AN: An update! Finally! Being busy is no excuse...I know... I do admit though, it has been a difficult chapter fo me to write, so I sat on it for a while until it was grating on me to finish it! Apologies for delay. Enjoy!
Professor Snape had allowed Hermione to sleep in her own bedroom that night – a consoling gesture for such a dramatic evening. One that hinted at the return of a semblance of natural order to her life now that she was relieved from the physical inflictions of the etat d'esprit. Or, so she hoped...until she could prove it. With a metaphorical spring in her step, she started the day with a feeling of fresh resolve. One that was well overdue.
"There is the little issue of you having to take on more duties recently in the absence of a Head Boy. We have several options to discuss with you," her Head of House said.
Hermione sat across from Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape. They had called her in for an overdue briefing of the recent demotion of Draco Malfoy. With all that had transpired, a little extra work was the least of her worries. She gave a non-committed shrug.
"We have discussed putting it to a vote within Slytherin House, only. Professor Snape believes that since the former Head Boy was a Slytherin student, his replacement should be a representative of that House."
"The students will adjust more easily this way, Minerva," the Potions Master said, as though he was reminding her of a private discussion.
"It is not without its problems, Severus. The other Houses may not have the same view."
The Slytherin Professor scowled, but said nothing.
Hermione watched them silently, avoiding Snape's scrutinising gaze. It was almost as if he were assessing her for any after effects. She briefly wondered if her Head of House had any idea what had really happened to her. That the Slyherin Professor had been the one to fully understand her predicament and come to her aid was difficult to digest.
"The other option we have discussed, Hermione, is a vote by the Head of Houses based on nominated students. This is where you would come in. The Head girl may choose a nominee, as well as the Head Professors who will nominate a student from their respective Houses. Your nomination can be from any House, of course."
Hermione was rather confused, and flattered, that her superiors were asking for her preference. Her initial reaction came as a surprise as she considered the request. Being asked to nominate a Malfoy replacement was...well, not easy to conceive. She had grown so used to him and his idiosyncrasies, his abrupt and conceited manner, not to mention, his outright rudeness at times. Despite all his flaws, Malfoy had been good at it – at being the Head boy, and somewhere along the way, she grew to respect him in the role.
Her inner speech left her looking rather blank faced in front of her Professors. She looked at them, pursing her lips in thought. Did she owe it to Professor Snape to agree to have a Slytherin student replace Malfoy as voted by its members? Or, did she owe it to herself?
She could feel him appraising her – almost as if he was inspecting her for any post-blood-purifying after effects. "I have a question."
"Of course," Professor McGonagall encouraged.
Snape, on the other hand, seemed about ready to spurt some verbal insult about her stalling.
"How long do I have to give you my nomination?"
Professor Snape looked almost affronted.
"Very good, Miss Granger, I'm pleased to hear you wish to have the Heads of House vote. If you can inform me of your nominee by the end of the school week, we can vote on Friday evening."
"Thankyou, Professors."
"You are excused from patrols until then, Miss Granger – to avoid any issues with the other Prefects. They may try to be...persuasive."
Hermione smiled, trying to imagine the likes of Lisa Turpin attempting to blackmail her for a vote. She avoided the Potion's Master's gaze and quickly left the room.
She had a Slytherin to seek out.
A few students were hanging about in the stands of the Quidditch field watching the Slytherin team practice. She used to make an effort with Harry and Ron, doing just that when they would practice before a game, but it had been a while.
She spotted Daphne, surrounded by her female lackeys, and made a move for the opposite end of the pitch. The last thing she wanted to do was have a verbal exchange with that girl. Hermione climbed the stairs of the stand near the southern goal posts and sat down on her own, pulling out a book to keep her occupied. It was perhaps brazen of her to seek out any Slytherin a day after Malfoy had willingly given his blood to have hers 'purified'. The irony of it was almost too unsettling.
The Pureblood curing the poisoned Muggleborn.
It didn't escape her either that the Pureblood had poisoned the Muggleborn in the first instance.
An inordinate amount of power and success with little effort – it almost mimicked life.
Hermione briefly stared at the all male Slytherin team engaged in discussion on the field below. They must be talking strategy, she mused, as they all watched Malfoy intently while he spoke. He appeared tense with concentration, and for a change, that was a mere impression - in fact, she had no idea what he was feeling.
She smiled with relief.
It had worked.
Hermione turned over her book and began reading.
To curse the blood of another has long since been considered the most vengeful act one could commit in Wizard society. Notably, family rivalry over estates, and the dishonour brought by children of Society were often leading causes driving the patriarch of a notable house to uphold its honour. That is to say, children were often at the mercy of honouring the family name - often an issue in marriage.
...A family blood curse often remained a secret that died with the generation unless it affected the family line, or was recorded in the family history in some way.'
Hermione had not just pulled any book from the library. It was: 'The Curse of Honour.' The dust on it said a lot about how little it had been used by other students. A shadow of the past. One that hinted at the malevolence of elitist purebloods. She wasn't surprised by it in the least.
Her meeting with the Professors earlier had sent her on a cognitive tangent and it was a nice change that her thoughts were clear for once. Snape's dissecting gaze did not just have her thinking about the next Head Boy, but strangely, it caused her to recall his explanation of how he had coaxed Malfoy into cooperating by reminding him of his 'obligations to his family'.
It was rather odd that Malfoy had been so reactive to the Professor's words. His age, and marital status, didn't exactly warrant a need for any concern associated with having a Muggleborn mistress. Hermione let out a little snort at the thought – had things continued, she had no idea how far her reaction to him, and his demands on her, would have led. If anything, his sudden curious ability to control his ...urges...was the buffer of an out of control situation and only added another layer of mystery to the whole thing. He must have attached meaning to Snape's words in another context.
She was determined to find out.
"Last time I checked, no Gryffindors are allowed on the pith during Slytherin training."
Hermione shot her head up, looking straight into the telling eyes of Theo Nott. "Theo," she prompted.
He was on his broom stick, hovering nearby. "Message from the Captain - he says you need to go."
Hermione pursed her lips. "Well, if it's from the Captain, then I should oblige," she replied, trying to hold back a smile.
"Rules, Granger." He shrugged, glancing down at her book. She was relieved she hadn't shut it to let its cover show. From his view, it looked like any other school book. "Transfig?"
"No, I've left that in the capable hands of the Captain. You might want to ask him about your book."
He smirked.
Hermione didn't wait for a response. "So, I guess you're no longer failing Transfiguration?"
"Temporary infliction."
Such telling words from a Slytherin – it seemed that cryptic vagueness was a common trait amongst that lot. "Funny that." Hermione replied.
His eyes filled with amusement before he turned on his broom and sped off.
Hermione stood up and left the stands before anyone else noticed her presence. She had a feeling Nott had come over without Malfoy knowing.
That evening, she went to see her Head of House.
"Professor, I have made my decision." Hermione inhaled. "I nominate, Draco Malfoy."
Saturday morning, at breakfast, Hermione sat in silence, waiting for any telling signs of an announcement. She had no idea what the Head of Houses had decided. Professor McGonagall had finally accepted her nomination after Hermione had pointed out that she had assumed all students, even Malfoy, were eligible under the new vote. It had taken a while, and a lot of supporting evidence to substantiate her nomination.
She had her reasons.
And, she was certain Snape would have appreciated her choice – a conciliation of sorts, albeit a slightly twisted one. Her vote had gone to Slytherin, after all.
"Alright, Hermione?" Ron asked.
She nodded. "I think we're in for a bit of a shock this morning."
"It's Saturday," he reminded. "Unless there's a Quidditch match, nothing ever happens. And, there's no Quidditch match."
Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes at his supposition. She loved these moments of clarity that Ron seemed to bring to the table. She hoped he was right and the Heads of House had delayed their decision making. Instinctively, Hermione turned her attention to the doorway, in case a Professor walked in, as the doors opened. Instead, she watched Harry walk toward their table, looking half asleep and rather worse for wear.
"What's wrong with Harry?" she asked Ron.
He shrugged.
"He looks terrible."
Ron lifted his head up and turned toward the entrance, spotting his friend. "He looks alright to me."
Hermione huffed, standing up to seek out Harry's gaze. She waved for his attention and he gave her a small nod as he caught her eye.
The closer he got to the table, the worse he looked. He slumped into the spot next to Hermione and, with a forced effort that bordered on lethargy, he reached for a piece of toast.
Hermione turned in her seat to face him. "Harry, you look like you haven't slept in days." She had spotted the dark circles under his eyes.
"Because I haven't," he replied laconically, dragging the bread knife laced with jam over his toast like a dead weight.
"Who is it, then?" Ron piped, looking somewhat amused.
"Ugh! Ron, that is just crass." Hermione shot him a reprimanding glare.
"Hermione, I am sure he has a very normal explanation for why he hasn't slept because he was too bloody busy doing something... or someone." Ron defended.
Harry bit into his toast, unfazed that he was being talked about.
Hermione crossed her arms, pursing her lips at Ron before looking at Harry with slight weariness. Now that Ron had made that comment, she didn't want to pry.
"Well, then," she said, unable to string two sentences together. She turned back to her breakfast, hoping that Harry would just get on with it and tell them about it. All she heard was a series of boyish grunts. She leaned in closer in hope of making sense of his exhausted mumbles. "Harry, can you speak up?"
Resigned to repeating himself, he reluctantly put his toast down. "I said - ," he turned his head to look at her, "- bloody owls outside my bedroom window have been driving me bloody mad!"
Hermione stared back at him, confused. "Owls?" She was trying so hard not to smile.
Ron, however, could not even pretend to have a degree of empathy and just laughed. "What owls? I haven't heard anything. Oi, Seamus!"
Seamus looked over at them, nodding his head in acknowledgment.
"You hear any owls last night?" Ron called.
Hermione wanted to hex him for his insensitivity. The boy had no tact, whatsoever. "Ron!" she hissed.
"What?" Seamus looked confused. "Owls? Nah, mate. Just your snoring."
Hermione chuckled as Ron gave him a dismissive wave. "Git," he muttered.
"Never mind him," Hermione directed, trying to swing the conversation back to Harry. "Everyone knows you snore," she said.
Ron looked offended. "Why doesn't he just cast a Silencio on the bloody things, then?"
"If I could actually see them, I would!" Harry suddenly said rather hotly. "Can't exactly throw a silencing spell into the air around me and hope it would catch onto something!"
"Harry, surely they're not hanging about your window all night," Hermione tried to reason.
"It's almost as if they're out to get me. Just when I think they're gone, I've got a whole Parliament of owls hooting. I even tried sleeping seated at the window with my wand in case I spotted one. All I know, is if this continues, I'll be in no state to play Ravenclaw on Saturday and we could be out of the running for the Cup." He slumped his shoulders and took a swig of his juice.
"Turpin's injured, so we'll be fine."
"Ron!"
"What?"
"Try to acknowledge that this is a problem for Harry."
"I've got some charmed ear muffs he can borrow. There, problem solved."
Hermione shot him a glare. "They're not exactly comfortable to sleep in, Ron."
"Well, if he keeps on his back, he'll be fine. Better than no sleep at all!"
"Bloody genius!" Hermione mocked.
Ron looked affronted. "You're the one who knows more spells that the school body combined and I don't see you coming up with any solution!"
Hermione straightened up, all fired up for a morning argument. "You're the one who's not taking this seriously!"
"Can you both keep it down? Neither one of you is helping," Harry said, bringing his fingers under his frames to rub his eyes.
He was right. She had almost forgotten that Harry was even there amidst her overactive state. "Fine. I'll see what I can find," Hermione said meekly, exhaling slowly to release her aggravation. Ron was so infuriating at times.
A contemplative silence surrounded their morning interaction. Hermione poked at her morning muesli trying to abate her edginess.
"The ear muffs are still there for the taking," Ron joked suddenly.
Hermione looked over at him in amused disbelief, smiling at his grinning face.
Harry seemed to visibly relax as he let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "Thanks."
Hermione shrugged. Nothing was ever simple these days, not even managing a good nights rest. And, where was that announcement? She downed the rest of her juice, hoping that the sweetness would bring some vitality to her morning.
That evening, Hermione sat reclined in a beanbag in her flannel pyjamas horrified by the anecdotes she had been reading in The Curse of Honour. She almost felt a twinge of pity for the heirs of noble houses who had been subjected to treatment beyond her comprehension. It didn't help that they rarely had more than one child to burden.
She didn't know why she had become so enthralled in the contents of the book. At first, it was in attempt to understand Malfoy, but now, she was just intrigued by the workings of the elitist mindset that drove them to such lengths to honour blood status.
Hermione sighed, wriggling to sink herself further into the beanbag and looked about the room. She hadn't changed it back to its original state since Malfoy's departure. The head digs were now familiar to her as containing a rather colourful common room that invited a certain comfort that she could not bring herself to extinguish with a simple Finite Incantatem.
The sudden movement of the portrait door caught her attention. She wondered briefly if it was a Professor bringing her news of the decision.
No, that wasn't it.
"Granger."
"Malfoy." She felt almost too small sitting where she was across the room from him. It was difficult to think of anything to say, or ask for that matter.
He stood at the entrance of the portrait hole, lingering momentarily before finally speeking. "Well, I'll just-
"Go ahead." She had no idea why she just said that.
"Right." He frowned.
Hermione let her gaze follow him as he walked across the room to his old bedroom door. Was he here to collect something? She looked to the portrait hall, expecting a Professor to follow him in any moment. There was no one.
A distant mumble caught her off guard and she turned her attention to the closing door, the resounding click bringing a rush of blood to her head.
Her lips parted with shock. It wasn't that he had just wished her 'goodnight'. It was at that point it dawned on her he had been let in by the Knight in the portrait.
Only the Head Boy could have such a privilege.
AN: Oooh, I love that Malfoy is Head Boy, again. You didn't think I would be that cruel to him. Not in this way, anyway...:p