After that, things were…nice. For a while. A good while, really. Marilyn had worried that her conversation with Draco might make things permanently awkward - and while she usually operated under the sound rule that if there was somebody in her life with whom an honest chat could ruin things, they had no place in her life to begin with, Draco was a bit of an exception there. To her detriment, probably. Happily, though, if anything it seemed to make things just rosy, and with both of them knowing the other was on the same page as far as how far things would go, it actually saved a bit of awkwardness in the long run.
No, their worries were saved for far more mundane things, like homework and coming up with ways to explain their continued absences to their friends. There was also the fact that they were steadily drawing closer to the end of the school year than they were to the beginning of it, and she knew that all too soon they'd be parting for good. It wasn't quite close enough for her to really begin worrying about it, but she could worry about worrying about it. Just to find an outlet for the energy that her ballet classes no longer really required, given that a lot of the rehearsals now were just business as usual.
Occupied with as many worries and potential worries as she was, though, Marilyn never stopped to think that there might be completely unforeseen problems on the horizon. That revelation was brought to her doorstep when Hermione pulled her aside on her way into the Great Hall for breakfast one sunny morning.
"Marilyn, can I have a word?"
"Am I in trouble?" she joked.
Hermione didn't so much as offer a polite smile in response, and that's when she knew she was indeed in trouble. Frowning, she noted the latest edition of Witch Weekly clamped underneath Hermione's arm and wondered vaguely if Draco had been giving more interviews. He hadn't mentioned anything to her, but would he bother?
It was only when they reached a fairly quiet corridor that wasn't a main route towards breakfast that Hermione rounded on her.
"Listen, if you want to keep up this association with Malfoy, that's entirely your business, and I feel like I've been very understanding of that fact," Hermione said sharply.
"It is," Marilyn said frankly, and then added "And you have."
"But I should have thought that it went without saying that you wouldn't gossip with him about my private business when you slink off to snog him in dark corners."
Blinking in sheer disbelief, Marilyn stared at her and waited for her words to begin making even a miniscule amount of sense. But the seconds ticked on, Hermione continued to glare at her in a way that would put McGonagall to shame, and no magical explanation presented itself. Nor did a Muggle one, for that matter.
"What are you on about?" she finally asked once she found her words.
Okay. There were probably more delicate ways to handle whatever this misunderstanding was, but nobody would take kindly to being yanked aside and accused of things that they couldn't even piece together, much less own up to. Hermione was not cowed. Brandishing the magazine she carried, she looked down at the page it was already folded open at, and began to read aloud.
"Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last Quidditch World Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys' affections. Krum, is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited her to stay with him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays and insists that he has 'never felt this way about any other girl. However, it may not be Miss Granger's doubtful natural charms that have captured these unfortunate young boys' interests," she said, her voice caught between rising with her temper, and remaining low so as not to draw in unwanted attention "'She's really ugly,' says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth year student, 'but she'd be well-up to making a Love Potion, she's quite brainy. I think that's how she's doing it.'"
Marilyn endured the dramatic reading with all of the good grace she could muster, and even kept a lid on her eye rolls.
"That just Pansy being Pansy, Merlin knows I've seen her stupidity for myself - you're ten times prettier than her, the article is a load of bollocks-"
"That isn't what I'm angry about! I don't care about a stupid rag that would stoop to…to rate women's looks on a scale of one to ten as if that's all that matters!" Hermione was visibly outraged.
"What's the problem, then? The Love Potion thing? That's another blatant lie."
"How did they know about Viktor's invitation? About what he told me concerning his…his feelings?"
It was difficult to tell whether her flush at that last bit was from anger or from the admission.
"How should I know?"
"Oh, come on - it's obvious that you told Draco, and he fed it to Pansy, who then ran to Rita Skeeter to give her all of the salacious details!"
"Draco barely speaks to Pansy these days," she made a face.
"Oh come on, you don't actually believe that, do you?"
"And more than that, how could I have told Draco when I didn't even know any of this until right this second?"
That gave Hermione pause, but only for a moment before she spluttered and continued on, clinging to her suspicions.
"Well clearly you heard me mention it to Harry or to Ron, and then you repeated it to Draco who had Pansy take it to the papers so that it wouldn't look like he was waging some solitary campaign against us all - the rumours look like they have more basis in reality when it's more than one fool spouting them."
"I didn't hear shit, Hermione - and if I had, I wouldn't have brought it up to him because I know you wouldn't want me to, and I know what he's like. I know what he'd be tempted to do, because I'm not blind to how he can be."
"That's not a defence - you know how he is, but still you continue to…to carry on with him!"
"A defence? What is this, court? I don't need to defend a thing to you, I didn't do anything! I'm not going to turn to you to hold me accountable over who I spend my time with, and we don't meet up to sit and whisper about your love life, and the accusation that we might is ridiculous and paranoid. Even if I was that much of an idiot, or that much of a snake, why would I have any interest? Why would I sit around all day to discuss what you and Viktor may or may not be doing?"
"Maybe he found a way to sneak tidbits out of you when you were distracted - maybe you didn't mean to say anything of note, but you did."
"I didn't! I know what I say, and when I say it, and the only time I speak about you with him is when he makes some comment and I tell him to stop. I'm not that bloody stupid! I wouldn't just blab like that."
"I'm sorry, but you can hardly stand here and assert your good judgement while being involved with him at all."
"When did this become the argument? This is old news - and frankly, it's my business."
"It became the argument when you brought my business into it!"
"I didn't! I don't know how many ways I can say it. Am I speaking Mermish here? I didn't. I didn't, I didn't, I didn't!"
"Well…" Hermione faltered, then she hesitated, and only when Marilyn raised her eyebrows in expectation of an answer did she continue "...I don't believe you."
How was there any winning against that?
"Right," she breathed a laugh despite the outrage and the upset that was slowly developing a vice-like grip on her chest "Well. I'm a liar, then. Sound."
Curling her fingers around the strap of her satchell, she turned and started to walk away but Hermione was talking again.
"You can't just walk away!"
"How not? You've gone into this conversation with one way in mind of how it'll turn out. You'll tell me off, I'll apologise and admit I've been scheming behind your back with the big nasty Slytherin this whole time and beg for your forgiveness. You won't hear anything but. So what's the point? I can't be arsed. Good luck working out who's actually behind all this, because it wasn't me."
Her hands were trembling - with anger, with upset, with general shock. Maybe she hadn't handled it as well as she could have, maybe she shouldn't have gotten angry. Maybe everything would've gone much more smoothly if she'd tried to appeal to Hermione's reason, or whatever friendship it was they had, and calmly insisted it wasn't her. But how could any of that work if Hermione wouldn't hear it? If Hermione wasn't willing to even consider that maybe Marilyn wasn't Pansy-slash-Skeeter's source? It had been made painfully clear almost from the get-go that Hermione had decided she'd done it, and expected a confession followed by an apology if there was going to be any sort of going forward.
Marilyn had not done it, and she absolutely was not going to own up to doing something she hadn't bloody done. So there was no going forward, was there? She tried to pride herself in owning up to what she'd actually done - she didn't always manage it, she was only human - but she'd never take the flack for doing something she hadn't. What annoyed her even more was how she was tempted to doubt herself, raking through her mind for anything she might've said to Draco that could've gotten passed on. But she hadn't. The revelation about the strides in whatever it was that went on between Krum and Hermione had been news to her, so how could she have told Draco about it and then magically forgotten every bit of it?
Merlin's balls, that would be their next theory, wouldn't it? That Draco was using her as a spy and then Obliviating her to within an inch of her life so that she couldn't stop him, nor tell on him. Christ.
Once she got to the Great Hall, she faltered for all of one step before she turned and began to head for the Ravenclaw table and her fellow Beauxbatons students. She wasn't about to sit through a horrible atmosphere at the Gryffindor table all morning, especially when she'd done nothing wrong. And there would be an atmosphere, wouldn't there? If Hermione was confident enough in her theory to confront her about it, she'd have shared it with Harry and Ron by now, and it would only be a matter of time before Ron shared it with his brothers.
There'd come a time when she'd have to face it. If she was so determined to own her actions, dealing with the consequences of continuing to be involved with Draco was part of that. But not this morning. Not when she felt like this. All but falling into the empty space on the bench beside Esme, she took up a piece of dry toast and set about trying to choke it down. She wasn't particularly successful - it tasted like cardboard as she chewed it, and there didn't seem to be any moisture in her mouth to help things along.
It was almost funny. For all Hermione tried to warn her about Draco, justifiably or no, he'd doled out his own set of warnings, too. About the self-righteousness, about how little benefit of the doubt was extended to anybody who wasn't considered one of them. If one of her fellow Gryffindors denied being the source of gossip, would she be so quick to disbelieve them? Marilyn thought not. Draco had been proven right. Her only comfort in that moment was how Hermione would probably hate that even more than Marilyn herself did.
A/N: So, in the book, Rita Skeeter knowing about Krum's invitation and what he'd said to Hermione is what first sparks her suspicion that there's something going on - which we later find out is Skeeter being an unregistered Animagus. With the addition of Marilyn here, though, and Marilyn's little thing with Draco, I do think that's where Hermione's mind would instantly jump to, because in the actual books she doesn't have any sort of link like that to turn her suspicions to in the first place. Unfortunately, in this story, Marilyn is a prime candidate for suspicion. If I was Hermione, I'd probably blame her.
I don't think either of them handled themselves as best as they could here, but I think most of us (if not all of us) know how absolutely infuriating it is to be accused of something you didn't do while being completely ignored when you try to deny it. It's one of my biggest pet peeves, and if I was Marilyn I would've started setting shit on fire, Daenerys Targaryen style B)
