"Don't what?" Hermione asked quickly, lowering her wand.
Theo averted eyes. When he spoke, he kept his gaze trained on the wall. "Don't try to play the saviour—" the word was loaded with venom, "—there's nothing you can do, and frankly, it isn't any of your business."
"Not my business?" she challenged. "Not my business when you refuse to speak with me or even look at me? Not my business when we used to be friends, and now you call me Mudblood?" Her voice broke on the last word.
He flinched.
"Theo, what happened to you?" she finished in a whisper.
Theo licked his lips once, gaze darting over her so quickly she might have missed it if she hadn't been watching him so carefully. He had just opened his mouth to respond when they were interrupted by a cool voice.
"Is there a problem here, Mister Nott?"
Hermione gave a start as Professor Snape materialised at Theo's shoulder. Snape looked between each of them in turn.
Theo recovered faster, looking mildly relieved. "No, sir. She was just leaving."
Hermione bristled. "No, I don't think I…" she trailed off as Snape's dark eyes snapped to hers, pinning her in place.
"Shouldn't you be at dinner with your peers, Miss Granger?"
"Shouldn't Theo?" she retorted without thinking, and immediately paled.
Snape's lip curled. "Mister Nott's activities are of no concern to you. He is here at my request. In the future, I suggest you keep your overly-meddlesome tendencies in check, lest you suffer the consequences. Now leave us."
Hermione jumped to comply. Sneaking one last look over her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of Theo shaking his head in response to something Snape must have asked, seemingly completely unaffected by Snape's answering scowl. Neither of them made a move to enter the common room. Deciding it was better not to risk whatever consequences Snape had in mind, Hermione fled around the corner before he could notice her watching.
A small shock was waiting mere moments after she entered the Great Hall; a very familiar red-headed man wearing horn-rimmed spectacles sat on Umbridge's right.
Hermione slid onto the bench across from Harry and Ron, noting Ron's unusually empty plate. He didn't look up.
"What's going on?" she asked tentatively, jerking her head towards the staff table. "Has there been a message from the Ministry?"
Harry met her eyes, mouth set in a grim line.
"Umbridge just introduced her new assistant."
Hermione tilted her head. "What? I thought Percy worked as Fudge's assistant."
Ron finally raised his head, snorting derisively. "He's working for them both — a liaison, or something. Why kiss one arse when you can kiss two? Always was a big-headed prat…"
On Harry's other side, Ginny sighed. "Umbridge looks far too happy for this to mean anything good for us," she said, shooting a glare at Percy. "I expect the Headmistress is going to have a lot more time on her hands soon."
Hermione bit her lip, suppressing a groan. She could easily imagine how Umbridge would fill the time. It was with smothering dread that Hermione recalled the heavy atmosphere of the castle only weeks ago.
Fred and George, who must have overheard the topic of conversation, were suddenly folding themselves onto the bench next to her.
"Then we'll just have to make sure she stays busy, won't we?" George said with a sly smile.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked quickly.
"Well," Fred began, glancing conspiratorially at George, "we haven't been quiet all these months for nothing. The Snackboxes are ready to go."
Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Already?"
George nodded. "Yep. And we've been working on a couple new products, too, in case things really go pear-shaped."
"Cheers," Harry said, a roguish smile on his face.
Ron rubbed at his nose with a finger. "How are you two making all this stuff? And you just bought me a brand new Cleansweep, too…"
Fred reached over to clap a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Worry not, little brother. You leave the logistics to us. Let's just say we've recently acquired a very generous donation from one of our sponsors."
"What do you mean, sponsors? And one of?" Ron asked incredulously, while Ginny narrowed her eyes at Fred in an uncanny imitation of Mrs. Weasley. "How many people have you—"
But Ron cut off suddenly, eyes widening at something over Hermione's head.
Hermione glanced over her shoulder to find Percy there, back rigid, nose upturned, and clutching an armful of scrolls.
He cleared his throat. "Ron. Ginny. A word, if I may?"
Ron sat dumbfounded, gaping at Percy. Ginny crossed her arms and scowled at him.
"Well, look who's back," George said with an uncharacteristic sneer. "Playing Head Boy all over again, are we?"
Percy ignored him. "Now, if you please," he said curtly, gaze never wavering from Ron and Ginny. "This isn't a request."
At a nudge from Harry, Ron grunted and clambered out from behind the table. Ginny sullenly followed suit. Hermione and the others watched them follow Percy all the way out of the Great Hall.
"Come on, we've got work to do," Fred said, elbowing his twin lightly. He looked over at Hermione and Harry as he and George stood to leave. "See you lot at the P.A. tonight."
Harry nodded. "See you."
Jolted back from her thoughts, Hermione clapped a hand to her forehead. "Right, the meeting tonight!"
She scarfed the rest of her dinner, anxious to get to the library. Now that the P.A. was expanding, it would soon be impractical to spread information about upcoming meetings via word-of-mouth. The whole school now knew about Umbridge's new, more… biddable… portraits, but with Percy here and Umbridge's control over the school steadily regaining its former stability, someone was bound to slip up sooner or later.
Half an hour later, Hermione was flipping lazily through a battered copy of Advanced Charms while her thoughts drifted back to her earlier conversation with Theo. He had asked… no, begged… that she not try to help, but she couldn't forget the look on his face when she'd offered. He'd almost been ready to tell her something, too, she was sure of it. Did Snape know what was going on? He must, otherwise he wouldn't have intervened.
Suddenly, a very horrible thought struck. Snape was a Death Eater, and so was Theo's father. By all accounts, Crouch, another Death Eater, was living in Theo's home. Voldemort himself had probably been there, too, if he wasn't hiding there outright. What if Theo had been forced to take the Mark? What if he was now a Death Eater?
Hermione shook her head, unwilling to believe it. She couldn't rule out the idea entirely, but it seemed terribly unlikely that Voldemort would want a sixteen-year-old boy in his ranks. Besides, the alternative was too horrible to contemplate.
Rubbing her temples, she resumed her search through Advanced Charms, attempting to find anything that would allow a group of people to communicate undetected. She snorted softly to herself as her mind offered up the ridiculous idea of tattooing Dark Marks on all of the P.A. members so that Harry could summon them… and her eyes landed on the Protean Charm.
Dragging her bag up to the table, Hermione rummaged through it quickly, certain she had a single galleon leftover from her most recent trip to Hogsmeade.
At a quarter 'til eight she arrived at the Room of Requirement, a satisfied smile on her lips and a box rattling under one arm. Harry was already inside, and Ron arrived only a few moments later.
"So what did Percy want?" Harry asked immediately as she and Ron joined him.
Ron's expression soured. "You wouldn't believe it if I told you."
Harry paused from collecting cushions for stunning practice. "Try us, mate."
Ron needed no further prompting. "Got it in his head that Ginny and I could still be 'saved' from the rest of the family," he said, beginning to pace furiously. "Said that he was worried about our futures, and didn't want us to jeopardise our career prospects. He also said that we shouldn't allow family ties to blind us to our parents' mistakes—" he punctuated the word with a sneer, "—in associating with Dumbledore and other dangerous people."
"Then he brought you up," he said, gesturing to Harry and Hermione, "and Ginny went off on him. I mean really ripped him a new one."
Hermione's brow furrowed. "What? Why us?"
Ron threw his hands in the air. "I dunno, I was too angry to listen properly. Something about you two being trouble, and talking about your hearing at the Ministry over the summer. Mostly the same shite that the Ministry is spewing about Harry lying about You-Know-Who. Then Percy tried to win me over by 'letting slip' that Umbridge might be looking to promote a new Gryffindor prefect soon and he could 'put in a good word' for me, as if I've ever wanted to prance around being Head Boy..." Ron trailed off, colouring faintly at the lie.
Hermione suddenly felt cold. Umbridge was plotting to replace her? She was quite certain that Neville wasn't currently the prefect at-risk.
Her unease must have shown on her face, for Ron took one look at her and said quite quickly, "Don't worry, Hermione, I'm sure it's nothing. Percy's always been over the top, and he's probably just exaggerating something he overheard. Giant git. Umbridge can't demote you — she doesn't have a reason."
Outwardly, Hermione half-heartedly agreed, but privately she thought that Umbridge needed no such thing.
Fortunately, a welcome distraction arrived in the form of Angelina, Alicia, and Katie, who began looking around the room curiously while Fred, George, and Lee entered behind them. They were followed closely by Ginny, Dean, Parvati, and Lavender, the last of whom squealed excitedly and skipped over to grab Ron's arm, insisting on a tour of the room.
Ginny still looked rather red in the face, as if she had just done a great deal of shouting.
"This is everyone new we're expecting, right?" Hermione asked her, the room already feeling far more crowded than usual.
Ginny shrugged. "I think Luna's bringing along Parvati's sister, and Neville mentioned something about a friend, too."
Luna entered next, along with Padma Patil and, surprisingly, Cho Chang. Harry froze for a moment to blink owlishly at Cho.
"Hi Harry," Cho said, offering him a tentative smile. "I overheard Luna talking to Padma about your leading a secret Defence Against the Dark Arts club, and I thought it sounded wonderful. I hope you don't mind if I join up."
Hermione levelled Luna with a stern look. Luna smiled blandly back at her, idly fingering the locket at her throat.
Harry blinked again, clearing his throat as he stuttered back into motion. "Yeah, no, of course not. I'm glad you're here. Will, uh… will anyone else be joining? Of your friends, I mean?"
"Oh, no. Just me, I'm afraid. It seemed best not to spread the secret around too much with Umbridge and all."
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, and Cho threw her a quick smile. Harry also looked relieved, but Hermione suspected it was for quite a different reason. Ginny watched the whole exchange with her lips mashed into a tight line.
Oddly enough, Harry seemed to pick up on the tension. "Er, Ginny? Would you mind helping me with the cushions here…"
But Harry and the rest of the room fell silent as the last newcomer arrived on Neville's heels.
Neville smiled shyly, but his voice was strangely confident as he gestured to the girl behind him. "Everyone? This is Daphne Greengrass. She's a prefect in our year."
"A Slytherin?" came Ron's immediate reply from the corner.
Bristling, Neville opened his mouth, but Daphne got there first.
"Last time I checked," she replied smoothly, smiling around the room, "But I hope you all won't hold that against me."
Hermione finally shook off her surprise to say something. "I can vouch for Daphne, too. We have a couple of classes together and I consider her a friend."
"Thank you, Hermione, I feel the same way," Daphne said, shooting her a bright smile before addressing the rest of the room. "I may have it a little easier than most this year, being in Slytherin and all, but I still want to learn to defend myself. It's more important than ever now that…" Daphne paused, visibly steeling herself, "...now that You-Know-Who is back."
"Hear, hear!" George called from the back.
Daphne inclined her head towards him graciously. Everyone else looked around at Harry, who simply shrugged.
"Good enough for me. Let's crack on, shall we?" he asked, tipping his glasses into place. "So, for everyone just starting, we're calling ourselves the Phoenix Alliance—"
"Potter's Alliance!" Ginny interrupted.
Harry rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Yes, or the P.A. for short…"
By the time Harry had finished explaining the group and its purpose, Hermione had nearly forgotten all about the box under her arm. The discussion turned towards meeting arrangements and Hermione presented her faux galleons, describing how she'd charmed Harry's coin to change the numerals on everyone else's to reflect the date and time of each subsequent meeting. Her explanation was met with stunned silence.
She flushed beneath their stares. "Well, I thought it was better than tracking everybody down… or, I don't know, passing notes…"
"Hermione, it's brilliant," Harry said, picking up his galleon to inspect it. "Really. This is incredible."
She flushed again under his praise.
The last order of business was waiting in Hermione's bag. She reached in and revealed a scroll of neatly-rolled parchment, unfurling it to display the signatures already inked there.
"If you still want to join after hearing us out, you'll need to sign this," Hermione explained. "It means that you're part of the group, but more importantly, it means you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge or anyone else what we're up to." Technically, it would only matter if Umbridge found out, but Hermione figured it was better to be safe.
As she returned to her bag to search for a quill, one landed in her lap.
"Self-Inking," Fred said with a wink. "Invented this one ourselves."
Impressed in spite of herself, Hermione gave the quill a once over before passing it and the parchment along for the new members to sign. She watched anxiously as the parchment made its way around, fervently hoping that no one planned to back out at this point. It could compromise everything to have loose ends running about. At least she could be certain that only she, Harry, and Ron knew how the Room truly worked, and that it functioned as anything more than a well-outfitted, secret practice room. And Malfoy, of course.
Thankfully, her worries were for naught. Not a single person hesitated to sign. She cast a Drying Charm over the ink and promptly returned the scroll to her bag.
They got to work quickly then, Harry having the bright idea to pair off original P.A. members with new members to review spells from their first few sessions. Hermione took turns casting with Neville and Daphne so that Harry could walk around to inspect the wandwork.
Things progressed quickly this way; even though some of the older students were out of practice with their rudimentary offensive and defensive spells, they caught up in record time. Stunning, Disarming, and Summoning spells flew overhead in bright flashes, while Shield Charms burst out at regular intervals.
"Everyone's looking on form," Harry said, nodding approvingly after calling a halt for the evening. He twisted his wrist to check his watch. "Unfortunately, most of us need to get back to the common room before Umbridge's portrait can tattle. Same time next week?"
At a general murmur of approval, Harry pulled out his galleon and adjusted the numbers. Hermione felt the galleon in her pocket grow warm.
"Have you lot thought about trying any of these spells nonverbally?" Angelina asked Harry while small groups of people began breaking off for the exit. Hermione paused her tidying up to listen.
"Er, no, actually," Harry said, cleaning his glasses with his robe, "I hadn't even thought about that. Are they very difficult?"
Angelina shrugged. "They're not easy, but I seem to have a knack for them. It's all in the concentration — same as Quidditch. If you'd like, I can explain the theory at the next meeting. The sixth years and above will already know it, but it can't hurt for the rest of you to get a head start. No telling what Umbridge will decide to do away with next."
"Yeah, that'd be great! Thanks, Angelina."
"Don't mention it. Be sure to keep scheduling around Quidditch practice, though!" she called over her shoulder on the way out.
Apparently Ron had stopped to listen to their conversation, too.
"Good luck with that," he said with a significant look to Harry. "On our way off the pitch last night, I overheard Angelina talking to Alicia about upping practice to four nights a week. You'd think she'd give us a bit of a break considering we demolished Slytherin last match. It's Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw this weekend anyway."
Something about Ron's seemingly-innocuous statement struck Hermione as odd, though she couldn't put her finger on it.
"I really should have thought of practising nonverbal spells before," Hermione mused as they made their way back towards Gryffindor Tower. "I've tried them out here and there, of course, but think of the advantages. We may have fared quite a bit better against Crouch last year, for one."
"Urgh, don't remind me," Ron groused. "That was bloody terrifying. I still can't look at Moody without wondering if he'll try to murder me—" He glanced at Harry and promptly closed his mouth. Harry lifted a sardonic eyebrow.
"Well, if nonverbal spells are anything like Occlumency, fat chance I'll be able to work them," Harry said dryly.
It was the word 'Occlumency' that did it — Hermione suddenly realised what had been odd about Ron's comment. Harry's uncertain schedule, Snape's treatment of Harry in Potions, Harry's notable lack of cheek in said class … things were beginning to add up, but there was still something missing from the equation. Unfortunately, with curfew fast approaching and a resident spy in the common room, any further discussion would just have to wait.
"Mimbulus mimbletonia," Hermione said before the Fat Lady could ask for the password.
The next morning presented the perfect opportunity. When Hermione came down to the common room, Harry was already up, rushing to put the finishing touches on his diagram of a Screechsnap sapling before Herbology first period, while Ron had decided to forego good marks for an extra hour of sleep. As soon as Harry set down his quill, Hermione pounced.
"Fancy a visit to Hedwig?" she asked innocently. "I want to send off this letter to Arabella. I've promised to send her regular updates, though there's not much to report. At least, not much I can report."
He nodded, eyeing the Elizabethan woman pretending to read in her portrait.
While tying her letter to one of the school owls, Hermione deliberated on how to approach the subject, finally settling on straightforward.
"So, how did your Occlumency lesson go earlier this week?"
An annoyed expression flashed across Harry's features.
"Same as ever," he replied tersely, gently stroking Hedwig's feathers.
"Are things any better with Snape?" she tried. "He seems to reschedule on you a lot."
Harry's mouth twisted distastefully. "Snape is Snape. He always somehow manages to be worse each time I have to see him."
Hermione imparted her delivery instructions to the owl, then watched as it spread its wings and soared over the grounds and out of sight.
She hummed in thought. "Ah, Ron must have been mistaken yesterday evening. About you having Quidditch practice the same day?"
Pretending to be taking in the view but eyeing him sideways, she saw the moment that Harry froze.
"Er, no," he said finally, clearing his throat. "We did have practise that day. Occlumency might have been the day before."
"We had Astronomy that evening."
"Oh. Well, maybe it was the week before—"
"Harry?"
"Yeah?" he asked, looking sheepish.
"What's going on?" she asked, concern wrinkling her brow.
Harry let out a drawn-out sigh, turning to face her fully. "I'm not taking Occlumency lessons anymore. Haven't been since the second month of term."
"What?" Hermione shrieked, causing several of the nearby owls to startle awake. "Not at all? What does Snape think you're doing instead?"
"He doesn't. He's the one who kicked me out."
Her jaw dropped. "What do you mean 'kicked you out'? How could he kick you out? Dumbledore said—"
"Dumbledore only said I needed to learn how to do it," Harry interrupted, "not become an expert Occlumens."
"But Harry," she pleaded, twisting her hands, "there's no way you learned enough in a month to be able to repel Voldemort. Why won't Snape keep giving you lessons?"
Harry looked sheepish again as he resumed stroking Hedwig's feathers.
"Well, I sort of… saw something I wasn't meant to."
At Hermione's confused look, he took a deep breath and elaborated.
"During our last lesson, Snape got called away. That Montague bloke rushed in saying Filch and Umbridge needed help — something to do with Peeves on the first floor. After he'd gone, I sort of recognised something on his desk… looked a lot like the one in Dumbledore's office… well, turns out it really was a Pensieve."
Hermione groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Oh, Harry, you didn't," she moaned quietly.
Harry sighed again.
She was almost afraid to ask, but curiosity won out. She lowered her hands as she spoke.
"What did you see?"
Harry seemed hesitant, and his reply came slowly. "Snape, obviously. He, erm… he was with my mum."
"Your mum?" Hermione repeated incredulously. Stepping gingerly around the owl droppings and small animal bones littering the floor, she came over to stand by Harry. "Snape knew your mum?"
"Yeah," he confirmed. "I suppose it makes sense, seeing how he's always going on about my dad and all. But this was different. He… he knew my mum as a kid. Before they went to Hogwarts."
Hermione could only gape at him.
"I know," Harry replied seriously. "It's weird. I think they lived near each other…"
Harry described the scene, painting the picture of a small thicket next to a river near the suburbs. His mum, Lily, couldn't have been a girl of more than ten. Lily and an equally young Snape had been sitting side-by-side, discussing the prospect of receiving their Hogwarts letters. Snape had been eager, almost greedy-looking as he told Lily what he already knew about the magical world. His eyes had hardly left hers as she soaked in his words with something like reverence.
"She'd been worried that being Muggleborn would make a difference," Harry explained, sending a pang of sadness washing through Hermione, "but Snape told her it didn't."
Hermione's mouth twisted ruefully. Opting to let Harry finish his story, she refrained from sharing her opinion about that for now.
Snape had been telling Lily about the dementors at Azkaban when Harry's Aunt Petunia had been caught eavesdropping on them. There'd been some shouting after that, but that's when the adult Snape had appeared, white-faced and shaking with fury, to drag Harry out of the Pensieve.
"I don't know for sure… but I think Snape must have been the one to tell my mum that she was a witch in the first place," he finished. "In any case, he made me swear not to tell anyone what I'd seen. Seems harmless enough, though, doesn't it? Probably just didn't want anyone knowing he'd ever been nice to her before."
Hedwig nipped Harry's finger affectionately before spreading her wings and soaring back up to roost in the rafters.
Hermione tapped a finger against her lips. "That does explain Snape's recent behaviour towards you, but… I don't know, Harry. It doesn't seem harmless to me if Snape's refusing to teach you Occlumency because of it."
"I guess," Harry said, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. "I'm not that cut up about it, to be honest. Those lessons were horrible and made everything worse."
Hermione felt that familiar ball of anxiety begin to settle in the pit of her stomach.
"But Harry, this is important," she said. "Dumbledore said that if Voldemort realised the connection between your minds, he could potentially access it. He could use it to control you!"
Harry's expression hardened. "From the way I heard it, the chances of him being able to actually control me are small, and I'll have plenty of warning. More likely that he'll just feel any strong emotions I have, same as I do with him, or maybe see some of my dreams. If he wants to have dreams about being back in that graveyard or — I dunno, turning up late to class — he can be my guest."
She couldn't believe Harry was acting so blasé about this.
"That's not how you felt when you first found out about the connection," she reminded him, crossing her arms and lifting her chin. "As I recall, you were hardly sleeping because you were so afraid of letting him in."
"Things are different now," Harry replied just as stubbornly. "And ever since those lessons with Snape, my scar barely stops hurting. I'm constantly getting little flashes of what Voldemort's feeling, and I'm dreaming of that same door in the Ministry almost every night. If I have to deal with all this anyway, I might as well use it."
Hermione felt cold. "Use it? What do you mean by that? Harry, you need to go back to Snape—"
"I don't need to do anything, Hermione—"
"Yes, you do! Just tell Snape you're sorry and—"
"I'm not sorry!" Harry shouted. Most of the owls were eyeing them reproachfully by this point. "I'm not sorry and I'm not going to ask him for more lessons. I can use this. The Order has a reliable means of getting information on Voldemort, and that's me. They can pretend that we're too young to be involved all they want, but when it comes down to it, most of them haven't been through half of what I have."
She exhaled heavily through her nostrils, trying not to grind her teeth. "Of course not, Harry! But that doesn't mean you should just invite him in! You don't know what you're getting yourself into."
He gave a short, derisive laugh. "And you do?"
Hermione closed her mouth, eye twitching as she met Harry's challenging stare. A single spark jumped off the end of one curl, dropping down to sputter out against the stone.
"No," she finally ground out. It was Harry's grimly smug smile that forced her on.
"What if I talk to Malfoy about teaching you—"
Harry groaned loudly, passing a hand over his face. "Give it a rest, Hermione! It's my decision. Not yours, not Dumbledore's, not Sirius's, mine! Why doesn't anyone understand that? Why does everyone think they get to control me? To use me?"
Hermione, who had been about to interrupt again, froze as Harry's voice broke over the last few words. Her throat suddenly felt tight, and whatever she had been about to say was lost. Harry looked the other way then, studying the grounds beyond the tower and leaving them at a stalemate. The ensuing silence was deafening.
Hermione collected herself, counting the breaths that misted in front of her face in the frigid air. She made it to twenty before she spoke.
"You're right," she said quietly, and Harry's gaze snapped to hers. "You're right and I'm sorry. I… sometimes I forget that it's not my call. And as much as I like to pretend otherwise, I don't know everything." She bit her lip momentarily against the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes before continuing. "You're a capable wizard, Harry, and more than that, you're the best person I know. My best friend. I only want you to be safe."
She clasped her hands at her waist to keep from wringing them while Harry studied her. When he realised she was finished, his face screwed up briefly before he lurched forward, closing the distance between them to sling an arm around her shoulders.
"I know you do," he said, squeezing hard with his arm. "I'm sorry I shouted."
She gave a watery chuckle, wrapping her arms around his middle in a proper hug. "Me too."
Harry snorted. "Right. And… I'll think about the thing with Malfoy, okay? I'm not going to stop using the connection to my advantage, but… could be useful to learn to turn it off if I ever need to."
She responded by squeezing him hard enough that he grunted with the force of it. It was a start. She'd need to talk to Malfoy again. Perhaps he would be more amenable now—
"As long as you two don't start snogging in front of me," Harry finished.
Hermione inhaled sharply, pushing back against Harry's chest to look up at him. "What did you just say?"
Harry made a face. "Come off it, Hermione. I'm not that thick. 'Going to the loo', honestly… you know they have mirrors in there, right?"
He pulled one of her curls for emphasis and she smacked at his hand.
"Yes, well," she began rather breathlessly, "there aren't a lot of other options."
Harry made that sick-looking expression again. "Urgh. I wasn't really asking to have it confirmed."
"Then you should have minded your own business," she replied primly, and he levelled her with a flat look.
"Oh, alright," she said, pulling her cloak tighter against the chill seeping through. "Trust me, it wasn't ever anything I intended to happen."
Harry sighed dramatically. "To think, I escaped Voldemort just to have to learn that my best friend is snogging the world's biggest prat. And a Malfoy." He shuddered.
She smacked him lightly again. "He's not so bad anymore, really. And it's only been a couple of weeks. Since the first Quidditch match."
Harry raised his eyebrows. "Really? I thought for sure there was something going on before then. The way he was looking at you when we met for that fake duel… it was almost like… I dunno, I can't explain it. But it's a far cry from third year."
Hermione's face warmed as she recalled the incident, and she shivered at the contrast to the rest of her body. Harry noticed.
"Let's get back," he suggested. "Ron's got to be up by now. We can meet him and head down for breakfast."
In agreement, they crossed the straw-covered floor and descended the stairs. As they walked, Hermione was reminded of something she'd not yet thought to ask in light of their argument.
"So, have you? Figured out any information on Voldemort, I mean?" she whispered to Harry after they'd passed a pair of Ravenclaw students going the opposite direction.
He spoke just as quietly. "A little. Not anything really useful. Mostly I've seen the next couple of rooms beyond that door in the Department of Mysteries. There's a great circular room with a load of doors right when you go in, then another one with some strange lights and clicking sounds. After that it's this enormous room filled to bursting with these glowing orb things on shelves. Just rows and rows of them. That's as far as I've gotten in the dream."
He made a contemplative sound before continuing. "Well, I suppose there was this one time I dreamt about a huge foyer, like something out of a mansion, but that might not have been from Voldemort at all. As for anything else, he seems to be happy and angry in turns. Sometimes annoyed." As if to emphasise his point, Harry winced and lifted a hand to his scar.
Hermione nibbled her lip anxiously, keeping her thoughts to herself with tremendous effort.
"Have you told Sirius what you've seen?" she asked instead.
"No. I don't want to bring it up until I've got something conclusive. But Ginny thinks I ought to push Sirius for more information on what it is that Voldemort's actually after. That it might help me focus on what he's up to currently instead of just repeating the same dream over and over. I've tried to ask, but Sirius is cagey about it. I'm honestly starting to think he doesn't actually know."
Hermione backtracked. "Ginny? She knows what you're doing?"
"Well, yeah," Harry said, as if that explained everything. "Luna, too," he added.
She raised an eyebrow and he shrugged.
"You and Ron've been busy a lot lately," he said. "You've got those extra classes and your prefect stuff, among other things." Harry allowed himself a grimace. "And when we're not at Quidditch, Ron's still tied up in keeping Parkinson happy. Ginny and Luna already know all about the Order and what's going on with me after this summer, and they've just been… around more. "
Feeling suddenly very guilty, Hermione didn't argue.
"You know," she began, struck by a thought just as they stopped in front of the Fat Lady, "that memory actually explains how your Aunt would have known about Azkaban and the dementors this summer. She overheard Snape telling your mum all those years ago."
Harry looked thoughtful for a moment, then his expression changed to something more disturbed. "Yeah… yeah, I guess you're right."
She pondered everything Harry had told her this morning as they collected Ron and descended towards the Great Hall. When they ended up passing Malfoy, who had already finished his breakfast, she worried for a moment that Harry would say something in front of Ron, but Malfoy walked on as usual, only sparing her a brief, impassive glance. Harry pretended not to notice him.
Ron snorted a few seconds later. "Blimey, Hermione, you think Malfoy'd be a bit friendlier towards you now that you're all chummy and whatnot with the Occlumency thing. Guess being a smarmy git is just too ingrained. Honestly, I don't see how you get on with him, even if it's just for show." Ron shook his head and busied himself with piling sausages onto a plate.
Hermione made a non-committal sound, avoiding Harry's eyes.
They'd barely started eating when Lavender arrived to occupy Ron's attention, immediately launching into a story about something Professor Trelawney had "predicted" for her. Parvati participated half-heartedly in the discussion from Lavender's other side, looking far more interested in her breakfast than Divination.
It was with an eerie sense of déjà vu that Ron's eyes abruptly widened at something over Hermione's head.
She looked around expecting to find Percy there again, but instead saw Pansy gliding over, her strides deliberate and her eyes locked on Ron's. A coy smile curved her lips, and the top two buttons of her blouse lay open, as if she'd dressed in such a rush this morning that she'd forgotten to finish them.
Making her way around the Gryffindor table, Pansy eventually came to a halt beside Ron. He gaped at her, eyes caught on the smooth expanse of skin below her neck. Lavender cut off mid-sentence when she finally noticed Ron's inattention, closing her mouth to glare up at Pansy.
"Weasley," Pansy said throatily, "I'm glad I ran into you. I wanted to return this." She produced a red and gold Gryffindor scarf from her robes. "Not really my colours, you see, but I suppose it's the thought that counts. Anyway, I'll see you tonight in the library — I know how desperately you need help with that Potions essay. How about we meet at, say, seven?"
Finally meeting her eyes, Ron opened his mouth, but only a croak came out. Pansy clearly took it for assent anyway.
"Perfect," she replied, her smile widening. To everyone's shock, she then bent down to brush her lips lightly across Ron's cheekbone, her shirt falling open even further in the process. Ron's face immediately heated.
Pansy promptly dropped the scarf into his lap and turned on her heel, strolling away as if this was any other morning before classes.
It would have been amusing to watch Ron choke over none other than Pansy Parkinson if it hadn't been so terribly confusing. Hermione had assumed that Pansy had been set on torturing Ron with her newly-gained power, but this seemed to be crossing the bounds of pettiness into something else. She didn't particularly care for Pansy, but Hermione had to admire her nerve. Maybe wearing red and gold had rubbed off on her.
Ron traded a bewildered look with Harry, whose eyebrows still hadn't climbed down from his hairline. An equally confused Lavender took turns looking between Ron beside her and Pansy over at the Slytherin table. When Pansy threw one last, very un-Pansy-like smile over her shoulder, Lavender's eyes narrowed at Ron.
"You didn't tell me you've been seeing her," she said in an accusatory tone.
Ron made a strangled sound. "I'm not—we're not—it isn't—"
Lavender interrupted Ron's spluttering with a scoff, sliding over closer to Parvati while eyeing him with disgust. She and Parvati immediately took up whispering behind their hands.
"Yeah, Ron," Harry put in, fighting a smile, "what were you thinking."
Unamused, Ron flicked a sausage into Harry's chest, causing Harry to snort into his eggs. Hermione rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the smile that crept across her face.
Her mood sobered instantly when she caught a glimpse of Theo again just before descending the stone steps leading to the greenhouses. She still had no idea what to do about him. Perhaps if she told Malfoy what she'd seen with Theo and Snape the day before, it'd help him piece things together. It was worth trying, at least.
After another exemplary Care of Magical Creatures lesson on Porlocks from Professor Grubbly-Plank (in which Hermione spent as much time feeling guilty about enjoying the lesson as she did enjoying the lesson), Hermione tried to catch Malfoy's eye as the class trudged up the sodden lawn towards the front doors. She wanted to find out if they'd be meeting this evening.
She saw him loitering near the edge of the Entrance Hall. Sending Harry and Ron ahead without her, she took a step in Malfoy's direction and he immediately glanced over at her and shook his head. She soon realised why.
"Draco," Snape said, appearing out of the nearest corridor, "good. Have you done as I asked?"
"Yeah," Malfoy replied, shrugging out of his overcoat. "I've got it in my trunk."
"Excellent. Fetch it now and bring it by my office. I shall be waiting."
Unexpectedly, Snape turned slowly in her direction. "Not meddling where we ought not to be again, are we, Miss Granger?"
She blinked once at being addressed. "Um, no, sir. Just taking a moment to dry my things."
Notably wandless at the moment, it wasn't one of her better lies. He studied her for a moment, his black eyes glittering.
"Undoubtedly," he replied coldly, rounding back with a swish of his cloak to give Malfoy a perfunctory nod and sweep off towards the dungeon stairwell.
Malfoy shrugged apologetically to her and followed.
This time it was Hermione who hid in an alcove on the fourth floor after Ancient Runes, waiting for Malfoy to pass by. He let her drag him inside with a smirk on his face, looking utterly unsurprised to find her there.
"Now who's spying," she scolded quietly.
"Don't act so surprised, Granger," he whispered back. "It's not as if I haven't changed my mind about something before, yeah?"
"Only when it benefits you," she said, poking him in the chest.
His smirk returned in full force. "Or you," he said, swiftly lowering his mouth to hers before she had a chance to respond. As always, the feeling of his lips on hers immediately wiped every thought from her mind, leaving only a heady bliss behind.
All too soon, Malfoy was pulling away.
"I've got to go — Umbridge is starting to sit in on a few classes again and Conduct is one of them. Rumour has it that she wants to put on some kind of… cotillion for Fudge's visit after Christmas."
Hermione let out a contemptuous scoff. "Cotillion? What, like the Yule Ball again? You've got to be kidding me."
Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her reaction. "A little dancing never hurt anyone, Granger."
"Oh, really? I can think of at least five separate instances from last Saturday's Conduct lesson alone. I suppose you've been too busy twirling Pansy around to notice."
Malfoy blinked, and a slow smile spread across his face. "Jealous, are we?" he whispered close to her ear, sending a shiver through her.
"Yes, in fact," Hermione said primly, refusing to let her petty jealousy surrounding Pansy show, "you've obviously had loads more training than the rest of us and it is a distinctly unfair advantage."
He snorted softly. "You would be concerned about your marks. I doubt Frau Tanzen is going to fail you for stepping on Longbottom's toes. In fact, you might get higher marks for that—"
Hermione elbowed him lightly in the ribs. "I'm just saying. I don't particularly like making a fool of myself in front of the entire school."
Malfoy pursed his lips. "Well," he said slowly, "It makes a difference, having a partner who actually knows what they're doing. I could give you extra lessons. If you want, that is."
She looked up at him, surprised at the earnestness in his expression. "I… yes, that would be… are we still meeting in the room tonight?"
"Yeah, I can be there by—" Malfoy suddenly cursed. "No, I can't. Snape wants me to stop by his office again tonight."
"Does it have to do with whatever he asked about this afternoon?" she asked curiously.
He nodded. "Snape had me owl home for some obscure reference text out of the Manor's library. Trialls and Experimental Composures, I think it was called. Does the name Castor Golpalott mean anything to you? Looked like old Potions notes."
She hummed in thought. "A Potions notebook? Golpalott… the name does sound familiar. I wonder why Snape would need something so difficult to find? And why does he need to see you again if he's already got the book?"
Malfoy shrugged. "I didn't ask. It's usually best not to with Snape. What's he got against you right now, anyway?"
She lifted a brow. "You mean besides being Harry's friend and a Gryffindor? It's probably because he interrupted me having a conversation with Theo yesterday."
Malfoy's eyes widened. "Theo spoke with you?"
"No," she said with a twist of her mouth, "I suppose it wasn't so much a conversation as an argument. We know something's going on with him, but he's still refusing help. Anyway, I think he was just about to tell me something when Snape found us talking outside the Slytherin common room and said he had an appointment with Theo."
Malfoy tucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he thought.
"When was this?" he asked finally.
"Before dinner last night. Right after Potions."
He ran a hand through his hair. "I can't think of any reason Snape would be meeting with Theo right now, but the timing is interesting. Snape called me into his office right after dinner to request that text."
Hermione frowned. "That does seem a rather large coincidence. Perhaps you'll know more after tonight?"
"Yeah, maybe…" Malfoy said, trailing off with his brow still furrowed.
Given that Malfoy was very likely already late for his Conduct class, Hermione didn't feel bad about stealing a few more seconds. She reached up, twining her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and dragging his mouth down to hers for one last embrace. He grunted in surprise when she immediately deepened the kiss, and a low sound escaped him as she twisted her fingers even more tightly in his hair.
As soon as his hands landed on her waist she pulled away abruptly, dancing just out of his reach.
"You'd better get going," she said, smiling brightly. "Conduct, remember? See you later, Malfoy."
She backed out of the alcove, a self-satisfied smirk on her lips despite her initial reluctance to leave. The astonished look on his face had been worth it.