Judging from Draco's dismayed scowl the next morning at breakfast, he'd been expecting them all to get caught. Hermione took particular pleasure in eating her breakfast slowly and obviously, striking up a conversation with Millie about wizard duels in general, and showing off her magic by casually levitating the croissants over to her, making Draco's eyes widen at her display of power – they hadn't covered levitation in Charms yet.
After classes, Hermione immediately went hunting for Ernie Macmillan, surprised but pleased to find him studying with some other Hufflepuffs under a tree outside.
"We've learned to ride broomsticks, now," Hermione said, smiling. "Will you still take my photo? My parents would love it."
Ernie looked up and grinned back at her.
"Sure," he said. "Saturday okay?"
"Saturday's perfect," Hermione agreed. "Right after breakfast?"
One of the other Hufflepuffs was peering at her oddly, and after a moment, finally interrupted, "Your parents would love it?"
Hermione turned to give him a slow, measuring look, and he flushed.
"Yes," she said slowly, drawing it out. "What of it?"
The boy swallowed.
"Haven't they ever seen you on a broomstick before?" he asked.
Ernie cringed.
"Seeing as they're Muggles, no, I daresay they haven't," Hermione said, her tone dangerous. "What of it?"
The boy looked confused, and a couple others at the table had leaned in, curious despite themselves.
"But you're in Slytherin," he objected. "Slytherin never takes Muggleborns."
Hermione raised an eyebrow at him.
"And?"
He stared at her.
"But you… your parents…"
Hermione rolled her eyes and turned to Ernie, ignoring the boy.
"I'll see you Saturday," she told him. "Should I bring anything?"
"I'll bring a broom," he told her. "Bring your hat, robes, and, um, something to tie your hair back with, maybe? In case it's windy out." He grinned at her. "This will be fun. I've never taken posed photos of someone on a broom before."
As Hermione left to go to the library, she could catch snippets of the Hufflepuffs' conversation, wondering aloud at her blood status and how she'd gotten into Slytherin.
She wondered if they'd make the logical leap, but she doubted it. She'd have to help them along and plant a seed of doubt with them, too, making them believe she was New Blood.
Not that it would be hard – that boy had already done most of her work for her.
On Saturday, Hermione did her hair and makeup again, and this time, took care to dress… a little oddly.
"What are you wearing?" Ernie said, blatantly staring at her as Hermione approached him on the Quidditch pitch. "Isn't it a bit cold out for that?"
Hermione grinned.
"Muggles imagine witches wearing black dresses and striped tights or socks," Hermione explained. "I didn't have tights, but I was able to charm a pair of socks."
Ernie's eyes stayed wide, but he didn't contradict her, and Hermione pulled down the back of her dress. It was a bit short.
Hermione was regretting her decision shortly thereafter. Posing on the broom was difficult. It was hard to balance in a way that seemed natural if the broom wasn't moving, similar to how it was hard to balance on a bicycle without it being in motion. And it was even harder to smile that entire time. Ernie had her do a couple slow loops, her toes just skimming the grass, to have some action shots instead of just her hovering, and that was even harder to look good doing, seeing as her knuckles were white from clutching the broom so hard. Flying wasn't something that came naturally to Hermione, though she was doing her best to hide her anxiety from her face.
Frustrated, Hermione went off to the broom cupboard and brought back another two brooms, carefully setting them all to hover in a neutral state, one behind the other.
"Here," she said. She laid down lengthwise on the broom, posing on her side, and adjusted the other two brooms to allow her weight to be spread out and evenly balanced. "If you get this from the right angle, you won't be able to see that there's three brooms here supporting me instead of just one."
Ernie obliged, though he looked puzzled by the pin-up type pose Hermione had wanted, but Hermione was relieved she'd finally got at least one "casual witch" shot on the broom to send her family for Halloween. She knew they'd be tickled pink.
"So, Hermione," Ernie said, walking back with her as they put away the brooms. "Justin keeps wondering, and he's got me curious too, now."
"Justin?"
"The boy who was asking you about your parents the other day," Ernie explained. "He's obsessed with the idea of a Muggleborn in Slytherin. His parents are Muggles too, you know."
"No, I didn't know." Hermione fixed Ernie with a look as they headed back up to the castle, and he squirmed. "Are you asking me anything, Ernie, or are you just fishing?"
Ernie looked slightly abashed, but drew himself up.
"Hermione," he said finally. "How is it that a Muggleborn was sorted into Slytherin?"
Hermione gave him a nasty smile.
"Don't be ridiculous," she said haughtily. "Muggleborns are never sorted into Slytherin."
Ernie looked incredulous. "But – you're Slytherin. And your parents are Muggles."
Hermione inclined her head. "This is all true."
Ernie threw his hands up. "Then how? The facts contradict each other! This makes no sense."
Hermione took a step closer to Ernie, perfectly aware she was uncomfortably close. Ernie's eyes widened.
"You're making a false assumption," Hermione murmured, her eyes holding his. "You're presuming that everyone magical who has muggle parents is a Muggleborn."
Ernie took a sharp breath.
"And… they're not?"
"Not everyone." Hermione looked up at him through her lashes, watching as he swallowed hard. His pupils dilated.
Ernie's voice was a strangled whisper. "What… what are you, then?"
Hermione met his eyes.
"I'm New Blood."
Hermione broke away from him before he could reply or ask anything else, entering the castle and quickly dodging out of the way as the door started to close, hiding behind a large suit of armor. Ernie was inside a moment later, looking around wildly. Hermione held her breath.
Ernie seemed astonished, then resolute. He left the front hall, heading presumably for the Hufflepuff common room, and Hermione exhaled, pleased with herself. Dramatic exits always gave your words more weight. Hopefully Ernie would tell his friend, who would tell someone else, who would tell someone else, until everyone had heard.