The Uneventful Story

By Snowflake Imp

Rated: R

Chapter 08

Disclaimer: I KNOW! Since I can't say I own Harry Potter, what if I said I own….Harry Pottar! Or, Hary Potter! OH MY GOD the possibilities!

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Hermione Granger was NOT having a good day.

Scratch that, she was not having a good WEEK.

PERIOD.

Personal problems aside, this GOD. DAMNED. POISON. Would NOT break. It took all of her pride to not dissolve into tears, screaming to the heavens, "Please don't tell me I'm actually dumb! Give me the answer! Gimme! C'mon…..GIMME!"

Oh, it was so hard.

"Nelson. Henderson. Cindy. Andrew. Anything yet?" Hermione bit out curtly. She was furiously flipping through her massive pile of notes, never once looking up.

"Negative."

"Nope."

"I've got nothing."

"Sorry boss."

Hermione let out a long hiss. Blasted evil Dark Wizards. Couldn't work with poisons that already had existing cures. Had to go out of their way to create stupid unbreakable poisons. She could just strangle all of them. And poke them with pointy sticks.

Fire-Fly Franco moaned, hitting his head repeatedly on his workstation. "Fires don't do anything for it! I'm so bored!"

Hermione gritted her teeth. "Please, Franco, just work on your reports."

"Dr. Granger, the breakthrough was a bust, I'm afraid," Amanda Cleese ventured timidly from her desk. "It seems adding batwing didn't neutralize the common factors like theory predicted."

Why wasn't she surprised. "Yes well, at least that tells us something," Hermione said, trying to put a positive spin on things. Too bad her voice revealed her inner despair. "If it didn't have a textbook reaction, it could only mean that the minor notes in the poison had to be made from plants, not animals. Johnson, could you please – JOHNSON stop playing with those – PLEASE go to the Library and get the botanical reference books by Willard? I don't want the Sambersons, the footnotes are unreadable."

The problem with geniuses is that they sometimes don't have a firm grasp of reality and consequences. Almost every day Hermione stumbled upon hidden pet projects and had to deal with their constant tendency to be very easily distracted.

"Reginald," she said tiredly, not even looking at the bespectacled wizard next to her. "Put the knife and flower away. YES I SEE THEM. Yes, yes, I KNOW the prospect of having the sharp components of a knife instilled into a flower is a fascinating one, but I don't think now is exactly the time to –"

"It's NEVER the right time for a blade-posy, is it?" he pouted, ready to fight this one tooth-and-nail. "It's always, Reginald, try to break this mod, or or or Reginald, stop trying to feed the poison to your cat or Reginald, it's illegal to use humans as test subjects for your latest weapon of war!"

Oh Merlin no, not the tirades.

"Yeah, Reggie's right!" someone from the back chimed in. "We never have any fun around here!"

"This is a work environment," Hermione ground out. "Having fun is NOT a priority."

"Two months three days fourteen hours ten minutes and twenty-six seconds ago you agreed to let us develop our Whirling Vortex patent but are we working on that? NoooOOoo" another grumbled.

"Yeah, and what about getting ourselves a guardian creature for our Dungeon? You promised you promised you promised! It was going to be all oily and big and greasy and pointy and hungry!" one more spoke out amongst the increasing murmurs of discontent. Unfortunately, this sort of behavior was not uncommon. When one got off the track and began a tirade, a mob mentality ensued and soon the whole lab whirled into chaos.

Thankfully, Hermione Granger was clever.

She was always able to control the situation before things turned to mutiny and England sank into ocean (if She was lucky). Today was no exception, except she had no patience to deal with their childish behavior right now.

Sighing, she rolled her eyes as she reached into her drawer. She eyed to lab doors. She mentally counted to three. Before any of her minions could get in another word, suddenly candy was coming down upon them like glorious rain.

"Sour Suckers!"

"Chocolate Frogs!"

"Fruity Mints!"

"Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans!"

"OooOOOH!"

"CandycandycandycandycandycandyCandyCANDYCANDYCANDY!"

While they were all scrambling to pick off their precious treats from the floor they didn't notice Hermione dashing madly out of the Dungeon, the doors swinging back and forth from her escape.

Candy, probably their main source of sustenance, would distract them nicely from their discontent and her absence, sooth their ruffled feathers, and give them the sugar jolt needed for concentration.

See, isn't she clever?

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Hermione had to lean against the wall for a bit to get her breath back. Spending time with no one but intellectuals tended to make one very un-athletic.

"Stupid Ministry and Malfoy in stupid Funds," she thought sourly. "Buying so much candy burns such a hole in my pocketbook."

Feeling better physically, she walked slowly down the hall towards the lifts on the other side of the building. She planned to go check her mailbox and then maybe out to an early lunch. Lord knows she deserved at least that. As she walked past some of the open cubicles, she noticed a small crowd gathering around Mindee's desk. Considering she wasn't hearing any weeping, Hermione figured Malfoy hasn't grown tired of her just yet.

Speaking of Mindee, Hermione had to admit, she was impressed – she lasted this long. Thought she doubted Mindee was The One for Malfoy, she began to think maybe he's beginning to appreciate the company of a woman and not just use her to satisfy his er, manly urges.

Oh, she didn't mean to eavesdrop, but then again, it was hard not to listen into the conversation since Mindee was practically shouting out her delight.

"Oh, it looks SO nice on you darling," one of the girls standing around Mindee exclaimed. Hermione couldn't help but detect a tinge of jealousy. This was a prime example of why Hermione was always nervous around other women. What they said and what they thought were sometimes entirely different. She found men, or at least the ones that she knew, were much more upfront and well, simple.

She looked over to see what all the fuss was about. She blinked in surprise – the once platinum blonde Mindee was no more!

There stood a preening, newly brunette woman.

"Oh, thank you!" Mindee replied happily, stroking her smooth, soft, darkened tresses. "Draco was forever telling me how much dark colors suited my complexion so much better, so I decided, why not? And you know what? He loves it!"

The women around her sighed with longing.

Mindee joined them with a sigh of her own. She leaned over to them and staged-whispered to them in a giddy tone, "He told me……he told me brown hair was sultry!"

They all collapsed into fits of girlish giggles before the women began firing question after question about his facial expressions and his exact words and so forth.

Hermione continued to walk until she was well past them and was alone again in the hallway. She pursed her lips quizzically. Brown hair? Sultry? With Malfoy?

She took a strand of her curly hair and looked at it carefully. Brown hair looked pretty damned plain to her. Plain, common, boring – all the like. She couldn't count the number of times Malfoy himself mocked her hair, calling it bushy and unrefined and plebian and unremarkable.

Then she shrugged and continued walking. She shouldn't dwell too much of her time on this. He probably meant the brown hair looked sultry ON Mindee, not brown hair in general. Of course. Hermione shook her head, smiling ruefully. What other explanation could there be?

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All thoughts of Mindee flew out the window as Hermione re-read for the fifth time the many pieces of paper jammed in her mailbox. Each time she read them her eyes narrowed more, her breath quickened, her grip on the notes grew tighter.

The two that stuck out the most to her were as followed:

To Dr. Hermione Granger, Head Alchemist, Level 9:

We of the Ministry Department of Work Ethics regret to inform you your request of visiting Prague for said work related issues has been denied. Reason: The Minister of Magic has personally stated your presence is needed here for the Annual Charity Gala.

Sincerely, David Kinsley, Director of Travels, Level 6
Forwarded by: Charles Farrell, Manager, Level 9

Date: XX/XX/XXXX

And even earlier dated:

To Dr. Hermione Granger, Head Alchemist, Level 9:

We of the Ministry Department of Public Relations are proud to announce the final schedule and plans for this year's Annual Charity Gala. We have an innovative take of the Gala this year – the focus being on personalizing and humanizing the face(s) of the Ministry. All Heads, Secretaries, Under-Secretaries, and Chairmen are required to participate. You will be required to be present and to assist the Gala. More details concerning your involvement in this matter will be sent at a later date. Here's to a happy Gala!

Sincerely, Maxine McTaggart, Chief Coordinator of Events, Level 8

Forwarded by: Charles Farrell, Manager, Level 9

Date: XX/XX/XXXX

"That damned Charles Farrell!" she thought furiously. All these memos, all of these important, relevant, and more importantly, massively disappointing memos have sudden appeared in her box, three, maybe even 4 months delayed!

This was unacceptable. This would not be taken lightly.

All the emotions she had tried so hard to keep bottled in for the past week were finally released. They needed a target. He would do. He will pay.

Let the rampage begin.

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"…so then I told her that brown hair couldn't work for everybody's complexion," Mindee babbled happily.

"Uh huh," Draco mumbled noncommittally. Gods, did she ever stop talking. Why she felt that it was okay for her to invade his private space like this and come and bother him in his own office while he had pressing matters to attend to was beyond him.

"Are you even listening to me?" she pouted cutely, tossing her hair over her shoulders, hoping to capture his previous approving mood of her hair.

"You have to understand my dear," he said distracted, opening up a few new folders on his desk, "I am a very busy man. Need I remind you I head Funds as well as assess the Alchemists in Poison?"

"Yes but, just this morning….," she began, walking closer to him when –

"MALFOY!" a voice boomed from his fireplace behind his desk. Quills in their holder rattled. Draco nearly jumped out of his chair and quickly turned around to see a very, very agitated Hermione-head.

"Merlin Granger, what is your problem!" he asked, surprised at the look of pure irritation written all over her face.

"My problem? I'll tell you my problem!" her voice nearly screeched. "This is my fucking problem!" Within the fire, he could vaguely make out Hermione shoving pieces of paper towards him. His eyebrow raised slightly in inquiry at her tone and usage of such language.

"It's fire-connection – I'm afraid you're going to have to explain to me what your so-called fucking problem is," he replied casually, ignoring Mindee's gasp at their foul mouths.

"It's that goddamn, no good, useless piece of shit Farrell!" Hermione managed to toss out. "He denied me my Prague trip and we're required to go to that fucking gala and all of these memos JUST CAME TO ME FUCKING TODAY!"

Draco's lips couldn't help but curve up. He couldn't help it if he found her increasing use of dirty words very amusing. "Of course we're required to go – didn't you get the memo…. oh."

"DAMN right OH. That incompetent, poor excuse for a human being! He always fucks things up! Always late on shit like this! Never did a right thing in his whole pouncy life, that stupid little CUNT!"

"While I agree with you whole-heartedly on his incompetence, I fail to see why you're bringing this to my attention," he said, cocking his head playfully, enjoying this much unseen side of Hermione.

Hermione allowed herself to throw him a savage smile. "I know you just don't think of that stubby bitch as an annoyance."

Draco's eyes narrowed. She was correct. Farrell was a right mistake. Due to his inaptitude a few years ago, he nearly cost the Ministry thousands of Galleons for a simple, single oversight. Something, in Draco's opinion, that could have been spotted by a ten-year old. He never was able to get into Draco's good graces after that. Partially the reason why he billed Level 9 so intensively.

"Stupid arsehole probably couldn't tell the difference between a cock and a twat," he muttered. Hermione nodded vigorously.

"I want to nail him," she declared intensely. Draco grinned ferally and leaned in.

"Oh, how delicious. Tell me more."

Hermione matched his grin. "Let's fuck him good."

Draco barked out a laugh and stood. "Done. What do you have?"

"Two 'effing large record books, documented to the minutest detail of his utter bullshit. You?"

"Files of not only his huge blunder which I had to fucking cover for but also evidence of his charming habit for spending money where he shouldn't be spending it." Draco began going through a few file cabinets. He became annoyed when he couldn't find it. He slammed a few drawers open and shut.

"Call me insane, but wouldn't your incriminating files be placed somewhere more discreet?" Hermione suggested.

Draco snapped his fingers. "Right you are, luv, they're behind that painting," he walked across the room, brushed past Mindee and removed the painting to reveal a safe. As he was working the safe, he continued to chat with the still steaming head.

"I can't wait to throw that motherfucker out into the street, I can just taste it," Hermione rambled, seething.

Though he was concentrating on getting just the right combination for the lock, he managed to throw her a smoldering look. "Did I mention you're making me very nostalgic? Why am I usually the only one you grace with this side of you, Granger? It's very sexy – reminds me of the soldier in you."

His words managed to knock her, temporarily, out of her angry stewing. Her eyes widened with disbelief. His eyes held fast to hers.

She blushed. Then she frowned, collecting her wits. "Shut it, Malfoy, stop being so ridiculous and focus. I'm coming up so let's time this right. At the five." With that, the fire instantly died down and Malfoy returned his focus on the safe.

He made a satisfied sound when it clicked open and he quickly removed the few boxes within. As he was rifling through them, Mindee felt utterly lost.

"What…what was all that?" she asked, appalled at everything; their language, their familiarity, their perfect teamwork, their identical wavelength….

Draco looked up from the files for a moment to look at her with lazy, indifferent eyes. "Oh, that's right, you weren't a part of it."

"Huh?" she was beginning to feel very threatened. Left out. She felt…insignificant.

Offhandedly, he explained: "During the War it was only natural for all of us, especially those of us straight out of Hogwarts, to put up a tougher front, a shell. We developed a new culture that helped us cope and integrate ourselves better for those times." He began separating the files into two piles.

"Part of that culture included so much swearing it could peel paint right off of a wall. Granger especially. The times really hit her hard and she had to shoulder a lot of the tension. If she didn't toughen up she would have eventually gone mad," he smiled at the memory. "Isn't it interesting how humans will do anything to cope, even change something as seemingly unimportant as speech?"

As he was speaking, Mindee felt more and more alienated from Draco. Truth be told, at times she felt that Draco was cold, unintentionally cruel to a woman's heart. He gave her this look sometimes, a faraway look, like he wasn't looking at her at all. Unreachable. Like he could see right through her. Like she didn't mean anything.

But she also noticed he was different when he looked at Hermione Granger. Sure, his words were hurtful, but that in itself was cause for notice. For someone as suave as Draco, to be so harsh to only her seemed out of character. In any case, if one were to ignore his words, they would then notice the way he looked at her and only her.

He was alive. His very presence was humming with energy. Even when he looked like he was utterly disinterested, Mindee noticed his acute focus. He focused on nothing but her.

Blind to all else.

Before she could truly let her revelations sink in, Draco replaced the boxes and locked the safe. He looked at his watch. "Damn, it's time." He managed to glance at Mindee before saying dismissively, "This will take awhile, so why don't go back to work."

And with that he brushed past her without a second glance, files under his arm.

Mindee merely stood in his now empty office, vaguely hearing his deep voice coming from behind, down the hall:

"Why Farrell, what a pleasant surprise – how refreshing to see you on this Level. Ah, these? Well, now that you mention it, it has come to my attention – oh, no wait, there she is – it has come to OUR attention that you, my good man, have been a very dubious character as of late. Come, let us go somewhere a little less crowded and let's chat."

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Hermione wasn't sorry to see Farrell go. She was elated to know she was a direct cause. If there were any sort of negative feelings following the whole ordeal, they would be the fact she couldn't go to Prague. Also that such an insignificant wanker like him could elicit a side of her she long tried to bury. Hermione wasn't necessarily proud of the person she was during the War, but she accepted that it was a part of her and integral in dealing with the times. But after the War, she worked her ass off to return to the straight-laced, sensible person she once was. And that was to be polite, eloquent, and well-mannered.

Well, that went out the fecking door.

In any case, getting him fired didn't change the fact that she had to go the dreaded Gala. Dateless. Yet again. So explains why instead of eating during her lunch hour, she was trudging towards Lavender's boutique to finally relent control to the fashionista.

When the decently-sized shop came into view, Hermione's face involuntarily softened when she looked at the large, tasteful sign hanging from above.

Cupid's Arrow.

Hermione was flattered when the girls decided unanimously to use the name she suggested off the top of her head. The boutique was basically owned and run by Lavender, Parvarti, Padma, and a friend they met through the fashion circuit named Leticia Lin. Though everything was a group effort with everybody contributing, four roles emerged that each felt confident in taking charge of: Lavender designed and created most of the clothing; Parvarti specialized in makeup and skincare; Padma managed their accounts and worked with the advertisements and sales; and finally Leticia focused on designing and supplying accessories, such as bags, jewelry, and shoes.

Together they formed the ultimate place for a woman to become all she could be. And they were immensely popular. Hence, Hermione felt their boutique should be aptly named Cupid's Arrow. With their assistance, they claimed they could make any man fall for the customer – they were essentially the demi-god's arrow of Love and Attraction.

Before she could push open the glass door, it opened to reveal an exuberant Lavender. "Hermione! We've been expecting you," she said slyly. Without another word, she dragged her into the store and flipped the sign to read: "Sorry turtledoves, we're out to Lunch!"

After what seemed like hours, Hermione stumbled out of the shop, mumbling thanks, much to the delight of the four women. Though she was quite fond of all of them, there was only so much pampering she could take.

Deciding she could use some more time off, she turned the corner and heading towards her favorite bookshop. As she passed by an antiques shop that had large mirrors behind the display window, she stopped sudden to study her appearance.

Despite her many protests, Parvarti managed to get her hands on Hermione briefly. Though she didn't do much, she was able to apply a pretty, sparkly pink gloss over her full lips and let down her hair from its usual tight bun, smoothing her curls slightly. She had to admit, she did look a lot more presentable and, dare she even say it, even a bit more approachable?

Her train of thought was broken when she noticed a semi-large crowd gathering in the bookstore. Curiosity getting the better of her, she quickly entered to see what all the commotion was about. As it turns out, the shop was having some sort of book signing with the author of some popular young adults book.

Hermione attempted to maneuver her way through the crowd as discreetly and politely as possible, so that she could reach the back Reference Section. Ignoring the gentle buzz of conversation behind her, she focused on reading the titles and occasionally running her finger down the spine of a leather-bound book.

Strange. She thought she could feel someone watching her. She turned around cautiously, but couldn't find anybody even facing her. How odd. She must have imagined it. She returned back to her books.

There it was again.

"Hermione? Hermione Granger?"

She turned at the sound of the smooth, melodic voice. Her eyes widened.

"Merlin, Blaise Zabini, is that you?"

Goodness gracious. Will wonders never cease. Standing before her was THE Blaise Zabini – one of the most well known Wizards in Europe. Although he was technically her classmate for seven years, Hermione had very little contact with him. During the War he was a neutral but funded for the Light, which of course made her respect him all the more.

He was a gorgeous man, thanks in no small part to his beautiful African mother. Half African, half Italian and raised as such, he had a sensual air about him even when doing nothing at all. Blaise was tall, with soft jet-black hair and a dusky complexion. While Draco held a cold, sharp, aristocratic kind of handsomeness, Blaise was soft, hot, and rugged.

Hermione nearly lost her voice, so lost in the vision before her. It was like looking at a fantasy painting.

He smiled, showing off his glistening white teeth. "Fancy seeing you here," he stepped forward and grasped her hand, kissing it chastely as required by aristocracy. Hermione tried, and miserably failed, to hide her blush. "Come around these parts often?" His gentle, lilting Italian accent was very pleasing to listen to.

"Er, I suppose so," she fumbled. "I do work for the Ministry. I uh, didn't know you still around."

He chuckled. "I actually just came back from America and felt the urge to walk on familiar grounds. You said you worked for the Ministry?" When Hermione nodded, he smiled. "I see. Interesting."

Blaise turned to look at her fully – his eyes were the most unique shade of amber. Hermione remembered some of the girls back at Hogwarts comparing his eyes to molten lava. Hermione remembered comparing the girls to silly ninnies. But now she found herself quite agreeing. They were really, very hypnotic.

She found him looking at her quizzically. She blushed. Oh no, had she be staring? How embarrassing. Remove yourself!

"Well, it was lovely to see you again Blaise, but I really do need to get back to work," she said softly, smiling nervously.

"Of course," he said with a small bow.

As she turned to leave, he suddenly grabbed her bent elbow. His grip was gentle, yet firm. She looked at him in surprise.

He looked at her apologetically. "Ah, sorry," he said, quickly releasing her. He hesitated a moment, then breathed out. "I apologize. It may seem very odd, but I would actually like to renew my acquaintance with you."

Hermione just stared at him. "Excuse me?" she looked around, certain someone was playing a prank on her.

"No no, please do not take it the wrong way," he said gently. "I know we never really were close back at Hogwarts, but I'd like that to change. I've been all over the world for these past four years or so, and when I noticed you today, I realized how long it has been since I last saw a familiar face. Of course, if you don't want to, I completely understand – "

"Oh! No, not at all," she said quickly. "I had no idea how lonely traveling was. I'd be delighted." She smiled warmly.

He returned it. "That is wonderful," he clasped one of her hands with both of his, squeezing them. He kissed it with more enthusiasm than is required by decorum. "I will let you go back to work – please expect to hear word from me soon. Ciao." His eyes followed her the whole time as she walked toward the door.

Hermione left the bookstore in a daze. What strange times these be indeed. She always knew Blaise was good looking, but he looked like a movie star. Like the men Witch's Weekly proudly sport on their front cover, like –

Malfoy. She grimaced a little. Or Harry. Or Ron. Or Oliver Wood. Or the Twins. Okay, so she actually knew quite a few men that graced the cover of that magazine. Blaise wasn't necessarily more handsome than any of them – each had their own charm and strengths – but Hermione felt like she just couldn't take her eyes off him. She didn't know what it was, maybe because he was always so mysterious to her. She basically grew up with all the other men and they all treated her, with the exception of bastard Malfoy, like a sister. Blaise's treatment of her could go any direction.

Not that she was entertaining thoughts that Blaise in any way fancied her. It would be just too surreal if he did. The disparity between the two, status wise and appearance, was too big. All she could ever hope for was a friendship.

And besides, she still wasn't completely over Alex. Her heart was not that fickle, unfortunately. Still, as she entered the Ministry, she couldn't help but let a little grin escape. She patted her hair. Maybe Parvarti was right about a few things.

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"Long time no see, Draco," Blaise said with a smile, entering Draco's office with an air of familiarity.

Draco's eyes widened. "Blaise?" Draco prided himself on his tight control of emotion, but he couldn't help but be very astonished to see the man he practically grew up with.

"Doing quite well for yourself I see," he said, looking around the office, casually sitting down in front of his desk.

"I manage," Draco said mechanically. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't I stop by after all this time and see an old mate?"

Draco managed to regain his footing and gave an easy smile, though his eyes remained sharp. "I doubt you're hear for just a social call, otherwise you'd have owled me."

Blaise chuckled, nodding. "Too true, you know me all too well."

Draco's fist clenched under his desk.

"I'm actually here with Taylor Vanderbilt, from America. Old money, well, as old as you can get in a place like that," he said lightly. "We're here on business, naturally. Investing is the name of the game."

"So you're the new experimental backer the Ministry is looking into," he said with some new understanding. The Ministry, being an official, governing institution, was not invested by individuals – it was supposed to be a self-sustaining system that made its own funds. However, Arthur decided, as well as with the Board of Elders, to perhaps try this new avenue. If anything, Arthur was never afraid to take risks and think outside the box.

"Right on the nose," Blaise said with a smirk.

"Well then, allow me to be the first to say welcome aboard," Draco said with a tight smile, getting up to clap his once-best friend on the shoulder. "You're in for some interesting times."

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If Draco had any sort of reservations about Blaise, they appeared to have all disappeared by the time Hermione came up the Level 5. In light of her good mood from the bookstore, Hermione felt very generous. Her good mood also stemmed from firing Farrell with gusto, so she felt like offering the olive branch and invite Draco out for some celebratory drinks after work.

She was amazed to see Draco standing outside his office laughing and talking effortlessly to Blaise and a tall, brown haired man. Before she could turn around and come back later, Blaise's sharp eyes looked over to her and widened slightly, before he smiled.

"What a pleasant surprise – I was just about to ask about where you worked," he called out winningly, beckoning her to join them.

Hermione looked around, making sure that it was indeed her he was talking to. Smiling shyly, not really meeting his eyes, she walked over.

Since her eyes were lowered self-consciously, she didn't notice Draco grimace when he saw her. Nor did she catch him shift uncomfortably when she joined them.

Blaise, oblivious to his behavior, introduced Taylor to Hermione. "How do you do," she said softly, shaking his hands.

"Excellent, doing wonderful," he said with a friendly smile, glancing over her quickly. He then turned to Draco and continued where he left off. "As I was saying, the décor of that building really reminded me of one of my homes up in the Hamptons, where – "

"Where are my manners," Draco interrupted smoothly, smiling amiably to both Blaise and Taylor. "I'd hate for Vanderbilt here to think we English are terrible hosts. Instead of standing around here and talking amongst such a dull backdrop, why don't we go somewhere with a little more atmosphere?"

The men agreed and before they could either invite her to leave her out, Hermione quickly took matters into her own hand. "Knowing Malfoy, you won't be disappointed in his choice of watering holes," she said with bright smile, already backing away. "I'll leave you gentlemen to your own devices. Alchemy calls!"

After Hermione firmly assured Blaise that they need not worry, he reluctantly agreed to respect her wishes. With that, Malfoy told them to meet him on the ground floor, as he had to pack his belongings. When the two left, Hermione was about to leave until she saw Malfoy looking at her strangely. She fidgeted a little. What was he looking at. His demeanor was entirely different than a few hours ago. Now he seemed more reserve, like he remembered that he didn't like her or something. His mouth was set in a grim line.

Although Hermione never expected Malfoy to notice, much less compliment, on her very small makeover, she never would have guess he would say, as he walked past her, "Why don't you clean up a little bit Granger. You look like hell."

She was so astonished at what he said she didn't even begin to feel angry until well after he left. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

Of all the…..! How dare he…! What did he mean by….!

"ARGH!" she thought spitefully, feeling the rage she thought had dissipated with the firing of Farrell coming back full force. "Who the hell does he think he is!" she sputtered out loud.

"I take back every nice thing I thought about him! I was so stupid to let my guard down – never again. Still the arrogant, infuriating little prick! I can't believe I was going to ask him to join me in anything! I can't believe I thought that we worked well together – that he knew anything about me!" she thought furiously, incensed.

She stomped her way into the lift, angrily jabbing the button to go back down to her Level. Gods, she was steaming mad, now more than ever. All of this rage, this feeling of worthlessness, brought back memories of another time when she was just as outraged, if not more.

"I hear you've been telling all the generals that I can't work the field? That I'm not capable!" Hermione practically screamed, pounding the table between them.

"Calm down Hermione, you're causing a scene," Ron barked.

"No I will NOT call down Ronald, not until you explain this all to me! How dare you! Not only are you denying me a chance to prove myself, you actually believe and spread this idea that I can't hold my own? You know I am just as good as any man Harry Potter, so you let me out there and let me DO something for once!" her rage was building, her frizzy hair almost crackling with power.

However, Harry Potter would not budge. "No Hermione, I don't take back what I said and I'll continue doing it. The field is too dangerous right now – you'll only be a casualty! Why can't you be satisfied working as Strategos and training the younger ones?"

"Are you even listening to yourself? I can't hack it on the missions but I have enough qualifications to teach? That doesn't make any sense! Let me out there Harry, I know I can do some good. I don't think we're in any kind of position where we can pick and choose what to do – we're in desperate times. We need to do all we can!" Hermione was too proud to plead, but she tried to talk reason to Harry, even taking most of the bite out of her words.

"Stop it," Ron growled. "What we say, goes! We don't want you getting the way, so just give it up and go back to sleep!"

Hermione couldn't really remember what happened after that, but she knew she saw red for days to come. It was very hard to forgive them for that. And for all the other times they pulled that card out on her.

The memory only helped to fuel her raging inferno. That poison better be ready to spill its secrets.

"Because I'm about to squeeze and torture them out of it!" she thought ferociously.

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Again, can anybody say, quickest update for SnowFlakeImp? Cuz I can! Wow, all of your reviews are so heartening! I love reading them and I especially LOVE reading your predictions. This story is all thanks to you guys – you make me feel validated and all warm and fuzzy inside.

I am very pleased to see what you guys had to say about what's going on in the fic. Is it revealing too much to say a lot of what you guessed is right on the nose? When I first saw them, I thought, "Oh no, my story is too simple and stupid and everybody caught on already," but to save my ego, I'm just going to say you're all really, really, really really smart. Okay?

And I mean that. And you're all very creative! Some of your suggestions weren't right, but damn, I wish I thought of that! Maybe if I feel like it, I'll go back and make a few changes accordingly (if I did, rest assured I'd give you FULL credits). I'm just really happy you guys are catching onto ALL my little clues! I was scared before that you wouldn't catch them and my craftiness would go to waste, but at the same time, I didn't want to underline them in red ink and go like:

Harry felt as if this had happened before…but..when? (see that? There, that's a clue – look at that. Remember it. He feels that this might be familiar. OoOH. That may come up later. Think about it!)

Or some nonsense like that. I try not to go for the obvious but I am no master at subtlety so I'm doing the best I can. Oh, and I apologize for not individually thanking each and every person who reviewed, though I'd like too. I think it may be a tad too gratuitous to include my words of thanks here, but know I would write you essays upon essays had I the time! But if you have any questions, I'd be happy to answer them (so long as I'm not giving away answers) in my author's notes. Um, the only thing I can think of right now is:

To BadKittyCat: In regards to my character descriptions of minor characters staying blurry, I'm afraid there's no intelligent thinking behind them – it's a mixture of both laziness on my part, and that the minor characters don't really need all that much descriptions, I think. I want them to remain kind of ambiguous, because they really don't matter that much in terms of moving the story along. Man, if I had some sort of deep meaning behind their characterizations……dang! That's smart! Oh well. Hope that answers your question )

Next chapter: the long awaited GALA! I will try my best not to make it too predictable and give you many more clues and twists and turns! Till next time! Heart heart heart!

BTW if you haven't already, read "The Politician's Wife." It's a D/Hr, post-Hogwarts, Ministry-type fic that is way, WAY better than mine. I wish the author would update!