
Hermione dropped her toast on her plate, having yet to take a bite. The air between them all was sour and choking, with Ginny staring so obviously angrily at Harry it was as if she had forgotten there were other people in the room.
"So what if there is a war going on out there? I thought you of all people would rather that we all tried to get along and unite together. I thought you would prefer that there isn't a war going on in here as well as out there, but I guess I'm wrong."
"That's not true," Harry replied gruffly, his eyebrows knotting together.
Ginny looked appalled. "Yes it is, Harry, and you know it is. I'm leaving." She got up, her face still set like thunder. "I'll see you later," she said pointedly to Hermione and waved, heading down the table to sit with her friends.
Ron fidgeted uncomfortably. "I don't know what's got into her."
But that wasn't entirely true either, Hermione was pretty sure he knew what Ginny's rant was about just as she and Harry both knew. It had less to do with Draco and Pansy and everything to do with the fact that Harry was always pushing her away.
'It seems as if all we ever do it lie,' she mused to herself as she tugged at a lose strand of hair.
"Huh?" Harry wondered, looking up from the scrambled eggs on his plate that his fork had been messing with.
Hermione hadn't realised she'd spoken out loud. His eyes locked with hers for a moment, an unsaid question hanging between them but she shook her head. "I said it seems like a nice day outside." She cocked her head towards one of the giant windows overlooking the grounds. The sky was crystal blue and clear, one of the last days of summer. He followed her gaze, lost in his own thoughts.
There was another lie she'd managed to tell. They were spilling from her lips faster than answers to a test, and she found it far too easy.
A loud of shrill of laughter came from the Slytherin table and she made the mistake of looking up, feeling as if she had been punched in the stomach as she did so. They were sat together as usual surrounded by all of their cronies. One might have made the mistake of thinking that there was nothing out of the ordinary in the way they were acting. Hermione hadn't really expected Pansy to be sat in his lap or anything quite so cheesy, but the way everyone had been talking had her convinced she'd see more than what she was.
Yet there were subtle signs. Pansy seemed to be leaning closer to Malfoy more often, finding excuses to touch him, whispering in his ear. The grin plastered across her face said it all, she had claimed her prize.
At least Hermione still had her work to keep her occupied, which despite the taunting from her peers she always found solitude in. She'd been reading over what she'd already written when she felt her eyes drawn to her hands. She forced herself to look away quickly.
Hermione tried her best to ignore the ring on her finger, ashamed to stare at it and admire it's beauty, afraid that someone would see her looking and rattle out her big secret. It was better to play ignorance than to accept that it was there. It was still unnerving that she could see it when no-one else, bar those who knew about it, could. She was fearful of looking at it in case someone noticed.
By now breakfast was almost over and students were disappearing off to class. Lavender and Parvati had left the hall ten minutes ago, a hoard of girls trailing behind them as they snatched a few minutes of gossip and make up in the girls bathroom before first lesson, no doubt conferring over Pansy and Malfoy. It was an immense relief when Ginny left soon after them, Hermione had no wish to become involved with their gossiping, or to deal with the younger girl complaining about Harry again. She sided with her frustration with him, but at the same time she wondered why Ginny couldn't understand the position Harry was in and how difficult it was for him.
The boys stood, their plates empty and Hermione got up as well, staring at the forgotten piece of toast lying on her plate. Even the thought of food made her feel queasy.
"Do you think Professor Binns' lesson will be interesting today, perhaps?" she asked them as they started walking towards the doors.
"No," Ron chortled. "It will be as mind-numbingly dull as always. I'm surprised you even asked."
"I thought last weeks' lesson on the history of the house-elf revolution in 1569 was fascinating. It's really given me some good ideas for S.P.E.W."
Both boys groaned. "I thought you didn't have time for S.P.E.W anymore?" Harry said tentatively, knowing how close to her heart it was.
"Well I don't, not at the moment. But that doesn't mean I'm abandoning it," she grimaced. "It's not as if anyone else is concerned about it."
"Hermione, even the house-elves themselves are not interested in it. How many times do I have to tell you that they're happy as they are." Ron never understood her passion for their rights.
"And," Harry added as they descended down the stairs to the dungeons, "didn't Professor Binns say that the house-elf revolution of 1569 failed because the house-elves themselves didn't agree with what they were doing?"
"It only failed," she said more strongly this time, dodging a rat that darted past them, "because they were duped into thinking that by the Minister of Magic." She turned to Harry. "Since when did you start listening in History of Magic?"
He gave a shrug. "It was a one off. We can't all be as attentive as you."
"Oh, ha ha," she sang back.
Hermione had been dreading it all day. History of Magic with the Hufflepuff's had been a welcome distraction and she had managed to lose herself in her work as she jotted down roll and roll of notes. But Potions with the Slytherins was bound to be even harder than it usually was. The dungeons were dark and dreary with a nasty chill that always managed to seep through robes and cloaks no matter how thick. Snape rarely lit the torches that lined the corridor, preferring the idea of his students stumbling their way along in the hopes that one of them at least would trip up.
Inside his classroom was little better. Hermione, Harry and Ron took their usual seats at the front of the class as always.
Ron slumped over the desk and emitted a low groan. "I hate potions."
Hermione checked her watch. "Only one and a half hours to go," she comforted, patting his shoulder.
"Gee thanks. That makes me feel a lot better."
Snape was in a foul mood when he stormed into the classroom moments later, his face contorted with the nastiest look of disgust. He wasted no time launching into a lecture, drawling that he was disappointed of the quality of homework handed in the lesson before. When he obliviated the parchments with his wand in front of them without warning, not one voice dared to protest or complain. But every student was fuming at the idea they had to do the whole assignment again on top of their heavy workloads.
"Let that be a lesson to you all," he sneered, his lips curling into a mocking smile. Fourteen pairs of eyes glared back at him.
Snape pointed his wand at that blackboard behind him. "I want you to follow these instructions. You will each brew the Draught of the Living Dead and submit me a vial for testing at the end of the lesson."
Hermione relaxed; they'd brewed that potion several times over the last year and it was relatively uncomplicated.
"However," Snape continued, "you will find that the instructions on the board are not entirely correct." Ron reached for his copy of Advanced Potion-Making, earning a fierce glare from Snape. "Without referencing any other material bar that from your own brains, you will prepare the potion in one hour. Let us see who has been paying attention in my class. Although," he added as an afterthought, focusing his menacing glare on Ron, "I doubt a few of you would be better off adding ingredients ad initio rather than relying on your own knowledge, wouldn't you say Weasley?."
Ron turned a shade of beet red, more from anger than embarrassment. He was used to Snape's taunting.
"You may, for today only owing to the complexity of the potion, work in small groups." He paced the ground in front of the board, arms clasped behind his back as he took apparent interest in a jar of jellied frogs. "Begin."
There was rummaging as cauldrons were set up and ingredients gathered from the store cupboard. Hermione read over the instructions on the board carefully, already spotting two errors on the first line. She set Harry and Ron to work chopping ingredients as she stirred the potion carefully counter-clockwise as she puzzled over the fourth instruction.
"Oh." She said as she racked her brains, trying to remember what the page looked like in the text book. "Oh!"
Harry stopped chopping. "Is something wrong?"
"The fourth line," she said, cocking her head as she read it again. "I'm not sure if it's right or not. If I could just remember what the page looked like!" She gritted her teeth but it was no use.
"Crush the Sopophorous Beans with the flat side of a dagger and add, with juices, to cauldron when potion resembles a smooth, blackcurrant coloured consistency," Harry recited.
"It just doesn't sound right. I'm almost positive that you chop the beans, not crush them."
There was a loud cough from behind them and Hermione turned her head. Draco Malfoy was staring right at her. She raised an eyebrow.
"Hermione?"
"What?" she asked as she resumed stirring her potion.
"The potion is almost smooth – what should I do?" Ron looked down at the beans on the bench.
She frowned. "Um, chop the beans."
"Are you sure?" Harry inquired, looking between Hermione and the beans.
"Yes. Chop them."
Ron picked up his knife, still hesitant. "Are you absolutely-"
"Yes!" Hermione felt the burden of pressure of such a small, simple procedure on her shoulders as if it were a killer whale. It wasn't as if Harry or Ron had any idea.
The sound of the knife cutting through the beans filled her ears as all other noise dissolved away. There was a strange, mystifying calm that had swept over the students, almost as if the fumes from the potions had lulled them in to a dream like state.
"Ahem."
It was the third time he had made a false cough to try and get her attention. "What is your problem?" Hermione hissed under her breath as her cauldron bubbled and a blue steam rose up to the ceiling.
The class fell quiet. Even Snape, for the first time in history looked intrigued, though he did not stop his pacing.
"I think you're wrong, Granger." All heads turned instantly as Malfoy spoke up from the back of the room where he was seated, legs casually propped up on the chair in front of him as he lazily stirred his own potion. Everyone else had stopped working and the potions were left to bubble away on their own.
It wasn't everyday that Hermione Granger was challenged, and it wasn't every day that it happened during a potions lesson when Severus Snape was still in the room, more shocking still allowing it. Hardly surprising though, considering Snape favoured Malfoy over all others.
Hermione scowled but refused to give him the satisfaction of looking over at him. She stirred her potion vigourously, "And why do you think that?" she shot back over her shoulder, her hand still stirring her potion as she tipped in the chopped beans she had snatched from Ron.
"Because."
Because? What did he mean, because? She badly wanted to leave it there, to leave him hanging. But a restraint in her snapped and all of her self control flooded away.
She dropped the ladle."What do you mean, because?" she demanded, spinning around.
"I mean," he began as he leant forward in his seat, "because."
The silence in the room was deafening.
"Do you care to explain or not?"
Draco let out a short laugh. "Of course I do, because I'm right." His eyes caught hers and she couldn't look away. "If you crush the bean, more juice will be released than if it were chopped. The juice contains the active ingredient Sopophorotein, which is the compound responsible for tricking the body into producing melatonin. Melatonin is the hormone that promotes sleep therefore to correctly produce the potion you need to release the correct amount of juice from the bean, therefore crushing it is correct."
He broke their gaze and focused on his own potion, seemingly oblivious to the rest of the class that had been watching him. They resumed their work immediately, whispering quietly to each other but no longer about their potions. Snape was smiling as he came over to inspect their potion, the glee on his face a more horrid sight than a scowl.
Hermione felt her cheeks burn. She turned abruptly, causing the ladle to clatter to the floor so that she had to bend down to pick it up. It only further added to her humiliation of being beaten by a cocky arrogant bastard. She felt Harry and Ron carry on working next to her, handing her the rest of the ingredients but she couldn't get the image of Draco Malfoy smirking out of the back of her mind. He had just proven to the whole class that he knew more than she did about potions when he barely even tried. He knew more than she, the know-it-all bookworm!
When Snape called "time's up" at the end of the lesson, Hermione was more than relieved. She needed to get as far away from Malfoy as physically possible, and then when she'd calmed down she was going to find a way to dissolve her marriage to him and remove the damned ring that had resisted all other attempts so far, from slicking her finger with butter to trying to cut it off with Hagrid's finest clippers.
"Granger, Malfoy." Snape called out from behind his desk as the others began to file out of the class. "A word?"
They waited until everyone had gone.
He looked up at them. "I think it's time that we talked about your situation," he said, in possibly the softest voice Hermione had ever heard him use.
Of course she would be the one to jump the gun. "What do you mean?" she questioned.
"What I mean, Miss Granger," he drawled, his lips curled upwards in a devilish smirk and all hints of sincerity disappeared from his voice, "or should I say Mrs Malfoy; is that I have something to discuss with you both, concerning your marriage."
"It's Miss Granger," Hermione replied tersely, but it fell on deaf ears.
~o~