Hiro-kun!

You've been at his much longer than I have. How do you run circles between your family and friends? Do they hate each other? I don't know, these boys I'm hanging around aren't exactly my friends, but they acknowledge my existence from time to time. The only problem is my father can't stand them. Any tricks you've picked up over the time I can steal, Yamato-Sensei?

Other than that, life is okay. I've been working very hard to keep up with my classes. So far I've done well in them. Month one down and I'm ready to cocoon for the next nine! I know how pathetic that sounds.

Enough of my depressing life! On to you!

I'm sorry Kaori is such a control freak about the school paper. I know you were looking forward to it. Maybe join another club? Too bad, I know how you were looking forward to it. Talk to her about your ideas for a political comic and don't stop until she listens! Trust me, I'm very annoying so this is advice I can give. Talk to her and the others, if you can ally the others to your side, you'll be great! Miyuki sounds like your best angle where she's co-president and your sister's best friend. Turn on that endearing charm! If she's human she won't be able to resist it! I promise! You better write back telling me Kaori was out-voted!

The picture of you and your sister was sweet. I don't have access to a camera, so I'll just let you imagine my appearance. Think like a bushy tailed cat and a rabid squirrel somehow produced an offspring. You'll be close. Maybe glue doe-eyes on to it, people seem to like my eyes. Anyway, I drew a picture of you lot in the style of Koneko Mahou Shoujo! and I hope you like it.

Until later,

Hermione

I have complete faith in you, Hiro-kun!

Hermi-chan!

I did exactly as you said and you are now corresponding with Mahou Mercury's first cartoonist! I got Miyuki-chan to my side and Onii-chan was given no option! I've sent the original cartoon to you. No English cheat sheets though, or you'll never learn! fufu! Thank you so much, Hermi-chan!

That being said, your Japanese is better now. By the time summer comes around you'll be like I am with English!

Sofu-san doesn't really involve himself with our friends outside of summer, and even then, he let's us mostly handle things ourselves unless we ask. If your father hates those boys so much, maybe he won't be a problem? Also, boys? Should I be jealous? fufu! I'm joking, most of my friends are girls. Mostly because I follow my sister around too much. She's inherited Otosan's confidence and ability. I'll be in Kaori-sama's shadow until she graduates, but then I'll probably be alone. That was dark! You said earlier you felt like you could tell me anything, well...I feel the same way about you. I can tell you anything!

On that note, a doe-eyed cat-squirrel hybrid sounds adorable! Hanging around people just because they acknowledge your existence sounds sad. Maybe you should follow your own advice? Join a club and talk to people until they like you. I like you...others must too!

Love from,

Hiro-kun xoxo

P.S

I loved the picture.

Hiro-kun!

Your letters are the highlight of my week! Congratulations! I knew you could do it. I loved the cartoon, also, your minister sounds like a total dolt! Not allowing magic learning avenues for blind and deaf people? My blood boils, I hope the cartoon gets the idiot's attention! I knew Miyuki couldn't resist you. Also, Kaori-sama? Your sister will slaughter you if she finds out you call her that!

Speaking of ignorance, I'm not sure if you know this, but xo is put in English letters for kisses! I'll forgive you this time, Hiro-kun!

I'm sorry that you feel like you've been in Kaori's shadow. I know we've only sent letters, but you seem so bright and funny, I'm certain if you tried you could make it on your own. Not saying you shouldn't hang out with your sister and Miyuki. I think it's nice that you're so close. Honestly I'm a bit jealous, I wish I had an older sister at times. Either way, there's certainly more to you than just being the younger brother of Mahoukatoro's top witch and the headmaster's grandson! You're clever and funny and sweet, and I simply can't imagine why someone wouldn't want to be friends with you.

Love,

Hermi-chan!

"I feel like your eyes sparkle every bloody time that raven comes!" Fred teased.

"Our kitten's got a boyfriend, Fred!" George teased putting an arm around her.

"Are you really teasing me about Hiro Yamato after last night?" Hermione blinked innocently.

For the first time since they met, George's ears turned pink and Fred, Lee, Oliver and Angelina roared around her.

"Wait," Angelina stopped. "What happened last night?"

Hermione instantly regretted it. George really liked Angelina, and teasing him about it in front of her? That was some cruel shit her father would pull. George would never tell Hermione anything again. And she deserved it. Stupid piece of shit!

"I made the mistake of telling him some sensitive information," she covered. "He's just embarrassed that the great mischief maker George Weasley can't keep one little girl's confidence."

"George!" Angelina laughed. "Hermione, let this be a lesson learnt early. Never trust boys."

"Hey!" Lee said. "We're not all so bad."

Oliver Wood rolled his eyes. "You could always sit with Alicia and Katie again. Since we're so evil."

"And leave that poor creature to your devices?" she laughed.

Translation, Angelina liked sitting with them. She hoped it meant she liked George specifically, but she wasn't going to project her stupid girlish fantasies on to them. Hermione knew better.

"By Merlin," Hermione groaned. "What do you expect those arses want?"

Malfoy sauntered over to their table flanked by his oversized cronies Crabbe and Goyle. They stopped by Harry and Ron and Hermione slipped out from between the twins to get a listen.

"Harry knows exactly what a wizard's duel is!" Ron snapped. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

Don't take the bait, Ron...

Harry clearly didn't know what a duel was, but Malfoy didn't pick up on the confusion, instead he was clearly caught off guard by Ron's question of a second. Malfoy hadn't chosen one, which Hermione imagined meant the boy had no intention of actually duelling. What is your game, Malfoy?

"Meet us in the trophy hall at midnight!" he sneered after announcing Goyle to Crabbe's dismay.

"Did you really call Pansy a stupid, snivelling cow?" Hermione said from behind Malfoy. "One of the Ravenclaw girls said you did and she's simply beside herself."

"I said no such thing," he sneered again. "And I don't see why you care."

"I don't really either," she shrugged. "But girls are complicated, we hate each other's guts, and yet we seek retribution for each other. Go apologise to her before I demonstrate exactly how girls seek retribution!"

"Are you threatening me again?" he hissed.

"Apologise or I'll start crying" she whispered. "Whose side do you think my father will take when I do?"

That worked better than she imagined. He chased after Pansy, who was beautifully leaving the Great Hall at just that moment. That left Hermione alone with the two idiots.

"Wow," Harry gasped. "Remind me not to mess with you."

"It's a trap," she told them in a low voice. "Don't do it."

"What?" Ron scoffed as well. "Did that raven warn you of another poisoning?"

"I couldn't help but overhear-"

"Bet you could," Ron interrupted.

She rolled her eyes. "The duel is a trap. Malfoy clearly didn't have a second picked. I bet he's trying to get you idiots expelled for being caught at night."

"And if it is real?" Ron challenged.

"Then the idiot gets himself in trouble and the school loses an insufferable prat."

"I'd get used to Malfoy if I were you," Ron laughed. "The way Snape gushes over him, I expect he'll be looking to get you two married."

"For the love of-" she groaned. "I give up! I've been trying to help because I felt bad for you idiots, but go, have fun getting yourselves expelled!"

Hermione turned to leave and saw Cho Chang leaving with Marrieta. She ran up beside Cho clasping her books to her chest with an easy laugh, hoping it looked like she left those two to catch up with the girls.

"Sorry," she said under her breath pretending to laugh. "Just pretend to laugh again and I'll sod off once we're out the doors."

"Have you thought of actually making female friends instead of lying to the Professor?" Cho asked with an easy shrug and fake giggle. "Maybe in your year?"

"That would imply she's able to!" Marrietta giggled.

The three pretended to giggle as they left the doors and Hermione was ready to leave when Pansy and Malfoy stopped her.

"Which Ravenclaw girl claimed Draco called me a cow?" Pansy sneered. "Because those hags lied to you."

"I don't know all their names," Hermione said, stepping between Cho and Pansy. "It was in the toilets when I heard it. I think she was a third or fourth year. I think her exact words were 'That Malfoy brat is such a prick. I heard him talking to his cronies about the Parkinson girl, calling her a stupid, snivelling cow. I'm sure the poor thing is just beside herself. Is it just me or do they get meaner younger as the years go on?' Sound like anyone in particular? Because Cho, Marrietta and I are just working on a group project in DADA and it wasn't either of them."

"They're a year above us!" Malfoy yelled.

"And Quirrell's an arse who thinks growing up in the school means I had advantages others didn't. So he has me doing second-year course-work as well." How many more will you bring into your lies? "I'll catch up with you lot later," she said to the girls, then mouthed this is only going to get worse, go. Sorry!

They left and Hermione was left alone with the four Slytherins. She gulped and racked her brain for an excuse to go before Pansy linked her arm in Hermione's. "Why don't you boys go? Girl talk."

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle all exchanged confused looks before doing exactly as she requested. How did she have such power over them? And could Hermione ever develop something like that? She once asked to be left alone and Fred literally picked her up over his shoulder with a "the only person I've met tinier than you is Ginny!".

"Let's go to the lake!" she instructed, all but dragging Hermione.

"Did you really threaten to cry to your father if Draco didn't apologise to me?" Pansy asked, still holding Hermione's arm hostage.

"Erm, yeah," she said sheepishly.

A silence came over them only interrupted by birds and other students wondering around the grass. Hermione wondered what Pansy Parkinson was about to do. Would she push her in to the lake? If the squid ate her it would be one less problem for her to worry about. No, Pansy Parkinson was a jerk, but not evil. She hoped. It's not as if the giant squid persists on a diet of eleven-year-old girls.

"I have a proposal for you," Pansy whispered.

What was Pansy about to black mail her with? What would she have her do? Hermione imagined an assortment of things from getting her to weaponize her father's hatred of Harry to get him expelled to something as minor as Hermione doing her homework for the year. From the outside, they looked like two little girls walking arm in arm around a still lake on a sunny day, but Hermione knew this was war.

Just push me in the lake now .

"I want you to partner with me in potions next week. Draco left me high and dry and made me partner with Crabbe. If Longbottom hadn't so spectacularly screwed up his potion, I know we would have failed." Pansy groaned. "I know you're trying to trick Professor Snape into thinking you have made friends with girls. I promise I can be a hell of a lot more convincing than those cows."

"They're not cows," she groaned. "But I'll do it."

"Oh, and, Hermione," Pansy pulled her closer. "Back out on me and I'll be the one crying to your father about how simply horribly I've seen the Weasley twins treating you."

"We'll be potions besties!" Hermione hissed back.

"By Merlin," Severus commented as Hermione started cleaning her work station. "I don't think I've met a more fastidious child in my life."

Beside the work station Hermione had been wiping down for the third time were precisely lined jars of preserved dragonroot, in rows of three, each jar wiped clean till the glass shone. This was the same child he used to get after for painting on walls, but she'd always been...particular. The quirk was endearing when she didn't shut down because of it. She had been unusually quiet all evening. Most of his attempts to coax her into speaking were met with a single sentence. But she seemed to take the bait this time.

"I'm not going to say something like 'hark who's talking' ( You just did! ), nor am I going to point out how peculiarities are a product of one's upbringing," Hermione teased. "But I will suggest you look at your tools."

"So cheeky," he sighed. "I wish I could blame those little idiots you surround yourself with, but this was a 'peculiarity' of yours before you met them."

"At least I keep things interesting?" she offered.

"Interesting is certainly a word we could use," he placed a hand on her head.

"So," Hermione listed the items off her paper. "Anything else, sir?"

"No, love," he said, taking her list before he remembered he couldn't read it; it seemed she wrote everything in Japanese these days. "I think we're all set, and with a whole hour before curfew! I do wonder how you'll spend it."

"Oh, I'll probably just-hey!" she said. "Are you calling me dull? I guess I'll just have to find something stupid to do," she sighed. "You reckon I can get in on the latest schemes of any of 'those little idiots I surround myself with'?"

"If your plan was to make me feel guilty for calling them that," he ruffled her hair. "Then I should tell you that you going about it the wrong way."

"I didn't figure it would work," she shrugged. "But a girl's gotta try, right?"

"A girl's got to try making other friends," he teased. "I'll let you go, remember our arrangement, you're to be here tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir," Hermione nodded.

"Oh, and Hermione?" he called just as she was about to leave.

"Yes, sir?" she stopped and turned to face him.

"I know you want to handle whatever it is that is bothering you on your own," he placed his hand on her head again. "But I want you to know ( Dear god, why is this so hard? Talk to your daughter, you stupid git... ) that if you need to talk I am here."

"I know, Dad," Hermione nodded with a smile. "But I'll be..." she was interrupted by a chiming bell. "Crap!"

"Language!" he snapped.

"Right, sorry," she said before speaking at a speed only panic could induce. "Hour before curfew, that should have reminded me! Sorry, I promised someone I'd help a friend with homework. I'll see you tomorrow morning, Dad. Have a good night, love you."

She kissed his cheek and ran off into the distance.

Slow down, love, he thought before going to mark his most recent batch of homework.

"I don't want to wake the other girls," Hermione told Fred and George when they teased her for her translation of Koneko Mahou Shoujo!

"Think she's tiny because she doesn't sleep?" Fred sighed.

"In all of our nights in the castle we know Snape doesn't sleep, maybe it's genetic?" George laughed.

"Oh, hardy-har-har," Hermione rolled her eyes. "If you old folk are tired, go to bed. I am fine here translating my 'weird Japanese cat girl comic'."

"Did she just call us 'old folk', Fred?" George gasped.

"Our little Hermione?" Fred gave a dramatic sigh. "No!"

"It's not my fault you're ancient," Hermione sang. "Damn, two years and I won't be able to stay up past eleven? I'll have to make good with what's left of my youth now!"

"Fine," Fred said, pinching her cheek. "Us old folk will actually be able to enjoy our Saturday."

"My father has me Saturdays, so there'll be no risk of that," she rolled her eyes. "How I envy you lot."

"And here I thought we had custody over the weekends," George sighed.

"You only get meal times and Monday through Thursday evenings, sorry, boys!"

"I think you and Angelina should renegotiate," Fred elbowed George, who blushed furiously.

"Fred!" Hermione hissed looking around the, thankfully, empty common room.

"I wouldn't say that if she were within earshot, Hermione," Fred said. "Just like I wouldn't tease you about Hiro in front of anyone but George."

It was Hermione's turn to blush. "We're just friends, and a million kilometres away! I'll never even meet him."

"You never know. I hear there are cultural exchanges in participating schools," George shrugged.

"Mahoukatoro loves to do exchanges with Ilvermorny and Beaux Batons," Fred added.

"Or so Charlie told us when he told Mum about his chance to go to Brazil," George finished. "So you might just meet Hiro!"

"Oh, sod off, you miserable lot!" Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to sound stern.

"Ouch!" Fred gasped.

"Alright, fellow old man," George elbowed Fred. "Let's leave the young one with her weird Japanese cat-girl comic."

After an episode of laughter from the three of them Fred and George did just that.

Hermione dug out a small square of parchment that teachers used to write their notes on. She had never done this before, and she hoped the standardized sheets weren't enchanted to respond differently to others. She knew each of the staff's handwriting intimately. Or many of them anyway, and she had every confidence in her ability to replicate them. She twirled her inkless quill in her fingers as she thought about whose writing to use. Her father's? Fat chance anyone would buy it. What about McGonagall? No, she might be consulted and given a chance to deny it. Dumbledore then? No, he wouldn't be writing it either. Filch? Hell no, he would be the one they need the note for. Shit! Shit! Shit! Who would be the most likely to be believable, but not be asked to verify...?

The idea came to Hermione and she began composing her note, pleased nothing went awry when ink touched parchment.

"You!" Ron snapped. "Go back to bed!"

"We're going, Hermione," Harry hissed. "You're not stopping us."

"I know there's no stopping you," Hermione sighed. "Which is why you idiots need this," she held up the note.

"' Please excuse Harry J. Potter, Ronald B. Weasley, and Hermione E.L. Snape for travel to and from the library after hours. As punishment for arguing loudly they have been assigned to re-organizing the archives on the evening of the third of October 1991. Signed, Madam T. Pince." Harry read. "How-how did you get her to agree to write this?"

"She didn't," Hermione said. "You two should change out of your dressing gowns if anyone is going to b-"

"You didn't- erm- enchant Pince?" Ron asked, freckled face registering somewhere between scared and impressed. "Did you?"

"Merlin, Ron!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "I forged her writing, naturally. Years of replicating documents in others' hand-writing finally have a use."

"And this won't be detected?" Harry asked cautiously.

"I've been forging signatures for ages," she half-lied. "You'll be fine."

"Erm," Harry said. "Thanks, Hermione."

"I can't help but notice you're included in the note," Ron groaned. "Why?"

"Ron!" Harry whispered as if Hermione couldn't hear. "She's helping us, can we forget her father's a-"

"It's nothing personal," Hermione interrupted. "I'm not watching Malfoy gloat when he gets you expelled. And I want to see his face when you're still here. Plus, Fred and George won't talk to me again if something happens to Ickle Won."

"I can take care of myself!" Ron snapped.

"Can you?" Hermione scoffed.

"Shut up, both of you!" Harry hissed. "Your note will be worthless if you wake the whole castle, and none of us want Malfoy gloating when we don't show. So shut up."

"You're right, mate," Ron sighed. "She's just so-"

"Standing right in front of you," Hermione muttered through gritted teeth.

"So?" Ron growled.

"Ron and I will get dressed," Harry whispered. "We'll meet you in a bit."

Hermione met back up with boys once they were changed and they left the common room armed with the note and the story. They were on their way, they got lost. If they were caught by McGonnagal,Flitwick, or Sprout she decided she would start crying. Those three always seemed to pity her and she was fine weaponizing it. If it was Filch, he cared enough to chase them down, but not enough to contest a note. Anyone else was a gamble, they were better off just not getting caught. They-

"Ouch!" cried a voice.

"What the-" Hermione snapped out of her thoughts.

"Neville?" Harry asked, kneeling next to the curled up boy on the floor.

That's why he never showed for me to help him, Hermione thought kneeling to his other side. I thought he changed his mind so he could keep avoiding me.

Neville looked up over his chubby hands with tears in his blue eyes.

"Oh, Neville," Hermione gasped. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you! I should pay more attention. Are you okay?"

Neville nodded with a whimper and Hermione fought the urge to place an arm around his shoulders. Neville had been avoiding Hermione since their first potions lesson. He'd probably recoil from her efforts to comfort him. Neville's hurt! Stop thinking of yourself, you miserable cow!

"Did you forget the password again?" she asked gently.

Harry darted a glare her way as if to say you don't need to remind him! He turned back to Neville helping him up. "It's okay. We've all forgotten loads of times!"

"All the time!" Hermione agreed too eagerly.

"Great," Ron said. "Hermione, why don't you take Neville back, and Harry and I-"

"I don't think that'll work, Ron," Harry said pointing at the empty portrait.

"This is just bloody brilliant!" Ron and Hermione groaned at the same time.

"What the hell are we supposed to do now?!" Hermione failed to control the shrillness of her tone. "There's only three of us in the note!"

"Note?" Neville asked.

"It's, erm, a long story," Hermione forced a laugh.

"Why don't you tell him it while Harry and I-"

"She's coming, Ron," Harry groaned. "Sorry, Neville. We're going to be late!"

"What about Filch?" Hermione asked. "We can't just leave him here to be caught! Nev-"

"Yes, we can," Ron said. "He'll explain he forgot the password and he'll be fine."

"He's coming with us," Hermione tried mimicking the cold, warning tone her father used to instill terror in others as she walked up to him.

It failed miserably when she barely hit the tall boy's chest and she was glaring up at him rather than looming over him. Note to self, you are not very intimidating!

"Not if we're using your note, we're not!" Ron snarled. "And if we're not using your note then why bother having you come with us!"

"You, Ronald Weasley, are the single most insufferable git I've ever had the displeasure of meeting!" Hermione hissed. "You said I've been a bloody bitch since we've first on the train? Well I guess like recognise like!"

"You miserable chit!" Ron snapped. "You had better hope I don't remember that Bogey curse Quirrell taught us in class!"

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him if her fate lied in him remembering a single spell then she would be safe until they graduated but she barely got a sound in when Harry snapped.

"Shut up!" he then turned to Neville. "Let's go."

"Take off your shoes," Hermione whispered, taking off her own and placing them in her bag. "We'll be quieter."

The four of them made their way to the trophy hall, carefully moving along the walls. Hermione offered to go first around each corner and signal when it was okay. She wasn't as familiar with these parts of the castle, or familiar at all, but years of sneaking around made it easier for her to gauge the distance and safety. Surprisingly, they reached the trophy hall without incident. Not to her surprise they waited for ages and neither Malfoy nor Goyle could be bothered showing.

"See," Hermione said, fixing her legs after allowing Neville to attempt a jelly-legs jinx. "I knew you could do it."

"Erm," Neville said, helping her up. "Thanks."

"Seriously, Neville," Hermione smiled. "You could be great. You just need to stop thinking about everything else. Trust me, over-thinking every other aspect of your life only gets in the way."

"Oh, is that why you live in the library?" Ron asked. "I thought it was because you were a 'social retard'."

"At least I'm just a social retard and not just a retard!"

"Can we stop using that word?" Neville asked in a small voice. "I don't think it's-"

"I can't believe you!" Ron snapped. "Just because I have more in my life than books doesn't mean I'm stupid!"

"No, that doesn't," Hermione admitted. "But taking Malfoy's obvious bait does! Let's not forget I told you so!"

"'I told you so!' Ha!" Ron scoffed. "That's a bloody brilliant impression of your father!"

"You think so?" Hermione forced a laugh. "Because since I've met you you've always done a bloody brilliant Moaning Myrtle!"

"Moaning...is that a character in one of those stupid comics you've been translating?"

"You really are a moron, aren't you?" Hermione snapped.

"You're both being stupid! Now will you two please shut up?!" Harry seethed. "Someone will hear."

"I think someone has," Neville whispered pointing to the skeletal cat sniffing around the entrance of the hall.

"Run!" Harry hissed.

The four of them took off as fast as they could. They lost track of where they were running, and Hermione cursed them for not taking off their shoes as she'd suggested. Every now and then Hermione would pull them behind a corner and they would melt until they were satisfied they weren't being followed and would continue down the new corridor.

"ICKLE FIRSTIES OUT OF BED!" Peeves shouted from down the corridor.

"Over here!" Harry called to a door in a whisper. "Never mind, it's locked."

"Do none of you read?" Hermione snapped, drawing her wand. "Honestly! Alohomora! Go!"

The four of them loaded into the room trying not to slam the door behind them. They would have been better off with Filch...

A giant three-headed dog- cerberus- slept, or was sleeping, before them. It rose on four thick, powerful legs, and bared its-their-massive fangs at them, snarling viciously before barking and snapping centimetres from them. Hermione turned her head down. This was how she died, she was terrified, but she also felt herself shut down. She stared at the massive feet on the floor before her and noticed a trapdoor. What are you guarding? she wondered, not that it mattered...

They all fell back against the door, falling on top of one another before scrambling to their feet and slamming the door shut behind them. They ran as fast as they could, neglecting the cloak and dagger routine they had attempted before in favour of speed. Hermione wanted to snap at them, to say 'I told you so,' but it could wait till they were safe in Gryffindor tower. That's what you want? You're a horrible pers-survive first, stupid peice of shit!

They arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady, all out of breath.

"Where have you four-" she began.

Harry shouted the password three times out of breath and demanded she open up. Which she did after a cheeky response about how no one cares about paintings.

The four of them collapsed on the other side of the portrait hole to catch their breath. Ron's fiery demeanour returned to him, much to Hermione's dismay.

"What were they thinking?! Having a thing like that in a school! We could have had our heads ripped off!"

"It's guarding something," Hermione explained.

"You knew that thing was there?!" Ron snarled. "That little titbit might have been useful before we all nearly got killed!"

"For the love of- '' Hermione cried. "I had no clue the cerberus was there before tonight, you complete arse! Even if I had known it's not like you'd listen to me! Lest we forget I told you stupid gits that it was a bloody trap! I told you so! But no, what the hell could I possibly-"

"You know-it-all bitch! How do you know it's guarding something then?" Ron scoffed. "Enlighten us since you're so bloody clever, go on then!"

"You don't use your eyes do you?!" Hermione snapped. "It was standing on a trapdoor."

Hermione and Ron exchanged more venom. How she could have so little gratitude for someone who saved her life, she didn't know, but she couldn't stop herself. Nor could he. Harry and Neville watched on in disbelief that they could continue fighting after everything that happened. Hermione was all but certain they were destined to rip each other's throats out before the year ended. She told them she was going to bed before either of them "came up with another clever idea to get them all killed or expelled" to a hardy "good riddance" from Ron.

"I can't believe her!" Ron cried. "She wanted to come, but you'd think we'd dragged her!"

He was right. Hermione could have very well forged the note and left herself out of it. All they had to say was that they got lost in the maze-like corridors and Filch would have let them go with a grumble. Though Neville being locked out and the Fat Lady taking off might have still put a hitch in their plans. Why did she have to include herself? They hated her. She couldn't just keep waiting around for that long gone spark of empathy to reignite.

"SorryI'mlateIoverslept!"

Hermione spoke at such a speed Severus swore the words would be incomprehensible if she had spoken only a fraction faster.

"Late night causing mischief?" he asked, letting her in.

"That friend I promised to help with homework never showed," Hermione said. "Though I think I've probably translated the entire series Hiro recommended now. And I've done homework for the month. So, yay?"

"I see," he said, placing his hand on her head. Another half-truth.

He thought of pressing the issue of the night before, it wasn't a coincidence that four first years were spotted out last night and Hermione was exhausted. However, as she stood before him, he saw more than exhaustion on her face and movements. It was as if someone had simply drained all the life out of her. I suppose I don't see the harm in keeping it to myself. For now...

"How was your week?" she asked.

"Dreadfully boring, I'm afraid," he said. "I'm far more interested in yours."

Hermione to his surprise didn't roll her eyes. "I'll let you know the instant something exciting happens," she scoffed.

"Now, why do I doubt that?" he mused, ushering her to a chair.

"Because you trust me about as far as you can throw me, naturally," Hermione shrugged.

"That's nonsense, love," he waved his hand dismissively. "I imagine I could throw you much further."

"Wow," Hermione sighed. "And here I thought you trusted me just a little bit."

"In my defence," he sat across from her. "I can't imagine there are many who couldn't throw you far."

"So the original comment was calling me untrustworthy or small?"

"How is it you normally answer questions like that again?" he feigned pensiveness. "Oh! Yes."

"You win," Hermione threw up her hands in false surrender. "That is annoying."

"Yet I imagine you'll continue?"

"If I don't annoy you thoroughly, am I really fulfilling my duties as your daughter?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"I suppose not," he sighed. "What are you translating?"

"You'll laugh," Hermione said, narrowing her eyes. "All you need to know is that we both agreed to read each other's favourite series in its original language then translate them for our friends."

"I take it you chose Son of Hermes? "

"Naturally," she shrugged. "And I'll have you know that both Hiro and his older sister like it. So vindication!"

"Oh," Severus groaned. "I feel just awful for the Mahoukatoro professors if that series catches on there like it has here."

"Wait, it was popular here?" that returned some colour to her face.

"Have you any idea how often each of us had turned down proposals for Son of Hermes clubs?" he said. "Had you been two years older then all you would have had to do to make friends is read the most recent instalment in view of others."

"Had I known that two years ago I might have tried it on one of the Saturday afternoons I was allowed out," Hermione grumbled. "I had no clue they were so popular."

"And I still have no clue why," he poked her forehead. "I so hope you are as baffled as I am when you're grown."

"Don't you think it's a wee bit cruel to wish I'm baffled by my choices during childhood?"

"I'll disillusion you now, little girl," he said. "There isn't an adult alive that looks back on their youth without confusion. I just hope your biggest regret is your taste in literature."

"You never talk about your childhood," Hermione mused seriously.

No, he didn't. There was a reason for that. Why are you asking me this now? he thought as he stared at the curious child sitting across from him. At school he was eternally the victim of cruel jokes, even at muggle school he had been treated like rubbish. His father was a cruel, ill-tempered man that resorted to violence at the slightest provocation. How many times had he seen his mother cowering beneath a table while he shouted at her? Any vitriol she had stored for his father was redirected at him in acidic tones.

"You want to play Quidditch?" his mother sneered (he was twelve and was more interested in the potential of social reprieve than the actual sport). "If you're so determined to give yourself brain damage, might I suggest you ask your miserable father when he plans on getting a job? Always works for me."

True, back then he favoured his mother out of pure disgust for his father, and she did have moments of tenderness. Infrequent, and often undercut by her venom, but idiot he was, blamed his muggle father for everything and made a saint of his abrasive mother. As an adult he still recognized his mother was a victim, but he could more easily recognize her faults. Hermione knew nothing of them, and if they were still alive he still would have happily told her they weren't.

Then there was the issue of his one friend. With the exception of aspiring Death Eaters and a couple girls that he had no intention of telling Hermione about, Lily had been the only person who spoke to him at school. The only person who didn't want to hurt him at least. And he pushed her away in the worst way. How could he explain that to her? The answer was he didn't. His past was his, what good could talking to her about any of this possibly do?

"Dad?" she asked. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," he said. "I was just wondering how it is I keep seeing you leave the Great Hall with Miss Chang, but I never see the two of you together anywhere else. Curious indeed."

"Just my pathetic attempt to make friends with other girls," she sighed. "The ones in my year don't like me, and neither do the upperclassmen. I admit defeat before doing something astronomically stupid to win their approval."

The dramatic sigh and smirk suggested she was trying to be funny, but he could see the disappointment seeping through false optimism and wit. It was too bad, he had actually hoped the Chang girl would befriend her. Though at this point he'd be happy with anyone that wasn't a boy two years her senior or Potter. She was quiet the rest of the morning as they worked. He wished he had chosen something else to change the subject.

"I hate this as much as you-" Hermione muttered through gritted teeth.

"I doubt it," Ron grumbled.

"Fuck it," Hermione hissed. "Let's j-"

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Ron hissed.

Mother? That son of a bitch! Maybe he doesn't know? I doubt it. How low will you go? Hermione lowered her head to her desk. She regretted the whole duel affair. She wished she had never written herself into the note. Ron would still treat her like the plague, but she might have been spared the glares or the vitriol. At least in class he might have just been quietly scorning her.

"You're doing it wrong!" Hermione snapped after Ron tried to either break his wand or bludgeon the feather with a wind-mill like motion. "It's-" she sighed and tried to calm herself. It'd been three weeks. "Sorry!"

Ron looked at her as though she'd sprouted a second head. How often had she apologised to him? Why was he surprised now?The night of the duel, that had to be it. She had been mean, but it was nothing he didn't deserve. She imagined he would be immensely proud if he ever learned that the night after flight lessons his words made her cry. She could see both him and Harry high-fiving at her destruction. Maybe her father was right about them...but no one could stand her and she suspected Fred and George pitied her. Even her father called her insufferable. Hermione herself was clearly the problem.

"So, erm," Hermione continued. "Maybe-erm-try to-erm-you want to pronounce the 'gar' like, erm-"

"You sure you're not Quirrell's daughter?" Ron grumbled.

" Wingardium Leviosa!" Hermione recited with precise movements sending the feather two metres into the air.

"Oh, look everyone!" she heard Flitwick squeak. "Oh, maybe they'll do it again."

Hermione quickly dropped the feather and leaned into Ron's ear. "That! Do that!"she hissed. "It's not that bloody hard." Okay, maybe I regret that.

"Know-it-all!" he hissed back

"Prat!" she seethed. "Now try it before we fail!"

"You can do it again," Ron groaned. "If you're so clever."

Hermione rolled her eyes and complied, glaring at him while Flitwick made a bad situation worse by gushing over one successful spell giving her flashbacks to McGonagall's eagerness to show off her almost transformed matchstick. She felt eyes everywhere and was thankful when Seamus set his and Harry's feather aflame. Eyes finally found another thing to fixate on. Except for Ron's.

Okay, Hermione told herself as they finally were let out. Just apologise, he's no saint but, it was still wrong. I don't care if he forgives me. Just apologise and go hide in the library or toilets.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her!" Ron ranted to Harry. "She's a bloody nightmare, honestly! I swear she's actually worse than Snape!"

Worse than my father? A lump formed in Hermione's throat. Was she worse? Her apology was meaningless to him, she just wanted to get the hell out of there before she heard anything else. Shit! Tears moistened her eyes, but didn't fall and she prayed they were hidden while enough while she hung her head low and tried to move out before anyone noticed her.

"Ow!" Harry said as she bumped into him.

"Shit!" she squeaked. "Sorry!"

"I think she heard you," she heard Harry say.

"So?" Ron scoffed. "I'm sure she's noticed she hasn't got any friends!"

"What about-?"

"I'm sure Fred and George pity her for some stupid reason."

That was it. Nobody wanted her. If she had a living mother, she probably abandoned her, she was nothing more than an inconvenience to her father (no matter what his twisted sense of duty made him say!), no one in her year liked her, and Fred and George...of course they pitied her! What possible reason could they have to want to be anywhere near her? Even Neville hated her...she had no one.

"Are you okay in there?" Parvarti Patil asked after knocking on the cubicle door.

Hermione had decided no one would bother her if she retreated to the toilets to have a sob. How stupid was she? Of course someone would hear her. Something she had thought about, and changed between silence and pretending sick depending on who entered and if she thought they might have heard her crying. That too was stupid, as enough pretending to be sick actually made her sick. Parvarti Patil entered to those beautiful sounds.

"Oh, just something I ate," Hermione lied with an attempt at a fake laugh.

"Should we take you to the hospital wing?" Parvarti, no Padma, asked. "Or bring her here?"

Shit! You don't even care...why are you... "I'll live. And Pomfrey's sick of seeing me at this point."

"Are you-" Padma said.

"I'm fine!" Hermione snapped. "Sorry, I just-" she sighed. "I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine. You should go enjoy the feast."

"See you tonight then," Padma sighed.

Where the hell is Quirrell? Severus thought, looking at the chair next to him. No one else seemed to be interested in the quivering man's where-abouts. How could such great wizards be so easily swayed by a stutter and a squeaky voice? He could excuse himself and go looking. The bastard was probably hanging around the third-floor corridor. He knew what he was up to, and he couldn't tell a soul. No one would believe him. He had an excuse ready, he was too used to the relative silence of Hallowe'ens with Hermione. It was simply too much commotion for him. No one would question it.

Shit, where is Hermione? his stomach churned as he noticed the absence of her bushy brown hair squeezed between the Weasley twins. Quirrell and Hermione were missing. Did he...Quirrell knew Severus was on to his act, but he wouldn't...a lump formed in his throat as he wondered what lengths Quirrell would go to in order to keep Severus off his back. He decided he would go looking. If that man touched a hair on her head he didn't give a damn what the consequences were. Calm down, she's probably in the library.

The mystery of Quirrell's location was solved when he came barging into the hall screaming, gasping for air in front of Dumbledore. "There's a -troll-troll in dungeons-"

So that's what you were up to! He couldn't move now, he had to wait for Dumbledore's instructions.

Severus broke away from the rest of the teachers before they reached the dungeons. He had to decide, the stone or his daughter. That should have been an easy decision, he should have b-lined for the library to drag her away, but he couldn't leave Quirrell with the chance to grab the stone. The damage he could wreak with that, and he suspected he didn't want the bloody thing for himself. If that part of his mind was right, Hermione, and everyone else for that matter was in greater danger if Quirrell succeeded.

Please let her be safe! He pleaded to whatever higher power might hear as he ran to the third floor.

He made the right decision. Quirrell's faint was just an act. He was there, creeping along the wall and diving into the forbidden corridor. Why did none of us think to enchant that damn lock? I'm bringing that up if I survive this.

"Did you think no one would find you?!" he called.

"S-Severus..." he squeaked, backing up into the massive cerebus-Fluffy- as the dog began to bark.

The vicious barking resounded off the walls of the corridor. He dived out of the way of one head while shielding himself from another. Quirrell, get him away from the trap door! Severus summoned black tendrils from his wand to grab Quirrell and drag him away from the trap door and throw him from to the other side of the door. He summoned another shield as the middle head lunged for him and he realized his mistake as he heard the door shut behind him.

It occurred to him how out of practice he was when he successfully defended from two of the heads and another came for his right leg. Despite himself he cried out in pain. He wrestled his leg from the left head free, shedding blood everywhere as massive fangs raked his flesh. Pushing past the pain, he locked its jaw and shambled out the door gasping for air.

He muttered some words and stopped the worst of the bleeding. Every step sent a stabbing pain up his leg and through his body. His leg would be mangled for the time being, it nearly bit it off. Fluffy? Not a name I would have picked for the beast. Hagrid thinks every monster is a lap dog!

"You son of a bitch!" Severus hissed, catching up to Quirrell.

"O-oh-oh, th-thank g-g-goodness," he squeaked. "I-I-I th-thought th-that th-thing m-might h-have killed you!"

"Drop the fucking act!" he yelled. "Locking me in with that thing gave it away."

"I-it's been a l-long t-time s-since I've been here, I got l-lost!" he lied unconvincingly.

"Just know I've got my eyes glued to you," he snarled. "You won't so much as take a breath without my knowing! Try to kill me again, I dare you! I'm not letting a coward like you make an orphan of my daughter!"

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said. "Th-though had I r-really w-wanted i-it, I-I would t-tell y-you that y-you sh-should b-be m-more w-worried ab-about th-the oth-other w-way around."

"I swear to God, Quirrell!" he grabbed the front of his robes, finding his breath and strength enough to slam him against the wall. "If any harm comes to her you will wish for something as merciful as death!"

A loud crashing echoed through the corridors and they both knew the conversation would have to be finished another time.

Sweet, sweet solitude. After eleven years in damn near isolation, she never thought she would crave it so much. With the feast underway Hermione could cry her heart out, leave and no one would be the wiser. They all hated her, that was just fine. She lived her life alone, she could go another seven years. She could go twenty! It was fine, she would live alone with twelve cats and a veritable library. That's all she needed. Hermione was done with people. All they ever did was hurt her. She imagined her father leaping with joy that he was right all along. She could already hear his condescending I told you so .

Collect yourself, she told herself after a time (she was unsure just how much). She could go back to Gryffindor tower and sleep until she forgot everything. Evading detection would be simple with everyone preoccupied with the festivities. She left, splashed water on her face and turned to leave when the ground beneath her feet shook. She drew out her wand and caught her breath. It was probably some elaborate hoax.

The source of the sound rampaged into the toilet and Hermione wished it was an elaborate hoax.

Move, you stupid piece of shit! Hermione urged herself as she stared at the massive grey, club wielding troll before her. The blood froze in her veins, and she couldn't raise her wand, she stood paralysed next to the wall, wishing she could melt into it. If she was so good at magic why couldn't she summon it now? She stared into the creature's yellow eyes as it raised its club. She couldn't even scream! A million thoughts raced through her mind, chief among them was, I can't die in a toilet! I suppose it doesn't matter...

She finally summoned enough wherewithal to move and raised her wand with a shout "Petrif-"

The club came down by her feet with a loud crash! It missed, she was alive, but the victory was too small, her head spun and the shockwave sent her to the ground with a ringing in her ears, the wand flew out of her hand. She acted, but too late, and now she would die. At least no one would miss her...

"Hermione!" Harry called out from the other end of the room. "Come on! Run!"

He and Ron began throwing pieces of plumbing at the troll, yelling at it. The troll still tried to swing for her, and Harry's limbs did obey his commands. She watched him leap onto the troll's back and launch his wand up its nostril. The thing trashed around trying to launch Harry off his shoulders. Hermione watched uselessly in horror as it grabbed his ankles and yanked him off his shoulders.

Why are you doing this? I'm just...not worth it... Hermione thought still unable to move. A realization came upon her. This was all her fault. Harry and Ron were going to die, and it could have all been prevented if she had...this was all happening so fast. She wanted to take back command of her body, find her wand and save Harry, but...

"A little help, guys?" Harry called. "No pressure though!"

How are you so level headed? Hermione thought, torn between envy and admiration. She had to do something! Where was her damn wand?

"Wingardium Leviosa!" a voice cried and the troll's club lifted far above its head.

Behind the troll she saw the familiar tall, slender figure with flaming red hair. Ron! He did it right, and when it mattered most. He saved their lives. Ron sent the club thudding down on his head and the toilet was shaken again with the force of the massive creature falling to the ground with a resounding thud.

"Are you two okay?" Hermione asked.

Harry got to his feet and pulled his wand from the troll's nose. The boys exchanged words she couldn't quite hear over the ringing in her ears, but they did seem fine. Hermione found her own wand and knelt by the troll, placing her hand on the side of its neck.

"Looks like it's only unconscious," Hermione explained. "Thank you, both of you."

Hermione placed a limb-locker curse on its wrists and ankles. Sure, now that the threat was gone she could recall the wealth of information she'd read over the years. She owed them more than thanks.

Ron said something that again was drowned out by the ringing. But he smiled at her with an easy shrug. Was his smile always so easy? Did he know he just took out a troll? A full-grown troll, at eleven! He shouldn't have been so relaxed. Why weren't the two as astounded as she was? Because they're better than you!

"I seriously owe you two," she sighed and felt relief from the ringing. "But we should get the hell out of here before-"

"Why on earth aren't you three in your dormitory?" McGonagall called, uncharacteristically shrill.

Not long after Quirrell and her father came running into the toilet, both pale and out of breath. She noted her father's eyes darting from the troll, to Harry and Ron and back to her several times. Wait, was he also shooting a glare Quirrell's way?

He knelt on the opposite side of the troll examining it before making eye-contact with her. "Are you harmed?" he asked.

"No, sir," she said, and registered something between relief and anger on her father's face. She turned to McGonagall. "They were looking for me!"

All three of them shot a withering glance her way, and her father's black eyes evaluated her with a familiar suspicion. He always knew when she was lying. Sometimes she swore he was a legilimens, but she would have never gotten away with the half the things she did if he were...though she never did get away scot-free. She avoided his gaze easily, no one would be surprised if she were transfixed at the troll.

"I-I'd never seen a troll before, and there's at least two of you who know how truly stupid I get when novelty is involved," she scoffed and hung her head. "When they found me it was about to bring its club down on me. They hadn't had time to get anyone or they would have. Harry distracted it and Ron took it out with its own club."

"And the binding?" her father asked.

"O-only af-after it was unconscious, sir," she squeaked. "We thought it best to bind it before we alerted the nearest professor."

"You two seem surprised by her account of the events!" he snapped at Harry and Ron.

"The boys just fought a full-grown mountain troll, Severus!" McGonagall rolled her eyes. "I'm certain all three are surprised to simply be alive. And you, you foolish girl! I know you weren't exposed to much but trust me when I say a majority of people live much longer than you without seeing a troll!" she then sighed. "If you are unharmed, Hermione, you can go to your dormitory. I'll be deducting five points from Gryffindor for your behaviour."

She got up to her feet and felt a cold hand clasp fast around her wrist. She turned back to see her father, also now standing and looming over her. "We will be talking about this in the morning, young lady!"