Approach, Slytherin-style

For once, Hermione did not pay any attention to the book in front of her, and she knew she wasn't the only one by a long shot. A strange mood had befallen the castle. Lord Black's appearance earlier this week had been like an icy chill that just would not lift. Many a Hufflepuff and Gryffindor were looking peaky, pale or downright frightful these days, and hushed conversations were somewhat commonplace, though Hermione dearly wished that her classmates would at least refrain from abusing the library.

'Are you really sure I'll be fine, Nev?' one of the Hufflepuffs in a near corridor whispered not quietly enough, fear dripping from every syllable.

Hermione huffed indignantly. The nerve of these people! First, they continue to harass Harry for weeks and weeks, or at the very least stand idly by, and now their only worry is for their own precious safety? You've made your bed...

'Have you ever actually done anything to him, Justin?' Longbottom reasoned exasperatedly.

'No, of course not! But, like I told you, we were in his compartment and he got really menacing and...'

Hermione tried to will her concentration back onto the essay in her hands. But, to her dismay, a few new voices joined in on the muttered conversation only a short while later, rendering her effort wasted.

'You weren't there, Seamus. That old gramps really was scary!' insisted one of the new participants.

'That was Lord Black, Dean.' Hermione could almost hear Longbottom roll his eyes. 'That's someone you don't want to mess with.'

'You scared or what, Longbottom? Some Gryffindor you are!' Hermione inadvertently sat up straight in her chair. The last voice belonged to someone she definitely had not expected to converse with Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors.

'What do you want, Malfoy?' Longbottom called out with a hint of annoyance.

'Why, gloating of course! Look at you all: for months you pile your abuse on Black, even though you, Longbottom, at least should've known better. And now you frantically flap your hands like little girls, afraid of what you've done. If you don't want to get stung, don't rattle the curtains!' said Draco smugly.

'Bet you loved Lord Black's entrance, didn't you?' Longbottom retorted coldly.

'Oh, yeah, I did. You've got to admit it was pretty awesome,' Malfoy shot back, clearly fighting down a laugh. 'And even better than enjoying Prewett getting taken down a notch, now I can savour you all shivering at the thought of the Blacks coming after you as a bonus. It's hilarious!'

Draco was still laughing when he left Longbottom to his flock. Hermione, meanwhile, was mulling over their bickering, so deep in thought that she didn't notice her house-mate approach until his steps had taken him straight to her little corner where she sat, practically surrounded by small heaps of books on all corners. She expected him to frown, to scowl or sneer maybe; the possibility of being ignored altogether was there, too. What she did not expect, however, was the shrewd expression that flickered across his face for a second when he looked at her.

Hermione hastily collected her reading material and sorted it as carefully as time allowed into her book-bag. Without trying to catch up to Draco, she made to follow him, as the both of them had another Transfiguration lesson in about fifteen minutes, and she had no intention of seeming to appear together with the Gryffindors.

Hermione selected a seat in the front row and settled down. Not five minutes later, even the laggards had, under the reproving glare of Professor McGonagall, finally scurried through the door.

'A good day to you all. Since it has been some time now since you have made use of your knowledge in class, we'll be reviewing your expertise first. Maybe later this week, we can make a first attempt at transfiguring something new. You'll hand in your homework after class, so now you all better get...'

The Gryffindor Head of House was interrupted, quite rudely Hermione thought, when Greengrass slouched into the classroom, sporting a truly singular expression somewhere between depression and anger. 'Miss Greengrass!' The mouth of her favourite teacher was a very thin line by now; to Hermione, this was a clear sign of her displeasure.

Shrugging apathetically, the girl took a seat near Tracey, just one row behind Hermione. 'Hello, Professor. Sorry, I'm late, Professor. I'll do better next time, Professor,' Greengrass returned lifelessly.

Hermione winced, as did half the class. It was no secret that neither Greengrass nor McGonagall were particularly fond of one another, but the young witch had clearly crossed a line.

'That will be detention, Miss Greengrass. Well? Mr Thomas, please hand out the matches and we'll start with something easy. Surely, I need not remind you all that we are on a very tight schedule.'

Hermione took the needle the Gryffindor offered her, keen on trying her hand again, but she need not have worried: on her first try, she turned the wooden matchstick into a perfectly metallic needle. With a small satisfied smile, Hermione looked around the classroom. Some were having difficulties, either because they hadn't practised or, in the case of Draco and Tracey, because they were goofing around, pretending to accidentally aim at the legs of other people's chairs. Others, she noted, were misusing the class to continue their private conversations.

'Have you ever been there, then, Nev?' Finnigan asked excitedly.

'Oh, yeah, I have. Several times, actually,' Longbottom answered in a low voice.

'How was it? Is it true nobody knows where the Blacks live?' another eager Gryffindor demanded.

'It's true, I guess. If you get an invitation, you just get a date and a portkey - that's it.'

'But why don't people just make a break for it when they're at the ball or something?' threw in Thomas.

A girl one row behind them broke out in shrill laughter. 'You don't wanna do that, Dean. I've been there once myself, and I could feel the wards all around me when we travelled there. And I was only ten at the time.'

'Wow, you were at the Black Ball once, Parvati? But isn't that like, I don't know, a bit creepy? I mean you describe it like it's some kind of giant deathtrap.' Finnigan's voice was laden with trepidation.

'Only if you're stupid enough to poke around, Seamus. The occasion is quite exclusive, so I don't think that happens all too often.'

'It's quite dreamy, actually. A bit like those old-style romance films...' Parvati sighed wistfully.

'Did Black really dance with Professor Rose, Nev?'

What? Hermione was stumped. This was the first time she'd heard anything like that. The stretching silence surrounding Longbottom indicated that she wasn't the only one interested.

The Gryffindor boy chuckled nervously. 'Uh, yeah, they did. The whole evening, in fact.'

'What? Really? How scandalous!' Parvati giggled excitedly.

'Wow! Who would've guessed? I mean, he always seems so reclusive,' the Brown girl joined in.

'You've got to be kidding me!' Finnigan opined. 'Why him? And not Professor Rose! Are you really, really sure, Nev?'

'Sorry, mate! It was hard not to notice, to be honest,' Longbottom returned in an apologetic tone.

'You're crushing my dreams, man. What's he got that I don't have?' whined Finnigan.

'Not sure. You mean besides the mountains of gold or the talent?' Parvati laughed good-naturedly. 'I've heard Flitwick's jokes about giving him an OWL test at the end of the year. I don't think he's serious, but it's not all talk either, you know.'

Finnigan broke down on his desk in dramatic fashion. 'You guys are killing me. But seriously, why's he so good at Charms?'

'Oh, not interested in hearing any more about Rose and Black, Seamus?' jeered Brown, teaming up with her friend.

'I wouldn't read too much into it. No, honestly!' Longbottom added when he spotted the doubting looks of his audience. 'Look, I don't know Black much better than you guys. But I don't get the impression that he's the kind of guy to chat up women. It could be something political, so don't worry about it.'

'Oh, right,' Thomas responded sarcastically, 'because something political between the Blacks and Rose is no cause for concern at all.'

~BLHD~

The talk of the allegedly shared dances between Harry and Professor Rose was resounding throughout all of Hogwarts by lunch, much to Hermione's chagrin. Apparently, only half a dozen students had been at the Black Ball, so the news hadn't passed through the houses until now. It wasn't even that important, really. Sure, it was a bit strange to share more than a polite dance (if even that) with a teacher, but people seemed to consider the reputed breach of good morals of much more importance than the brutal attack that had landed Harry in the hospital wing for his longest stay to date. There was definitely much jealousy at play, and-in private-Hermione thought that this jealousy might even have been a contributing factor to the incredibly brutal assault on her estranged friend.

So it was with a mixed mood that she had made her way to the Defence classroom and took her seat among the Slytherins, but the class progressed as if nothing had happened at all. Though the atmosphere was decidedly awkward at the start, mostly due to the expectations many Hufflepuffs held, Professor Rose conducted the lesson in a very business-like fashion, much to Hermione's relief. Learning to counter popular jinxes was, without a doubt, time better spent than chatting about other people's lives. Class soon ended without any drama unfolding, but it was all too good to be true, Hermione soon realised.

'I'll sneak down again later, I don't care what you say!' Greengrass whispered not very quietly at all, but with a touch of anger. It remained mysterious to Hermione how someone could speak at a normal volume while definitely whispering...kind of.

'Keep your voice down, Daphne!' Tracey looked around suspiciously. Spotting Hermione's curious glance, she shrugged apologetically and smiled in a helpless manner.

'Slinking off to visit your friend, are you, Greengrass?' Macmillan's voice was disapproving. 'And here I thought you knew better than to associate with the likes of Black...'

'Keep your mouth shut if you know what's good for you!' Greengrass shot back coldly.

'Don't get me wrong, Greengrass. I hardly think it's sporting to lurk in a corridor and ambush someone with Merlin knows how many people. I wonder why Dumbledore doesn't do something. It's no wonder Lord Black is furious, but-on the other hand-maybe our headmaster has decided that Black is a lost cause...? He's hardly innocent in the whole affair, in my opinion.'

'And how exactly do you figure that he is not the victim here, Macmillan?' Greengrass' eyes had narrowed so much that her usually refined features were looking positively snake-like. And ready to bite the Hufflepuff's head off, no doubt.

'Uhm, shouldn't we be heading to the next class?' Hermione tried to diffuse the situation.

Tracey nodded eagerly. 'Oh, yes! It's gotten rather late, hasn't it? Let's go, Daphy!'

'Oh, no, not so fast!' Greengrass stood unblinkingly and rooted to the spot, oblivious to Tracey's subtle tugging. 'I want to hear this, and it better be good...'

Macmillan gulped heavily. He seemed to have realised that his immediate bodily well-being was on the line. 'See here, Greengrass. I mean no offence! It's just that he's been stirring up a lot of trouble, right? Provoking Hannah and Susan like that was totally unnecessary, and Leanne is terrified of him. And I'm not even speaking of John; he's only just come back from St Mungo's, you know.'

'What are you talking about? Bones and Abott were trying to humiliate him first, and if you guys would just leave him alone, you probably wouldn't even notice him. I mean, he practically sleeps in the library!'

'Maybe he should sleep in his own library then. The Blacks do have a family library, don't they? What's he come to Hogwarts for? If he just left, everything would be fine!' intruded Bones hotly. She and her friend had apparently passed by on their way out of the classroom.

'You shouldn't say that!' Hermione shouted, surprised by her own temerity. 'If you could all just leave your stupid politics at home, there wouldn't even be an issue!'

Greengrass and Bones both looked at her, taken aback by her unusual outburst. But just then, Professor Rose emerged from within the depths of the room. 'Maybe you all should trot along before you get in trouble.' She peered from Bones to Macmillan and then to Greengrass and Hermione.

'Let's go, Daphy!' Tracey tugged at her best friend's sleeve again. In a slightly lower tone she added, 'I don't wanna be chewed out again...'

Hermione hung back a bit to sort the books in her backpack in an orderly fashion, even as the rest of the Slytherins departed, same as Abott and Macmillan. Bones had apparently forgotten something at her desk. Just as Hermione swung the bag over her shoulders, Professor Rose called out to the Hufflepuff one more time. 'Oh, before I forget, could I have a short word with you, Miss Bones? You may go on, Miss Granger.'

~BLHD~

Hogwarts was still abuzz with chatter by dinner, but now there was also a new bit of gossip about Susan Bones, who had shut herself in the toilet, crying for nearly four hours straight. All the Hufflepuff first years were surrounding Abott, who apparently didn't know what was going on any better. Nervously, Hermione glanced from the girl to the Hufflepuff hourglass and finally to Professor Rose, who ate gracefully at the head table, the pretty picture of innocence. For some mysterious (and, surely, unrelated) reason, there seemed to be at least 200 house-points missing. The turmoil about Bones had, for the moment, prevented the Puffs from noticing that about half of their points had vanished in the space of a few hours, or maybe, Hermione mused, a few seconds.

Maybe the story about her dancing with Harry all night isn't as far-fetched as I thought...

Just when she was looking from the hourglass to Professor Rose again, the young teacher winked conspiratorially at her and subtly brought her index finger to her lips. Hermione gaped nonplussed at her Defence instructor until she finally pulled herself together and averted her gaze.

The Hufflepuffs prematurely forfeiting the House Cup was a popular topic later in the Slytherin common room. Many of the older students in particular were excited at the prospect of a dark horse winning the cup. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff had, after all, won the last two dozen cups between them, their streaks only broken very occasionally by the odd Ravenclaw win. It was so bad that nobody even remembered when Slytherin had last won. Even though it was impossible to keep anything secret at Hogwarts, Hermione couldn't help but notice that nobody seemed to connect the spontaneous loss of points with Susan Bones or Professor Rose.

Nearly dozing off after a hard day of work and worries, Hermione half-heartedly observed Draco and his little gang: Blaise Zabini and Draco seemed to get on particularly well nowadays. Parkinson and the younger Shafiq were usually hanging out with them, too, whereas the rest of the first year Slytherins normally kept to themselves. Hermione didn't have anything in particular against Blaise, who could be a bit haughty but was quite friendly to her, if a bit distant maybe. Shafiq and Parkinson were rather snobbish and had no doubt views about a Muggle-born in Slytherin, but they treated Hermione fairly well all the same. Sometimes, she couldn't help but wonder if somebody had arranged it for her to be relatively pleasant in the common room.

Hermione jerked up, blinking furiously. Maybe she had better head to bed after all and finish her research in the morning. Currently, she was studying the Black family, though she wasn't sure if that was a faux pas in itself. But how else was she going to get the information if not by herself? So far she had found out that seven of the last twelve Ministers for Magic had been either Blacks or very closely connected to them, which would certainly explain why the family was so well-off. Carefully stacking her books and the parchment, an unfamiliar note fell from the cover of Nature's Nobility.

'Come to the first room of the right corridor, seventh floor half an hour before curfew if you really find the current situation regarding Harry Black to be unbearable. Don't tell anybody. Arrive alone.'

Immediately, Hermione scrutinised the room around her, but the scene hadn't changed at all. A few groups were sitting widely scattered around the room, keeping to themselves. She looked back down at the parchment. The handwriting was narrow, curly and very even, giving an impression of great sophistication and tedious hours of training.

Thinking furiously for a while, Hermione bit her lower lip. Then, she grabbed her bag and went to the girl's dormitory, where she soon found Tracey babbling animatedly to Greengrass.

'Do you have a moment, Tracey? I'm sorry to interrupt but...' Nervously eyeing Greengrass, her voice faltered.

'Yeah, sure. I'll be right back, Daphy!' Tracey jumped to her feet, smiled at her and indicated for her to leave the room. Hermione rather thought she heard Greengrass click her tongue impatiently. When they were out of earshot, Tracey leaned against the corridor and inclined her head. 'So? What's up?'

'Oh, right. I, uh, got this mysterious note that says I should go somewhere alone tonight, but, to be honest, I don't think that's a terribly intelligent idea. I'll be heading to the seventh corridor, first door on the right, so if I'm not back half an hour after curfew...you know.'

Tracey's eyes widened comically. 'Are you sure this is a very bright idea, Honey?'

Hermione bit her lip again. 'No, it's not. It's not sensible at all. But I can't just ignore it either...'

'There's no need to look so serious!' Tracey saluted cutely with the wand in her hand. 'If you're late, I'll barge right in and come to your rescue. I think I have a white mantle in my trunk, but someone else will have to play the part of the stallion.'

Hermione smiled gratefully. 'Thanks, Tracey.'

The small girl grinned back impishly. 'No problem. I'll be in the vicinity, just let me finish my talk with Daphy.'

~BLHD~

This is a bad idea, Hermione! This is an absolutely terrible idea! But even though Hermione could not keep these thoughts from popping up warningly time and again, her feet brought her ever closer to the dreaded seventh corridor, her steps echoing ominously through the empty castle.

What kind of sensible person would come alone to a meeting with a stranger of dubious intentions in the dead of the night? No sensible person at all, that's for sure. And no Slytherin either, now that I think about it. Well, at least I told someone.

Shivering slightly (Hermione insisted on attributing this to the draught that stalked these ancient halls), she approached the last set of stairs to the seventh corridor. It wasn't so unusual to not encounter any students or teachers on her way through the castle, or that no prefect paid attention to her leaving shortly before curfew, or that not a sound could be heard the entire way up here, but everything in conjunction left Hermione slightly haunted. So much in fact, that she'd even have welcomed the sight of the Bloody Baron, a figure she was sure to give a wide berth on normal (and, she told herself again, sensible) days.

Hermione hesitated for short while, then hid her wand in her ridiculously long sleeve like she had seen Harry do at times, and walked around the corner. The door to the mentioned first room on the right corridor stood slightly ajar. Gathering her remaining courage, Hermione carefully pushed the door completely open...

The room was empty, but the rustling of clothes just behind her soon explained this discovery. 'Get in!' The male voice sounded familiar, though Hermione failed to instantly place it, mostly due to the frantic beating of her heart. Regretfully crossing the threshold, furious at being outwitted so easily, Hermione walked towards the middle of the room, half expecting the feeling of a wooden tip in her back, but to her great surprise, the person behind her softly closed the door and walked by her, wand in his hand.

Her mysterious assailant had sleek and shiny, perfectly groomed white-blond hair, casual elegance that very few people held so naturally, an incredible amount of self-assurance bordering on arrogance, the hint of superior knowledge in his grey eyes, and an ever persistent smirk on his lips: It was Draco Malfoy.

'So it was you,' Hermione mumbled softly.

Draco looked up, mildly surprised but clearly dismissive, his eyes glinting evilly. 'Oh? Figured that out, did you, filthy Mudblood know-it-all.'

Hermione trembled slightly but tightened her grip around her hidden wand all the same. 'Well, it was a bit suspicious how often you were in my vicinity today. Not to mention your strange look in the library. What does "Mudblood" mean, incidentally?'

Draco howled with laughter. 'What? Are you kidding me, Granger? You still don't know? For real? "Mudbloods" are those that dirty the old and honoured family lines and traditions of the wizarding world by their unworthy, usurping blood, of course. So that's you, you bushy skunk. If it was up to me, I'd kick you out of Slytherin myself, but I really don't want to dirty my boots.'

Hermione sniffed a bit, doing her best to hold in tears. Why has he called me out here if he just wants to make me miserable? 'What do you want, Draco?' she called out more bravely than she felt, her voice quivering all the same.

Draco wordlessly pointed his wand at her, and Hermione stiffened, holding her breath, awaiting the curse that was sure to come any second now...but nothing happened. 'Lie to me,' Draco ordered her, to Hermione's complete confusion.

'W-what?' she answered feebly.

'I said "lie to me", you wretched bookworm. Or aren't you capable of following simple orders?' he sneered at her like she was something under the floorboards.

'I...but...' Hermione stumbled for words before she gathered her wits. 'I-I ran into Professor Snape on my way here. He knows I'm here!' She tried, once again, to sound confident, and indeed her voice held miraculously steady, or so she thought.

Draco snarled, looking unimpressed. 'Pathetic, Granger! I know all the teachers have a meeting with the headmaster tonight, and I followed you all the way here, as you should have worked out by now. One last try, make a convincing lie, you stupid little girl!' He lifted his wand further so that it now pointed directly at her face.

Stupid little girl? Hermione repeated angrily in her head, blushing subtly. Who does he think he is? What kind of game is he playing? Biting her lip, her mind automatically replayed the information she had last studied about. 'The first Cygnus Black embezzled funds from the Wizengamot Administration Service to hide his secret addiction to Muggle horse-races from his family.'

Draco looked stunned for a moment, but then his brow began to furrow. 'I call bullshit,' he said eventually.

'Actually, it's possibly true,' Hermione lectured on the topic in her classroom-voice out of paradoxical relief. 'The author in Nature's Nobility makes a point of theorising how this could have led to the now extinct line of Blackthaws that officially split from the Blacks at the time. It was a major scandal, of course, and...'

'All right, all right, I get it.' Malfoy held up his other hand to stem the tide of information that gushed from Hermione's mouth. 'But that wasn't a lie, was it? If even the author didn't know it, we can't ascertain the truth of it. And besides, you just recited something you read in a book!'

'Well, yes,' Hermione replied with her own satisfied little smile. 'But you told me to lie and didn't realise that my "lie" was in fact just information. So you fail all the same, since I wasn't truthful about that fact that I lied.'

Draco frowned, clearly thinking it through carefully. But a second later, he suddenly broke into laughter, lowered his wand and relaxed visibly. The strange enmity that had shone from his pose and facial expression was gone entirely as if blown away by wind. 'Not bad, Granger! I suppose it's my defeat.'

Rocking with mad laughter, Malfoy sat down on an old desk, stowed his wand and indicated for her to take a seat as well. Hermione, needless to say, was completely stumped again.

'Come on, we don't have all night, Granger. Take a seat, I won't bite,' he said, the mirth visible in his eyes.

'But...but...' Suddenly, her eyes narrowed in understanding. 'You tested me,' she accused him, pointing her finger. 'There was no need for that language with me!'

'Yeah, I tested you. You even passed, somewhat. And I thought you'd gotten used to a bit of insulting after Greengrass' tirade? That one's very big on foul language, as I'm sure you've come to know,' he returned in a relaxed manner.

'But...to what end?' Hermione finally took a seat, ashamed of her own foolishness and angry at Malfoy's little game.

'To see if you're a hopeless case, or not,' Draco said matter-of-factly. 'To see if you can face pressure in a situation where you are clearly handicapped. To ascertain that you do not lose your temper just because someone is spewing a lot of malicious nonsense to your face. To test if you've got any sense and don't come to a dangerous meeting without telling anybody, even though you were ordered to come alone. To check if you are still practical enough to at least have a wand on your hand. You can put it away now, by the way.'

Hermione looked confused for a second, but then it dawned on her that she was still clutching her wand in a death-grip. She had completely forgotten about it half-way through the ordeal but vowed right then and there to never tell Draco so. 'So you knew about Tracey?' she asked weakly, feeling a bit resentful for having been dancing in his palm all along.

'Oh, yeah, sure. I told her beforehand, even. You don't exactly have many friends in Slytherin, so it was an easy guess. Which brings us to the main part of this evening.' His expression became serious all of a sudden, and he sat up straight, gazing intently into her eyes. 'If you want in on this, you'll do exactly what I say; you'll ask no questions; and you won't tell anyone that you're working with me.'

'What? I'm not your subordinate, Draco!' she called out in high dudgeon. 'Why do you need me anyway if I'm just your lackey?'

'Not lackey, Granger: Spy!' he called out triumphantly. 'People won't expect me to cooperate with you, people know you to be shunned by practically everyone, and they may let their guard down with someone they are sure poses no threat.'

'Spy?' she asked, feeling the situation outgrow her more and more.

'Exactly!' he responded with a smirk that was confident of victory. 'It's brilliant! Other people may even see you as an easy tool to use to get to Harry as it is somewhat common knowledge that you were friendly, so they may even approach you on their own, or already have, for all we know.'

'So whom am I supposed to spy on, then?' Hermione asked carefully.

'Mostly Slytherins, I expect. When I'm not clear on what to do with you, you'll help me go through some minor non-school-related paperwork.'

Well, Hermione thought bitterly, I guess being the female lead in a spy movie was too much to ask for, so I have to act as a secretary in my off-time to appease the gender image. 'And what are we doing this for, then. Should I happen to agree, that is.'

Draco looked completely puzzled as if she'd asked the stupidest question yet. 'To help Harry, of course.'

'B-but...' Hermione's voice faded away pitifully. 'But I thought you hated Muggle-borns,' she asked meekly as if to make sure the world still made sense.

'Oh, make no mistake! I definitely detest Mudbloods,' Draco returned bluntly and without hesitation. His warm expression vanished as quickly and unexpectedly as a sudden blizzard in July, his gaze drilling into her with a ferocity that made her blush. 'Much more than Harry does, I expect. But, truth be told, I need you, and you need me. It's as simple as that. Besides, he accepted you, and you somehow got into Slytherin, so I guess you can't be all bad.'